#i swear to god ill make an art tag like today

[rudy-redd]

He thinks hes too good for fetch

[aiviloti]

my 2020 fic writer wrap-up!!

this is going to be incredibly long (a total of 1.1k lmao) so imma put a cut here, but basically thank you for being here all throughout my 2020! i appreciate you all very much <3

fav kind of fic to write:

i love writing about mutual pining slow burn process of getting together but i have NEVER WRITTEN ONE IN MY LIFE so i hope to change that in 2021

in 2020 i discovered??? humour??? so i enjoy writing about that and when people tell me i’ve succeeded in making them laugh it’s all 😳😳😳 for me

hardest fic to write but also most proud of:

to write you a song was a fic i struggled with from all of april to june which is very long?? to me??? considering i usually sit down and write things in one seating. fully fleshed ideas don’t usually take me thaaaaaat long to crunch out, but for some reason i struggled bad with this bc I really didn’t know where i was going w it lol

LA LA LAND gets an honorary mention of it’s own simply because it was 44k, and it took me all of july-september, but it’s something i still am proud of! to show how difficult it was to write/plot here’s the spreadsheet i had to use to keep track of the scenes and the chapters djkgfsjdfkjhgd

Shout out to kiroiimye , sweet , sirius and krypt for keeping my sanity intact

easiest fic to write:

this genshin impact fic: The Land Favoured by the Wind but its because ive been thinking about this idea for more than a month lol so the actual writing and editing took me less than 3 hours

there were several others too, bc ideas then to hook themselves to me then refuse to let go fjshlfgdfsg

fav fic to write:

Most definitely this sakuatsu monstrosity here by the name of Miya Atsumu's unwavering love for Sakusa Kiyoomi and an unholy amount of terrible food analogies that should not have the right to Exist lol, I only came up with the idea of Atsumu asking Osamu how to make friends bc I was friendship pining for someone at the time and then proceeded to write the entirety of it in a feverish daze! It’s as of rn my top hit / kudoed / bookmarked fic on ao3 and man, thanks for liking this as much as i did :’D

writing sequence:

i have to write from start to finish lmao i cant move on if the fic isnt chronological? the only exception was la la land bc it was too long and i had help from the spreadsheet so i alr knew where i was going i just had to write it down dfhdsfksfksdfhjg

deleting works:

the only fics i remember deleting are both first chapters of a multichap, bc i dont like having unfinished pieces on ao3, and far less if im not sure if ill finish them/if i dont know where im going w it!

if it’s dark history of shit 15 year old me wrote imma keep it there! it is an archive after all. go on, judge my fics from 5 years ago ahahahaha

best writing advice:

not a general thing and might just apply tome, but i tend to write in very convoluted ways and squish a lot in my sentences, or add to many unnecessary commas, so i received advice recently about being more mindful of the pacing and it’s helped me a lot!

worst writing advice:

none at the top of my head djgfkdsjfh if it’s bs to me i just forget it entirelyyyy

collab:

@actuallyasweetpotato​ (also aforementioned sweet) and i did a thing for bokuaka week!!!! you can find it here:  under my breath and into your scarf

wips:

9 unfinished zine pieces, 3 commissions, 1 exchange piece, about 10 or so other things

fav story of another writer:

favourite things 

manly man falls for manliest man krbk fic!!!

gently, like a winter wind iwaoi birthday fic

sunchaser krbk fic

JUNO atsuhina fic

best review:

dude i cried

and shoutout to tien , sirius for fan art, fan comics, fan animatics of fics ive written, and shoutout to akemiiiii for this song they wrote i am eternaally grateful

worst review:

no negativity today!

prequel/sequel to other people’s fics:

none at the top of my head hm, but if anything probably any of kiro skk stuff 

do i reread my stuff:

yes, but only if they’re old enough for me to go “it’s okay even if i dont like it bc this is old”

published:

hopefully! even though i do take part in zines and i guess they already have been published in a broad sense

fav/least fav chara to write:

no one at the top of my head! it’s instinctive for me to go ahead and think about character motives whenever i come across them, so if i ever write about someone, i usually just put my spin/interpretation of a character in a way that i can comprehend. the pros of this is i can write about many people, and the downside is that these characterisations can come off as out of character to anyone who doesn’t agree w me hehe

deadlines or goals:

if it’s a oneshot that’s under 3k i usually aim to have it done within 24 hours of beginning the fic. even tho i rarely succeed, having that as a goal usually pushes me to get it done faster than i would have if i had no goal altogether! if it’s anything long i aim for 1k a day, tho rn all my deadlines are zine deadlines and on top of that there’s uni, so to say im not stressing about writing would be a lie LOL

fav writers: (am too shy to tag but i swear these people are literal gods)

chonideno (mag): tumblr | twitter | ao3

batman (teesta): twitter | ao3

maplefudge (raei): tumblr | twitter | ao3

trope never written, would like to try:

aforementioned SLOWBURN MUTUAL PINING ANGST W A HAPPY ENDING GETTING TOGETHER!!!

but also royalty au

trope you will never write:

haha loads

how long have you been a writer:

began writing around may of 2014!! it was a horrible piece but im glad i started somewhere

influences:

chonideno/mag is one! maggie stiefvater who wrote the raven boys is also one, among many others

hardest part of writing: 

writing action? writing things that are happening right now, describing people talking, eating

easiest part of writing:

descriptions of people, places, feelings. internal monologues, the like

best part of writing:

sharing how i perceive the world w other people, and discovering other people agree

wip sneak peek:

cw: hanahaki, falling out of love

this was written in a friend’s dms lmao this is why i sound like this

something unique i bring to all my stories

i had a revelation the other day after talking to all my friends and realised i have really pretentious titles

IF YOU’RE HERE

did you know the wc of this thing is 1k words? idk why you stuck through all of that but thank you. i’ll keep writing in 2021, and all the years after that, and i hope i’ll find you doing things you love too :)

[littleoldrachel]

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) - part two

guys. the response to this has just been. unreal. thank you so much for all of the kindness and support you've shown me and this little fic. i couldn't be more grateful. y'all are wonderful and i don't know why i was so nervous to post in the first place. thank you.

for now, part two! (look, it's gotta get worse before it gets better!!! (it will get better though, i swear))

i am burned out (i smell of smoke) [on ao3]

summary: in which virgil falls apart, learns how to put himself back together, and realises he doesn’t have to do it alone.

word count: 3.6k ish ( part 1/5 | part 2/5 )

warnings: mental health issues

timeline: i suppose this is set in early TAG verse?  jeff is missing and nobody is Coping Well.

happy belated birthday, nutty!! <3

ii. 

He’s not better in the morning. Waking up is an unpleasant experience for Virgil at the best of times, only gratified by a large mug of coffee or the necessity of a rescue, but today - 

Virgil is aware of the heavy weight on his chest before he even opens his eyes. It’s even larger than it was last night, sucking him dry of what little energy sleep has reclaimed. 

Virgil glares down at his chest, half-wishing there was some outwards sign that something is wrong on the skin there. But there are only the same patches of bruises and still healing scars as adorn his whole body. 

He takes a deep breath, and feels the strain of it against this heavy weight. 

Is he getting sick? He can’t be - he’s only just had the flu, dammit! He has a job to do, and Scott will never let him get away with flying Two whilst sick again if their last shouting match about it was anything to go by. 

And even if he were getting sick - which he’s not - that chesty ache is different to this weighty nothingness. Instead of feeling ill, he’s just… tired. 

A Scott-like voice sounds in the back of his head, though it’s far harsher than Scott could ever be: concentrate on your job - on the people who need you.

But it’s right. That’s what he needs to focus on - that’ll be what gets him out of this awful funk. 

(Because that’s all it is. A funk).

(It has to be). 

*

It’s not better the following morning either. Nor the morning after that, no matter how many rescues he pushes himself through.

His go-to coping mechanism has always been music, and so he makes his way to the piano without even bothering to raid the kitchen for breakfast/lunch. He’s not hungry, which should probably trigger alarm bells but he’s too tired to care.

Instead, he plonks himself down on the piano stool, lifts the lid to his precious instrument, and stares at the keys, waiting. 

Only, nothing swells inside of him, desperate to be expressed - no emotion, no thought, nothing. 

Virgil has never been in front of a piano and felt nothing. Even before he could play, the very sight of a piano had him awestruck. He remembers his mother playing L.O.V.E just to make him smile, stressing over his finals with endless Rachmaninoff, and pouring out his grief through his own stormy compositions. The piano is and always has been less of an instrument and more of a mouthpiece, a beating heart, a lonely soul that he has bound to himself. For a child stricken mute by tragedy, a teenager struggling in his siblings’ shadows, an adult who can never save them all, his piano is the best way he’s found to dig those feelings out of himself. 

Scott has always said Virgil feels things too deeply. He’s right - even in this nothing-ness state, the depths of it are chasm-like inside him. 

And so, because he knows Scott would want him to try, Virgil half-heartedly plays the opening melody to one of his most recent compositions - a gentle, comforting little thing - but stops almost at once in frustration. 

He just doesn’t feel like it. 

(The upset this causes him is almost better than the awful emptiness because at least it’s a goddamn feeling).

*

The one place he feels semi-normal is the gym. At least there, he can distract himself with the burn of straining muscles and the clanging of too-heavy weights. 

At first, even the thought of venturing down here and working out is Too Much, and he can’t quite bring himself to do so.

But then - 

The image of a child buried beneath rocks he's too weak to lift propels him forward, a sharp twinge of anxiety in his chest. 

And so he rows until his shoulders are throbbing, pounds the treadmill till he can’t feel his feet anymore, presses weights more suited to the exosuit than a man. 

His whole body is trembling with exertion as he runs through some cool down stretches. As he makes to stand, his vision tips sideways, flecked with dark spots. 

It's a good twenty minutes before he tries again, this time leaning heavily on the weights racks. 

He pushed too hard and he knows it. Thank God his brothers weren't down here to see it or he would be in serious trouble.

But it has helped, at least a little. It quiets the worry in his mind that he's useless and the guilt of lives lost. The endorphins of exercise lessen the load on his chest momentarily and though he hurts all over, he'd rather this physical pain than the ache of feeling nothing at all. 

*

Virgil hasn't drawn anything in weeks now, despite the not-so-subtle hints from John that he would really, really like something new for his room on Five (and honestly sending Virgil breathtaking photos of double-ringed galaxies would usually have him mixing up colours at once). 

He wants to draw John something - heck, he just wants to draw something. Or maybe, he wants to want to draw something, but every time he sits down with a sketchpad or canvas, his mind empties and his heart is tired.

Like now, curled up in the window seat of his room with a pencil and pad in hand. It's been well over an hour and the page is still glaringly blank, both physically and mentally. 

A knock at his door startles him, and Alan's head pokes round it. "Hey, Virg, you busy?"

Virgil throws the pad and pencil aside, almost grateful for the distraction from his utter failings as an artist. "Never too busy for you, Allie, what's up?"

"Oh wait, you were drawing?!" Alan hurries over, reaching for the pad. "That's great, it's been ages - can I see?"

He turns over the pad before Virgil can stop him and deflates. "Oh."

"Sorry, Alan," Virgil says, tugging the pad back so that he doesn't have to see the disappointed worry in Alan's eyes. "Waiting for inspiration to strike."

"Oookaaay," Alan says slowly, "but if you're busy, you should have said... It's fine if you are! I can ask John instead. Or Brains."

"I'm not busy, honestly. What is it you need?"

Alan looks torn. "But your art time is so important to you.. and you haven't had time in weeks."

Virgil sighs, "it's not that I haven't had time. I just don't feel like it at the moment." He means it to be reassuring - confirmation that whatever Alan needs is more important than doing fuck-all - and it's the most honest he's been in weeks. 

But instead, Alan looks even more worried. "You don't feel like it? … why not?" 

Shit. It's easy to forget with King Smother Brother in the building that his younger brothers have learned from the best. Virgil doesn't know what to do. There's no way in hell he's spilling how horrible he feels all over his littlest brother. And so he does something that will only make him feel worse in the long run but that might disperse the concern in Alan's eyes. 

"I mean… I wanted it to be a surprise," Virgil says slowly, hating himself for the way Alan brightens at his lies. "But I've been working on something special for John's birthday."

Alan beams and it's almost worth the guilty squirm in Virgil's chest. "Can I see?!" 

"No, no, it's - it's not ready yet." Or started, planned, conceptualised… he's gonna have to get his shit together to fix this lie. 

"Okay, okay. Aw man, I can't wait to see it, Virg!" 

The guilt only swells, and with it, anxiousness. "What was it you needed, Allie?"

"Oh! Right, yeah, it's Physics."

Virgil blinks. "Isn't John your go-to guy for that?"

Alan bites his lip. "Yeah, but you have an Engineering degree. And also…" Alan sighs and flops down on Virgil's bed. "I don't get it and John's great except he doesn't get why I don't get it and-"

"Say no more." Virgil has himself been on the receiving end of John's frustrated rants; not only did he have to bear the humiliation of asking his younger brother for help, but he came away from it feeling even more stupid and hopeless. Thankfully, he'd had a Jeff to explain it to him in terms he could understand - it's a choking grief when Virgil realises that Alan doesn't have that same luxury. 

"It's this equation," Alan is saying, dragging Virgil back to the present. "I just don't get it."

A glance at the page and Virgil feels much steadier. He knows physics, and for once, this is a situation where he can help without failing anyone. 

*

Both on rescues and at home, Virgil has always been the focused, steady rock upon which his brothers can ground themselves. And he's still that, even worn out and perpetually empty, it's just a little harder to maintain it. He's vaguely aware that he's sort of falling apart and he should probably tell someone, even if it means Gordon will be flying his precious 'bird for a while. But the larger part of him is still working to convince himself that he's fine, because he should be fine.

The facade slips a couple of times and each time there's a cost that leaves Virgil so angry at himself, at his uselessness that he can't bear to face anyone. 

Scott watches his usually perfect aim fail three times in a row, and is forced to launch himself out of Thunderbird One to fire his own grappling hook. It takes on the first go because he's Scott fucking Tracy, but they’re too close to the ground thanks to Virgil's ineptitude and there's blood everywhere - oh God, it's everywhere - and Virgil is left with shaking hands staring at the man whose wounds Scott is desperately trying to plug.

John hears when he blacks out momentarily in the tunnel system beneath Mexico City. It's just a temporary dizziness from the heat of the packed soil (is what he's telling John, even though he doesn't remember the last time he ate, and forces himself to choke down an energy bar in guilt) but it distracts his brother from wherever else he is needed and Virgil hates himself for it.

Gordon is the one who wakes him sweating and yelling from a nightmare. There's such worry in his younger brother's face as he asks about the dream, but Virgil can't bring himself to explain that it was his father going up in flames over and over, as it has been for months now. A week later, when it's Scott's face replacing Jeff Tracy's, Virgil wakes to a panic attack, but Gordon is nowhere to be found. 

Alan seizes his arm at a landslide in south Wales, drags him to a man who is pale, sweating, clutching his broken leg, and Virgil goes into medic mode at once. Bind the leg, treat for shock, arrange transport to the nearest hospital.

Except the man never makes it to the hospital.

Because there’s a hard, swollen bruise up his ribcage that should have indicated internal bleeding. And he didn’t spot it - why didn’t he spot it? He has one job: help people, and he can’t even fucking do that right. The man dies on the way to the hospital, and Virgil can’t breathe. Alan tries - bless his good, generous soul - to reassure him, reminding him that there’s relatively little they can do for internal bleeds, they aren’t equipped for that kind of injury, but Virgil pushes him away with a roughness he’ll later regret.

He’s falling apart and this feeling wasn’t supposed to affect rescues, it wasn’t supposed to be a problem he actually had to face. This wasn’t supposed to happen, why did this happen, why, why, why - 

*

Scott is the one who drags him away from his bedroom, where he’s taken to moping alone. 

He doesn’t even knock, simply sweeping through the door in shorts and a tank top, trainers dangling by the laces. “Right, get changed, we’re going on a run.”

Virgil, who hasn’t moved (can’t move) from his bed since getting back from a rescue a few hours earlier, glares up at him. “Nope.”

“Move it.”

“Make me.”

Scott narrows his eyes. “You know I can.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Virgil regrets the words the second they leave his mouth, because no way in hell does he have the energy to wrestle with Scott right now, but his older brother does something much, much worse. 

He tickles him. 

Virgil goes into survivor mode: kicking, flailing, shoving Scott away all whilst breathlessly begging him to stop. When Scott finally relents, Virgil flops back on his bed, panting. 

“I - hate you.” 

“I know,” Scott says cheerfully. “Now, get dressed.”

They begin on Scott’s usual circuit across the beach, chasing the trail up under canopies of forest, and then break away to run alongside the cliff-edges. Most of the heat of the day has faded with the sun, but it’s still warm enough that they’re both sweating by the end of the ascent. Scott pauses at the crest of the cliff and stands silhouetted against the sunset. Virgil slows to a halt next to him.

"What's wrong?" Scott says suddenly and Virgil almost flinches.

"Nothing," he says. It's enough of a half-truth that he doesn't even feel guilty at the frustration in Scott's eyes. 

Scott stares at him. "Please don’t lie to me, Virg. Are you getting sick? Are you injured?”

“What - no, I’m not - I’m not lying -”

“Because I swear, if you ever pull that ‘pushing through pneumonia for the mission’ bullshit again, I will ground you for life-”

“Scott, I’m not sick!”

“Come on, Virg, you’ve always been a shit liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then what’s going on with you?! This is your favourite route." He sweeps a hand over the view of endless ocean, soaked pink and gold beneath the setting sun. "Normally you're urging us to get back so you can get it all down on a canvas, and today, you haven’t even noticed. Please, Virg?” Scott takes a step towards him, resting a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Talk to me?”

The unbridled concern in Scott’s tone hurts and Virgil simultaneously wants nothing more than to fix it and to stop being its cause. 

Except that - he's fine, he's okay, he's coping with whatever this is. And he doesn't even know what this is so he would rather set himself on fire than trigger another of his brother's nightmares.

“I’m okay, Scott, really.” Scott shakes his head and Virgil doubles down. “I am, I’m just tired.” (So tired, so fucking tired but no amount of sleep seems to help). “It’s been a crazy couple of months.”

Scott frowns, and Virgil forces himself not to cringe at the intensity of his brother’s stare. This feeling is shaping him up to be a damned good liar, and Virgil hates it.

“You have been looking tired,” Scott says eventually, and Virgil sighs internally. “Do I need to give you leave to rest up - and tell me the truth, Virg, I swear to God -”

“No, no.”

Don’t leave me alone with this feeling and nothing to distract from it. 

“Swear it?” 

Virgil nods and watches the relief bloom in his brother’s eyes. He almost doesn’t hate himself for it, because he’s trying his damnedest to convince himself that he is fine, even though it’s becoming increasingly apparent he’s really, really not. But he doesn’t know how to explain how empty and tired and fragile he feels, and so he can’t.

“No more skipping family dinners though, Virg. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you aren’t around at mealtimes lately, I miss you.”

*

The thing is, he's just not hungry anymore - not for Scott's special blueberry pancakes, nor for authentic Italian pizza from his favourite restaurant courtesy of Gordon on the way home one day. He's especially not hungry for Grandma's (literal) rock cake, no matter how hurt she looks by his rejection. 

Virgil knows he's losing weight - he can feel it in the looseness of his uniform around his limbs and in how he has to cinch his belt a little tighter than before. He also knows that in intensifying his workouts, he should be increasing his intake to match. 

He’s also not sleeping - or at least, not sleeping restfully. His nights are riddled with horrific dreams that he wakes from in a panic, or he spends hours unable to switch his mind off for all the terrible thoughts echoing round it. 

The thing is - he can't quite bring himself to care about it all. He’s finding it so hard to care about anything at all (besides his family and the rescues, of course, though even these are draining him beyond all reason), least of all himself. 

*

After one sleepless night, Virgil wanders aimlessly through the house in the groggy rays of the rising sun. Scott will already be on his morning run and Gordon will be halfway through his pre-breakfast swim. And Virgil -

He should be in bed, dead to the world, only to be woken up under dire circumstances or so help me, Gordon - 

Instead, he finds himself in front of his piano. It’s been long enough that a film of dust has settled atop the lid, and he traces his finger through it absently, then decides to try. For Scott, if not for himself (definitely not for himself).

He rifles through boxes of sheet music waiting for something to grab him. When nothing inevitably does, he snatches up whatever’s sticking out sideways, and begins to play. The notes are familiar enough that he closes his eyes, waiting to lose himself in the melody.

But that tug never comes. 

Virgil finishes the piece just as empty and useless and tired as he started it, and opens his eyes to see Gordon standing there, toast in hand.

“Morning,” Gordon says grinning wickedly. “Long time, no see, Mr Piano Man.”

“Hey,” Virgil says quietly, filing the sheet music away again. He’s not in the mood for Gordon’s joviality right now - then again, when is he ever these days? He feels guilty for thinking it at once. 

“What’s wrong?” Gordon demands, his eyes narrowed. He leans across the piano and Virgil glowers at those buttery fingers.

“If you get grease on my piano, Gordon, you won’t live to regret it.”

“Sheesh. Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning. But seriously, what’s up?”

“Gordon. I mean it.”

Gordon rolls his eyes so hard it must physically hurt him to do so, but raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Now will you talk to me?”

Virgil looks down at the keys. “Why would anything be up?”

“Well,” Gordon says slowly, “numero uno, I don’t remember the last time I got to have crunchy peanut butter on toast, which means you’re not eating us out of house and home, which is Highly Suspicious Behaviour. Y dos, you only play that when you’re feeling down.”

“I’m surprised you remember that,” Virgil says, caught off guard enough that he doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

“I listen,” Gordon says indignantly. “Chopping is what you play when you feel sad.”

“Chopin.”

“Bless you.”

Virgil half-smiles, in spite of himself. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled. 

And there’s a moment, where he thinks: tell him, tell him there’s this horrible feeling inside of you and you’re afraid it’s going to swallow you whole, and he’s going to - he wants to - he means to, but-

“I’m okay, Gords, honest. Just nostalgic.”

Gordon looks at him with eyes far older than his years. “You know it’s okay if you’re not okay though, right?”

“Sure.”

“I mean it, Virg. You’re always here for us. Let us be here for you too, yeah?”

There’s a lump in his throat and Virgil can’t trust himself to speak, so he nods vigorously instead. His brother looks uncharacteristically sad as Virgil makes his excuses to hurry off to the gym and it hurts, all these lies hurt, he’s hurting so much.

He’s just dropped the weight when the floor lurches beneath him and he staggers. 

Hm. Low blood sugar. 

The medic in him is furious at himself, but that guy is also buried beneath a thick layer of exhausted indifference, impenetrable sadness and an overwhelming nothingness. 

And so, Virgil does what he does best. He keeps going.

Keeps going through the motions of gym, rescue, take care of brothers, rescue, repairs, sleep, gym, rescue, because what else can he do? 

*

Until he can’t.

There’s a day that dawns bright and beautiful like every single goddamn day on their tropical island. The birdsong is melodic, the butterflies are a tapestry of colour, the sea sparkles beneath lazy golden rays. 

And Virgil can’t get out of bed. 

Not won’t, not doesn’t want to - physically cannot. 

The weight on his chest has finally become heavy enough that it pins him beneath his covers and he cannot shake it off. Every single particle of the emptiness inside him has insidiously become a despair so absolute and almighty that Virgil cannot bear it inside of him but is powerless to get it out. It’s the worst feeling he has ever known - worse than watching his mother die before his eyes, worse than his father turning away from him in his own grief, worse than trying to keep a splintered family together with frayed nerves and a broken heart. He’s not okay. He’s falling apart. 

It’s the first time he’s allowed himself to accept these as facts, rather than fears.

But the realisation only makes him feel even more alone. 

[mothmansfriend]

when i’m sad oh god i’m sad (pt. 2)

link to pt. 1

follows a very similar timeline to @tearxofink‘s fic Rules for a Functioning Alcoholic but will prob have differences (such as no established relationships) and takes place in @illogicallyinclined‘s hockey au after the mention of Remus possibly having undiagnosed bipolar disorder

update: i think its important to acknowledge roughly where this takes place in the big timeline bc D doesn’t really drink past freshman yr in this AU because of self preservation and trauma, alcoholism was more an issue before then in high school (when remus and d were Rowdy Boys) but the stress of Logan’s concussion lead to some heavy drinking that was caught quickly by Virgil because Remus Cannot Keep Secrets.

summary: Remus has undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder and is dealing with a severe depressive episode in the aftermath of realizing that binge drinking with D wasn’t just his own search to Feel Something, but was also D’s relapse into alcoholism. Remus comes to the realization of lost time during manic episodes and refuses help.

tw: graphic descriptions of a depressive episode, self harm (burning),  suicidal thoughts, and suicidal intent (but not attempt). unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol abuse, mentioned alcoholism, undiagnosed mental illness, miscommunications on shared trauma, ask to tag if i missed any.

There are a number of places that are simply uncomfortable to sleep. Barely sitting up and using the chairs provided by the previous tenants as a pillow is certainly one of them. It takes Remus a moment to identify what woke him up as there's another round of knocking on his door and he doesn’t want to respond. It’s bright out,the sun is blocked from his figure by the curtains covering most of the windows. He hears Roman’s muffled voice as the locked doorknob jiggles, “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is”.

Their footsteps move away and Virgil speaks, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that-” his voice fades as they enter the kitchen.

Remus can barely pick himself off the floor before his phone lit up with a notification.

the shittier twin: You good? LMK when you’re coming home, Virgil is lowkey freaking out  (received: 10:14)

He stares at the words willing his brain to focus as he decides, maybe he should reply.

He sends a photo of a fat pigeon he took outside a club him and D got kicked out of a few weeks ago. It would be clear that the picture was taken at a different time, but does get message of ‘I’m alive’ across. Which is about as much as Remus is willing to communicate to people that haven’t even tried to contact him before now. How sad is it that his twin brother didn’t even check on him until six days later. Or maybe he should be asking if it’s sad that after four days Roman still hasn’t noticed that he’s home, or that it took Roman six to even ask? Remus spends all this time in the theatre and in the arts studio, and still Roman was the only one to ask, though at the request of someone who wants to get mad at him. He considers if maybe that he is a bad person, and that isn’t something he normally would care about, but if he weren’t then people might have checked on him. He usually hangs out with D almost everyday and he swears he’s never been gone more than maybe four days. But no one else seems concerned at all.

He considers reasons why this might be and gets stuck on Roman’s comment that he hasn’t been gone that long, and the implications then of him being gone longer. Things that don’t really make sense, but he knows losing your train of thought and getting distracted is a part of ADHD, but maybe, this is much more concerning. How does he know that he’s only ever been gone so long, maybe those lapses are more than a few minutes of zoning out. Which leads to, does Remus know who he is during these lapses? The contrast between the two prince twins have always been clear in their behaviour, Roman who follows every word their parents whisper in his ear. The boy grew up to be an actor after years of who takes any command without thought at that chance to be on top, and revelled in praise. It’s the cowards way of survival, are you really living if you’re not you? He knows Roman wasn’t quite loving that, but he still complied. Remus has always known exactly who he is and who he always will be. But the uncertainty of who he is in those spaces that seem to be taking up more and more space, maybe he;s been following someones script too?

He’s constantly changing his mind and forgetting where he is, are his feelings his? If everything the thought he knew about himself is slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass than how does he make it stop?

—

Virgil slides into the recently empty chair next to Roman the second Patton gets up to ask the waitress for another round of coffee, he steals one of Roman’s sausages and speaks, “By the way, I’m catching a ride to your place with you and D”.

Roman squawks at the sausage thief, “Why? I already told you Remus isn’t home!”

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Yeah I know, just humour me. I went to talk to Joan before we left and Thomas said Remus texted to apologize for missing practice, he’s never done that before! I just wanna come check, you can make fun of me later or whatever.”

“Fine, whatever, I know you’d just show up anyway. I don’t think him texting Thomas means anything though, even if it is weird.”

“Well we can agree to disagree then.”

—

The entry to the apartment the Prince twins share with D was just as full of banter as expected. D and Roman irritating Virgil without effort but Virgil matching that with his own comebacks and determination to check on Remus. “Alright, Emo Knightmare, let’s go knock on his cave door so I can know you again, that he isn’t home” Roman drops his bag next to the couch and heads down the shared hallway of D, Remus, and the storage closet. D walks past him with comments of a essay due tomorrow and disappears. Roman walks down and knocks on the door sternly once maintaining eye contact with Virgil knowing there will not be a response. Virgil follows him and he knocks again after a moment and jiggles the knocked door handle. “See? I told you he’s not here, Virge. There’s nothing to be worried about, if he doesn’t show up by tomorrow I’ll go look for him. You know how he is.” Roman turns and leads them back out into the living room towards the kitchen.

Virgil pauses for a moment watching the door before he follows, “Can you text him? I’m just worried, Thomas said that he actually texted to apologize for not showing up today. You know when Remus is out he never remembers to charge his phone, it just seems weird.”

Roman exhales and wordlessly pulls out his phone shooting off a text to his twin before pulling some leftovers out of the fridge to offer to Virgil despite the fact they had eaten not long ago. Virgil accepts and he puts it on two plates for the microwave. Roman’s phone vibrates on the counter with a text. The emo leans over to read and snorts, “Wait, is Remus’s name actually ‘the shittier twin’ in your phone? He just send a picture of  what appears to be an obese pigeon, that doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Roman shrugs, “Of course it is, and yeah that sounds about right, it’s like he’s trying to communicate through hieroglyphics, he’s just telling us he’s fine.”

Virgil’s dark eyes examine Roman’s face for any reflection that he’s just trying to make him stop bothering him with his concern, but when he sees nothing he drops his defensiveness, “Yeah, okay, he’s your brother, he’s kind of like a cat I guess. He always comes home right?”

The microwave beeps and Roman slides the extra plate in front of Virgil, “Exactly, he’s just like this, I’ll text you when he comes back. You don’t need to worry about it, Virge.”

Virgil shoots him a small smile before taking his plate to the couch closely followed by the oldest Prince twin as they settle down with Netflix until they need to leave for their respective classes.

—

Roman blearily wipes his eyes as he wakes up in his dark room and rolls over to check the time. 2:34am wake up and bathroom break time. He briefly considers just rolling over and waiting four or five hours until he needs to get up for class, but decides there’s just a higher chance of getting a restless sleep the rest of the night. The hockey captain rolls out of bed standing in his room shirtless and only wearing a random pair of soft sleep pants and stumbles out of his room, crossing the living room and entry way he’s about to try the handle of the dark bathroom door when it opens to reveal a tall dark figure.

Roman jumps back with an admittedly embarrassing squawk before recognizing the dark figure to be a freshly showered, exhausted, and almost weak looking Remus. The two stood in silence for a moment, Remus not even reacting to the sight of his brother. Roman awkwardly laughed for a moment, “Holy shit, Remus! I didn't even realize you were home.”

Remus stares emptily, moving to walk away without replying, Roman stops him with a hand on his shoulder, “Are you like, uh, okay? You kind of look like shit”

That was clearly the wrong thing to say as suddenly Remus’s face hardens into a snarl, “Oh fuck you, Roman.” His voice cracks halfway through but it doesn’t do anything to diminish the venom in his voice, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Christ! If you’re going to be an asshole then nevermind, I just wanted to check up on you. You know, like a concerned brother just might do?” Roman fires back suddenly feeling defensive. The tone of voice Remus uses almost sounds scared to him but he doesn’t have the energy to pry at Remus in the hallway less than 6 feet from D’s door at 2:30am.

“You don’t get to play any kind of concerned brother role right now! You don’t just get to decide to be concerned one day, it’s all about appearances with you, I dont fuck with that!” Remus’s voice raises as he gets more and more riled up, his voice sounds like shit as if he hasn’t used it in days, “Tell me when you think I got home, Princey, huh? You don't know shit about me and it’s time you stopped asking like you do.” He steps towards Roman edging back down the hallway to the living room.

“Why am I supposed to know when you got home?” Roman fires back, “You’re an adult! You’ve taken care of yourself fine for years, I’m not your parent I don’t need to know where you are twenty-four-fucking-seven!”

Vaguely, Roman hears D’s bedroom door open and feels brief regret that was smashed by Remus shoving him backwards. “You don’t need to know! But, did you ever think to wonder? Did you ever once care enough to ask? No! I don’t remember ever being gone more than three or four days.”

Roman recoils for a second in confusion but counters standing his ground, “What does that fucking mean? You own a calendar, a phone, you should know your average in the last year has been like five to seven days, you can’t blame me that you decide to go on a bender every 6 months or less. Can’t you ever grow up?”

“It means I don’t know where I was for two to four of those days at least! You self absorbed prick! Fuck!” Remus crumples for a second, his facial expression looks so, lost. He violently grabs and tugs on his still damp hair. He stands back up face guarded once again. “I know I never go out without a plan, I have paid some fucking terrible prices for that that you never need to know about. But, you’re telling me that I was out there and I don’t remember it? And no one thought to mention anything to me? And you’re asking if I’m ‘okay’? Fuck that, fuck you. I’m going back to my room, and ideally I’ll fucking rot and die before I have to look at you again,” Remus seethes before turning and slamming his door without waiting for a response.

Roman sags at his brothers exiting remarks, making tentative eye contact with D who waits in the dark hallway. “I don’t know what to do,” Roman says quietly.

D moves towards him moving them to the couch offering a comforting touch to the remaining twin, “Roman, I cannot tell you that I have any idea about what just happened. But, it seems like he just wants you to be there for him, in his own weird displays of affection he does love you and I think maybe he’s scared sometimes that you don’t care for him, and he lashes out. But right now, you need to go back to sleep so you can go to your boring nine am lecture, and I’ll try to spend time with him tomorrow. Sound good?”

Roman examines D, letting himself feel vulnerable for a moment but trusts that D knows what to do. He’s known the twins since high school, if anyone knew it would be him. “Thank you, D” Roman whispers, leaning into the little affection for a moment before he stands up and moves them back down the hallway.

Roman goes to the bathroom as originally planned but thinks about the things his younger brother had said. How much is he missing? What does it mean for Remus to simply not remember days at a time? Is it because of drinking too much or something else?

As Roman tucks himself back into bed, preparing himself for the restless sleep he had been trying to avoid. His mind wanders, and he can’t help but think that maybe he should be questioning blood stains on Remus’s carpet a little more.

[thepriceofburning]

Year 335 of the Era of Unity

John Estep stood high on a balcony that ran the entire length of the entrance courtyard to the Towers. From here he could see his men in their positions upon the defensive walls, and the people who shuffled through the massive gates into the giant paved area called the First Yard, below. A small dark starkling cried the hour from its roost upon one of the guard towers and a dozen echoing calls replied.

As Delta Commander of the Wolf Knights, The Towers were his responsibility. One might assume that a place so packed with mages, witches, wizards, sorceresses, and shadow beings, might not need protection from an outside source. What most didn't realize was that such people frequently needed protection from themselves. This wasn't simply a military post, but a political one, with the factions often clashing. As an “unenlightened”, as those without magic were commonly and rudely called, his job was more often than not mediation.

He was quite sure many of the inhabitants of the Towers had illnesses of the mind, ranging from racing thoughts, to mood swings, to the egomaniacal tendencies most commonly shown in wizards lording over lowly witches. Grand Wizard of the Third Reach, Istarn - by far the most self-inflated wizard in residence - was a constant and particular thorn in his side. What with the Third Reach being particularly concerned with matters of warfare, he was a thorn best dealt with tactfully.

Each of the five towers that gave the enormous structure its name was a designated Reach, and each Reach dealt with a different area of study. The First Reach, which was the first tower a person entered when they visited The Towers, was dedicated to Personal Enlightenment, Philosophy, and Expression Through Art. To his simple understanding this meant a lot of praying, meditating, thinking, and decorating every available surface.

The Second Reach was dedicated to Healing and the Prevention of Diseases, though he would swear that sometimes the fumes in there were more dangerous to a person's health than not. They did have quite a nice distillery, though.

The Third Reach, being the School of Warfare and Mechanics was by far the most dangerous place in the towers to go wandering about in. Those “enlightened” that lived and worked there were the shadiest, sly, and most untrusting people one could find. The Wolf Knights were garrisoned on the first two floors of the Third and tried to stay out from under toe as much as possible. Even so, the occasional bang could be heard echoing down the halls followed by loud and inventive cursing.

The Fourth Reach held its specialty in Botany and Environmental Studies, and to his opinion drew the best kind of people. Generally calm, quiet, and intelligent, and yet always going somewhere, John sometimes thought of them as the human equivalent of squirrels. They were always borrowing bits of research from other Reaches and bringing it back to their own studies to apply it to their work.

The Fourth was also where most of the resident shadow beings made their beds. The starklings, being no more sentient than birds of prey, were kept in the large aviary in the Fourth Yard, but the imps, sprites, and other beings of inhuman nature could be found all through the tower. Sometimes in odd and unexpected places.

The Fifth Reach was by far his favorite of the towers. Its dedication being Astrology, Astronomy, and Weather, the Fifth was never boring, though he had expected it to be so when he had first taken his position here. Since then he had witnessed a flash flood, a whirlwind, and a perpetual lightning storm all within the confines of that tower. The rooftop observatory had seen quite a bit of his time too. Aside from the almost constant static feeling in there, he quite enjoyed wandering its halls and chatting with its occupants. Even those who tried to tell him what his year had in store based on his time and place of birth.

All in all The Towers were a place of great power, and unfortunately for him, it also made it a stop for many politicians. One could hardly be considered for any position of knowledge or power if they hadn't visited the largest center of enlightened learning in North Sappheo.

Today he was expecting another politician, though unlike most, this visitor was coming from below the divide. He would be the first visitor from the South the Towers had seen since before Sappheo had split. However, just like all the others, he would welcome them, assign them guards for their stay, and send them off with whichever member of the First had drawn the short straw to be liaison. Or whoever volunteered for the task.

They would wander The Towers, looking haughty and nodding their heads while they pretended to have a clue. Then as always, they would sit down to dinner with him, apprise him of a few problems only they could solve, or criticize his management of the place. Within the next day or two, they'd be on their way, never to be seen or heard from again.

He braced his arms on the stone wall and looked over the First Yard with shrewd brown eyes. Enlightened and townspeople milled around stalls, browsing each other's wares in the small market set against the wall west of the gates. It ended in a building called The Healer's Hut, where people came to buy medicines and cures and have their ailments examined. Some would be sent to the recovery section of the First for the setting of bones or the stitching of wounds, fewer would be sent to the Second for further examination.

On the east side were the stables and the large paddock, which served the Wolf Knights’ couriers and scouts, and visiting dignitaries. Just beyond the fenced in area and encompassing the entire east corner was the Prayer Garden. Here there were lovely stone benches and walled flower beds, which surrounded a large tree. The leaves of this unique flora turned from green to purple as they aged, and fell in the colors of sunsets. An altar was positioned beneath the tree and people came to leave small offerings to their Gods of choice. Many came to simply sit beneath the outstretched limbs of the tree and pray or contemplate as sunset leaves fell around them, or sit and chat to one of the members of the First who offered an unbiased ear and friendly countenance.

The sound of giggling children could be heard where he stood on the wall, and he knew that it was most likely due to one of the helpful little sprites being playful, or an imp starting an impromptu game of tag. Sometimes even one of the big, lumbering, stony faced, Batu could be found in the garden looking terribly somber while children climbed its long limbs and stout body.

Tucked in the crook created at the join of the First and Fifth Reach was the goods store, and the administration building. At the store a person could pick up anything from jewelry, to herbs, to books. John would have bet money that the most popular items in the store were the small sticks that produced candle like flame when held correctly. But, with each Reach needing to provide a certain amount of sellable goods per quarter, the wares often varied greatly, and many people came just to see what was available.

The administration building served to answer inquiries regarding gaining entrance as a student, and to match people who needed particular services with those enlightened that could provide them. The flow of messages into and out of the building and the constant frazzled state of its workers had earned it the title of “the cuckoos nest”.

The wind kicked up a little, bringing the cold of autumn along his skin, and for a small inexplicable moment, he felt a warning in the chill. Instinct had his muscles tensing before he forcibly relaxed, and ran his hand over long, dirty blonde hair, a few strands already trying to work loose from the ponytail. These meetings always made him tense. He had plenty of patience, but if anything pushed it, it was pompous politicians who wanted to tell him how to do his job.

A soft pair of footsteps approached him from the doors that opened onto the balcony where he now stood, and he was relieved that he recognized the sound of them. Sending a smile over his shoulder as she approached, he very sincerely hoped that the redheaded witch was going to be his liaison for this dignitary.

She returned his smile with a sunny one of her own, the freckles over her nose seeming to make it all the more cheerful. “Good morning, Commander.” The wind danced through long tendrils of dense red hair and carried the faint scent of lavender and lilies along with it. “Ready for our guests?”

The tumble and roll of her thick rural accent was like a balm to his soul. “Mery, if you pulled the liaison straw today I will be considerably more ready.” He said with barely disguised hope.

Her light laugh danced out as she resettled the lace shawl that lay around her shoulders. “Then I suppose it's a good thing I volunteered.” She grinned up at him from under her lashes. “I couldn't sit back and watch you suffer so. Besides, this might be the only time in my whole life I ever get to meet a Duke.”

He gave her a smile of gratitude and affection and they settled into a comfortable silence as they waited for the Duke and his escort to arrive. Frankly, he wasn’t surprised that Mery had volunteered for today's tour. Since the divide such titles and birthrights had been abolished in the North. Lordly titles no longer existed in their part of the world, and even though it had been possible to pass between the divide for near two centuries, great pains had been taken to keep their politics separate. Until recently.

He was amused at Mery’s enthusiasm though. Mery was shy, and quiet, and sweet, and more than a little unsure of herself. Having grown up on a small farm with her grandmother he thought that sometimes she was overwhelmed by life in The Towers. She spent most of her days intensely focused on earning her credentials in aura reading and spiritual healing, but he knew that deep down inside she wished for a life of excitement and adventure, and a visiting Duke was too good to pass up.

Her red hair, twisted and tied at the base of her head to fall loose and full, danced over the shoulder of her blue dress. It was one of her best, fit snugly to the waist and flared into ankle length skirts that were embroidered around the edges with little green flowers.

Her hazel eyes seemed to soak in the light of the morning sun, and the smattering of freckles across her face clustered together across her nose. John thought, not for the first time, that she was a woman made for sunlit days and warm laughter, and he absolutely adored her.

Not many people knew the things Mery had suffered in her early years, or that underneath her kind eyes and caring smile there were wounds. When he thought about them he wished there was a way to undo them, to ensure that only peace and happiness remained, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Instead he did his best to keep her safe and happy, and in return she offered him friendship and support that he truly valued.

The glint of sunlight caught his thoughts and his watchful brown eyes turned in that direction. Standing in the center of the Yard, watching the people milling around was a woman with long black hair, pinned up at the sides, that seemed to shine in the sun.

She wore a fitted brown bodice over a deep red blouse that he guessed to be made of silk. Her skirts were a deep chocolate brown, like the bodice, with little to no decoration. Around her neck she wore a pendant of some sort which had caused the reflection, though at this distance he couldn’t tell what it was.

There was nothing about the woman that should have kept his attention as she began to wander about, yet he found himself watching her. He found himself wondering who she was, where she had come from, and why she was there.

As if she sensed his eyes on her she lifted her head and her gaze found his immediately. He couldn’t have said what color those eyes were, but her hair had fallen loose from the pins and curled around her face, framing her features. She had a strong jaw and her cheekbones were high under large eyes, just slightly turned up at the end. Her nose was long and straight, and led his gaze to  a long firm mouth. Her eyebrows reminded him of bird’s wings, thick towards the center and thinning to a fine line along the curve and swoop of her brow. It was the kind of face that spoke of strength, probably quite often drawn to seriousness. But there was a softness there too, some kind of secret gentleness begging to be found. He found her captivating.

They stayed, eyes locked for a moment, before her features relaxed into a smile, and then a grin. His own mouth turned upwards as the strong face took on features of mischief. She tilted her head slightly and lifted an eyebrow, almost as if in silent challenge.

Mery’s hand on his arm caught his attention. “I think they’re here.”

He looked toward the gate and saw the crowd beginning to step away from the area by the gate - a sure sign of a large party approaching. He flicked his eyes back down to the raven-haired woman again, but to his dismay she was gone. Perhaps he would see her again, but for now he had work to do.

He straightened as the guard positioned on the gate blew the signal that meant “official visitor” and with a hand on the small of Mery’s back, motioned her to go before him. With her in the lead they hurried down the steps and only slightly out of breath, arrived at the door to the Great Hall, just as the party came to a halt.

In the lead were four guards, armed to the teeth and mounted on imposing warhorses, which had been brushed to a shine. Behind came the noble collection. The Duke rode proud and relaxed, leading three women who also rode with the confidence of those who had spent many hours in the saddle.

John could tell by their clothes and bearing that these were not just maids. Judging by what he knew, these were the Duke's wives. It was a concept that most Northerners found outlandish if not atrocious, but it wasn’t his place to judge.

Behind the wives came the ladies in waiting. Four women in similar dresses, who smiled and whispered quietly amongst themselves. Behind that came two more mounted guards, and a small wagon carrying provisions driven by two more. Four more men made up the rear guard.

All in all that made a contingent of 20, though he was sure that the paperwork he had received from the Sovereign Minister had stated that 21 could be expected. He wondered briefly what had happened to the last man.

The guards dismounted first, followed by the Duke and his wives, and the ladies in waiting who were offered helping hands by the guards. When all had found their feet the Duke stepped forward and John took his cue. He didn’t need to check to know that his own Tower Guard has taken up ceremonial position on the walls or flanking the stairs. His most trusted man, Galen, would have seen to it.

Knowing the protocol, John bowed his head deeply with a hand over his heart, and delivered his welcoming speech. With a voice loud enough to reach the crowd of townsfolk watching the exchange and with an accent that spoke of the rough side of the Capital he began. “I am Delta Commander John Estep, of the Order of the Wolf Knights. It is with our Sovereign Minister’s blessing that I have the honor of welcoming His Lordship, Duke Darien Deyrndraig, of the Southern province of Gyrissa.”

Murmurs of excitement and a quiet applause ran through the crowd.

With a reciprocating bow, and an equally loud voice the Duke gave the expected response. “We are honored to receive the hospitality of North Sappheo and of The Towers, Delta Commander. It is our greatest wish that this visit will harbor greater understanding between our lands.”

This time the round of applause was much louder and for a moment John felt that he should give a stage bow for the crowd, but he kept his back straight and his face still until the murmurs died down. John descended the steps as the Duke approached for a quieter exchange.

John offered a hand in friendly greeting, and it was readily accepted. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Your Lordship.”

“Likewise, Commander,” came the easy reply. The Duke stepped back and motioned the three women forward. “May I introduce my wives?”

The first was a petite blonde, with sparkling blue eyes, sun tanned skin, and long curling hair that seemed too wild to be tamed in any severe manner. Her nose was what he would describe as cute, and her rosebud lips were turned into a shy smile. The soft blue of her velvet dress was clasped about the waist with a silver chain. It was cut simply and elegantly, but the voluminous sleeves and skirts brought to mind images of children turning circles in the sunlight. She carried the distinct impression of mischief about her, and he resisted the urge to smile as the Duke introduced her. “Lady Alexa Jordin.”

After a brief curtsey and bow delivered with a dazzling smile, she stepped back, and the second wife took her place.

This one was of average height, with creamy skin and straight brown hair cut at the shoulders. Her eyes were a soft grey, and her nose was thin and just little long, but seemed made to fit her angular face. Her thin lips were set in a polite smile but something about her seemed more inclined to a thoughtful frown. Her dress, in the current fashion of corsets and folds upon folds of skirts, was a stormy grey satin fringed in white lace and complimented her straight, thin frame. His first impression was of a woman he could have long intelligent discussions with.

“Lady Danaeal Ynari.” The Duke announced, and they exchanged the expected curtsey and bow.

She stepped back and the next wife stepped forward. Slightly taller than the previous woman, she was nothing short of an exotic beauty. Her skin was the color of rich dark coffee and her long dark hair was twisted into hundreds of tiny ropes, accented by unique beads here and there. Her eyes were a brown so dark they were almost black, and were angled in an almost catlike manner. Her dress was of a thick woven material in a pattern of forest green and gold that flowed loosely and left one arm exposed. She approached him with a smile that was somehow reminiscent of a doting grandmother. She had the presence of a nurturer, a carer, someone who people told their troubles to on instinct.

“Lady Chanta Abarro.” The Duke introduced, but instead of the expected curtsey, the Lady kissed her fingers, then touched her forehead and her chest, and inclined her head. John gave the formal bow, but found himself curious about her homeland and customs.

John opened his mouth to announce his honor at meeting them all when the Duke raised a finger. “A moment, please,” he said long-suffering impatience. “We seem to be missing somebody.”

The twenty first guest, John surmised as the Duke leaned over to say a word in a guard's ear. He sincerely hoped there wasn’t going to be a problem this early in the visit, but he would handle whatever got thrown his way.

The guard nodded and turned to attend his task, but stopped before he hit three strides, and stood aside for the woman approaching them. To John’s combined pleasure and dismay it was the woman he had seen from the balcony.

“I’m sorry,” she said, laying a hand on the Duke's arm, “I got distracted.” Her eyes settled on John and a small grin appeared in her lips. “Hello.”

Up close he could see that her eyes were a brilliant shade of green, and her ears did not only have the regular piercing women seemed to favor, but there was also a bar that joined two piercings high up the fold of her right ear, and the tiniest stud in the little bump that preceded her left ear. He could also see, sneaking above her collar on her left, what looked like a burn scar marring her light olive complexion.

Before John could answer her greeting, the Duke spoke up. “Allow me to present my most troublesome wife, Lady Tayanara DeVandall.”

Again breaking protocol she offered her hand, and he was pleasantly surprised by her strong grip and slightly worried by its feverish temperature. “It’s a pleasure my Lady. I’m Delta Commander John Estep. I’m afraid you missed my welcome speech.”

A shock seemed to ripple through the surrounding people at his teasing tone, and he reigned himself in. Joking with one of the four wives of the Duke of Gyrissa was not a good way to start the visit.

Stepping back he motioned forward his saving grace, and she stepped forward with a graceful curtsy. “This is Meryarna Marek, witch of the First, and she will be acting as your liaison during your stay.” He then motioned to a presence close behind him, who stepped forward and bowed deeply. “And this is my second in command, Warrior-in-Lead Galen Glenn.”

Mery mercifully stepped forward and took control of the situation. “Please call me Mery. It is an honor to serve as your liaison.”

She exchanged polite greetings with all of them, and instructed the Duke to have his head guard make the appropriate arrangements with Galen concerning guard duty. After asking if the ladies in waiting would like to set up the chambers, she instructed them to stay with Galen also, who would see them to where they needed to be.

John stepped aside as she invited the noble quintuplet, and the guards that would remain with them, to begin their tour. When they were past, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, then ran a hand over his hair. He knew better than to step outside of the accepted pleasantries.

“Excuse me, Commander?” came a velvety voice. He swore silently as he realized one of the wives had stayed behind. “Or should I call you Delta Commander?” Lady Tayanara asked.

He gave her a polite smile. “Commander is fine, Lady Tayanara.”

Her smile was more than a little flirtatious. “Then you’ll call me Taya.” When he gave a nod her smile faded into something more serious. “I was hoping I might have a moment of your time before you are off to your other duties.”

He turned his gaze to the small group of people entering the Towers and lingered as Duke Deyrndraig stopped, noticing the troublesome wife had once again left the pack. He turned then, and saw her standing next to him. The Duke’s brown eyes pinned him, and he felt it like the point of a knife against his skin. His skin prickled, not in fear, but as it did in the moment before the first blow was struck - in anticipation of the fight.

His own eyes turned hard and cold, but knowing this was not the fight for him, he gave a nod of acquiescence that seemed to placate the Duke’s nerves. Deyrndraig looked at Taya with something like an admonishment and turned to join the group again.

Forcing himself back to level heading after the exchange, John turned back to Taya and caught her raised eyebrow before she collected herself. She gave him an impish smile and a shrug. “I’ll catch up.”

It was only with great effort that he didn’t sigh as he motioned her to a bench that sat along the rise of the stone steps. This woman was going to be trouble.

“What can I do for you?” he asked once she was seated.

She seemed to take a moment to choose her words, and she regarded him seriously. “Truth be told, I didn’t get distracted.” Her eyes lifted to the guards on the wall. “I wanted to check your security.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he raised his eyebrows curiously. “Why is that?”

She breathed a sigh and dropped her eyes to the hands in her lap. “Where we come from there is a political battle raging at the moment. Darien’s title is one others would happily claim upon his demise.” She looked at him again, and he read the concern there, and felt it palpably. “Living in the South has become dangerous for us, so he’s brought us here in an attempt to remove us from the situation.”

John considered for a moment then took a seat on the bench beside her. “I’m going to guess that getting to him was too hard, and they started to come after his wives?”

Taya nodded. “Exactly. Which is why I fought against Darien’s idea of bringing us here the whole way.” Seeing John’s confusion she raised a hand in the direction her husband had gone. “He is in far more danger here than he ever was back at home. Back there we knew every face, every name, every secret entrance and secluded corridor. Here, we know nothing.” She studied his face for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to be sure your guard detail would be enough to keep my family safe.”

He simply looked at her for a moment, feeling the roll of emotions that seemed to come off her in waves, trying to put all the pieces of her into one complete image. Regal in bearing, but not in demeanor. Mischievous and maybe even callous when it came to rules and protocol, but the way she talked about protecting her family made it obvious to him that she was more lioness than kitten.

His eyes caught on the pendant hanging around her neck, and he realized that it was what had reflected the sun to him up on the balcony. The golden sun hung on a braided cord of fine leather, and he found it a little odd to find leather on a Lady, but thinking back he could swear all the other wives had worn the same thing around their necks.

As an afterthought he realized that Taya was wearing quite a lot of leather. Her bodice, her boots, her decorative bracelets, and the thin belt and pouches she wore were all of high quality leather. More pieces of the puzzle that was the woman before him.

On a thought he asked, “Is your husband aware that you’re checking on his security?”

A silent laugh bubbled up from her. “Crows, no. And if he finds out he’ll probably be mad at me, though he shouldn’t really be surprised. This is the kind of thing that happens when you marry a street kid,” she said with a lopsided smile.

He smiled with surprise. “You were a street kid?”

This time she let out a chuckle. “Yes I was. An orphan even. I can pass for a Lady most of the time but,” she shrugged, “once in awhile the streets come out in me.”

She said it not with shame, but with pride. As a badge of merit. I survived, the statement seemed to say, and I will keep surviving. He realized that there were a lot of things he wanted to know about this woman.

“I guess that brings us back to our original question,” he said, unfolding his arms and bracing them on his knees. “What can I do for you?”

She dropped her eyes a little, as though embarrassed to ask. “I was hoping you could show me around and tell me what you have in place. I’m sure that between your men and ours it will be fine, but for my own peace of mind, I’d appreciate it.” She touched a hand to his arm. “I know you’re probably too busy right now, but if you could fit me in tomorrow?”

He could feel the warmth of her hand through his clothes and he suddenly realized that the emotions he was receiving were disingenuous. There was concern yes, but not for her family, and certainly not fear. There was something subtle underneath it. Something coercive. Manipulative.

He searched her eyes for a moment, but saw no falters there. She was going to be a hard nut to crack. With a nod he stood, helping her to her feet with a hand. “Tomorrow I’ll take you around and show you what we have in place. Until then I assure you that every precaution will be taken to ensure the safety of your family.”

His sudden stiffness seemed to drive her to compensate. With a sweet smile she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. Two thoughts immediately crossed his mind. The first was that the press of her lips was so warm it was almost scalding. The second was that she had perfected sweet and innocent to the point that it screamed of falsity.

When she pulled back his eyes bored into hers, so that for a moment they both seemed stuck there, trying to gauge each other's thoughts. Something in him seemed to be reaching inside her and neither seemed willing or able to stop it.

Realizing her hand was still in his, she pulled it gently from his grasp. “Thank you, Commander,” she said with an unsure smile.

Something about that one move made his stomach clench and heart pick up pace. He’d unseated her. But it wasn’t that he’d caught her in a falsehood that caused that feeling inside him, it was the sensation of almost seeing her. The real her.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be trouble for me?”

She reached up and rubbed at her left shoulder in what he sensed was an unconscious movement. With just a hint of a grin she stepped away. “They’ll be waiting for me,” she said, and with one last look, she turned and walked away.

He folded his arms again as he watched her go. Lady Tayanara was far more than she seemed, and he intended to find out exactly what she was up to.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added)- @stuffylana @atheona-darkclaw

[vhyral]

Notes: Fahlron and Dorian talk about vallaslin, Dorian discovers something unexpected

Word count: 1938

Quality: Bleh | Readable | Nice 

"Vallasnin?”

“Vallas - lin.”

“Vallas - len?”

“Damn it, Dorian!”

Fahlron threw a frustrated hand up in the air and gave the tevinter mage a disgusted glare from his chair in front of the window.

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Dorian retorted. “Your language makes one’s tongue take so many turns, it should be considered a hazardous activity to even attempt to speak it. I swear I sprained mine the last time you tried to teach me your keeper’s name, look!”

“You asked for that!” moaned the hunter. “And you keep pestering me about it. Fahlron, how do I pronounce this? Fahlron, how do I write that? Falhron, how do I say ‘I wanna take a shit’ in elvhen?” He raised his arms, pointedly looked at himself and then up at Dorian again. “Do I look like a scribe to you?”

“You look exactly like an ill mannered fellow with excellent face bone structure.” came the cheeky answer. “One that also happens to possess knowledge I’m interested in. Wrap yourself in a ribbon and be my early birthday present, won’t you?”

Dorian let the corners of his lips curl into a smile to the elf’s groan and leaned back in his own chair, turning to the next page of the book he was cradling. It was part of the latest order, a gathering of texts exploring elven traditions and the few things known about the Dalish. He had issued orders for anything he could find on the elven right after they had set foot in Skyhold and he was sure his books would be at least protected by the blasted rain- there was not much on wandering elvhen to begin with which allowed traders to overprize the books quite a lot. Yet with a Dalish Inquisitor walking around, practically being a living, willing encyclopedia, what better time to indulge into a new obsession? Feynras had proven herself witty and humorous and was always ready to share and explain should her duties allow it.

Her brother, now. Such a different case Dorian had at first honest to the Maker doubts the two elves were related. Fahlron was snappy and had that glare glued to his face, like he distrusted you and eight generations of your family before you. He was, well, in general, much closer to the common image of the Dalish.

“Val- las- ni-in?” he tried his tongue at it again.

“Vallas - LIN!” came the angered growl from the neighboring chair, receiving a loud hush from the next library corridor for his trouble. Falhron’s ears trembled and lowered a couple of inches, giving him the look of a feral animal ready to pounce.

“Sometimes referred to as blood writing,” Dorian began reading in hopes that the elf would stay where he was and not leap after that poor, unfortunate shusher, “it is what the Dalish call the intricate facial tattoos worn by all adult clan members. The ink used to do so is considered sacred as we confirmed while attempting to trade with dalish merchants in some of the friendlier camps we came upon. The merchants refused to sell us a small portion of it or reveal the correct way to mix it.”

“Did they make it out of that camp alive? Friendly clan.”

“When a Dalish elf comes of age,” Dorian continued, “they prepare to gain the vallaslin by meditating on the gods and the ways of the Dalish, and by purifying the body and the skin. When the time comes, the Keeper of the clan applies the blood writing. This is done in complete silence.  Blood writing is at least in part a religious practice, and there are different designs representing deities in the Elven Pantheon.”

He eyed Fahlron. The elf had turned his attention to the book in his slender hands, a brownish, overused tome about astronomy Dorian knew like the back of his hand. He could make out some of the dark patterns on the hunter’s sharp cheekbones even as he watched him from the side. They curled and turned like vines, overlapping and creating a complex, beautiful net on the man’s forehead and higher cheeks, some lines extending as far as the lobes of his long ears. Hours, Dorian thought, it must have taken hours to complete.

“So. Which deity?”

Fahlron didn’t bat an eyelash away from his book. “Rude.”

“Rude?” repeated Dorian. “If asking was offending, the book would surely mention something. I did pay its weight in gold after all, I do expect it to be quite precise.”

To his surprise- and amusement- the Dalish swirled on his chair, now turning to stare at him face on. Their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze in a mutual fit of stubborness. Then Fahlron gave him a sly grin, lips stretching, and motioned to the leather bound tome with his chin.

“Doesn’t your precise book have diagrams of our blood writing, dear friend? Here.” He motioned to his forehead, brushing a few stray black hair back. “You can see it clearly.”

Dorian flipped a few pages, glancing at the elf’s face in between, pretending to ignore the arrogant curl of his mouth or the spark in those grassy eyes. Not stealing glances of his ears as they twitched slightly or the slope of his nose. Not noticing the curious way the hunter’s upper lip was plusher than the bottom one or how his aroma reminded Dorian of pines and soil and- the altus coughed.

Vallaslin. Yes, of course. There were drawings, masterfully sketched, but none quite fit.

“Now, they don’t seem to have come across your very specific clan.” he pursed his lips. “It is not in here.”

“Good luck getting a refund for that gold of yours.” Falhron tossed his ponytail over a shoulder before turning back to his astronomy journal.

Dorian flipped through the next few pages. He didn’t scowl - no, that would only lead to future wrinkles.

“You’re being an ass today, Fahlron.” he nagged instead. “Careful or our lady Vivienne will come at you wishing to claim back her rightful place in our merry little group.”

“Pfft!” A snort was all he got for an answer but he could see the elf’s cheeks puff out as he lost an inner battle against a smile.

The library was quiet with the gentle sound of scholars copying parchments and writing reports - the midday sun was shining brightly through the thin windows. Comfy on his chair, Dorian leisurely turned to the pages featuring the various entities of the elven pantheon - he had read about them before but hadn’t memorized their names or symbolisms. Dirthamen, Falon‘Din, Mythal. The names shined on the yellow page, written in expert cursive with rich black ink.

“Andruil?” he attempted. “You’re a hunter. The goddess of hunting sounds appropriate if not a tad typical.”

Fahlron gave him a thoughtful nasal sound, neither yes or no.

“Always glad to entertain.” groaned Dorian. “Ok… then. Elgar’nan.”

“The God of Vegeance?”

“Considering you look like you’re about to punch someone in the face twenty four hours a day, it sounds like quite the plausible choice to me.”

“Well, hunting and vegeance. I do not dislike the image you have of me, Dorian.”

“It’s Sylaise.” interrupted a voice near the mage’s chair. making them both jump a little where they sat.

“Feynras!” hissed Fahlron, glaring daggers at the blond elf now leaning over the altus, staring down at the book in his hands with interest. With her came a thin smell of something nauseously sweet, like decaying flesh.

“What?” she retaliated. “‘Tis only the truth. Can I borrow this book later, Dorian?”

“I can’t believe you-”

“Sylaise?” Dorian found himself staring down at the description of the deity with wide open eyes and a huge grin making his lips twitch. “You serve the goddess of the domestic arts?”

There was a flush on Fahlron’s cheeks now, painting his skin with a deep red. His eyes were shining dangerously as he glared at the pair of them- Dorian couldn’t tell if it was him that was at the end of that murderous stare or the Inquisitor or if the hunter was about to launch himself at both of them at once.

“It was the Keeper’s suggestion.” he hissed venomously through clenched teeth, averting his eyes and glaring at the brownish journal instead. “And mamae- ugh! Mother- I could not go against the traditions!”

“I think his vallaslin fits him perfectly.” The Inquisitor raised her shoulders and tapped a light finger over the passage referring to the goddess before taking a step back and stretching her back.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have quite a heavy bag of freshly picked, still-trying-to-claw-me demon remains for our mages.” She gave her backback a tag. “I’ll be back for the book around nightfall?”

“As long as you don’t let it anywhere near demonic intestines.” Dorian scrunched his nose. “Off you go now - these clothes are brand new and unless you can promise me a new outfit by tomorrow morning, demon stench is renowned for seeping into fabric as fast and persistently as the Fereldan King in a cheese storage. So, shoo.”

Feynras flicked him her tongue. “I’ll bring wine.” she promised before skipping towards the research table.

“Ah, finally.” Dorian laughed. “A lass after my own heart.”

--

Ferv… Fervev- Fervevial! Fahlron tried to concentrate on the unfamiliar letters on the paper. Commonly referred to... as "the Oak," the con… constellation Fervanis-

“So.” he heard the mage’s voice. It foretold of the expression he must have been wearing but Fahlron kept his head down. Creators, if he as much as caught a glimpse of that stupid grin, he would rip that precious moustache of his right off.

Many scholars believe this is a representation of nature... that hark… harkens back to the lore of the early Neromenians-

“Where was I? Ah, but of course. Sylaise.”

Dorian cleared his throat. “As told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of the Dalish elves.” he read, his voice over coloured and pompous. “It is Sylaise who gave us fire and taught us how to use it. It is Sylaise who showed us how to heal with herbs and with magic, and how to ease the passage of infants into this world. And again, it is Sylaise who showed us how to spin the fibers of plants into thread and rope. In her youth, it is said that Sylaise stayed at the home-tree to sing and create art while Andruil hunted and played. Her path -”

“Her path is called the Vir Atish'an.” Fahlron cut him. “Her name is invoked before a fire is kindled and after it is quenched. Sylaise is seen as a protector of all who dwell close to a hearth, especially children and is also invoked during marital vows.” The words were not only of Clan Ralaferin - they were of all the Keepers throughout Thedas, on the lips of every Dalish elfling in a camp. He had heard them thousands of time, he had recited them himself another thousand, kneeling before the Goddess with offerings in his hands and the fire burning in front of her, with green grass at his feet or red crumbly leaves or thick, quiet snow.

He should have left. Dread Wolf’s balls, he should have gotten out of there the minute the Tevinter had as much as uttered his mangled version of the word vallaslin. It always came to this, to someone laughing under their breath and giving him the look and he would have to prove himself all over again.

It all was so fucking tiring and he was so very done with it.

[bangtansadnyeondan-blog]

Roses

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five / chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine / chapter ten / chapter eleven/ chapter twelve / chapter thirteen

genre: angstxfluff

pairing: yoongixjungkook

Chapter Thirteen

The next week passed by uneventfully, with Jungkook eating well, drinking well, doing well during the two therapy sessions and Yoongi didn't really have much thought to spare for himself because of him now dealing with two patients. But whenever he could, he slipped into Jungkook's room, relaxing and rejuvenating himself in there on his bed or just with his company. Yoongi had been bringing his bacon sandwiches in again which Jungkook ate with as much fervor as he did earlier. Jimin had actually found a few rings and had told all their shopkeepers to reserve those pairs of rings till the day after Jungkook's release. He had found a pair which had the insignia of a rose on it which he was sure Jungkook would like. It seemed like the whole 'Rose' image was important to both of them.

Yoongi was finishing up the paperwork for Jungkook when he saw him sidle up to his side, bumping into the duffel bag Yoongi had packed with Jungkook's clothes which now hung from Yoongi's shoulder.

"Ready to get out and get the cast out?" Yoongi asked as he finished up the last bit and turned to his companion.

"Yes," Jungkook smiled at Yoongi while walked out of his room for one last time. During the week Jungkook was a lot out of his room sketching the patients while some of them admiringly watched him draw them and after that always wanted to keep the drawings. But Jungkook said he couldn't do that, he would use them for his first exhibition as art student. 'You can all come,' he said to the patients he drew. 'Else I'll bring the exhibition here,' he grinned. He would get them to see themselves drawn in the colors he wanted to draw them, bright and happy not portrayed as patients or mentally ill, but as the personality they were behind their illness.

"I'm quite done with this heavy thing around my arm," Jungkook said as he looked at Yoongi with a smile while walking through the hallways.

Yoongi laughed and put his hand gently behind Jungkook's back, "I'd be surprised if you weren't, Jungkook." He smiled at the patients who waved at the two slightly shyly, but a clear shine of happiness twinkling in their eyes.

"Did you do something while I was away and busy? Did you actually go out and socialise?" Yoongi asked Jungkook teasingly, narrowing his eyes at him playfully.

"But I'm glad you're getting out finally." He added at the end, rubbing Jungkook's back. He knew exactly what had been going on. The doctors had told him, the patients had thanked him. He was just really proud today of Jungkook's progress and it was clear on his radiant face, not like he was doing much to hide it.

"I did go out and socialise for once," Jungkook smiled. "I thought you knew." He replaced his own bag on his shoulder and waved at one of the patients he had drawn.

"I'm working on a project, I have a lot of sketches from the patients which I will draw at home on canvas," Jungkook told.

"I hope you could help me get the exhibition into the hospital maybe one day?" Jungkook asked as he looked to Yoongi on his side.

"I can arrange for that. Your wish is my command," Yoongi said returning Jungkook's glance.

"And are you kidding? There's no way I couldn't have known. And I'm looking forward to this. Your works I mean." Yoongi then pushed the door open, gesturing to Jungkook to walk out. They would go and get his cast out before heading home.

"One of your patients I drew was really happy with her drawing," Jungkook said with a smile. He knew that person was really happy with it, even during dinner she was still smiling while sitting at Jungkook's table talking about how she loved the sketch. "Can you go with me to buy paint and canvas?" Jungkook asked as they walked out of the facility.

Yoongi pouted, "yes as long as it's during the weekend. I don't enjoy shopping." He led the way to the car, as he spoke further, "But first we're definitely going to get your cast out. I'll ask the doctor to keep it intact so we can give it to Rose. What do you say?"

"She'd love that," Jungkook grinned as he smiled at the car of Yoongi who unlocked it so Jungkook could open the shotgun seat.

"Yoongi Hyung," Jungkook mumbled. "I know you don't want me to say," he stopped for a moment to continue, "but, Thank you."

Yoongi laughed and shook his head, "I can't help but accept that right? So you're welcome. Just do well from now on, if you want to thank me. And I know this sounds strange, but I'm proud of you." Yoongi smiled at Jungkook before changing the gear and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Let's get out of here, for me at least," Jungkook grinned as they drove over the road. "Let's just pass by the art store immediately as we get this thing off my arm," Jungkook said as he looked into his bag. Yoongi smiled and floored the pedal to take them towards the city hospital as soon as possible.

"I really don't want to go to the stationery store but since you're asking, we'll go." Yoongi smiled, scratching the back of his neck bashfully. Once they arrived in the hospital they had to wait for a short moment. Jungkook waited patiently in the waiting room next to Yoongi till the doctor called him up, Yoongi standing up walking behind him introducing himself to the doctor while Jungkook sat down in the chair till the doctor got a sort of electric saw to cut open the cast. Jungkook asked if he could keep the cast for Rose. The doctor laughed as response and let them keep the cast and when they were done they only had to come back for a check up in two weeks. They picked a date at the reception and went to the car again.

"Art store," Jungkook said as he took the passenger seat next to Yoongi.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, "I got it. Put the cast in the backseat please, it looks creepy without an arm in it." He laughed, turning away so he didn't have to even glimpse at it from his position.

"Why does it look creepy to you?" Jungkook grinned as he didn't mind it, it was funny too see as he put it in the backseat while stretching his arms out.

"Why doesn't it look creepy to you?" Yoongi countered as he sat normally again. He glanced at Jungkook briefly, "feels good to have your arm back I'm guessing?"

"Yes, I can now lift up Rose with two arms again," Jungkook grinned as he looked at the road to see that they were getting closer to the art store again. Yoongi sighed as they got closer.

"I think I'll go to the market adjacent and get our groceries. We're running out of those. We can bill together so that's not a problem." Yoongi was tired but he was glad he would get done with another thing on his list with the groceries.

"Sure," Jungkook said as he they arrived at the store. Yoongi parked the car and Jungkook stepped out of the car and rushed into the store to pick out the colors he was going to use. The primary colors and black and white.

He went to the canvases to find a couple of good ones. He found a couple portrait ones from 36 cm by 48 cm. He bought 4 to start with, then his eyes found an easel in the corner of the store. He looked at the price tag, more than 200$, way too much. He dropped the price tag again and walked away with the paint and canvases in his arms.

Yoongi went around the store, selecting his groceries with care but soon filling up his trolley with things he needed and would use in the near future, starting from vegetables to meat and everything in between.

"I'm done Hyung," Jungkook said as he clumsily held the paint and canvas in his arms. "This would've been impossible with a cast," he mumbled as he dropped the paint in the trolley and held the canvases in his arms.

"Oh I'm almost done. I need to get some milk and yogurt. Let me get those and then we'll go bill all of this." Yoongi said as he gestured Jungkook to follow him to the dairy section, his stance tired and slumped over the handle of the trolley. The last few days had been tiring for him. There were a few more of these long days left for him, he realised, before he could really start helping his patients because that's when it would get easier for him. Jungkook smiled as he followed Yoongi to the diary section where he saw Yoongi standing to pick a pack of milk where he put the canvases against the trolley to sneak behind Yoongi and wrap his arms around his waist.

"You know, you're so small and cute," Jungkook grinned a bit playfully, "smol Yoongi." He turned Yoongi around and planted a short kiss on Yoongi's lips. He walked away picking up the canvases again waiting for Yoongi to put the milk and yogurt in the trolley. Yoongi frowned and looked at Jungkook his mouth slightly ajar before he registered the stares making him hastily put the milk and yogurt in the trolley and grab Jungkook's elbow, dragging him away from there as fast as he could while still pushing the trolley on the right path.

"You idiot! There were so many people there! You could have waited till we weren't in public. And smol Yoongi? Call me that one more time I swear to God, Jeon Jungkook." and on he went, grumbling under his breath about what Jungkook would face (nothing if he was honest with himself) if he dared to call Yoongi small or cute again. The frown seemed to stay on his face as he payed for everything and hauled it out of the store to his car. Jungkook could only grin while walking to the car.

"Come on," Jungkook said with a smile plastered on his face. "Why are you so ashamed?" he added. "I just wanted to show you that I love you," he continued as he found Yoongi's hand to hold it. But Yoongi pulled his hand out of Jungkook's fingers still mad.

"H-hyung, a-are y-you really m-mad?" Jungkook asked looking at Yoongi while he stopped walking to the car holding Yoongi's arm. Yoongi sighed as he put the things away in the car safely, remembering to place the art supplies in the backseat instead of the trunk.

"Just sit inside Jungkook, we'll talk about it later. Put the canvas in the backseat and sit. Sit and buckle up," Yoongi said he continued to arrange things in the trunk. When he was done arranging the things and he saw Jungkook was inside, he went and sat in the driver's seat. Putting the key in the slot, he turned to Jungkook whose head was hanging low.

"Hey Jungkook, let me tell you a secret. No matter what, I can't be mad at you. That's how much I care, okay?" He gently grasped his chin to turn Jungkook's face towards him, giving him an honest smile before leaning in to press a gentle kiss.

"I was sort of mad, but only because the kiss was too brief." Yoongi added with a smirk before straightening up and turning the key in ignition, starting to drive before Jungkook could say anything. Jungkook's eyes got big. Jungkook was surprised because Yoongi seemed actually mad at Jungkook that moment in the store. He smiled happily as they drove out of the parking lot to the apartment.

"Now we're being cringy," Jungkook grinned as he took Yoongi's hand and squished it softly as he gave a kiss on it. "You're still cute, but Jimin is smaller than you," Jungkook grinned as he put another kiss on Yoongi's hand before Yoongi pulled it away to put his hand on the gear again.

"You say we're bring cringy and then you keep holding my hand..." Yoongi shook his head slowly, "What will I do with you Jeon Jungkook..." He laughed to himself as he put both hands on the steering wheel. "Jimin is smaller than me, that's right. Speaking of, he's waiting at home, ready to go out on your date together. So you're not allowed to be tired, okay?"

"I'm not tired," Jungkook said with a smile as they drove to the apartment, now 'their' home where the three of them lived together. "I'm sorry I will leave you like this again," Jungkook grinned.

"I swear to God Jungkook don't make me roll my eyes so much, they'll roll out of my head if you continue." Yoongi laughed as he turned to go down to the basement parking for their apartment.

"I just worry about you two. As I said, you both need supervision. But it's all good. Jimin's first person on speed dial is me. If anything happens, call me." Yoongi parked his car and sighed.

"Now to carry everything up..." Just thinking about it seemed to tire him out but he hauled the bags of groceries anyways along with the duffel bag on his shoulder that had Jungkook's clothes.

"Let me at least carry one bag for you Hyung," Jungkook said as he took one of the bags from Yoongi's hands walking up the stairs with under his other arm the canvases. Jungkook followed up the stairs and when they arrived at the door Yoongi unlocked it where Jimin jumped up as they walked in.

"You guys are back! Jungkook-ah welcome home! Lemme help you." Jimin seemed to be on a spring. He took the bag of groceries away from Jungkook and led him to the corner they'd cleared near the window for Jungkook's canvases.

"I'll unpack Jungkook's clothes and the groceries so you two go have your fun," Yoongi chuckled, tossing his keys at Jimin who caught them easily before heading to the kitchen, right on Yoongi's heels.

"Drink some water and then we'll leave~" Jimin chirped handing Jungkook a glass filled with cool water when he emerged from the kitchen. Yoongi got to work immediately, putting the groceries away, the duffel bag now on one of the chairs.

Jungkook took the glass of water and took fast sips of it so it'd be empty soon. He emptied the glass in half a minute and put it on the table with a hard sound. "Done," he said with a smirk on his face facing to Jimin.

"Let's go," he said as he walked to the door and opened it. "Wait, I need keys," Jungkook said as he looked at Yoongi for a short moment.

"Jimin has them... The new copies haven't arrived yet. They'll come tomorrow so you have to wait." Yoongi said shrugging before picking Rose up into his arms. Jimin nodded, "yeah you're with me, I have my keys." Saying that he waved at Yoongi and closed the door behind them after pushing Jungkook out.

"Okay, let's do this," Jungkook smiled brightly as they walked down the stairs again to the parking lot again. "I hope we find something good," Jungkook said as he looked at Jimin.

"Oh right! I saw a few designs already and asked the people to hold it for us in case you like it. So yeah, here it is," Jimin said as he pulled his phone out, going to the gallery and handing it to Jungkook.

"I found one with a rose insignia. Do you guys have something special to do with roses? Because you named Rose, Rose and Yoongi hyung bought all those roses? Is there anything?" Jimin asked because he never had had the guts to ask Yoongi but maybe Jungkook would be friendlier.

"Well, that's from the first day we met, he took me to the rose garden in the hospital and told me he'd be my gardener where I'd be his rose," Jungkook said as he thought back to the memory with a smile.

"He's a great gardener." Jungkook grinned. "But show me," Jungkook said gently as he took the phone out of Jimin's hands and looked at the picture.

Jimin shivered. "Creepy and cringy. That metaphor is so... Cliché... Tell me which one you like and we can go there directly," Jimin said as he unlocked the car. "Also, we have to buy you a new phone so we need to go and browse for those," Jimin reminded Jungkook.

"Yeah we should," Jungkook said as he switched between the pictures. "I like this one a lot," he said pointing to a silver right with a rose pattern.

"Oh I think hyung will like that too. He isn't too keen on loud designs. We'll go there then. Get in~" Jimin finished before sitting in the driver's seat. "The only thing that I'm maybe sad about is I can't sleep with Yoongi anymore. He's really warm." Jimin pouted, thinking about the loss of his cuddle buddy.

"I know," Jungkook teased grinning at Jimin. "I'm sorry," Jungkook said as he ticked with his fingers on the dashboard nervously.

"It's okay~ I'll just sandwich you between Yoongi and I~ I'm small enough. There are advantages, you know," Jimin chuckled. "But honestly, I would rather lose a cuddle buddy and see you happy than vice versa."

"Well I mean, I don't want to come between your friendship," Jungkook mumbled as he looked up to the road.

"You wouldn't! I swear, you won't. We're both very excited to have you over. Yoongi has been buzzing with energy and if anything, just you guys being happy and cute together makes me happy. Or... Will make me happy. And if I have any problems, I'll tell you, okay? Don't be sad about it now," Jimin said, reaching out to punch Jungkook's cheek. Jungkook took Jimin's wrist to turn back so Jimin's hand would hit himself.

"Don't hit me," Jungkook joked as he saw a McDonalds in the distance. "And now I am hungry," Jungkook said as he gestured to the McDonalds.

"No~ I can't feed you. Because Yoongi is going to take care of that. But I am hungry too, so we could get a box of nuggets? Maybe? Just to not get too hungry..." Jimin said as he quickly turned the car around to go to the drive in for McDonald's.

"A great idea," Jungkook said as they drove ahead and Jimin ordered a pack of 9 nuggets with sweet sauce. They took the nuggets and drove ahead to the jewelry store. "Okay, but how expensive are these rings? I don't have money," Jungkook mumbled softly with a nugget in front of his face stuffing his mouth right after finishing his sentence.

"Do you think you need to care about money when you have friends? You're the richest when you have friends," Jimin boasted, swelling his chest up with pride as he chewed on a nugget, humming in satisfaction after swallowing it. "Hunger really is the best sauce isn't it," he smiled. "But money is not for you to worry about Jungkook. Your hyungs earn enough for all four of us, okay?"

"Okay," Jungkook said as he took another nugget chewing it slowly. "So if I don't earn enough with art it's fine?" Jungkook asked as he took the last nugget.

"Of course! Plus we'd rather see you work hard in art school and excel at whatever you choose to do and just... Enjoy yourself like we enjoy our jobs." Jimin said smiling at Jungkook, patting his thigh comfortingly. He turned soon after and parked his car. "It's in here. In this shop. Looks not so good but the stuff they have is legit. Let's go~"

"Let's get going," Jungkook said as he stepped out of the car and followed Jimin into the store.

"Okay so where are those rings?" Jungkook asked Jimin as they walked around the store. Jimin grinned and grabbed Jungkook by his t-shirt, dragging him to the counter where he asked the vendor for the rings he had looked at a couple of days ago. The vendor nodded with recognition, moving away to pull them out.

"You just need to check your size. I'm sure you have around the same size, both of you," Jimin added once the rings were displayed. Jimin himself started browsing through some rings, looking to add to his collection. Jungkook tried on the rings and thought about Yoongi's ring size. Yoongi's fingers were just as thin as his so Jungkook knew the size of the rings.

"Jimin Hyung?" Jungkook asked as he turned around. "Can you pay for these, I think they're perfect." Jungkook mumbled as he smiled while holding the rings in his hand. Jimin turned and looked at the rings and nodded, smiling.

"They look great~ Put them at the counter and I'll choose some for myself in the meantime. But~" Jimin held up his hand, "how do these look?"

"Those look good," Jungkook smiled as he put the rings on the counter and waited for Jimin to finish picking things for himself. He looked at the rings again and saw the price tag. "Jimin Hyung, these are way too expensive," he said.

"Nothing too expensive. As long as you like it, you take it." Jimin pulled out the rings from his fingers and put them on the counter, asking the worker to bill them before turning back to Jungkook.

"I told you not to worry about the price, didn't I? If you like it, you buy it. That's what I follow," Jimin shrugged with a chuckle, turning to pay, making sure the ones Jungkook picked are packed in boxes and his are in a separate bag. He turns and hands the box with the two rings to Jungkook.

"Okay, so we're going to give them to Yoongi when we go home?" Jungkook said as he looked at Jimin. "I don't even need a phone, I want to give them to Yoongi, we can get a phone another day," Jungkook said as they walked to the car. Jimin followed Jungkook a couple of steps behind.

"It's better if we go home with a phone. How else will Yoongi contact you when you're away?" Jimin asked as he entered the car and put it into gear.

"I wanna give these to Yoongi," Jungkook said as he looked at Jimin, he was serious about this. "I want to go to him now."

"Hmm... Okay then, I'll just get the phone ordered online. We'll go home. He's probably in his apron, cooking our lunch," Jimin said, more to himself than to Jungkook as he turned towards the road that led them back home.

"Okay," Jungkook said. Now slowly he was getting nervous about this. What if Yoongi didn't want this. What if Yoongi would end up leaving him just like Taehyung. Jungkook knew that sounded so stupid but the thoughts still flew around his head this way. He couldn't help it. Jimin took a look at Jungkook while cruising down the road.

"You know, Yoongi is really happy to have you around. He was sulky about having to wait another week till you came home. And I'm sure he has his own surprises waiting for you," Jimin told Jungkook, when he noticed his eyes flit about nervously. And within minutes they reached the basement parking where Jimin parked effortlessly.

"Really?" Jungkook asked as he looked at Jimin. He was extremely nervous for this and nothing really could help it away until Yoongi accepted the rings with happiness.

"Yeah. Let's get back and see what Yoongi is making, yeah?" Jimin smiled as he pulled the keys out and opened his door. Jungkook opened the door of the car while he nervously played with his t-shirt while walking up the stairs he wasn't really paying attention leading up to almost falling off the stairs. He smiled helplessly as Jimin took his arm so Jungkook wouldn't fall off the stairs. Jungkook had the box in the pocket of his jacket now and playing with the zipper of his jacket.

Yoongi leaned backwards to take a glimpse at the door when he heard the lock turn and the door click open. He saw Jimin and Jungkook enter. Seeing them both back safe and whole, he went back to cooking, moving around in the kitchen busily, also putting out two glasses of water for his younger housemates.

"I'm going to my, uh, our, room," Jungkook mumbled as he opened the door to his and Yoongi's room. He saw a new part to Yoongi's closet. He curiously opened it to find a lot of clothes in his own size. Did Yoongi, buy all of these for him? Jungkook took out the rings of his pocket and looked at them putting them back in the pocket.

Yoongi stole glances every once in awhile towards the direction where his room was, knowing Jungkook had gone in for the first time after coming from the hospital, his insides turning uneasily as his nerves went awry. He was so lost that he didn't notice that his food was going to burn till he felt another hand stir the ladle around.

"You're spacing out hyung. He'll like it, I'm sure. Give him some time to get used to this house, he'll be fine. Or maybe he's busy with Rose. But you don't want our lunch to be spoiled, do you?" Jimin simply shrugged and left for his own room, leaving him to cook again. Turning off the stove, he left it to cool enough for dishing out, deciding to arrange the rest on the table first. And soon enough he put out a lavish spread on the table, cringing after setting it up. He wondered if it was too much. He didn't realise all he was cooking till he was done. Yoongi really was too excited to have Jungkook out finally.

"Hyung," Jungkook said as he walked out of the room. "Thank you," he said softly as he sat down on a chair in the kitchen. "Uhm, I want to give you something," Jungkook said as he nervously played with the zipper of his leather jacket.

"You... Did you make something for me?" Yoongi asked puzzled, though a soft smile was present on his face as he approached Jungkook, resting a hand on the back of the chair. "What is it?"

"Uhm," Jungkook said as he took out the little black box out of his pocket while he looked at Yoongi, his body facing his elder. "I want to promise, to be with you, forever," Jungkook said as he opened the box showing the rings to Yoongi with a nervous smile.

Yoongi's smile faded as he looked at the rings in awe, "Wow..." Before long a smile wider than before replaced the lack of one on his face as he brushed his thumb over the rings .

"They're beautiful. Jungkook, you're so thoughtful, thank you," Yoongi finished, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. Jungkook took the ring and held Yoongi's hand carefully when he took the ring and put it around Yoongi's finger. Jungkook lifted up his hand and gave it a little kiss.

"I wanted to do something back for you," Jungkook mumbled onto Yoongi's hand. "Look at it good Hyung," Jungkook mumbled softly. Yoongi interlaced their fingers briefly before pulling it away, pulling out the other ring from it's slot, sliding it on Jungkook's right ring finger to match his.

"I promise to take care of you and be your side for as long as I can." Yoongi smiled fondly as he pulled Jungkook's hand up to kiss it lightly. "We match now."

"You've been a great gardener," Jungkook grinned as he kissed Yoongi's cheek.

Yoongi smiled and pulled away, pulling on Jungkook's hand to take him back to the dining table.

"Let's have lunch and celebrate you coming home," Yoongi said as he wrapped an arm around Jungkook's waist, Jimin emerging from his own room to smile at them as he approached.

"Let this lunch be the beginning of a delicious journey together," Jimin said before winking suggestively.

[icedcappujaeno]

50 questions tag!

tagged by; momma tulip <3 @rubyyong​

1.What takes up too much of your time?

Lately...watching The Return of Superman and sleeping.

2. What makes your day better?

Milk Tea or Coffee!

3. Whats the best thing to happen to you today?

That most of my professors announced they won’t be present on the 27th LOL

4. What fictional place would you like to go to?

WAKANDA

5. are you good at giving advice?

Pretty much yeah?

6. Do you have a mental illness?

I believe I don’t, but I haven’t consulted a physician yet.

7. have you ever experience sleep paralysis?

NOPE. 

8. What musician inspired you the most?

GB9!!! lately...

9. Have you ever fallen in love?

Yes.....

10. What’s your dream date?

a picnic under the cherry blossoms in kyoto...locking heart locks at n seoul tower...coffee dates in gangnam :(

11. What do others notice about you?

that i look too young for my age.

12.Whats an annoying habit you have?

SWEARING. in my hometown swearing is a norm so when i moved to manila i was suprised and culture shocked.

13. Do you still talk to your first love?

no :( like i want to be friends with him again, he’s a cool guy but he doesn’t have any social media lmao

14. How many exes do you have?

one

15. How many songs are in your playlist?

too many?

16. What instruments can you play?

is mayonnaise an instrument i used to play the guitar but i think im no good at it

17. What do you have the most pictures of?

my dogs and god jaehyun

18. Where would you like to go before you die?

ICELAND OR SWITZERLAND

19. Whats your Zodiac?

astrological; capricorn sun, gemini moon, virgo rising

chinese; fire rat

20. Do you relate to it?

i think...

21. What is happiness to you?

happiness is simply an emotion? a phenomena? that feels good...

22. are you going through anything right now?

yep, lmao 

23. Whats the worst decision you ever made?

TAKING BS MEDICAL TECHNOLOGY

24. Whats your favourite store?

an art store or a stationary store...

25. Whats your opinion on abortion?

pro to it. women can decide what they can do to their bodies.

26. Do you keep a bucket list?

yes...

27. Do you have a favourite album?

evanescence’s fallen album hahahahaha

28. What do you want for your birthday?

jaehyun

29. What are most people’s first impressions of you?

an introverted, bitch high schooler 

30. What age do you seem according to most people?

12

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

under the pillows

32. What word do you say the most?

uhh

33. Whats the oldest age you would date?

prolly 20-25 years older than my age

34. Whats the youngest age you would date?

i’m not really into younger hahahaha but ig 5 years?

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you?

CEO LMAO a professor/teacher/lecturer or smth along those lines that would require leadership

36. Whats your favourite music genre?

my music genre is fluid and depends on my mood

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

Japan or Switzerland or Singapore.

38. What is your current favourite song?

Star - GB9

39. How long have you had this blog for?

i don’t remember....

40. What are you excited for?

MY MASTERS DEGREE and the job i have applied for august

41. Are you a better talker or listener?

talker hahahahahaahaha but i do listen!!

42. What is the last productive thing you did?

making a report for grad school?

43. What do you want for Christmas?

jaehyun jK uhhh ig money? for travelling haha

44. What Class do you get the best grades in?

math (in high school) and hematology & microbiology (college) IM PROUD OF THIS

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now?

6 hahaha im sleepy af

46. What can you see yourself doing in ten years?

GETTING A PHD IN YONSEI/SNU FJDSF 

47. When did you get your first heartbreak?

HAHAHAHAHAHA last year

48.  What age do you want to get married?

depends! career goes first

49.  What career did you want to have as a child?

AN ASTRONAUT haha and a scientist (i am now but it doesn’t pay the bills lol)

50.  what do you crave right now?

STARBUCK’S HIBISCUS TEA

tagging anyone!! <3