#i would like to thank not only god but also bones studio

[bbokicidal]

"I Guess I Never Knew You." | OT8 [SKZ]

Genre : Angst [NO COMFORT]

Pairing : SKZ OT8 x GN!Reader

Summary : Based off of a request asking for reactions/how it would play out if the members were to cheat on you during your relationship. Each scenario is different - and these are rather short simply because I am trying to focus on Kinktober right now. Hopefully whoever requested this will be satisfied!

Warnings : CHEATING, lots of crying, angry responses from the boys, dismissal from the boys, reader gets angry in a few of them, yelling, etc. Very emotional.

These situations are all fictional and are not made to represent the boys. While I do write them as well as I can - based closely off of their personality and how I think they would realistically react - I honest to God do not think any of these men would be capable of cheating on their partner. Specifically Jeongin.

Bangchan - He cheats while you think he's busy with work

The excuses were so easy to make with you. 'Sorry, Angel. I'm staying late at the studio again because Jisung is sick.' 'I'm going in early to work on choreography with Min. See you.' 'Be back late, don't wait up.'

When eventually he just stopped giving you warnings, worry set in. His health was your top priority - but nothing of your own was his apparently. You'd walked into the studio with a small lunchbox full of snacks and water for him, assuming he was staying late again, only to see him with someone in his lap.

It's enough to make you tense, barely hearing his whispers and gently shushes of worry. He was sorry, he meant it, he swore, he didn't know you would find out --

It took every bone in your body to not hit him with that little metal lunchbox.

Lee Know - He cheats with an old friend from school

A girl you'd seen in his posts before. You'd found them kissing in a park while you were on your way to work, walking along the sidewalk only to stop and stare. A few girls had also paused to point and giggle, assuming the girl he was holding hands with was his girlfriend as he'd never done anything with you in public - no one knew that you were the one he should've been sucking face with.

Minho kisses the girl once more before they depart, pivoting on his heel only to fault. He stares at you from where he stands, your unmoving form timid and beginning to shake as the tears streaked down your face. He lifted a hand to reach out, watching as your body turned and - in the pouring rain - dropped your umbrella in your pursuit to get away.

He yelled, crying out for you to stop and let him explain. You didn't seem to listen, putting your feelings first and refusing to hear him out as he chased you down. He was fast - you were faster - darting across the road and narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle as you stumbled to the sidewalk before continuing to run to your apartment.

It really was a good thing you hadn't moved in with him when he'd asked you to.

Changbin - He cheats while away for a weekend

Seungmin had sat you down, told you everything. He'd shown you pictures he'd taken on his phone because he knew you were -- God, you were wonderful. And that wasn't his own feelings for you talking.

You'd been so good to Changbin. You made sure he ate three meals a day, made sure he had water, encouraged him to keep working on his music, his solos - choreography, etc. You'd done everything for him when he didn't have the energy to, visiting him during late nights and hugging him tight to tell him how wonderful he was and that he deserved the world.

Apparently, he grew a bit too cocky during their recent trip to Japan. Seungmin's pictures painted a portrait of your boyfriend with another woman in his lap, his face hidden by her hair as she sucked marks onto his skin that would disappear by the next morning.

You didn't confront him - didn't feed into it. You thanked Seungmin, left after patting his shoulder knowing it would likely be the last time you'd see him, and went home to move everything out of your shared apartment.

The next day, Changbin went on an indefinite hiatus.

Hyunjin - He cheats online

It started with the fucking instagram models.

Then he was messaging people, you find out. Contacting women he'd seen at fashion weeks or previous works with magazines. He'd asked them for photos, told them just how beautiful they were, and after looking through their profiles on your own, you'd felt like every ounce of self confidence you'd had was completely destroyed.

He'd only realized you'd found out when he came home from practice - no, 'practice.' - and found you sitting on the couch with tear stained cheeks and his phone in your hand. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind, so eager to meet up with the other woman in his contacts.

You'd packed all of his stuff, told him to get out, and he'd immediately started crying. You'd never seen him so devastated, kneeling at your feet to beg you forgiveness until you slapped him and shoved him back by the shoulders. He sat on the floor, stunned at your boldness to yell in his face that he was a liar - a cheater - and that he never loved you.

He'd sniffled, moving to get up and grab the bags you'd packed for him so he could leave. He stands in shame as he waits by your door while you seethe on the couch, silent, calling his new hookup to come get him. He couldn't call any of the members - they couldn't know about this. Not yet. The shame was eating him way.

Han - He cheats while on tour

He's in the USA when he texts you that he needs to break up. It's enough to break your heart, have you sobbing on the phone as you ask him over voice memo why he needs to break up with you now of all times. He was two weeks from being home in your arms - why now??

He'd chalked it up to just feeling distant, feeling as though you were neglecting him and his needs a bit while he was away.

Jeongin later reveals to you over a phone call that Jisung had hooked up with multiple women while they were gone over the months. He sounds broken as he relays the information to you, apologizing as you sob into the phone and saying how you never deserved any of it.

You were more angry than anything that Jisung had broken up with you in an attempt to cover up his own wrong-doings while also saying it was your fault.

Oh, but the twitter post you made the following day was enough to be near career-ruining for Jisung. And it was damn well enough to have him crawling back to you, blowing up your phone and begging you to delete the post. But it was already far too late for him by then.

Felix - He doesn't cheat on you because he's the most perfect sunshine angel baby on earth (I'm running out of ideas)

Seungmin - He cheats on you with someone you know

Your best friend - Well, ex-best friend - was the woman Seungmin had his eyes on. Not you.

He'd dated you to get closer to her, using you as a pawn in his little game until he was close enough. He would curl up next to you in the mornings, whispering soft goodbyes as he left for work before returning home late after he'd spent the evening in her bed.

You'd found out through another close friend who she had let the information slip to. Sleeping with an idol - definitely something to brag about.

He'd knocked on your door for nearly half an hour before you answered, threatening to hit him with a frying pan if he didn't leave. He was filled with confusion until you hissed out that you knew what he was doing. His eyes widened, puppy-like and scared after realizing you'd found out about his little scheme.

"Everyone is right about you! You're a fucking snake, Seungmin. You use people, you're full of fucking lies and bullshit! Do us all a favor and never date anyone again, you piece of dogshit!"

I.N - He cheats on you with a trainee

It's hard to stomach when you see it. He was so young when he entered the idol scene - How was he even doing it? Hooking up with a nineteen year old-- A girl who had just appeared at the JYPE building a few months ago.

She was set to debut in a new girl group - a pretty thing, tall and slim with long hair and a cutesy style. The ideal young woman for a girl group. And apparently he'd enjoyed her, too.

He isn't aware of your presence until you're stomping up behind him and shoving him by the shoulders, stumbling away to turn to you. He stops, breathing hitched and arm still around the girl's waist as she stands stunned.

You'd bit at him, yelling how he was full of shit when he'd said he'd never understand why 'I Like It' was a good song, how he'd never be able to imagine hooking up with people with no romantic intentions.

"You want to be with her then, right? You want to date her? If you really don't believe in just hooking up for fun, that must be the explanation."

He stutters, stumbling over his words as his eyes avert. "W-- ... Well..."

Your chest raised as you took in a breath, wanting to slap the man for his actions. Instead, you'd turned to leave, bumping into a very oblivious Chan on your way out. He'd stopped, asking what was wrong, before turning to peer over at Jeongin and the girl standing there, shame filling the two of them.

"Oh, mate..."

Permanent Tagist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersupriseee @possum-playground

[itsthatlake]

Reposting this directly on tumblr because YT deleted my channel.

In Our Bedroom After The War. Trash of the Count's Family animatic.

Consider supporting me via Ko-Fi! I would really appreciate it!

Extra stuff i wrote down while making this under the cut:

this took me so long you can literally see me get better at art from beginning to end lol

so many artistic liberties were taken here, you've no idea

confession time: i looked at references when doing the first drafts/storyboard(?) and then didn't for the line-art so yeah. rip lock's hair lock, i forgot about it until it was too late lmao

me, storyboarding this: SO. MANY. CHARACTERS????

@heart-select's Gashan design is so freaking cool I just had to use it, so kudos to them for that

me, repeatedly, while doing the line-art: oh god i still have to COLOR ALL THIS?!?!?!

how tf do you even draw wings?????

me, drawing the DHB: haha bones go brr me, drawing raon: you're damn lucky i love you

so glad I gave up on my original idea to color EVERYTHING jfc past me sure had high hopes

upset that I can't switch sheritt and DHB's order so they fit the lyrics bc I love sheritt too much to not draw her twice and also i'm not drawing a dragon bone head again thank you very much

ohn hasn't got ears. don't ask me why, i don't know either

on that note, i headcanon that ohn is the type to either look full human or full cat at all times, while hong (and lock too) like to have animal features while in human form whenever they can get away with it

added the kids' names to their piggybanks in korean bc why not

my blind ass made the subtitles far too big for my liking but i'm too tired to go and change everything now

this is also my first time doing an animation/video using only clip studio so i'm a little confused with why some things look like they do, but whatever

(Originally posted on 21/02/2023.)

anyways, enjoy!

[lokisprettygirl]

Lose me to Love you (Loki x Female Reader) (AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 22 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 23

Summary: Loki isn't the only one fighting with his inner demons. People from your past continues to turn up.

Trigger Warning: 18+, Description of rape and assault, panic attack, violence against women, Extreme dark themes, Sexual abuse, physical abuse, public sex, Rough violent sex, 18+, Steamy stuff, age difference ,Rough language, mention of suicide, talk of virginity and slut shaming, manipulative behaviour, mention of trauma, smut, toxic relationship between main characters. Dark themes, cult stuff

His palms felt clammy, he had been standing outside the orphanage for half an hour and you were taking your own sweet time coming out, as he noticed a girl approaching him he was slightly surprised. For some reason he kept picturing the eleven year old sweet girl that he knew instead of this fully matured grown woman that he probably would have fucked if he met her at the club. Just 18, he had to remind himself that you were barely an adult.

"Hiiii" you smiled at him and he snapped out of his thoughts.

"Y/n"

"Lokii..how are you?" You were the reason he was even alive today, for a moment the feeling overwhelmed him so he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him to hug you.

"Thank you darling, thank you..I'll take care of you I promise" the gratitude slipped past his lips and as he felt your arms around his waist his nerves went calm for a moment.

"So it was your birthday a few days ago, want to do something?" You looked at him as he said that.

"Not really..Where are we going?"

"Ummm my place" you hummed as he answered.

He drove you to his house and you looked around as you both entered the studio apartment he was renting in Brooklyn. It wasn't enough for you two but that's all he was able to do at the time, the divorce settlement has ruined him even further.

"It's cozy, I like it" you placed your backpack down on the couch and smiled again.

"Well you can take the bed, I'll sleep on the couch, food is in the fridge, here's the..umm some money..you can go grocery shopping or get whatever you need..the girl stuff and all" he passed you a few dollar bills so you took it from him, everything was awkward with you two and he felt it in his bones.

"What do you do for work?" You asked him and he sighed

"A small gig at a club"

"What type of gig, are you a bartender?" He combed his hair with his fingers as he tried to avoid your constant gaze.

"A bouncer..you ask too many questions" The job always paid okay, that's also how he met Jolene as well, she frequented the club he worked at and she finally asked him out one fine day. When they got married she got him a position at her accounting firm but he was fired while he was resting after the wrist slitting incident. Now he wished that he never ever met her at all.

"That's hot..i like bouncers..they're soo strong and so manly" his brows furrowed as you said that, how the hell you had even been in a nightclub? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know that.

"Well I have to go meet someone..when I come back we can discuss your uhhhh future plans…if you want to get into college or–"

"No discussion required..I want to become an actor..we should probably move to LA" you mumbled nonchalantly before you proceeded to raid the fridge that was mostly empty.

"Excuse me?" He looked at you all perplexed, getting you into acting business didn't seem feasible to him.

"LA? Los angeles?"

"I know where LA is ..are you serious about this acting thing?"

"As serious as Joker was before his dad carved his face" he looked at you all confused again as you quipped "Really??never?? Oh my god we are definitely going to watch the dark knight once you come back.. Don't worry we don't need to watch the first part.. honestly 60 percent of people skipped the first part and went straight to TDK and somehow it makes perfect sense ..it's like you're not even missing anything important or worth knowing…you know…"

Your voice faded in the background as you continued to speak gibberish to him. However your sweet voice also filled his empty sad apartment and he liked that. Alot. That was the moment he knew that life wouldn't be the same from then, he knew he'd have to make several adjustments and since he had taken the responsibility of taking care of you, your dreams and aspirations became his as well.

His eyes opened to your shaking form and he absolutely abhorred that, every time you had a nightmare he felt afraid that you'd slip past his fingers like that one horrible time. It had happened a few days prior to your mother's anniversary during the second year of living together. He never talks about it because you don't seem to have any recollection of those two days, at first he wasn't sure how to deal with you, how to bring you back but on the third night you went to sleep and came back absolutely normal. You had a bad dream last night too but it was about Thor and he just knew this one was different from that. He knew you'd probably not remember this one because it involved your mother.

"Hey sweetheart" he turned the lamp on to see you properly. His heart rendered as he noticed the tears running down the corner of your eyes,

"Loloooo …mommmyy .. I want mommmy" you sniffled, your voice reminded him of that little girl he had left at the orphanage.

"I know baby..it's okay.. open your eyes..I'm here..im here" he shook your body a little and you woke up gasping for air,

"Lolooo mommyyy ..I need mommmy"

"Shhhhhh baby.. everything is okay..you're safe" he mumbled softly as he wiped your tears, his lips lingered over your forehead before he wrapped his arm around your waist and made you sit up so he could embrace you, you felt safe that way.

He leaned against the headboard while you clutched onto him and cried your heart out.

"I'm here baby, my sweet girl, come back to me, I'm right here, you have me i promise" he mumbled mindlessly

"Don't send me away ..they sent me away every time I had a nightmare..they sent me to that place I hated" you sniffled between your words and his eyes welled up.

"You have me okay? I got you baby, I got you i promise" you hugged him as tightly as you could and your foggy grief stricken mind lulled you to sleep but he couldn't sleep that night, next morning as usual you didn't remember the outburst like always, a few years ago he had asked Steve about that place you kept talking about after such nightmares and Steve told him that it was a psychiatric hospital where they sent you whenever you relapsed or whenever you showed the signs of dissociative Amnesia.

"What are you making?" You hugged him from behind so he smiled.

"Guess" you opened the lid of the pot and all the excitement disappeared

"Porridge" your face scrunched in disgust and it made him smile.

"Well you wanted to eat healthy remember"

"Just take me to the gym again, it's been months" you groaned as you moved around the kitchen to make tea

"I will.. as soon as he's caught" You hummed as he said that "Are you feeling okay sweetheart?" He asked you softly and you shrugged

"Yeahh why?" He sighed as you said that. He wanted to ignore it like he had done before but after last night and the way you were trying to help him cope with his trauma, it had made him reflect upon your own situation, you didn't get away unscathed from his father's abuse, sure he wasn't able to harm you irrevocably but the damage was already done when he had hurt your mother.

"Because of the nightmare? Do you remember what you saw?" He asked you and you stopped doing whatever you were doing.

"Nooo.. i .. I didn't have a nightmare last night..it was the night before remember?" You walked over to him to kiss him on the cheek and he hummed in response. He can't just dump it on you, that would only make the matters worse, he had to find a way to talk to you about this.

"Take me shopping today daddy, it's my birthday in a few days"

He picked you up and sat you down on the counter as you said that. Your birthday. He promised to fuck you senselessly on your birthday but the approaching date had him feeling someway, he couldn't decide if it was a good feeling or not, a part of him wanted to ravish you and enjoy every second of it. The other part though? that bastard wanted to keep himself away from your precious body as far as possible, he didn't deserve to fuck a girl like you, he was one of the reasons why girls like you lost their lives, he was the reason why their dreams got broken so how come he got so blessed as to have someone as pure as you saving herself for him.

"What else would you like to do? A party perhaps?" You thought about it as he said that.

"Or we could just spend it together..just the two of us" you answered him while your fingers played with his chest hairs so he kissed you.

"Aren't you bored of seeing my face all the time?" He chuckled after speaking.

"Ask that girl who spent 7 years without seeing this angelic face. She'd always say no" his eyes softened as you said that.

"For this to happen it had to be that way"

"For what to happen?" You asked him confused so he cupped your cheeks.

"For this to happen.." he kissed you passionately, it wasn't a touch and go type of kiss either, his tongue slid into your mouth so you sucked on it, he tasted like peppermint. Delicious "It had to be that way" you inhaled sharply as he finally decided to allow you to breathe.

"Does it bother you that I was into you way before you were into me?" You asked him

"You were just a child sweetheart, you didn't even know what you felt"

"Well I knew I wanted to kiss you, I was ten when I knew that I wanted to kiss you and –"

"Shut Up.. that's inappropriate as hell" He pressed his thumb onto your lips but his digit couldn't really stop you from smiling or talking even

"It's just the truth, and to this date you are still the prettiest boy i have ever seen in my life"

"Well i'm no boy now my darling" he wrapped your legs around his waist to pull you closer to him and his mouth travelled down from your lips, you moaned as he sucked the soft skin of your neck.

"Some parts of you is still the boy i met"

"Uhhhuh like what?" He chuckled condescendingly so you held his cheeks and kissed him lovingly, as lovingly as you could.

"Like these eyes, still as gentle as I remember, mommy always told me that you could judge a person fairly well by the look in their eyes, you have the kindest eyes lolo" his eyes teared up as you said that. He thought you'd give him a break after last night but you were hell bent on coddling him like a baby.

"Well your mommy wasn't really the best judge of character"

"Take it back" your voice broke because the meanie in him came out again so he kissed you again.

"I'm sorry baby" he murmured against your mouth and you almost melted into a puddle because of how tender he seemed at the moment "You're forgiven" He smiled as you whispered. He wondered how badly he'd have to hurt you to make him unforgivable in your eyes because no matter what he did or said you always forgave him and that too pretty easily.

"What else?" He asked you and it confused you for a moment before it finally dawned upon you. He wanted to know more about those boyish parts of him.

"The smile, still the same, everytime I felt scared at the orphanage I would just think about you and your smiling face, that calmed me down immediately" he kissed you again instead of responding with words "And your voice hasn't changed in the slightest either"

"You are such a sentimental little girl"

"Is that bad?"

"Not at all, I just don't want to disappoint you with my stoicism" a smile graced your features at the blatant lie.

"You're pretty sentimental yourself mister "

"No I'm not"

"Yes you are"

"Shhhhhh"

After force feeding you that unsavory porridge he took you shopping like you had asked him to, you also had to be at an audition tomorrow, you needed to find work or you knew he'd try and find other works, like that thing he used to do at the club, you hated not having him at home all night.

You picked a dress but you didn't want him to see it just yet. You both spent the whole day out, it was a peaceful day but it didn't stay that way. Ofcourse it didn't. It came crashing down on you.

Your soul almost evaporated as someone ran in front of the car, you both watched a woman lying unconscious in the middle of the deserted road and you wondered if she was alive.

"Is she…oh gooddd" you mumbled under your breath so he looked at you

"Stay in here okay?" He asked you so you nodded. She had long blonde hair so it wasn't Jolene, you hated that it was your first thought. Your worries didn't cease there because as Loki rolled her over, it was someone you knew, someone you both knew very well. He picked her up hurriedly before you two could get caught by a passerby or something. After laying her down on the backseat, he quickly got in and drove towards the apartment as fast as he could.

"Ummm is that uhh--"

"Yeah and I don't trust the bitch so we are going to take her home and you're going to help me tie her up as securely as we can okay?" You looked at him all perplexed and he glared at you so you nodded.

The cops on the patrol tonight asked him about her so he lied that she was a friend that had gotten drunk out of her mind. As soon as you all reached the apartment you helped him tie her up onto a chair.

"Lokiii what are we doing..is she even alive?" you asked him nervously so he walked towards you and grabbed you by the shoulders.

"She's alive and breathing, it makes no fucking sense that she'd end up right in front of our car of all people"

"We should tell Steve "

"No not after Thor's situation, I'm already on his radar"

"But what if this brings us more trouble?" he wiped the sweat beads from his forehead as you said that. Ever since his bastard father has escaped your lives has turned into a rollercoaster that just doesn't seem to stop rolling.

You both waited for her to come back to consciousness and when she did she started to struggle against the binds almost immediately.

"Why the fuck are you here?" He asked her as he pulled up a chair right in front of her, you dragged another chair from the kitchen table, it almost looked comical as you tried to be as quiet as you could but the situation wasn't funny at all.

"Lokiii? Y/n?"

Well no memory loss it seems.

"Why the fuck You have me tied up Loki? I know you enjoyed that one time I had--" your eyes widened as she said that. He fucked her all tied up? Again you hated how your mind couldn't move past the jealousy

"Shut up.. shut the fuck up okay? Why are you here..answer me" he glared at her and she looked at you, she then gave you the sickly sweet smile that you remembered really well.

"Oh look at you now, turned yourself into Loki's pretty little girl huh?? Dreams do come true i guess"

"Sister Natasha–" Loki glared at you so you corrected yourself

"Natasha..what are you doing?"

"I don't understand, do you guys like own LA now that I can't be here?" She chuckled and Loki's teeth gritted in anger, he was so close to doing something awful

"Are you here to do his bidding again? He sent you.. didn't he?" she started laughing as he said that.

"You are still so naive loki. You know if he wanted to be here and eat her heart he'd be here, he won't need me" He stood up and all of a sudden there was a smacking sound that you heard, you looked at him shocked as he slapped her. Her lower lip split open at the force he used, your eyes teared up because you weren't expecting him to just go off like that, he never lost his control like that with you. He wasn't like that. Not with women. Not outside of consensual bedroom shenanigans.

"Ohhh I have missed that" her reaction wasn't shocking though, you knew they fucked, you just didn't know they indulged into this, though you should have guessed considering the sexual history of the cult.

"Don't make me kill you Natasha, just tell me the truth, for once in your life, tell me the truth"

He heard you sniffling so he turned his head to the side to look at you, the look on your face was enough to kill whatever shred of self esteem he still had left in him.

He walked towards you and grabbed your arm to take you to the bedroom.

"Stay here" he warned you before he turned around to leave

"This is not you loki" his eyes teared up as you said that.

"That's me sweetheart, that's the real me..still want to believe that bullshit you had made up in your head about me? This is me..the monster I keep warning you about"

You shook your head as he said that, you wanted to stop him and hold him, tell him that he wasn't a monster but he didn't give you a chance, just an hour later cops raided the house, they were tipped off. Natasha told them that he had kidnapped her, she told them that you had no involvement in all of this, you begged Steve to not believe her, you asked him to not take him away from you but he said that he was helpless. All the evidence was against him.

They wanted to take him away to lock him behind the bars, he was to be questioned later on about his motives.

And that's when you were finally able to understand why he went crazy on her, he knew her. You didn't.

You didn't know that she was as rotten as Odin. He wasn't wrong, she was there to do his bidding and she got what she needed. You without him by your side.

@annoyingsweetsstranger @whylokiissocute @loki-s-wife @fraoid3 @siggytumbles @crzyplantladyvibes @stupidthoughtsinwriting @vickie5446 @wheredafandomat @mcufan72 @xxntiimulti @loz-3 @dishahaldar @mcdesij @scram1326 @elthreetimes @army24--7 @sinsandguilt @holotacopeely @huntress-artemiss @blog-the-lilly @ultraviolencexxss @disneyismyworldforever @bunny24sstuff @kats72 @somewiseguy @asgardianprincess1050 @multifandom-world8 @loki-laufeyson-1054 @daddylokisqueen @lulubelle814 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @rogerrhqpsody @praq123

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

If I'm not able to tag you please check your settings

[ciaossu-imagines]

Can you do day 20 prompt 1?

Of course I can! Thank you so much for showing interest in me and my opinions, my lovely anon! You’re very sweet!!

1.    What was your first anime (that you knew was anime)?

Oh my god, honestly…I don’t actually remember. I remember growing up on Dragon Ball Z, Sailor Moon, Ronin Warriors and other things they’d show on Toonami, but I don’t think I actually knew they were anime then. It probably would have been either Bleach, Naruto, or Yu Yu Hakusho but there were some smaller little animes I watched around that time as well that I really grasped were anime because I had met friends and such who knew the terms, knew the culture, and was introducing me to it.

2.    Favourite pre-2000’s anime?

Okay, right out the gate, reminding everyone – I can never pick favourites. I struggle with that so much because there are just so many fantastic shows and movies out there, so many solid choices, and I can’t say ‘this one is the best’ because there’s no universal best. Each one does something better than the others, all across the board. Of course, those familiar with my fandom list will see Yu Yu Hakusho and Ronin Warriors (and at times, Hunter x Hunter) on there. Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball Z, Trigun, Revolutionary Girl Utena, Cowboy Bebop, Akira, Lupin III, Ghost in the Shell, Astroboy…they’re all old anime that really do stand the test of time and are all worth checking out.

3.    Favourite post-2000’s anime?

Fuck, I could make whole lists. Of course, I highly recommend all the ones on my fandom list, but I also will mention really loving Death Parade, Psycho-Pass, Shadows House, and a bunch of others!

4.    Favourite director?

Umm…going to show my ignorance here and admit that I know absolutely no directors for anime. I know a couple of studios to the point where I can pretty much guess if a particular anime comes from them (Studio Madhouse and Studio Bones have some pretty recognizable traits among their varying anime) but that’s about it.

5.    Favourite Ghibli movie?

Again, it’s really damn hard to say favourite. I will say I am firmly of the opinion that you can sit down with almost ANY Ghibli movie, and you will be in for a visual treat, interesting characters, and a good movie. I watch Totoro and Spirited Away the most though, but that’s only because they’re the two I actually own. I think the only one I haven’t watched more than once is Howl’s Moving Castle. It was a good movie stylistically, don’t get me wrong, was really cute but I’m a huge fan of the novel for that and the two are so vastly different that I couldn’t love it as much as a lot of Ghibli fans.

6.    Favourite piece of merch (that you own or want to own)?

Okay, so I own a Yamamoto and a Yamazaki mini figure and both are extremely precious to me. Not only are they characters I love, but they were gifted to me by a friend I roleplayed with on ProBoards for years with and actually flew out to Toronto to meet. So they’ve got some sentimental value to them. As mentioned in another ask, I do diamond painting and there’s some really cool anime themed diamond painting pictures I’ve bought, since they’re not normally too expensive that decorate my walls, like one of Deku from BNHA, a Demon Slayer one, and I recently found a site that lets you make pictures into customized diamond painting pictures, so hopefully I’ll have some more from my other fandoms on their way!

7.    First convention & 8. Convention you’ve attended the most?

I keep saying I’m going to go to conventions and plan (even bought tickets for one), but always chicken out, actually. I have a really hard time with large crowds of people, they make me really anxious and while it’s my dream to attend a convention and have all the fun that comes with it, I haven’t actually taken that final step. I’ll just keep repeating the small steps until I get there 😊

9. Favourite animation style?

As with everything, I have a really hard time saying favourite. I fully admit to being swayed by pretty, smooth animation but the animation styles I find pretty vary really widely. As everyone can see from the fandoms I write about on here, I watch a pretty wide variety of anime, from 90’s up to current animation, and I think that has something to do with it. I am more drawn towards things with more colour to them, things bright and eye-catching, but there’s also something beautiful about the soft, almost shojo-esque and pastel aesthetics of some anime. Really, I can deal with most animation styles, and it takes a lot for me to nope out of something because of the animation style…the only examples I can think of were RWBY, Kill La Kill (also the fanservice in that is gross), and Violence Voyager (and there were a lot more reasons I couldn’t finish that film and even the thought of it still leaves me feeling really damn unsettled).

10. Last anime you finished and your thoughts on it?

I finished up the second season of The Vampire Dies in No Time recently and honestly, the amount of love I have for that show is just insane. I will probably rewatch it at least a million more times. It’s such an easy watch, it makes me laugh a lot of the times, I love the animation style and the range of quirky characters. I definitely would recommend it to others if they enjoy comedy animation!

[bluravenite]

Hi! So I just got an iPad and Apple Pencil to start drawing with and I was wondering if you had any advice for someone just starting out? I just love your art so much. It can be about just drawing in general or drawing digitally. I've got Procreate on my iPad. Thank you for your time.

Oh hi!! I'd love to help! I've been drawing digitally for about 7+ years now but only started using procreate in August! Art is about continuous improvement!

I'll try to go as in depth as i can below the cut ⬇️⬇️

I would also like to make it clear that i am a mainly self taught artist with no formal art education!! So anything i say pertains to my OWN experience learning and what has personally helped me!! But it may be different for you depending on your level!

(this is a very long post sorry for ranting so much lol i just want to make sure you can actually take away some good lessons from this!!)

At first it was very confusing and frustrating because i was used to Clip Studio with a drawing tablet on my laptop, but what helped me get comfortable was doing lots of studies at first, nothing serious just kinda going through each brush, playing around a lot, drawing portraits of people and doing some life drawing exercises!

These are some of my first procreate drawings i did!! They were portrait studies where i was trying to get a feel for the program.

I do recommend doing lots of studies as soon as you can, do a mixture between drawing for your own personal amusement and also more serious studies, but mainly what has helped me is getting into a hyper fixation (lol it's funny but it's true)

The key to familiarity and improvement is consistency, draw A LOT!! Take notes every time you do something you think needs improvement then note it down and then practice that! but don't lock yourself into trying to be good at one thing only, If something is stressing you out, just leave it and work on something else.

As for drawing in general, it depends on what you want to improve.

I recommend if you want to improve on anatomy, what has helped me a lot is using resources online to practice how you would inside a classroom.

Watch videos on gesture and figure drawing, and google websites that give you life drawing poses (dm me if you need i can share some resources I've used before!) And then try to learn how to do that.

That's what's helped me most with poses, using a combination of gestural and structural drawing

However when it comes to anatomy, that gets more complicated, looking at real human bodies helps a lot, but you also don't need to study and memorize the 7000000th muscles of the body and how they attach to each bone. However, ART IS ABOUT OBSERVATION!!!

Look at yourself in the mirror and make note of how your body moves!! How do your muscles pull and stretch your chest when you lift your arm up? How does your body accomodate the extra skin on top of your shoulder when it's moved up? How does your ribcage stretch and your skin bunch up when you stretch your torso to one side? When you are sitting down how does your body accomodate? Looking at all these things taught me a lot more than trying to memorize the scientific name for the 3rd ribcage muscle that I've never had to name lmao, learning however the GROUPS of muscles can help!! Especially when drawing buff men 🥹👍 they have like 7 different muscle groups in the torso lmao, AND LETS NOT TALK ABOUT THE BACK MUSCLES CUZ DEAR GOD I HAVEN'T EVEN GOTTEN THAT FAR YET IT SCARES ME🧍🫶

I am also currently trying study more my value distillation when drawing (see picture), that's something i struggle a lot with when working with light and shadow!! So I'm trying to get better at it, (a good YouTube search on value distillation) will give you a good idea of what i mean.

There are very many good resources out there but i will say this!!!

Don't oversaturate yourself with knowledge because it will stress you out when you know all these academic terms and cannot apply them into your work.

Watching one video will give you some information on how a technique works, you can then rewatch it and try to work along with it, and then practice it a couple more times on your own, but don't expect to be good at it, or understand it immediately.

Drawing is about continuous improvement and you never really should stop learning and experimenting.

PLEASE!! if you ever need help with anything!! Do not hesitate to ask other artists!!

@coreyvoss has helped me figure out a couple things and i am sure neither he or i are opposed to trying to help you out finding some resources if you need! I am eternally grateful for Corey's expertise and encouragement!!

I am very proud of you for already taking initiative to want to learn and engage with the community, i am really honored to know that you like my work, it's the only thing i could ever ask for, and i wish you the best of luck in this journey!!! Digital art is a great tool for artists, but remember, you make the art not the other way around💖🫶

Sorry I'd there's any grammar mistakes, I wasn't expecting such a long post but i genuinely do hope you are able to take something helpful from it.

[eatthepoison]

This OVA said Bakukamikiri Rights!

[specialk-draws]

can I have that twitter thread of kiri's tooth poking out,,,, it's for research,,,,,,

You most certainly can

[blu-joons]

When They Come Home And Find You Asleep On The Sofa ~ The Boyz Reaction

Sangyeon:

As soon as he saw you laid out across the sofa, Sangyeon’s serious side came out, approaching you quickly to try and move your body into a more comfortable position.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” he frowned, relaxing your limbs so they sat properly.

Under Sangyeon’s movement, your inquisitive eyes soon opened to see what was going on. “What are you doing?” You asked as his hands moved your leg up to the sofa.

“I’m taking care of you,” he smiled widely, tapping against your leg before letting go. “I can already predict that you’re going to be crying out for a massage in the morning.”

“What about now? My back feels like it’s been kicked to pieces.”

As angry as he was, Sangyeon couldn’t help but chuckle. “Why do you always do this to yourself?”

“I wanted to see you,” you mused, turning so that you were laying on your back, only to feel Sangyeon’s hands began to attack the small of it. “I was only joking about the massage.”

His head shook, ignoring what you had to say, “I know your back is hurting you, your face always gives it a way. Just a quick one, and then I’ll take you to actual bed.”

“You’re too good to me,” you complimented, pursing your lips together at the relief you felt under Sangyeon’s touch, running gently along the length of your back.

“You tried to stay up for me, this is the least I could do.”

Jacob:

The moment his eyes fell on you, his heart stopped, covering his mouth with his hand as a soft coo escaped at the way you snuggled up to one of the sofa cushions.

“Well, this is quite the dilemma,” he muttered, trying to figure out what to do with you on the sofa.

Jacob took a few steps forwards, moving a second cushion to your side for you to rest on. “I know how horrible you get whenever you get woken up from a nap.”

“But on the other hand, I know you’ll be angry at me tomorrow when all your bones hurt,” he sighed, “you’ve really left me in the middle of a losing battle.”

“Your too sleepy to even care about that though, aren’t you?”

His eyes looked to you once he’d finished rearranging. “Before you hate me, just know I love you.”

“Actually, I do love you a lot,” he continued to mumble, deciding to take a seat on the floor just beside your head. “I proper don’t tell you that enough really.”

His hand then moved across to run over the top of your head, “I hate seeing you sleep, because your so quiet, but it’s god to know that you’re getting rest too.”

“I should probably rest too,” he continued to chatter, staring at your sleeping figure, “but now I face the dilemma of deciding where to sleep too.”

“Jacob, do you plan on letting me get any sleep tonight?”

Younghoon:

His arms swept you up in an instant as Younghoon walked in to find you asleep on the sofa, keen to get you comfortable in bed as quickly as he possibly could.

“I keep telling you not to wait up for me,” he scolded, carrying you carefully up the stairs to bed.

As he reached the final step, your body slowly began to stir in his hold. “Hoon?” You muttered, moving your hand to rest against his chest, confirming it was him.

“Don’t worry, go back to sleep,” he simply assured you as he turned into your bedroom, “I wish you would’ve come straight up here when you started to get tired down there.”

“I wanted to stay up and see you, make sure you were alright.”

A gentle chuckle escaped him, “I’m alright, glad to be home and back with you at least now.”

“Tell me about your day,” you requested as you felt him lay your figure down on the bed, still unable to bring your eyes to open. “I want to hear all about it.”

Once he was sure you were settled, Younghoon stepped away, changing his shirt. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it in the morning when you’re a little more awake and attentive.”

“Give me a minute and I can wake up,” you called out, but the feeling of the duvet being thrown over your body quickly silenced you once again.

“Sleep, my stories can wait until tomorrow.”

Hyunjae:

As he knelt beside your face, Jaehyun couldn’t help but pull his phone out, knowing this was the perfect weapon to use against you at some point when he needed it.

“So cute,” he whispered as he opened up his camera, hearing you yelp as he pressed to snap.

Your hands covered your eyes as Jaehyun’s flash went off, noticing his wide eyes as he realised what had happened. “Please tell me you didn’t just take a photo of me.”

“I thought you looked cute, but also thought my flash wasn’t on either,” he confessed, quickly hiding his phone out of your reach, “your awake now anyway.”

“If I wasn’t so tired right now, I would beat you up for that.”

His head shook, resting his hand over yours. “How come you couldn’t stay up tonight for me?”

“I’m knackered,” you confessed, not even trying to be subtle. “My boss had been running around doing so much paperwork, if I even see a book, I’m going to lose my mind.”

He leant forwards pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose, “shall I carry you up to bed? At least you can get some proper rest up there?”

“As long as you do everything, I’m far too tired to move,” you requested of him, “and that includes deleting that picture that you just tried to take of me too.”

“Damn, I was hoping that would go in the payback album.”

Juyeon:

His heart skipped a beat as he walked in to see the ending screen of the stream of the concert still on your phone, with it dropped to the floor by the sofa.

“How did I know you’d be watching,” he smiled, picking your phone up and checking over it.

His hand pressed against your forehead, brushing the hair out of your face. As he did, a small hum came from you in response to his presence in the room with you.

“How are you doing?” He asked as you slowly came round, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “I hope you didn’t fall asleep before our stage came on?”

“No, I managed to stay awake to at least watch that bit.”

His head shook at how exhausted you were, “shall I ask what you thought, or are you too tired?”

“It’s fine,” you whispered, slowly sitting yourself up to make room for Juyeon to sit beside you. “But you know that I’m always a big fan of all your shows anyway, that never changes.”

He carefully sat down, giving you the space that you needed to wake yourself up properly. “I’m glad you enjoyed the stage; you didn’t need to watch it though.”

“It doesn’t matter how tired I get, I always want to stay up and watch you perform,” you quickly assured him, “I am your biggest fan after all, remember?”

“Of course, how could I ever forget that?”

Kevin:

His smile grew as soon as he spotted you with your head resting into his jumper that he’d thrown on the sofa just before he left the house earlier that day.

“I knew you’d try and steal it,” he joked, taking a few steps closer to see you were in fact asleep.

He couldn’t believe it, sitting down beside your figure. “Your too stubborn for your own good,” he scolded, falling silent as your body shuffled and your eyes slowly opened.

“How dare you,” you spoke up, letting him know that you’d heard every word that he had to say to you. “I thought I’d be nice and stay up, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Well, you’ve hardly stayed up, have you? You were fast asleep.”

Your hand reached out to push gently against his chest, “it’s the thought that counts, so be quiet.”

“Now that I’m home, and your awake, shall we head up to bed?” Kevin suggested, but your head shook, gripping tighter onto his comfortable jumper that you’d been using for some time.”

Your hand hit him yet again as his eyes rolled. “You must be exhausted too, maybe we should just camp out on the sofa for the night,” you proposed, “you look a state.”

“Thanks a lot,” he teased, knowing that you were messing with him, “do I at least get my jumper to sleep with in case I get a little bit cold through the night.”

“No, this is mine now, you’re going to have to find another.”

New:

His arm snaked around your waist as Chanhee made himself comfortable behind your figure on the sofa. For a few moments, he managed to sleep, until you began to wake up.

“Chan?” You whispered, waiting until he hummed to know he was awake. “You can’t sleep here>”

His head shook back at you, “I can. You looked far too peaceful to even try and disturb you, and there was no way I was going to sleep upstairs knowing you were here.”

“But your body,” you whined, feeling the grip that he had wrapped around you tighten. “You’ll be in pieces tomorrow, and that’ll be all my fault too.”

“I decided to sleep on the sofa Y/N, none of this is your fault.”

Your eyes rolled at how argumentative he was, “let’s go up to bed at least now we’re both awake.”

“No,” he chuckled, making sure that you stayed where you were. “You’re comfortable, and so the last thing I want to do right now is even try and move you up from the sofa.”

Another groan escaped from you, “just know, when you show up at the studio tomorrow morning all sore, I am taking zero responsibility for all your aches and pains.”

“Deal,” he teased, pressing a kiss against the back of your head. “Now, close your eyes back up and get some rest, you need your beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

“As long as you get some rest too, and try not to hurt too much tomorrow.”

Q:

Just as Changmin took a step back, convinced that he’d managed to get you up to bed without waking you up, your eyes fluttered open, surprised as to where you were.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, just about managing to register that Changmin was there.

He moved back towards you, taking a tight hold of your hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I just knew how mad you’d be if I left you on the sofa all night long.”

“I’m glad you moved me,” you assured him, moving along the bed to make space for him to sit beside you. “I’m just sorry that I didn’t stay awake to greet you.”

“I did notice the coffee mugs on the table, you must’ve tried hard.”

Your head nodded back at him, “you’re lucky I’m not on cloud nine right now with all that caffeine.”

“If you stay awake for much longer, you just might be,” he warned you, “go back to sleep if you want, I just need to wash up and then I’ll come and join you to rest.”

Your head nodded, reluctantly letting your hand slip out of yours. “Don’t be too long though, I don’t want to fall asleep on you again without saying goodnight.”

“You won’t even know I’m gone,” he grinned, rushing across into the adjoining bathroom whilst you made yourself more comfortable in bed.

“I can already feel myself getting sleepy, get a wriggle on.”

Juhaknyeon:

He couldn’t believe what he saw before him as he walked into the apartment, spotting your figure curled up into a ball on the sofa, light snores escaping.

“How?” Was all Haknyeon could say as he walked further in, inspecting just how sleepy you were.

After texting just fifteen minutes ago to let you know that he was on his way home, you’d somehow managed to drift off to sleep, unaware of him even entering the house.

“Y/N,” he whispered, gently shaking your shoulder to try and wake you up. As you stirred, his voice spoke up once again, “I thought you’d be excited to have me home.”

“I was, I am, I told myself I’d only shut my eyes for thirty seconds.”

Your voice was groggy, widening the smile on his face. “You shouldn’t have waited in that case.”

“I promised when you left the house this morning that I’d wait up for,” you sighed, quickly covering your mouth as a yawn escaped, “I kind of kept to that promise too.”

His eyes rolled, stepping forwards to press a kiss to the top of your head, “you tried your best, and I appreciate that, even though you didn’t need to in this state.”

“I’m not that tired,” you whined, trying to sit yourself up, only for your body to fall straight back down, “but can we go to bed, because you probably need the rest?”

“Of course, but secretly, I know you need the rest too.”

Sunwoo:

Tired arms wrapped around your tired figure, careful with every movement as Sunwoo carried you off of the sofa, glancing across at the clock with a sigh.

“If you didn’t look so cute, I’d be mad right now,” he giggled to himself, admiring your sleeping face.

Yet, as he went to spin away from the sofa, the sound of your voice broke him from his thoughts. “Your home?” You questioned, instantly picking up on Sunwoo’s voice.

“I’m home,” he established, carrying on with his walk towards your bedroom. “Go back to sleep, I promise I’ll have you laying back down in a minute, back with your dreams.”

“You broke my dream; I was dreaming of you and I as well.”

Sunwoo was thankful you couldn’t see the red glow on his cheeks, “I’m sure you can go back to it.”

“Why?” You whispered, snuggling tightly into his chest as he walked, “I have you here now, I don’t need to dream about you anymore.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your tired voice, “you can have the real thing tomorrow, but your tired, and as hard as it is to say no to you, I know that rest is the most important thing right now.”

“I guess I’ll dream of you for now instead,” you responded, scrunching your eyes tightly shut. Sunwoo’s head nodded, smile wide at your expression.

“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of sweet dreams of me.”

Eric:

As he walked into your apartment to hear the television still playing, Youngjae was excited to see you, until he noticed you fast asleep, laid out on the sofa.

“One day you won’t fall asleep watching this drama,” he chuckled, grabbing the remote to pause it.

As the room fell silent, he reached across to pull a blanket off the back of the sofa. “At least look after yourself if you’re going to fall asleep before I get home too.”

“I was watching that,” your voice suddenly mumbled, stirring at the feeling of the material draped over your body. “Why did you turn it off, it was getting to a good bit.”

“Don’t even try and convince me that you were awake then.”

Your eyes slowly opened, staring up at Youngjae. “I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes, I swear.”

“Such a liar,” he scoffed, refusing to believe a word that you said. “If I asked you to tell me one thing that happened in that episode, would you be able to tell me?”

You paused for a moment, but as you thought back, your memory failed you. “Alright, so maybe I was asleep for a while, but only because I was waiting for you.”

“Which I always tell you not to do,” he smiled, kneeling down beside you, “you’ll hurt yourself one day falling asleep on the sofa like this, waiting up all night.”

“It would be worth it though to see you.”

---

Masterlist

[pallasperilous]

Fifty Ways to Lose Your Lover

{on AO3} “Despair” Studio Draft 09/18/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL is verging on tears, joy and sorrow fighting for dominance. He knows what he’s about to say will be enough to summon THE EMPTY to claim him forever. DEAN is still struggling to process, but a terrible understanding is beginning to dawn on his face. CASTIEL ...I love you. DEAN (tearfully) I love you, too... ...buddy CASTIEL (Sighs grimly.)

> “Despair” Studio Draft 09/19/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL ...I love you. DEAN (meaningfully) I know.

Haha sorry dude I’ve just always wanted to say that CASTIEL opens the door for THE EMPTY and wordlessly walks into the sweet embrace of OBLIVION. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/20/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN Cass, man...I...how long have you felt this way?

CASTIEL Maybe...season 6? But I would’ve... (He pauses, overcome with emotion, then steadies himself to meet Dean’s gaze.) But I would’ve totally dicked down by mid-season 4.

DEAN Are you...are you fucking kidding me? That’s twelve seasons, Cass!! Network length seasons!

CASTIEL I didn’t think you could possibly reciprocate –

DEAN I had DESPERATION SEX with KETCH, Cass. ARTHUR KETCH. I had to get a TETANUS BOOSTER after that shit!  What the FUCK!

The pounding at the DOOR abruptly ceases. 

THE EMPTY (O.S.) Hey, so, this is getting weird, I think I’m gonna take off. 

CASTIEL Wait, no–

> “Despair” Studio Draft 09/21/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.) CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN (tearfully) Bazinga.

CASTIEL opens the door and hurls DEAN into the glistening maw of THE EMPTY. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/22/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN (tearfully) I love you, too.

BILLIE (O.S.) (Muffled, through DOOR) Pay up, bitch!

THE EMPTY (O.S.) Fuck!!  BILLIE (O.S.) There’s an ATM twenty minutes from here up 281. I’ll wait.

THE EMPTY (O.S.) Uggggggh you suck. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/23/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN I love you, too.

CASTIEL Oh.

DEAN ...what?

CASTIEL Uh. Wow. I just...didn’t anticipate this. I’m...not sure what to say. I kind of thought the EMPTY would, you know, take me. Before you could say anything back.

DEAN Huh. Good job on the wards, I guess.

CASTIEL Thank you.

A beat.

CASTIEL (nervous laugh) I really thought the EMPTY would have taken me by now.

DEAN Do you want me to check on her, or...?

CASTIEL If you wouldn’t mind. I just worry.

THE EMPTY (Opening door) Haha I’m fine guys, this is hilarious. Seriously Castiel, I’m super flattered that you think I could  come up with anything worse than dating an unemployed closeted dude in his forties who’s obsessed with Zeppelin and lives with his adult brother in a basement in rural Kansas, LMAOOOO enjoy couple’s therapy, bitch > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/24/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN (tearfully) I love you, too. CASTIEL I mean that I love you in a romantic way. Just to be clear. DEAN No, I get it. Same. CASTIEL Sexually also. I mean, probably? Not super clear on that one, but I’m open to experimentation. DEAN I am ready to explore that with you at whatever pace and in whatever way is comfortable for all involved. CASTIEL Just making sure we’re on the same page, here: this is a homosexual declaration of romantic love. DEAN Yep. Super gay. ...queer? CASTIEL No, I like queer. It’s inclusive. DEAN An umbrella term, yeah. Reclaimed and shit. CASTIEL Because, while we’re both male-presenting, and I don’t want to diminish the significance of that, I’ve got a whole potential genderfluid situation going on, maybe also on the ace spectrum, and you’re...do you prefer bi, or pan, or...? DEAN Bi works. But, you know, 2020 style. CASTIEL Right, so meaning you experience attraction to more than one gender, not just two binary genders. DEAN (finger guns) Bingo. CASTIEL This has been a very helpful conversation. DEAN Yeah. I’m so happy we finally got to talk about this stuff, man. CASTIEL So am- THE EMPTY bursts through the door, seizes CASTIEL, and vanishes again. DEAN sighs.

> “Despair” Studio Draft 09/25/20 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN Don’t do this, Cass.

CASTIEL Yeet!

CASTIEL throws DEAN against the far wall as THE EMPTY pushes through the door.

THE EMPTY Yeet?? C’mon man, this is my last scene. I don’t even have a line, I’m just a fucking special effect. Throw me a bone here. 

CASTIEL I apologize. Let’s go again.

THE EMPTY Thank you.

CASTIEL (clears throat) Yoink me, Void Daddy.

THE EMPTY Oh my god. > “Despair” Studio Draft 09/25/20 #2 DO NOT DISTRIBUTE INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT. (CONT.)

CASTIEL ...I love you.

DEAN Nice try, Chuck. Now let him go.

CHUCK appears, looking miffed. CASTIEL suddenly relaxes, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

CHUCK Shit. How did you figure it out? 

DEAN Cass and I hooked up all the way back in 9x06, man. 

CHUCK Wh...no you didn’t! The crew just lost the light but had to wrap the sequence!

CASTIEL That’s exactly what we wanted you to think. We’ve been together ever since.

DEAN We had a vow renewal ceremony last month when we legally adopted Jack. 

CASTIEL It was very moving. 

CHUCK This is insane. You can’t do this! I control everything that happens in this universe!

DEAN Becky taught us about coda fics, Chuck. And that was all the opening we needed. 

CASTIEL Dean. It’s time.

DEAN I’m ready.

CHUCK Wh...what are you doing?

CASTIEL Your power only extends to shots that make it to air, Chuck. 

CHUCK (glancing at watch) No. NO.

CASTIEL That was a very long speech you had me deliver. Almost enough to take us to end credits. And then on to another show entirely. 

CHUCK I think it’s OUTPOST. I haven’t...I haven’t even watched it.

DEAN Jack likes it okay.

CHUCK (sputtering) You bastards. You may try to fuck with me between eps, but whatever happens to me still has to fit logically with the situation at the beginning of the next episode!  

DEAN Ah, yes. Tell me, who’s writing the next episode, Cass?

CASTIEL (with sinister resolve) Bucklemming.

The blood drains from CHUCK’s face. 

DEAN Then I’d say...

CASTIEL shakes his ANGEL BLADE out into his hand.

DEAN ...Sky’s the limit. SMASH CUT TO CREDITS. {on AO3}

[panvani]

Mochizuki Jun The Case Study of Vanitas Anime da Vinci Interview - pt. 3 -

This is part three of my translation of Anime da Vinci’s interview with Mochizuki Jun regarding The Case Study of Vanitas. This is the final part. Thank you for all your support. Feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated. The first part can be found [here], and the second part can be found [here].

In summary: Mochizuki talks about her first impressions for the anime, her involvement in its production, what she’s looking forward to, and a final message for her fans.

There is one translation note.

Studio Bones brings to mind scenes of action. Fight scenes with Roland are highly anticipated.

- The anime began airing in July. Please tell us your first impression when you heard Vanitas had been slated for animation.

Mochizuki Jun: First I was really grateful, like “Yaaay! I’m sooo happy!” then I got super worried and started thinking “oh God, I better be careful or I’m gonna die.” Of course I was happy to an extent, but I’m a total pessimist at heart. While the staff was getting chosen, I kept thinking “if I mess up now, all plans for the anime will vanish just like that,” and I got so so scared. My boss started getting on my case, saying “can you at least survive until we get a decision for when the anime will broadcast?” and such questions then went “wait wait, no, first of all, please just don’t die.” I was finally able to really digest what good fortune it was to have an anime announcement when I received contact that “Kajiura Yuki-san is going to do the background music!” and I still went “ah, but I still think I might die...” ... ahaha...

- Different mangaka tend to be involved with their anime in very different ways, depending on the lead director’s principles, et cetera. How was Mochizuki-sensei involved with the anime production?

MJ: Since the fundamentals of the anime were left to Director Itamura Tomoyuki and Studio Bones as their production, I considered it my job to be the go-between for my readers and the anime. I didn’t want to get in the way of the things the director wanted to do (if I made a nuisance of myself I’m very sorry Mr. Director). I gave my two cents when it came to stuff like “oh, if you cut that scene my readers will be very sad,” and “I think maybe this character should be depicted more like this...”

MJ: Director Itamura was always gentle, but he’d never concede when he wanted to make a point. I can’t thank him enough. If I were too cautious as the original creator, I’d end up getting stuck.

- Were you present during the dubbing process? Please tell us about any impressions you got from the seiyuu, or any performances you thought were especially impactful.

MJ: I’m someone who loves voice acting so I would’ve been present at all the recording sessions if I could, but the dreaded COVID meant I could only be present for the recording of the first episode. As the voices were put in place, I actually felt a more intimate understanding of my characters as the author. I’m really grateful.

MJ: Hanae Natsuki-san’s voice for Vanitas made his repulsiveness seem more appropriate for Vanitas’ age. I guess I sometimes need to be reminded that Vanitas is eighteen years old. I thought that Ishikawa Kaito-san’s voice made Noé out to be more honest and innocent.[1] I’m looking forward to hearing the characters that’ll be introduced from episode 2 onwards.

- What did you think when you saw the first episode of the anime?

MJ: I first the first episode during its advanced screening, which was also my first time seeing an anime adaptation of my work on the big screen. To see the characters of Vanitas move with so much energy and hear Kajiura-san’s music and everything else all really left an impact on me. Since the theme color of this work is “blue,” I was so happy to see the beautiful way “blue” was incorporated.

MJ: Then for a specific point, the scene at the end with the stained glass was so gorgeous, and it made me want to hurry up and get to Paris, and such I said to my assistant.

- Are there any scenes you particularly look forward to in terms of “how would this be animated?”

MJ: When you say “Studio Bones” you always think of these fantastic action scenes, so right now I’m really looking forward to battle scenes with Roland!

- Finally, do you have any messages for fans who may be enjoying the anime?

MJ: A team of such wonderful people have assembled for the production of The Case Study of Vanitas. I’m really looking forward to the anime as a viewer, and I’m trying my best to make the work more exciting as the original author. Please continue to show your support for my original work and the anime!

-

[1] The word I translate as “innocent” is 天然, tennen, which usually gets translated as “natural airhead.” This isn’t a phrase we use in English, so I took the time to look into what it actually means. Basically, 天然 isn’t used for someone who’s actually stupid, but someone who’s a bit naive or silly. It’s not really an insult, and usually gets used in affection. For example, the first result I found was someone talking about how a senpai they’re friendly with had taken to calling them 天然.

[antiloreolympus]

7 Anti LO Asks

1. Do you know what really gets my blood boiling about this comic? Persephone and Demeter's relationship.

In the myths, Demeter and Persephone loved each other more than anything. Their reunion is so important - it marked the coming of spring and growth. A whole cult was dedicated to this for crying out loud. Yes, the myths were far from perfect, but the Persephone and Demeter myth showed the strength of a loving mother-daughter relationship with Demeter searching endlessly to find her child that was ripped away and had her innocence forcibly taken.

Now, RS is not the only author to make Demeter this over-bearing mother type in order to put more positivity onto the Hades-Persephone relationship. However, RS takes this trend to a whole new level - to the point where I would even consider it misogyny.

How is it, she takes this beautiful mother-daughter relationship and makes it out to be an abusive and controlling one, and then takes the Hades-Persephone relationship from a forceful one to a loving, perfect relationship with no problems? How is it ok to ruin one relationship to elevate another?

I understand that many versions of the myth try to downplay Hades' actions, and even make it so Persephone actually falls in love with him and there is no rape. But it doesn't change that this relationship was problematic, and meant to represent the loss of innocence.

Then fans have the gall to claim this comic is feminist and then claim on top of that that Demeter and Persephone's relationship was the same in the myth? These fans clearly don't know the myths, and neither does RS.

Making Hades a good person is fine. Changing it up a bit to make Persephone's loss of innocence something else is also fine. But ruining Demeter and Persephone's relationship? Especially when Persephone has to spend half the year with her? So horrible. 

2. im sorry, but rachel cant introduce KRONOS coming back and then dropping it for several episodes to focus on a stake-less trail and persephone not knowing what lingerie to seduce hades in. like thats too much of an earth shaking development and huge stake plot point to just ignore for months to focus instead on something as minor as hxp's relationship, which only points out a huge flaw: why is hxp's relationship so minor in this? isnt the whole point supposed to be about them?

3. I think LO completely dropped the ball over Hades’ characterization. 

From the first ep I thought ok, this is good, we have some bones to see he’s not that lucky in love and is just tired and lonely, and while ignoring the creepy actions towards Persephone, I thought ok, Artemis hates him, Hestia hates, even Ares hates him, maybe once Persephone finally sees the underworld and probably gets to know him it’ll be a clever twist and they’ll be proven wrong. The underworld will turn out to be fair and just, the citizens will love Hades, he’ll be revealed to be a good leader and king and not like his brothers, it’ll be like everyone saying Hades of myth isn’t actually that bad, and it’ll help reinforce why this sweet and bubbly Persephone wants him, she sees the real him, not the mean rumors and assumptions, this is perfect.

And then it just didn’t happen. The exact opposite happened, actually.

We’re shown the LO underworld is cruel and unjust, where the poor dead are forced into slavery and Hades created a harsh class divide with him and him only on top, the citizens hate him, the underworld gods don’t trust him and openly seem ok if he’s taken out of power, he’s not a good leader and king and doesn’t even want the job yet keeps it for his own ego and grip of power m, and on top of it all he is just like his brothers, if not worse. He loves to get violent over any little slight against him, he hoards wealth and resources to enrich himself while his citizens starve and struggle to survive, he’s corrupt, he controls all the media and laws to bend to his will, sleeps with his brothers wife for centuries behind his back while claiming to be holier than thou, he has sex with his secretaries who are made dependent on him for any way to survive, and now he lusts after his barely legal intern who is also now dependent on him for her way to survive, and that’s only what I remember off the top of my head.

LO perfectly set up to prove Hades isn’t the devil or the false pop culture assumption that he’s evil and to show some actual facts from myth, and yet Rachel only ended up reinforcing exactly that and even making him even worse with her made up ideas, all while thinking having Persephone ignore or excuse it somehow makes it not bad or even a good thing. It’s honestly kind of impressive just how bad of writing that actually is. 

4. Chapter 172 is not that interesting. It’s setup had me excited to see Hephaestus and Hera and learning more about echo, but it’s cut so short. Because again the story can’t leave HXP out for 2 seconds.

I can also see why Zeus is gonna go insane. 

5. i agree w/ other anon. LO should have pulled a PJO or a BoZ and just made up OCs and have them interact with the gods than whatever Rachel thinks shes doing, which is lying she's being accurate and faithful while completely changing all of it, removing what is needed, and adding what isnt so that it lines up with no actual myth besides like, various 50 shades fanfic she read in 2015 and some popular tumblr text posts.

6 . the animation studio behind blood of zeus literally can only draw one face for the men and one face for the women and they were still able to make the gods all look distinct and hot while LO can't even bother to use more than 6 colors and can only have the women look as tiny as possible with the biggest boobs while the men are all just lego men.

7. ////FP SPOILERS////

Okay so like I stopped reading LO way back before season 1 ended, and a majority of my knowledge of the series comes from what I read here on your blog which is enough for me lol and I decided to read the latest 5 chapters just to see what's up (on zahard. I refuse to give the actual series any views)

And I just. Could not take the whole scene with Daphne running from Apollo seriously? The anatomy and art inconsistency was so distracting that i genuinely could not find it serious. Even when Thanatos discovers her hibernated body I couldn't take it seriously because of how she looked?

And when Hades had that call (??? Was it a call? Or his inner dialogue? I couldn't really tell ngl) with Zeus and said he's causing Persephone unnecessary distress, and that she didn't pose any threat. B!tch??? She killed a ton of mortals??? She has no control over her powers???? She's literally a fugitive for the aforementioned things??? She apparently woke Kronos up? (Idk if anyone knows about that, again my knowledge only spans to whatever I read here) Hello????

And I have a lot to say about the chapters starting the trial but I'll only mention one thing; Hades saying "I don't think blindly supporting my little brother would be doing him any favours (as a ruler)" had me cackling. This is coming from a guy blindly supporting a girl he's literally only known for a few weeks, who's like what, only recently turned 20? Sit tf down Hades you're not cool, you creepy ass overgrown smurf.

Overall I still hate this series lmao. Regarding art though I feel like I wouldn't be so miffed about the anatomy much if the character designs were consistent and the story was compelling. They literally change hairstyles and body types frame by frame, and it's distracting.

The timeline from what I read here is laughable. 4 years in publication with almost 200 chapters and you're telling me only like a month has passed canonically. That's wild and such poor writing.

And as someone who literally will sympathise with any lead character pretty quickly, the story makes me hate them. It makes me want to root against them. I also hate the fact this trash is somehow top ranked on webtoons when so many other stories are far better then it.

Anyway, many thanks to this blog for existing and allowing me to dump so much text here to vent out my hate for this series lmao. You the mvp fam, hope you're having a good day 🥂🥂🥂

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

I'm am completely tired of people crapping on villians and not trying to understand their perspectives I am really sick of the fandom doing all this

Me too, anon, me too. That's exactly why I create this blog.

I've said it before, but if someone decides to ignore the villains and their narratives through the manga, that person is not going to be able to read correctly the main arc.

In bnha / mha, the villains are not simple side characters. Shigaraki Tomura has the same relevance as Midoriya Izuku, for example. They are direct parallels and together they work as the representations of the theme. If my speculations and metas are correct, you have all the main characters directly interacting with the villains to reach the climax of the series.

Besides, it really frustraste me that people are unable to appreciate a character and how that character is written just because that said character is not "good". It completely takes the depth of the characters and the complexity of their buildings and create a shallow storyline. Even the characters in kids TV shows have different degrees of good and bad traits, because we are in an era of writing where we're exploring how real a character can get.

People can say "I like shallow, simple characters with very explicit plots that don't challenge my comprehension or my mind" and that would be perfectly fine, there's no shame in liking simple stuff. Instead, they invent every type of excuses to hate characters? And I mean, you can hate a character for your own personal reasons, but instigating a crusade against that character and the fans?

Also, many fans are unable to understand that there are not universal rules to judge characters WITHOUT the context. Lately I've seen so many people bringing things out of context and directly violating the original material not in rational ways (admitting something is fan modified, fan made, personal takes, etc) but in harmful serious ways, by telling others that what they see is the only possible point of view on the matter.

For example, I'm totally able to say that I hate Overhaul in the canon for what he did but I'm pretty much interested in the implications of his writing. I can write many aus about Overhaul without liking the character in a sentimental way, just because I as a writer want to explore the possibilities within this character. I can totally say Boku No Hero Academia is not the best written manga and still entirely love and rant about the worldbuilding daily.

When it comes to the villains, it is simply annoying to me how people refuse to acknowledge that they are some of the best written characters in the manga. Toga is one of the best written female characters in mha / bnha, Dabi has an intricate personal arc that involves the values of the hero system itself and Shigaraki Tomura is— I don't even have words for the amount of dedication Horikoshi put in Tomura. He's been driving the plot along with Izuku this whole time. I can even argue that Shigaraki is better written than Izuku, because he is way more deep in terms of motivations, psychological traits and way of acting.

People is free to hate the villains, but to refuse to see the greatness of their writing? And even then, it's incredible the amount of issues I've seen within the fans regarding the villains.

For example: Spinner as a character represents the racism within the bnha / mha world. He is an incredible character, he narrates the MVA arc, he's been there for the almost every arc of the villains... And yet he lacks popularity. Why? I know studio bones tends to take him out of the anime, but this also has a reason. Why studio bones thinks Spinner is not as relevant or popular as the others? It's safe to assume a group of fans don't care about him only because he "doesn't have the look".

Sometimes when I point out that the League is right about MANY issues within the hero system, some fans go great lengths to defend the heroes and shut down my arguments. I don't personally understand how people likes to ignore the fact that pro-heroes in bnha / mha are a mixture of the police-the army with the celebrity world. In the real world, we're right now living a whole situation regarding the values behind the police existence and the negative side of putting celebrities like they are gods. You can clearly see it reflected on the bnha / mha universe, the villains clearly point out the privileges of the pro-heroes and why the system promoting and manipulating such privileges has created the catastrophe they're going through. But apparently fans don't want to read that? Because heroes are supposed to be good and villains are supposed to be bad, I guess. They don't understand the hero-villain narrative has been dehumanizing the characters and the main arc of bnha / mha is working on it to show that more than heroes and villains and citizens, there are complex humans who don't fall into an absolute.

I'm sorry for ranting about this anon, but every time I read "villain fan" as in derrogatory, I laugh because I'm baffled. Most stories need a good antagonist for it to work. There are MANY types of antagonists and MANY types of villains and they just– they just ignore it? Like it is nothing? And then they pretend to judge the villains by only taking tiny parts of their personalities and stories and they pretend to say that is accurate?

I don't know what to say to that. I can only write meta to help people understand the villains better and show them why they are so important and impressive. If they don't want to acknowledge it, that's their problem.

I love to talk and discuss people with different points of view as long as we're able to keep things respectful, but the minute they start attacking me without even listening to my arguments, good bye.

I thank God for the block button every single day of my life.

Well, I hope you're having a great day, anon. Please remember to drink water, take your meds, eat enough, sleep enough and don't forget to breath deep and use the block button and the content and tag filters as much as you want.

[goldenkirstein]

somewhere only we know

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

chapter two: don't know where, don't know when

pairing: jean x gn! reader, mikasa ackerman x gn! platonic! reader

wc: 2.2k+

tags: angst, fluff, aot manga spoilers, mention of food/drink, mentions of death.

a/n: chapter two !! finally done my exams, this took me a while to finish but hopefully it sounds good and you enjoy it !! feedback is always appreciated

prev. ✭ next

series masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The shrill noise of the kettle broke you out of your thoughts.

You reached over to the cupboard situated next to the stove, taking two tiny teacups alongside a teapot and set them down on the countertop. Hands moving like clockwork, you grabbed the loose leaf tea jar and placed two spoonful's in the teapot. Your hand moved to grasp the small cotton cloth from the counter, swiftly pouring the hot water into the teapot before placing the kettle back to cool down.

You chuckled at the sight in front of you; the teaware set adorning your family crest, the piece of cotton bearing the Azumabito clan’s symbol, and the tea blend was an old Braus family recipe. The entire house was like this, a mish-mash of objects from here and there, never truly fitting in where they were. You began setting up the small table, placing the teapot and teacups down. The raucous noise of the wooden chair scraping against the floor made you grimace.

Your fingers began to trace the delicate needlework on the cloth, occasionally catching on raised bumps of threads. It was the work of a skilled artisan as well as an amateur. Mikasa and her mother.

Waiting for Mikasa to return from her bath, your fingers traced the embroidered emblem, you began to get lost in your thoughts once again.

“Is the tea ready?” Mikasa’s soft voice interrupted your repetitive movements.

You quickly set down the cloth and shot her a kind smile. “Yeah, come sit.” You poured out the tea in her cup before pouring out a cup for yourself.

She accepted your invitation, sitting opposite you. The woman began scooping spoonfuls of sugar in her tea, an old habit from training years. You remembered how you once mistakenly took her cup, thinking it was yours until you took a sip and immediately spat out the sickeningly sweet liquid. The others and she wouldn’t stop laughing at you until Captain Levi had come and threatened you all, bearing that stone-cold expression that struck fear in your bones. How was he doing?

“Are you okay? You seem out of it today.” Mikasa looked at you; worried expression etched into her face, eyebrows scrunched together.

Your fingers circled the teacup, and you let out a sigh looking down at the fragrant liquid. You could lie, tell Mikasa you’re okay; knowing her, she wouldn’t prod you any further with questions. Though she would spend all night thinking about you, and you didn’t want to worry her. Option two was scarier, in your opinion; you could open up and tell her what was troubling you, Mikasa would undoubtedly be concerned, but she would appreciate your candidness.

Taking a deep breath in, you glanced back at the girl before your eyes landed on the frame behind her. “I’m just anxious about tomorrow,” you let out a nervous chuckle, eyes meeting Mikasa’s again.

“I already told you, we’re all a little different. It’s nothing-”

“No, it’s not that; I- what if they hate me? Mikasa, what if he hates me.” Your eyes shifted between the frame and Mikasa’s, voice coming out as a whisper.

She took a sip of her tea. Your name slipped out of her mouth in a tired sigh, “they would never, and Jean isn’t like that. He could never hate you.”

The framed picture behind Mikasa was of the scouts on their expedition to Marley. Sasha had pulled the lot of you inside the cramped shop, begging all of you to take a photograph. She had said that you all needed to document the momentous occasion; who knew when the opportunity would come again. Your beaming faces contrasted the scowl the Marleyan had on his face when you all crowded in his tiny shop. Commander Hange had even managed to get the Captain to join in, and subconsciously you thanked Sasha and Hange for their pestering. Who would have known that it would be one of the last times you would see them alive and breathing, that after that night, everything would change.

You noticed Mikasa’s soft smile in the picture, and Eren-who stood behind her, was looking at her instead of the box camera. Armin had his arm around Eren’s shoulders, and Jean and Connie were next to him, directly behind you. Your eyes trailed down Jean’s arm; it rested on your shoulder. You were sandwiched in between the Captain and Sasha, head resting on her shoulder. All of you were giving your best smiles, save for Eren. He was living through his hell, and the rest of you were oblivious to it. How could you have known?

He had stayed behind with you at the photographer’s studio after everyone had left to visit the other shops Marley had to offer. The both of you walked around, observing the various framed pictures the Marleyan had hung up to advertise his work.

Jean trailed softly behind, watching as your fingers traced and lingered on the stained brass frame.

“What do you suppose their stories were?” You turned your head, smiling at the boy behind you. He approached you, his finger and thumb hooked under his chin, as he thought of a story for the people seated in the photograph. You waited for him to amuse you with his foolish tall-tales, noticing that Jean screwed his eyes as he intently examined each person in the picture.

He raised his eyebrows, a grin breaking out on his face; he flickered his eyes to yours, “they’re a South-Marleyan family hiding a terrible secret. They’re those godforsaken Island Devils.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear.

You pulled away, head whipping back to see if the photographer had heard; thankfully, he was preoccupied with developing your photos. You spun back around to hiss at Jean, “You can’t just say that, you dipshit! What if he heard!”

Jean laughed at your stressed state, “Well, you don’t need to worry; he didn’t.”

You began to walk away from him, but before you could get far, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.” You looked back at him, his eyes pleading for you to stay.

You relaxed your shoulders and rolled your eyes at him, “wonder what shitty story you’ll come up with for our picture.”

“Brave heroes, their valiant efforts saved the world, and they were given mountains of gold and the finest wines possible to repay them for their kind acts.” He pulled you closer to him, and you giggled at his antics. “Oh yes, and one soldier more extraordinary than the rest-”

“Obviously, that’s me.” You quickly cut him off, silencing him with your remark. You gave a quizzical look at the boy, who was now sporting a noticeable blush.

He sharply inhaled and gave a smile, opening his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the Marleyan shop owner began to talk, “Your jibber-jabbering is getting in the way of my work. If you’re not buying anything else, leave my store.”

Jean took your hand in his and offered the man a quick apology before pulling you out of the shop with him.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t held your hand before, and yet the simple action sent your heart fluttering. His hands were warm and his grip tight; you wanted to melt into his touch and never let go.

However, the moment was cut short, as once you were out of the shop, Jean promptly let go of your hand, apologetic eyes meeting yours, “didn’t mean to pull your hand, sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You flexed your hand to shake off the feeling of his slender fingers against the back of your palm. He didn’t want to hold your hand back then; would he want to now? Why were you desperately clinging onto that memory of him?

“Do you regret coming back with me?” Mikasa’s soft voice broke you out of your trance.

“No, God no. Don’t say that. If I had to go back and have the possibility to make a different choice, I would still go with you.” You looked straight at her, gaze conveying your unwavering resolve.

You brought your hands up to your face to rub your tired eyes. “I don’t regret coming with you. I just never got to see them one last time, and I don’t know, how do I face them?” You let out a frustrated sigh. “Before, I could at least say that, hey, these are your friends, you know them better than anyone else, but now-”

You shook your head and set your eyes upon the chestnut cabinet directly underneath the picture frame. “It’s like I’ve been iced out.” You raised an accusatory finger at the cabinet which was situated under the picture frame. “Three whole years and the only reason I know Jean's even with the rest of them is because of Armin.”

Inconspicuously placed, the cabinet blended into its surroundings; for the most part, it held dishes, pots and pans alongside any other trinkets that didn’t have a place to belong. However, in one of its chipped and worn drawers, tucked away under a false bottom, were several letters addressed to a Miss. Mikasa Ackerman from a distant relative in Hizuru. These letters, of course, were actually from a Mr. Armin Arlert, from Marley, detailing updates about the peace talks that involved him, the other scouts and the ex-warriors. The letters were always short and concise, never revealing too much, as a protective measure. The exact reason for why you had stashed them in a hidden compartment; to ensure that if these letters ever fell in the hands of Yeagerists, that they would not be able to grasp the entirety of what Armin’s plans were. However, it also meant you were left to fill in the missing pieces, also missing the whole story.

“I miss him, but who exactly am I missing? We’re both different people now, and I don’t know if I’m ready to face that.” You waited for a response from the dark-haired girl in front of you.

“That head of yours is your worst enemy.” You scoffed at her statement.

“Just listen to me for once, please?” Mikasa tentatively reached over to wrap her hands around yours.

“I understand that you’re scared; I am too. But you can’t keep getting lost in the ‘what if’s’ of a situation. Tell me, how long have we known Jean?”

“Eight, no, ten years?” You sighed, wondering where she was taking this.

“And tell me in those ten years has he ever decided anything without understanding other perspectives?”

“No, well-”

“Fights with Eren do not count.” Her eyebrows quirked up before she continued. “Jean is one of the most caring and compassionate men I know. He would want to know why you left before ever being absolutely positive that he hated you. Not that he would, he adores you; I’m sure of it even after all these years.”

In a way, she was right; you were making assumptions about his character despite knowing him for so long. Yet the nagging thought persisted in your mind. The only way to resolve it would be to speak with him, which brought upon another challenge. Even if he didn’t hate you, how would you gain the courage to talk to him after all this time?

“Your tea is cold. No point in drinking it now.” Mikasa stood up to clear the table, but you swiped it from her, giving her a weak smile before she could grab the cup.

You wrapped fingers around the teacup; the porcelain no longer radiated the heat from the liquid and felt cool to the touch. Mikasa watched you as you walked over to place the teacup on the kitchen counter. Her fingers skimmed over to grab the cloth with her family symbol ingrained on it.

“Mika, I don’t tell you this often, and I should, but thank-” Before you could finish your sentence, there was a knock at your door. Mikasa gave you a confused look; it was too early for the others to be arriving, so who could it be?

You hesitantly approached the door; the both of you rarely got visitors. Occasionally the Braus’ would come by, but even then, the family would let you know before they visited. Twisting the handle, a sheepish-looking young man met your gaze as you opened the door.

“Hand-deliverance of a letter from Her Majesty, Queen Reiss.” You stared at the boy wide-eyed, whipping your head back to look at Mikasa; she shared the same shocked expression.

Mumbling a quick thank you, you closed the door after the boy departed. The letter felt heavy in your hands; neither of you had spoken to Historia in “official” accordance. What could the Queen want?

Mikasa hurriedly made her way over to you, “what does the letter say?” She urged you to break the wax seal which hid the contents of the ever-elusive letter.

“The queen wishes to have us join her for dinner at her home.” You looked over at Mikasa before continuing to read the letter, “she wants us to bring Armin and the others as well.”

a/n: jean is coming dw, ik yall are waiting for that anddd ik that there hasn't been a lot of romance-y parts but there will be !! i would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter and the series !! I am hoping to get these chapters out weekly thats the unofficial-official schedule as of rn

taglist: @httpglxssy, @keijikunn, @clean-soap, @lin-xoch

tagist form in pinned !!

Leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed reading this. I would appreciate it a lot <33

[namjoonfluff]

Homemade

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, you cook Jungkook his favourite meal and he fucks you to say thank you 

word count: 1,300

note: I’m not great at writing smut but I felt like this needed it aha 

masterlist linked here

Things have been pretty stressful lately! Jungkook was working at the studio more than normal - spending twelve hours most days or maybe even longer practising his performance. He wouldn’t get back to the apartment you shared until one in the morning most days, by which point you were tucked up in bed deep in sleep. Quietly, he would creep around the bedroom and shuffle under the blankets to cuddle you while he could. After all, it wasn’t all Jungkook’s fault. You were also working as a nurse in the local hospital. Maybe two hours after he settled into bed, you were up and out of bed to head off on your 4am shift. Both of your work schedules were horrendous but somehow, you made it work!

You just missed the nights you climbed into bed together; watching TV, eating food, having sex… God it had been a while! You couldn’t quite remember the last time Jungkook had fucked you properly. You know, the kind of sex that has you thinking about it for days and days afterwards. The type which had your body fluttering every time your mind flashed back to those intimate moments! Unfortunately, even when you both made it home in time, the last thing either of you wanted to do was strip off and fuck like you used to. Neither of you had the energy most days to even make dinner, let alone have sex. You instead resigned yourself to takeout food and quick snacks before crashing on the bed. The most you would get is a passionate kiss and potentially a fondle of your breasts before you both hit the hay. 

However, on the odd day off you had, you decided to do something special for Jungkook. He was so stressed out with tour preparations so you wanted to cheer him up. You knew the only way to Jungkook’s heart and that was, of course, food! Therefore, you decided to make him a special dish; one that he had confessed to loving at the beginning of your relationship - Kimchi Jjigae. As a non-native of South Korea, you were worried though. You really didn’t want to screw this up! Therefore, you had studied the recipe from a number of Korean recipe blogs and YouTubers. 

About an hour before Jungkook returned home from practise, you rushed out to the local grocery store to grab everything you needed. There wasn’t much to the simple stew but from what you had read, it was a comforting staple of Korean cuisine. That was exactly what he needed right now - as well as yourself. The two of you worked to the bone with little rest. It was one of the qualities that had brought you together. You loved his dedication to the band and he felt exactly the same way about you and your work. However, you recognised the balance between work and play, knowing how important it was to relax for your mental health. If only he did too! 

With everything in hand, you laid it out on the kitchen counter and grabbed the jar of Kimchi that Jungkook’s mother had prepared weeks ago. All of a sudden, you felt overwhelmed. The sudden self imposed pressure to create an authentic meal bubbled up inside of you. What if he hated it? Wouldn’t that just ruin his day? Despite your fears, you proceeded with a huff. It was going to be okay! Your hands moved quickly to follow the instructional video in front of you. You carefully marinated the pork while the Kimchi cooked in a pot on the stove. A little laugh left your lips when you noticed the pot still had a sticker on it from the store - clearly unused despite living together for a year now. 

It wasn’t long before the whole apartment was filled with the scent of spices. At the strong smell of garlic and chilli, you nodded in approval. A sense of pride filled you seeing the stew bubbling on the oven. It looked good to you, at least. In fact, it wasn’t that dissimilar to the pictures you had found online. You just hoped Jungkook liked it! 

“Baby!” You heard him call as he opened the front door. “Wow! What is that smell?”  Tempted by the smell coming from the kitchen, you heard Jungkook rush into the space - chucking off his shoes and throwing down his bag as he went. He wrapped his arms around your waist and peered over your shoulder. “Is that what I think it is?” He gasped. At the sight of his favourite dish, his eyes lit up. The often tired and almost dull-looking brown orbs now filled with a warm, gooeyness that could only be compared to melted chocolate. 

“Yup!” You said proudly, holding a stew-soaked wooden spoon to show your true chef abilities. “I made it!” In the moment, he had never looked more in love with you. His grip around your waist and the chin on your shoulder felt tighter - as if he never wanted to let you go! You almost felt embarrassed at the way he gazed at your face, beaming with a shared pride. It was like something as simple as cooking his favourite meal was the kindest thing he had ever experienced. And you were so pleased to be a part of that moment. With the sauce blended, you served up the stew into two different bowls. Jungkook still refused to let go of you so he remained a clingy shadow on your back. If this hadn’t been the first time you had felt his embrace properly in weeks, you would have shrugged him off. But it was so relaxing to feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. The scent of his cologne also lingering in the air - almost overtaking the smell of stew. 

“I don’t want to let go!” He giggled into your ear.

“But we need to eat,” You pouted, picking up the bowls of stew. With Jungkook refusing to let go like a koala bear, you ended up dragging him to the dining table. Not only had you put together the Kimchi Jjigae but there was a variety of side dishes available; it was truly a feast! 

After a few minutes of slurping and chewing, you asked: “So, how is it?”

“It could do with a little more seasoning,” He smirked, pointing at the bowl of stew with his chopsticks. 

Despite his joke, you felt a little downhearted by his words. After all, you had tried hard to get the dish as authentic as possible.  “I’m joking,” Jungkook smiled reassuringly. “It’s really good. Are you sure you aren’t Korean?” You let out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure!” “What did I do to deserve you?” He let out a gentle sigh. Shortly after finishing your meal, you both got up to wash the dishes. However, Jungkook had other things on his mind. While you’re running the bowls under water, he pressed his body against yours. A finger clasped onto the loose strand of hair falling onto your chest and moved it back, exposing the skin on the side of your neck. Without saying a word, Jungkook hovered his lips over your skin and began lightly kissing the area. 

“I think the dishes can wait until tomorrow,” You could feel his lips form a smirk as they were still pressed against your neck. “I have something else in mind.” “Oh, you do now,” You raised a brow, not that Jungkook could see it because he was too busy peppering your chest with kisses now. 

“You made me a lovely dinner,” He whispered against your collarbone. “Now, let me show you what I can do for you!” 

Not being able to resist his words, you dropped the bowl into the soapy water and flipped in Jungkook’s arms. He almost looked shocked when your hands wrapped around his neck and lips connected with his immediately. His lips were soft and welcoming like a bed you couldn’t wait to dive into. And in the same way, Jungkook used his large hands to remind himself of each body curve. The moment his fingers connected with your lower stomach a spark was ignited; there was no way to control it. It had been so long since you had experienced such passion that you were moaning against his mouth already. For the first time in a long time, you wanted him to fuck you right there on the kitchen counter. It just goes to show what a good meal can do!

It’s not long before Jungkook’s hands were all over you; tearing off your tank top and pulling at your bra to release it. There you sat atop the kitchen counter with your breasts exposed to your boyfriend who just licked his lips. However, with just your skin exposed, you felt left out. You wanted to see Jungkook - all of him. Quickly your hands plucked the buttons off his shirt and peeled it open to worship his muscular chest and complexion. 

“Fuck!” You moaned, seeing his chest heaving up and down. 

As he watched you eye-fuck him, it turned Jungkook on even more then he already was. That’s why his plump lips were quick to start teasing at your chest, touching and biting your skin while his hand reached the top of your jeans. His hand gently slipped down to start slowly massaging your throbbing vagina. Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing when he rubbed your sensitive clit with his thumb; going round and round in circles to get your breathing heavy. He made sure to take extra care around your clit because that was a sure fire way to make you cum quickly.

“You’re so wet,” Jungkook whispered. “So wet for me, baby!” 

It wasn’t long before the orgasm inside you was released. The legs wrapped around Jungkook’s waist were shaking and toes curled as you moaned through the pleasure. No one could make you cum better than he did. He always did everything just right!

“Fuck, Jungkook!” You breathed heavily. “I want you to fuck me!” 

Feeling the wetness soaking through your underwear, you waited with anticipation as Jungkook took off his pants and exposed his cock. It was glorious, glistening with pre-cum as it rested on his stomach. With one quick and fluid motion, he dragged you closer to him on the counter. Jungkook needed to line you up perfectly with his hard cock so he could fuck you in exactly the right place. He gently slid across your panties and pushed his thick cock into your wet pussy. You were so ready for him, your core immediately coating him with your cum. You moaned as he entered, feeling his length completely stretching you out - as if it was the first time all over again.

“Feels so good!” He moaned, pounding his member in and out of you. “Tell me how much you love it!”

“Love your cock,” You reciprocated a moan. “Love how it stretches my pussy!”

After a few more powerful thrusts, Jungkook released his load inside you. He looks completely exhausted as you both flop together and share a moment of complete and utter silence. All you could hear were the heavy breaths falling from your mouths as you recovered from the pleasure. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. It would be nice to forget about all the responsibilities you both had and just fuck all day. Once you leave the post-sex haze, you feel Jungkook poke the end of your noice and say: “I fucking love you, you know that?” You nodded with a smile. And you couldn’t help but think you needed to make Kimchi Jjigae more!

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations 

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

        Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

        A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

        There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around. 

        You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

        He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

        “What are we here for?”

        He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

        “You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

        “Then why bring me?”

        “Because you need to see it.”

        You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

        You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

        Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

        He always was so careless.

        He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

        Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission. 

        How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

        A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

        “Are you alright?”

        For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

        “That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

        Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

        “Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

        “Have I ever been?”

        You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough. 

        Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

        Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

        “I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

        “Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.” 

        “Could I?”

        You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

        “If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

        He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

        “For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

        “So I’ve noticed.”

        You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

        It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers. 

        A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

        “Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

        He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

        “You don’t recognize him?”

        Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

        “You know I do.”

        Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm. 

        Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

        “Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

        Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

        “It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

        “Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

        “I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

        “But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

        You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

        “I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

        That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

        “I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

        “Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly. 

        You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now. 

         He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale. 

         He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life. 

         But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

         He was tired of wishing for death.

         Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance. 

         You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

         “I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

         “Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

         “You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?” 

         “I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.” 

         He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

         “That’s not…I have something else for you.”

         He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

         This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

         He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

         At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

         He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

         Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

         Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

         He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again. 

         “Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

         Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything. 

         This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it. 

         “These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.” 

         You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

         He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake. 

         You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

         He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

         Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

         There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

         This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

         “I fucking knew it.”

         He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

         “Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

         He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

         “What. Did. You. Do?” 

         Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

         “What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

         “There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

         “There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers. 

         You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

         You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

         And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

         Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

         But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

         “Tell me why.”

         Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

         When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

         “He overheard us—”

         “Overheard what?”

         You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

         “Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

         “That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

         One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

         “He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

         You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

         Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

         “Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much. 

         “Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

         “I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

         He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

         “Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

         “You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

         You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

         His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again. 

         “Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

         But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

         “We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

         He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

         Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you. 

         With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

         “Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

         You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

         It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too. 

         You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

         You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

         “I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

         “I know.”

         “And I’ll never forgive you.”

         It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

         “Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

         His lips met yours with a bruising fervor. 

         The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

         Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation. 

         His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm. 

         It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

         When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

         There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

         His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

         “I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

          “I know.”

Next Chapter

[doiefy]

blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems​ for beta reading this for me !! <333

spotify playlist

Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”  

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out,  but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.  

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles��a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow