#if this many friends of yours have been lost maybe its not bc we suddenly fell to antisemetic propaganda but

[venusmages]

truly insane to lose a friend to zionist propaganda and then have them turn around and imply all of the friends they've pushed away have been brainwashed - not the other way around.

[noveauskull]

Not really a request but just me being curious. What did you thought of the new wuwa storyline and the changes Kuro games made?

I made a mistake on going to the wuwa reddit page and many people are dickriding the cbt1 story and are blaming CN players for being too "soft" when they actually had valid criticism.

https://www.reddit.com/r/WutheringWaves/s/YBEuZ7jhC5

Don't get me wrong I wished there were some things that they kept from cbt1 such as the crownless battle but the cbt1 story made me want to avoid it like a plague. And this is not me saying the new story is better (bc you can tell it's really rushed as the result of the 6 month rework). There are many issues that I didn't like and wished they could expand more but as of right now we can only wait until Kuro games resolved the issues

to be honest when i first played wuthering waves, i was one of the many disappointed players.

my reasons were simple, bad graphics, storyline and mechanics seemed overly like genshin (the waking up and you suddenly have a friend(s) waiting for you, wishing, leveling up, daily tasks) and nothing huge was really going on between me and understanding the story.

but what really made me continue to play was how fun the gameplay was, and how f2p friendly the game is (they spoil us a lot and im very happy about it) and tbh, i dont feel like im doing a chore when i play the game, i genuinely enjoy it a lot.

my only criticism was the graphics (since it still hasn't gotten better for me from the first release until now) and my understanding of the story. i dont understand who Rover is and what is their main purpose.

for the character's being rude to the Rover in cbt1, im actually super surprised cause i never heard of this version of WUWA until now, but im at a 50/50 opinion.

part of me really loves the idea of every character being wary of the Rover cause it gives a sense of realism to the character's personality, i like the idea that from the beginning, people were afraid or didnt like you but through your hardwork you slowly gained their trust, its a super cute idea and im a bit sad that it was gone.

what i do admit is the story with Awu, where he steals our kill and doesn't even thank us or anything, maybe it got a bit too much since the game IS supposed to make the story likeable for players, that way they can enjoy the game more, if the characters are lovable then so will the players be.

overall, ik a lot of people have been saying this but i have to agree with them when i say that WUWA has only been around for a month (?) now, and im sure Kuro Games is doing their best to fix these issues and provide a proper experience for their players, i dont sense the company wanting to rip off its players or neglect them like how Hoyoverse did with genshin, so i dont feel like ive lost a lot.

ty for the question!! ✨️✨️

[silverasks]

earthspark season 2 episode 2 thoughts spoilers ahead

Nightshade can just turn their head all the way around AND I LOVE IT YES MORE BIRD DETAILS I LOVE BIRDS OF PREY SO MUCH

thrash references a horror movie trope, who let him watch horror movies bc I KNOW it wasn’t Alex or Dot

moe first accused the emberstone of being something out of a horror movie and yet good things happened because of it, maybe now she associates horror movie tropes with good things or the emberstone

this doesn’t feel very connected to season 1, it feels like a separate series using the same characters, idk maybe it’s just the time skip messing me up, wish we could’ve seen more Terran-Malto bonding time in the earlier days

are they going to find the weapon starscream referenced in Last episode, feels a lot early for that

animation feels cheaper, but it has been a hot second sense I’ve watched season 1

no one’s really taking the literal children’s near death experiences very seriously, last season dot was so anxious about it but last episode Robbie got pretty close to falling to his death and she doesn’t bat an eye, makes me wonder how she’ll react to how close moe has come to falling to her death or being impaled multiple times

THAT LOOKS LIKE A QUINTISON! RUN! PLEASE! NONONONONO

THE E G G

ORB

oh who is that, think I saw them in the trailer somewhere

Part of the quintis-Wha now, can’t understand it so matter how many times I replay it

just leaves them there

popsicles In the shape of a boot…. Certainly interesting

ok parents actually care again ig

OH! They followed them home, how……..creepy? Idk

offers food doesn’t take it proceeds to trap them in the barn, you know the place where the Terrans hang out, you don’t think someone who hangs out there all the time might see, like idk NIGHTSHADE

OH MY GODS I CALLED IT ITS A QUINTISON I FUCKING CALLED IT

a QUINTISON EXACUTIONER I-I-I knew it would be bad

also I liked the theory that quintisons would show up in season 2 but now that it’s actually happening I don’t like it very much

oh look it’s your sibling species go make friends

ITS CORN a big lump with knobs it has the juice it has the juice can’t imagine a more beautiful thing

where’s mr fluffy ears? Did shockwave steal em

thought for sure this guy was going to be a manipulative mentor figure but nope there just a serial killer

thrash has heelys, why not

THEY RUN ON ALL FOURS OH MY GODS IM STARTING TO LOVE THEM A LITTLE

oh so when ROBBIE throws his life on the line it’s mostly fine but when moe does it suddenly that requires a lecture ok I see how it is

she just gets YOINKED

where are the outher Terrans only saw twitch for a bit

wsit just remembered there on patrol

gegory, what the f*** are you doing. HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE!

au idea: when moe has her cybersuit on she’s recognized as a quintison youngling and gets adopted by the executioner

meme idea from au: exacutioner, pointing to moe: what is with this sassy lost child

ok but quintis literally did abandon you, would have sent a dream or something if he didn’t

please tell me dude can’t regen like a planarian flatworms

[philtstone]

Writer asks! 3, 6, 10, 16!

im soooo late to replying to this but. thank you beloved and here we go

#3 What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

this is such a hard and mean question but here are some top contenders:

"easy, easy (my man and me)" - claire and jamie build a treehouse in the backyard. it came to me so effortlessly and i am still proud of the prose. also i sent it to my beloved high school english teacher and he loved it which makes it special! i don't think he realized it was fanfic lol

"hopeful." - sam and bucky accidentally adopt a bunch of super kids in the sort-of apocalypse. not prosaically perfect necessarily but my first ever completed chapter fic! i put a lot of myself into this one and it got me through a pretty tough year emotionally, and on top of that im actually proud of it!

"my daddy was a prominent frogman" - frodo baggins and his friends try to save their hippie summer camp from the evil industrialists. listen. this au is evergreen. 5 years later i have been inspired to write for it again, because it was just that good.

#6 Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

Yes! of course!!! a staple of the genre! i say this and immediately forget every fic i've ever read!

I think the true brain changing fics are ones that i reread once a year or every few years. alternatively, i'll read one fic 10 times in a month. i read "let our joys so multiply" by @fallofrainblog 5 times in a week once so that gets a shoutout. every so often i have to go back and read irnan's star wars fics for personal reasons. also, the legendary anne fic catching moonlight which i go back to about once every 2 years. hilarious how 2 of these are ancient ffnet gems but there u go

its weird bc a lot of fics i'll forget about for years and then suddenly be like "oh yeah that one changed my brain irreversibly. i wonder if it holds up" and then i go find it again and am generally confirmed that it does, indeed, hold up.

#10 Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Hmmm! many of them, frankly. there are some fics i write as throw aways with no expectation they will get traction, like "shut your mouth, hold your breath" or the very silly ponniyin selvan road trip au. there are others which I know are niche but still wish they had more traction so i had more external drive to finish them, because in theory i love the concept but just don't have the internal juice to see it through to the end. the force sensitive claire au is one of those i think. there are still others which are for huge fandoms and i am left wondering why they feel totally lost to the void. but that's all part of the deal, i guess, and quite often more related to my own ignorance of what is currently trendy

#16 At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

it really depends on the fic but very very rarely is the title conceived before the story. maybe for original fiction -- actually exclusively for original fiction do i do that. for fanfics i write the fic and then in the seconds before i post on ao3 i hail mary a title out of whatever divine inspiration is in that moment directly beamed into my brain from the heavens. usually in the form of song lyrics.

[joocin-thebox]

me: ranting about mlp g5 and its continuity errors and world building logistics

my friends who are subjected to my long winded complaints:

its too many thoughts too many tags i realize so they're going here YAY

complaints and spoilers for up to chapter 6 of make your mark below!

ND formatting bc i see walls of text and i die!

again: who cares if g4 is the history??

like whatever that is so cool i love that idea! made me so excited!! but the entirety of g5 is unintentionally undoing everything they allegedly set up between g4 and g5

im just confused as to why have 6 whole chapters of 'we are strengthening the magic twilight made!' and then 'well its all gone!'

i GET that its... you know... not the worst thing and its not bad on its own, that's totally fine, i just

personally i think it could have gone a better route with a better finale (not that chapter 6 is the finale) :/ opaline was a villain with lots of potential but horrible execution. reduced to comedic relief villain that randomly actually takes her motivations seriously! she was lazy for 6 whole chapters, until a halloween episode and suddenly!! she's a little less lazy! yay!? no depth to her character whatsoever. she was jealous of celestia and luna and apparently she wasnt even a fire alicorn to begin with???

i think having most of make your mark into a summarized exposition for the inital movie, would have set up something a bit better for opaline as a villain and our characters as heros! the "we did it mrs obama, we got rid of pony racism!" is so... stupid i think that idea was bad and that's okay bad ideas are fine to have, but imagine opaline being a villain in the movie instead of not being relevant at all!

we get introduced to all of our main characters right off the bat, and focus on opaline's peak and fall as a villain so we have our central antagonist, because the preaching of unity imo goes ultimately no where. i like the idea of "when you have friends, you're never truly alone", but at the same time... them splitting up to defend their own homes when they could defeat opaline together as a unit makes so much more sense and its the reason they lost! they were not as united as they claimed! they're not even symbols of unity, in the slightest!

in their defense, all bg ponies are dumb as rocks, so :/ go figure no one would actually stand behind the "keepers of the crystals" even in times of need

make your mark could have been about ensuring opaline didn't return, exploring new kinds of magic, deepening bonds within our main cast and with our main cast and their other relationships, creating character we can care about their success instead of expecting deus ex magica to fix everything for them! giving them a reason and a will to fight, give their friendship and confidence boost speeches weight. make ANYTHING mean something. and you can have "filler" and non-lore related episodes in that and still have a good story! i literally know its possible... g4 did it... but g5 main case dont really grow as characters, i mean, Zipp is allegedly supposed to be training to be queen or preparing for it, and yet we never see that. We know she doesnt want to, but we know she might have to. You could literally parallel a Frozen dynamic where the older sister gives up her reign just because she can!

We could see Pipp train to be queen, Zipp becoming queen like accidentally, or someone new entirely trying to take over Zephyr heights as a low stakes antagonist. (like sprout)

We could have a potential Opaline reform, or attempt at reform that ultimately fails and we seal her away for good! it would give her a chance because Sunny seems like the type to at least give anyone a chance.

I talked with a friend and was like 'oh instead of introducing sparky during mym, introduce him in the movie as a dragon egg opaline had captured and he had hatched DURING the movie, and hitch could have rescued him and maybe felt a greater attachment bc he SAVED sparky from possible death!! kids like drama and angst too! it doesnt have to be cushy, i mean shit chapter 6 pushes the envelope a little bit i think!

i could literally think up what kind of story beats and what we could have done all night for g5,

except for tell your tale.... 5 min youtube shorts that sometimes have an explanation for mym details is unforgivable and needs to just be gonezo. a lot of people have netflix. share mym clips on youtube if you need to so badly. or, if you have to tyt so bad, dont have them do things... that never get explained in mym... or have tyt be a sub product of mym, where something happened in this mym chapter, oh we will lightly reference it in tyt! but tyt is more focused on lighter character bonding or even background characters! like holy shit! the possibilites!!

watch me make a "what we could have done better: mlp:ang" video with my shitty mic and piss poor editing abilities! i stg.... im inspired... i have so much hope for this show but it has just... it falls a little flat where it could be greater!

and dont get me wrong! g5 has a lot of great moments! i like the relationship hitch and misty have, despite how they barely ever talk to each other in the show (sunny, zipp, and pipp are our REAL main characters, lets me real)

i love the sisters' relationship with each other, i love how izzy and pipp are creatives of different types, how hitch and zipp are sleuths of different types, how they're protective and reluctant in similar ways, i like how sunny always wants to inspire others and is kind of sassy and lowkey shades ponies when she's trying to give the good word. I love all that stuff. its not as bad as i tend to make it seem because im a world class hater but g5 is not BAD, i just think it could be BETTER

honestly i could even just put my ideas into an au... a fix it au... hmmm.... thinks?? thinks hard??

[arlecchno]

lmao the blonde parts are supposed to be teal but i havent had a chance to redye them in foreverr … also yes ! my xiao jacket ! its not the only one out there though LOL

the wall youre seeing is actually my best friend roofs long lost sibling , wall /j

BEFORE 6 !? i could never i always go to bed at like 12am …. im so sleep deprived on school days lol

ME AND THAT FRIEND DID SO MANY SILLY THINGS IN OUR MATH/STEM CLASS LMAO we used to play genshin wish sim (im very young T_T) and say weird things to summon characters (i told the computer id help make kaeya dilucs brother again to get diluc , and BOTH OF THEM CAME HOME IN THE SAME PULL) tbh ive always complained ab stairs so ,,, i cant even take the stairs in my building anymore bc i live on the 9th floor itd take way too long 😭

we have a lot of the same top 5s , kaeya , diluc , and scara share #1 because … yes . my favorite gal is fischl i love her sm -

i have 11 5*s (not including aloy) , and im currently pulling for sir acting grand scribe himself ! im at around late 30 pity , if he does / doesnt come home i will make self ship art because i dont think he would like that >:)

GOOD TO KNOW ITS GOING WELL im actually making notes for a fic i wanna write on call w my previously mentioned friend roof LOL ive had the idea ever since the nilotpala cup event , i really wanted to make like an actual fic based off of it bc that girl from the yae publishing house was supposed to or wtv HAHAH but im procrastinating on a title so im just . UGH - yk ?

i did have a good day both the day you replied and today ! i am injured but its not bad (only hurts when i move certain ways) , i went on a field trip for school today and got to go in a ✨stream✨ and pick up a little crawfish >:D i hope youre doing good as well !! its so nice talking to you lmao youre so cool

i might start sending doodles every ask , so heres a sketch of my genshin oc !!

my “question” issss guess what region theyre from ! or who they live with LOL the hint is that there are already playables from their region , and there are technically two regions theyre from ?? you can guess just one though ill give you the answer next ask :P

- jellyfish

i think it's because i'm already used to waking up early... even tho i'm a very sleep deprived student that sleeps at 12-1 and wakes up at 5 😔 i'm fairly a light sleeper so no matter what time i sleep, whenever my alarm goes off i'm always up by the second 🥲

and LMAOO i've played a ton of those wish sims to prevent myself from rolling whenever i'm saving up for a character, it works wonders

i didn't really expect you to like fischl!!! i like using her in events where we have her as a trial character lol using oz in her burst and flying around is so silly but i always have fun with it!

seems like we're both on the run for alhaitham :D currently have 72 pity and he still has yet to arrive... i do not have a guarantee whatsoever so the next time i pull i'm gonna be praying for him to come home 😔 i've already explored most of the new area for him

and that fic idea sounds interesting! i briefly forgot about that event so when you mentioned it i'm suddenly reminded of how fun playing with the fungi was!! hope you'll find many inspiration for your supposed title, and who knows, next thing you know you're hitting the post button for your fic 🤭

hope you're healing well from your injury also!! have lots of rest and don't overexert yourself too much, resting is very important hehe

it's nice to know that you went on a field trip :O i haven't been to one in a while so hearing it from you reminded me how fun it always is to go on one and escape school (tbf i think we can agree at least half of the students that volunteer on field trips only do it to skip classes LMAO #guilty)

i think if i had to guess, it's a mix between mondstadt and sumeru, maybe? i'm either really wrong or really right since my basic skills of knowledge on each regions' outfits are very minimal 😵‍💫

a question for you; how was your week? tell me all about it!! hehe i honestly like hearing people talk about their day and week because it's undeniably so interesting to know what others have been up to and how different some people's lives can be from ours! hope i'm not rambling too much... i just really like listening to people talk and talk about their life

[444tsumu]

title Not His Type

rating ★ ★ ☆ nsfw content

word count 4,800+

warnings timeskip!mattsun, yes i’m writing that he still practices w the s4, anyways explicit content, matsukawa calls you a bitch, spitting, rough sex, spanking, mattsun fucks you in his car, oral sex (f!reader giving), don't be silly wrap your willy folks

author’s note thanks to @kansroji for forcing me encouraging me to write this self-indulgent mattsun fic, send her her flowers everyone bc this was just muah :*

summary Issei teaches you that the meaning behind the words ‘I hate you’ is a lot different from what you’re used to.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“How could someone be such a bitch?”

“I don’t know Mattsun, you tell me.”

There are two things necessary to keep the world spinning on its axis: inertia, and the insatiable hatred between you and Issei Matsukawa.

No one quite knows where it came from. Maybe it was your lack of regard for his permanently disinterested personality, or maybe it was the insufferable habit you had of making a comment every time Matsukawa did as much as make a noise— whatever it was, it was a never ending cycle of pure repugnance.

His tone was light, yet knowing Iwaizumi, you knew it was wavering on a more strict tone you really didn’t want to hear today.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

To you and Issei, the nature of your relationship was that there wasn’t one at all. There was nothing but an indescribable hatred that will never go away because you guys just physically can’t stand the other.

To everyone else though? In Hanamaki’s words, “you guys just needed to fuck and get it over with already.” Sexual tension couldn’t fill half of the void the storm you and Mattsun left after every exchanged word. It nearly swallowed the room, the only two not able to see it being yourself and the middle blocker.

With an inquisitive look on his face, Oikawa decided the only way to get rid of this long lasting rivalry being now or never. “My dear Y/L/N, bad news.”

The words brought you back down to Earth, making you bite down a glare at the bored man in front of you and turning towards the setter.

“As much as I’d love to be the one to take you home,” he winks at you, long arm reaching out to lightly press itself against your cheek and you already see where this is going, “I just can’t—”

“Tooru..” Your voice wavered the same way Iwaizumi infamously did.

“Seriously Y/N-Chan, I hate being the bearer of bad news..” The sparkle in his eyes made you clench your jaw to prevent the scream from slipping through your lips. “But I had almost promised Iwa-chan and Makki a ride today.”

You could hear the slick in his voice, and you absolutely hated it. You hated how you knew exactly what was being planned. You knew in Oikawa’s stupid little head, he was formulating a stupid little plan thinking things would work out in his own stupid little way.

“I’m not getting into that fucking asshole’s car—”

“Oikawa I will purposely crash if she as much as steps foot in my car—”

“Get your fucking feet off my dashboard.” You hear his voice growl, long fingers reaching in front of him to press the Start-Stop button on his car and get the engine running.

You didn’t mean to press a sock-covered foot onto it, it’s just that you needed to adjust the anklet resting against your skin. You hadn’t caught when his eyes glanced over at the diamonds either, remaining for a second too long to be appropriate and quickly force it’s way in front of him.

With a slightly exaggerated roll of your eyes, you threw your head against the headrest and stared through the window to your side. You were wishing there was an awkward silence to torture Matsukawa’s ears, but instead, his phone automatically connected to its Bluetooth and began to play a song you surprisingly recognized.

He drove faster than you were sure he was supposed to. As soon as you blinked, he had already backed out of Seijoh’s parking lot and sped through the secluded roads and towards the city you inhabited.

Unwillingly, of course, you managed to steal a few glances at the brown-haired man next to you. His face was (surprise) as uninterested as ever, eyebrows resting dully above his hooded lids and lips turned just slightly down enough to look like a frown. Every now and then, his lips would go along with the song and his tongue would swipe across his bottom lip and into the corner of his cheek.

Matsukawa wasn’t an ugly guy. There wasn’t enough hatred in your soul to even try to lie against the idea. He was extremely tall, extremely fit, had a nice smile, and his voice matched his looks. If he wasn’t such a stuck up, emotionless asshole, he’d probably be one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen. If and probably, of course.

“Gotta staring problem?” He muttered, head bobbing to the song in the background and that in itself just brought your cholesterol an unhealthy amount higher.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I see you have a lack of vocabulary too..” The banter between the two of you went back and forth, an awkward silence retching the car’s air after he sadly had the last word.

“I can’t believe there was a time you weren’t such a nuisance.” You nearly mouthed, words quiet enough to get lost within the lyrics of Kanye West, yet loud enough to get into Mattsun’s earshot and cause the car to abruptly park on the side of the nearly secluded road ahead of you.

“Hey, what the fu—”

“What’s your problem with me?” Matsukawa’s words haunted the air, and if you weren’t already awaiting his words, you might have actually been scared of the harshness in his tone.

“Me?” You questioned, using a hand to dramatically smack against your chest and glare at him in disbelief. “What’s your problem with me?”

He didn’t respond, only staring at you blankly and gripping on the steering wheel with enough aggression to taint the knuckles of his large hands white.

“Stop acting like a toddler,” the annoyance looked weird on him, and his usual nonchalant attitude disappeared with a mask of pure frustration that you’d be lying about if you said was ugly on him, “just tell me what the issue is so we can both stop whatever the fuck it is we have going on.”

“We,” you pointed between the two of you, “do not have anything going on, for your information.” You stubbornly crossed your arms across your chest, staring at him blankly and watching his large hand run across his face.

“You wouldn’t even be my type, you know damn well that isn’t what—”

Every word after the first half of the sentence drowned out as you continued to repeat it in your head. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type…

“Earth to Y/N.” Mattsun snapped, glaring over at you and leaning his body back lazily against his driver’s seat. It was slightly reclined back, the comfortability of his position insinuating he didn’t plan on leaving until this conversation got somewhere.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t be your type?”

The words came out faster than you could acknowledge them. You didn’t regret speaking them, but you knew that they only worsened your situation. He would use this as if it was fuel to his never-ending out of fire of an ego and you hated it. The cold air in the car suddenly became more noticeable, goosebumps raising onto your exposed skin and making you feel as if all your senses were being ambushed.

“Well, well, well…” He begins to tease as if he was never angry, his large arms resting behind his head and that stupid smirk back onto his pink lips, “you feel some type of way about what I said?” His voice echoed into your ears as you did nothing but watch him in disbelief.

“You never stood a chance with me anyways.” You bit back at him.

Something in the air changed, but neither of you decided to acknowledge it. It was dark, the light from the dashboard doing nothing but illuminating your features and making Issei smirk to himself in the lack of lighting.

“How so?” He was antagonizing you, itching for you to continue to play his little game back with him because he had a plan. You could see it from the way he lazily blinked over at you, smirk still against his glowing face with nothing but arrogance and faux oblivion.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me if you tried.”

Those words changed the aura within the car all in itself. You knew the double entendres of a statement could go any way with him. Deep down, you both knew exactly what you meant. Your words remained solid though, eyes staring at him like a fox refusing to glance away from his brown irises.

“Wanna try me?”

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew that. Something about you didn’t care though. There were many ways this conversation could’ve went, but you wouldn’t expect it to go in this direction.

The air in the room was thick, Issei’s brown irises watching you nothing short of predator like. No one spoke after those three words, and faintly, the change in mood also affected the change in genre of music as R&B began to slowly play through his speakers. You wanted to scoff.

His large ring covered hand suddenly inched towards your chin, gripping your jaw and forcing your eyesight on his own face. You weren’t one to blush, but the roughness to his calloused fingers brought a small tinge between your slightly exposed thighs.

“You gonna get in the back or I gotta force you back there?” His words commanded you, the strictness laced within the confines of his voice leaving you no option to do as he told.

Doing what Matsukawa said as if you were following his orders was something foreign to you. The temptation of doing as you pleased crossed the back of your mind, but the curiosity of seeing what he had in store filled you with much more satisfaction.

Without a word and instead settling for a simple eye roll, you kicked your shoes off and found your way between the two front seats and into the cold leather seats of the back of his car. It was cramped, surprisingly cleaner than you'd imagine, and smelt of nothing but Issei.

You would have enjoyed it if the circumstances were different.

Your body sat with your feet resting behind you, leaving a space open for him. The sound of his car door opening and shutting was the cause of the goosebumps rising against your skin.

Subconsciously, you knew were supposed to hate him. You were supposed to despise him for always being such an asshole to you, and you were never supposed to forgive him for anything he’s ever said to you out of his stupid smirking mouth.

You weren't supposed to be hopping into the backseat of his car after challenging him into sleeping with you. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying the feeling of his presence as it finally found its way next to you, the dark tints of his windows hiding his expression but not doing a good job at hiding the bulge hiding in the confinements of his sweatpants.

Your eyes glanced over his, quickly switching between the tent and his irises with an innocent smile on your face. “You gonna take those off or am I gonna have to force them off you?’

Mattsun had never laughed at anything you’d ever said. At least, never to your face. For the first time though, a soft chuckle left his lips as he hunched his body over and rolled his sweats down. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted to provoke that sound out of him again.

He wore Supreme black briefs, a smirk on his lips as he watched your eyes trail over to the excessively large print. His dick was long, curving deliciously to the left and making you fear for your own safety. The thought of that nearly made you drool.

Mattsun made a show of pulling his briefs down, his erection springing to life and showing you that he wasn't even fully hard yet. Maybe you would’ve felt some type of way about not arousing him as much as he was you, and you could thank the pool inside your panties for that, but something about it brought a glimmer to your eye Issei couldn’t ignore.

“Eager to suck my dick, huh?” His words ring against your ears, and you do nothing but give him a glare while getting on all fours across the backseat.

His long torso leaned against the car door, eyes boring onto your frame with a blank expression that drove you insane. You knew this was all an act, he had to have been pretending just to get a rise out of you. There was no way you could’ve missed the way his dick twitched when you got up to take your shorts off.

Your frame was left in a white t-shirt and a seamless green pair of panties known for their cheekster style. He would’ve told you that you looked absolutely delectable, but he'd never let you sit within that satisfaction.

You lowered yourself on all fours once again, holding your hair back with one hand and lowering yourself down between his long limbs. Your eyes just couldn't look away, the large veins running up and down his perfect looking length in a way that made you embarrassingly ready to shove it down your throat already.

And without another word, you opened your lips and allowed a trail of saliva to sliver down the underside of his dick. His thighs tensed up, but as you watched him through your lashes while lowering your lips onto his tip, his bored and expressionless face remained the same.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him, as much as he'd hate to admit it. Your ass was up in the air, back arched in a way that nearly made him release a groan as your pretty little mouth left sloppy kisses along his throbbing tip. You used a free hand to run down his cock slowly, hands landing underneath his thick balls and holding them alongside the bottom half of his dick.

He tried to hold the hiss you took out of him, but you used that as an excuse to make him suffer even more. Almost as if it were a competition, you sucked your cheeks in while taking the rest him that fit into your mouth agonizingly slow.

Matsukawa was too big, not that you were complaining. You didn’t have much of a gag reflex, but his size goes beyond that. So in order to accommodate to the situation at hand, you lolled your tongue out across your bottom lip and easily slipped a bit more than half of him down your throat until he felt his tip tickle the back of it.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out, words stopping as he bit his lip and tilted his head to get a better look at you.

Your eyes began to water, but you ignored the sensation to take a deep breath as you began to massage his balls and lower half with your saliva covered hands. You began to move your mouth in the opposite direction of your hands, touching just enough of his balls with your tongue to get him to grip a chunk of your hair from within your own hand.

“Fuck, just like that.” You never took your eyes off him, and Matsukawa found it even harder to control himself with the way you took so much of him with so much ease.

You hollowed your cheeks as you slipped his now fully-hard dick out your mouth. Trails of saliva followed, the explicit view of your teary eyes and sloppy lips making him groan within his throat.

“Fuck my throat.”

The words were harsh, your expression being just as blank as his once was, and Issei realized he wasn’t really the one in control here. Not if all it took was for you to tell him what to do and he was scrambling to do it like second nature.

His lips revealed that lazy smirk you wanted to fuck off his face, the large hand gripping your hair nearly shoving his dick back into your fresh, wet mouth. “Don’t mind if I do, princess.”

The nickname he called you didn't even have time to register in your mind, the sensation of Matsukawa forcing your head up and down his dick as much as he could being the only thing on your brain. You couldn't help the tears from slipping down your cheeks, eyes opening once again to hazily look over to the ones burning a hole into your face.

Matsukawa couldn’t find it in himself to look away from you. He wasn't sure if it was the tears, or the way you allowed him to fuck your throat so easily, or the drool leaking down into the balls you fondled at the same time, or even the way the hand once gripping your own hair found its way between your legs as he watched you play with yourself, but Issei decided this image was going to ruin everyone else for him.

He already decided he couldn't get enough of you. The sound of your gags filled with car in a nearly pornographic way, yet not once did you ask him to stop and he took note of that. 

“Fuck,” he broke out, eyes struggling to watch yours as his lips parted open, “you’re gonna make me cum,” his words were interrupted by a load groan. Your tongue found its way back onto his balls as his tip rammed into the back of your throat and Issei felt his toes curl. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..”

Right on time, you went against his strong grip and popped his dick out of your mouth with saliva drooling down in a way that looked so forbidden, Issei was sure he would’ve came at that sight alone.

“That was...”

“Not your type?” You bit at him, a mocking smile on your lips as you bit your lip and found your way onto the comfort of his lap.

It was weird, the way you felt like you fit perfectly within his frame as if it was a piece of a puzzle. Matsukawa would agree if he could, hands nearly instinctively finding its way onto the globed of your ass and pulling the fabric of your panties over and over again.

“Never in a million years.”

His smirk haunted you, lidded eyes staring at you once again and you realize Issei Matsukawa is a really hard guy to get a reaction out of. So taking the challenge yet again, you stared at him just as emotionless. Your fingers lifted the patch stuck to your folds, and the trail of wetness that dripped over onto both you and his own thighs was nearly sinful to the sore eyes.

It was hard to imagine taking a dick you were sure you could see in your stomach with such an expression, and you wouldn’t wish that suffering on your worst enemy. You couldn’t believe how much just half of him stretched your insides out, your walls sucking him in and barely being able to hold it in together.

“Don't worry, take your time.” Matsukawa’s tone was beyond condescending, the taunt behind his words bringing an anger within you enough to cloud your mind of all common sense. It was unexpected, the way your body just shoved the rest of him inside of your tight, pulsating hole and rested all your body weight on top of him.

“Fuck!” Both of you yelped out, your hands clawing at his chest while his gripped your ass cheeks apart in nothing but a burning sensation.

He filled you up to the brim, the sureness of him hitting your cervix causing your eyes to flutter at the feeling. You bit your lip, adjusting your body to where your feet were on either side of him on the backseat and your body was more able to move.

His eyes widened in surprise at your actions, the sound of both of your pants alongside the music that was long forgotten struggling to keep you attentive. Without warning, you lifted your body up and slammed back down onto him. The action brought a pretty little gasp out your lips, mouth parted and eyes clenched at just how fucking amazing the curve and thickness of his cock was.

“C’mon baby,” he whispered into your ears, hands reaching over to intertwine themselves with your own so you got better balance, “fuck me like you mean it.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You breathed out, beginning to bounce your body up and down his dick perfect enough to hear the squelching sounds of your wetness after every impact. Issei groaned, eyes glued to the sight of where your pussy swallowed him whole and spit him back out over and over again.

“Mm, what else baby?”

Issei’s bored resolve started to crack, groans slipping through his lips in a way that made you tighten up against him even more if it were possible. Your hands gripped his intertwined ones, bouncing up and down faster than you could probably handle. The sensation of his dick hitting your cervix over and over causing you to arch your back closer into his body as you bounced.

The sound of your body slamming into his began to quicken, the strength of your legs giving up as you realized his started to fuck you back from the bottom and drill his length into you.

“Fuck, Issei…” You moaned out embarrassingly loud, Mattsun’s eyes watching you with curiosity in his irises from the way he wanted to figure out how to get you to moan out like that again.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teased, the strain in his voice telling you that even if he was torturing you with the pounding of his dick, he was enjoying it just as much as you, “where’d all that mouth go, pretty?”

You felt yourself clench at the nickname, head leaning back and leaving your neck open for him to lick a trail over towards your jaw and softly bite the plush skin. The windows began to fog up, the sensation of your poor pussy taking him in and out and quick pace causing the car to jump up and down with each stroke.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered out, nearly crying out when his hands found it’s way towards under your ass to support you as he drilled all of this thickness into your throbbing pussy.

The familiar knot began to grow within your stomach, and your hand found it’s way between his messy locks only to grab it and tilt his head roughly back against the window. A surprised groan left his lips, eyes staring up at you widely with a smirk endured from straight pleasure shot up his lips.

“You gonna cum all on daddy’s dick?”

Usually the words would have made you cringe, and you wanted to bite a snarky remark at him for the name. Yet something in you grew feral at the sentence, beginning to rub your clit against him each time you harshly dropped down as you roughened your grip on his hair.

“Fuck yes, daddy, make me cum,” your words tickled his ears, the moans at the end of each word bringing Matsukawa into a state of euphoria. He could hear you say that to him for the rest of his life, if he could.

“Come on baby,” he groaned out harshly, smacking your ass enough to leave a sting that made you cry out into his neck, “give it to me!”

His words echoed in your ears, your loud cries like music to his ears as he watched you fuck him back just as rough as he was being with you. Your hand pulled his head back once again, his scalp hitting the window harshly but he didn’t care once your lips came crashing onto his.

It was nothing but teeth and tongue, sucking on each other’s muscles and making out as if nothing in this world could ever be right again without it. His hands gripped your ass once again, spreading them harshly apart and spanking them with as much toughness that went into spiking a volleyball.

You screamed into his mouth, words being unable to come out as he began to drill into you even rougher and faster than you knew was possible. Your legs had long given out at this point, simply being tossed up and down like a rag doll by Issei’s strong arms and cocky attitude. You were in heaven, even if you’d never admit it.

“I— I hate you,” you fought to yelp out, pussy beginning to squeeze at the feeling you knew all too well as you stared into his eyes and made him look at you as if he was seeing God, “but you fuck me— fuck, you fuck me so good..”

Your words became faint whispers, stars beginning to formulate instead of his once brown irises and bring you into a state of euphoria.

“Daddy I’m gonna—” The words were stolen from your lips as Matsukawa slammed your lips against his own and gripped your back close to his chest.

“Cum baby,” he groaned into your lips, your own sounds preventing you from being able to kiss him back as your covered tits bounced into the confinement of his chest, “cum on daddy’s big dick.”

The words brought a vibration within you, a mantra of the words daddy and please slipping as you felt the euphoria take over your body and leave you with nearly nothing inside you. Issei could practically feel you cum, his own resolve giving out as his shot his thick cum into your throbbing pussy and bringing another scream from between your swollen lips.

“Take it, good girl— fuck yes..” Words slipped from his mouth without his own permission, the sensation of your pussy holding him within you as if it never wanted to let him go and he really wouldn’t mind.

Nothing but your struggles to catch your own breath filled the car, his own haunting the ghost of your ear as you laid out across his chest with saliva threatening to slip from your lips and cum leaking down both of your thighs. It was absolutely disgusting if you really thought about it, but the idea of knowing you had just slutted each other out so sinfully brought your toes to curl one last time.

No one said a word, and as much as you wanted to comment on how he was still gripping your chest against his own, you decided to go against it and try to find reality from the solitude of his wide chest. You could hear Brent Faiyaz on the radio, the view of just how foggy the windows were making you giggle to yourself.

“What’s funny?” The rumble of the words against his chest caused your pussy to throb once again, and you had almost forgotten he was still lodged inside of you with a load of cum threatening to spill out.

“Nothing.” Your voice was gone, and as embarrassing as it was, Issei mentally found himself obsessing over how raspy it got.

The silence was calm, yet the awkward conversation of what next lingered within the air between the two of you. You knew it was going to come soon, and you weren’t really sure of what could possibly happen afterwards. There was no going back from this, Issei Matsukawa had fucked you so good, you never wanted to fuck anyone else again.

The first to break it was Mattsun, which took you by surprise. His large hands found their way towards you cheek, caressing your head as his pushed you back far enough to face him with fucked out eyes and swollen lips and Issei convinces himself you’re one of the seven wonders of the world.

“We should do that again sometime.” He suggests, bored eyes staring into yours as you noticed the small smile lifting amongst the corner of his lips. You wanted to smile back, but the idea of having some more fun with him seemed quite better.

“Eh,” you replied, lifting your weakened body back into his straddling state and biting your lips as you placed both hands across his broad chest. You notice the way his cock twitches hungrily within you, and you realize you were gonna enjoy this a bit too much.

He’s seeing stars, thinking the hottest thing he’s ever seen is a fucked out you staring at him this way and you realize you’ve finally won. You stare at him, bored eyes and a lazy smirk on your lips mimicking the face he spent all his life mastering.

“You’re not really my type.”

                             © 444TSUMU 2021

[dameronology]

the one with all the yelling {obi-wan x reader}

summary: after making a stupid decision in battle and having an argument with your best friend, a confession slips out that surprises both of you (or maybe it doesn’t)

this is a reupload bc i took it down for editing. as usual, this has lots of swearing in, just a pre-warning. enjoy!!

- jazz

They say that time slows down when you’re about to die - that your life flashes before your very eyes. You’re supposed to see the thing you love most, the people you value most. It was meant to be a final moment filled with a lifetime of emotions, of memories; regrets and mistakes; unfulfilled wishes and incomplete to do lists. The way it was described was hauntingly poetic, the sort of thing almost made you want to to experience it just so that you could understand what it felt like.

And, having witnessed a near-death experience in recent hours, you could safely conclude that everything in the aforementioned paragraph was a steaming pile of horse shit.

There was nothing graceful or cinematic about the way you had yeeted yourself across the battle-field, mud unceremoniously flying up around your ass as you kicked Obi-Wan Kenobi out of the line of fire. The blaster fire was inches away from your face - mere inches - and that, of all things, was when you figured the final moments might have come.

Instead, all you got was a hit to the shoulder and a mouth full of dirt. You were very much alive - but after coughing up an unflattering amount of earth and clambering back to your feet with all the grace of a beached whale, the same could not be said for your dignity.

At the forefront of things, you’d been trying to save your best friend’s life. That was all you could think about when you’d launched yourself discourteously towards Obi-Wan; he couldn’t die. Too many people - yourself included - needed him. And, you were certain that if you hadn’t been killed saving his ass, the sudden lack of reason from his presence in your life would have killed you anyways. The man stopped you from walking into traffic on the daily.

You weren’t entirely sure what to say to Obi-Wan. You were sitting on the end of his bed, fresh out of the shower and bundled up in an oversized tunic that belonged to the man pacing in front of you. For a man of many words, he was disturbingly quiet as he stitched you up and even more so when he helped you undress and get into the shower.

What sort of thing were you supposed to say in this situation? Sorry that I booted you up the arse and sent you flying six foot through the air? I had your best interests at heart, I promise.

‘Personally, I am rather pleased with the fact I am still alive.’ You broke the icy silence that had befallen you. Obi-Wan immediately stopped in his pacing tracks, head turning to face you with a bewildered look. Maybe that wasn’t the best conversation opener.

‘How could you…’ Obi-Wan went to say something but his words were lost. He’d witnessed you do a lot of stupid things but this one took the cake. This was stupid thing to end all stupid things. ‘Why would you - actually, I don’t even know what to say.’

‘I mean a thank you would probably suffice.’ You muttered. ‘I did just take a bullet for you.’

‘How could you have been so stupid?!’ He snapped. ‘You could have died!’

‘I was trying to save you!’ You reminded him.

Right. There was that - the alarmingly obvious thing that he’d been trying not to think about.

Obi-Wan couldn’t deny his feelings for you; you’d always been his slightly kooky best friend but maker, he adored you. Life as a Jedi could be dark but you were his nightlight - a soft glow to guide him to brighter things, to remind him that not all was lost.

He’d spent hours convincing himself that you didn’t feel the same. You were too busy running around with what Obi-Wan was certain was a singular brain cell, getting yourself into trouble and making questionable decisions. But, now that you’d quite literally thrown yourself into the line of fire for him? It was certainly a compelling piece of evidence to the contrary.

(Of course, you loved him too. You’d been in love with him since the day you’d met. That was a minor detail you’d chosen not to mention to him - avoiding the truth wasn’t the same as lying, right?)

‘I don’t need saving.’ Obi-Wan said.

‘Oh, please.’ You snorted. ‘You might be Jedi Master Kenobi of the High Jedi Council, Best Jedi To Ever Jedi and Regular Shagger of the Jedi Code-’

‘- you used the word Jedi a few too many times there-’

‘- but you are not bulletproof!’

‘Neither are you!’

‘But I’m alive, aren’t I?’ Your tone was suddenly soft. ‘I’m in one piece.’

‘Barely.’ He murmured. ‘You can’t do things like that.’

‘Well, I did.’ You would have raised your voice louder had your shoulder not been screaming in pain. ‘And stomping around like a pissy toddler isn’t going to change it.’

The most terrifying part - for both of you, truthfully speaking - was how quickly you had done it. You hadn’t even thought about it; you saw red and you launched yourself into the blaster’s path without even considering the consequences. The most important thing to you in that moment had been that Obi-Wan’s life was at risk and it had led to a sudden disregard for your own.

‘I’ll get better.’ You continued. ‘I’m only signed off for a few weeks and as soon as I’m on the mend I will be back in the field. It’ll be like nothing ever happened-’

‘- but it did happen.’ Obi-Wan cut you off. ‘I’m always going to remember that you risked your life for me without even having to think about it.’

Grabbing onto the poster of his bed, you pulled yourself up and slowly approached him. Obi-Wan almost backed away when his robe inched off your shoulders, revealing the nasty red gash just by your collarbone. The idea quickly slipped away, however, when you rested your hands on his forearms, hands slipping under his sleeves and intertwining your fingers.

‘What else would I do?’ You softly laughed. ‘It’s you, Obi.’

‘Would you have done the same for someone else?’ He asked. ‘For Anakin? Or for Ahsoka?’

You faltered slightly, grip on him loosening a tiny bit. ‘Of course.’

‘Y/N.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t lie.’ He suddenly jerked his hands away from you, spinning around on his heel so that you were suddenly facing his back.

‘Fine.’ You grumbled. ‘I would only do it for you. I would only blindly throw myself in front of a bullet for you. Not anyone else. Not a single soul. Does that make you happy? Does that inflate your ego enough, Kenobi-’

‘- that’s not what this is about.’

‘Then tell me!’ You let out a small groan of pain as you grabbed him by the material of his shirt, using every last ounce of energy to make him look at you again. ‘Tell me what it’s about because you are not making sense and I am the world’s leading expert in that field.’

‘It’s not about anything.’

‘Oh, bullshit!’ You whacked his arm, adrenaline worming its way into your tired body and finally allowing you to raise your voice. ‘I just saved your fucking life and you’re acting like a moody son of a bitch and accusing me of lying!’

‘It’s because I love you!’

‘Well, I love you too!’

‘Great!’

‘Fine!’

‘Wonderful!’

‘Brilliant!’

‘Well I’m glad we cleared that up!’

‘Me too!’

‘We should probably stop shouting!’

‘Good idea!’

You unballed your fists just in time to catch the material of Obi-Wan’s shirt as he stepped towards you, taking you by the waist and pulling you towards him. He crashed his lips into yours, knocking the air from your lungs as he did. You’d thought about kissing him many times - more than you were willing to admit, actually - but now that you were actually here, with a handle tangled in his soft hair and his warm lips moving against yours?

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment - for the declaration of love or the kiss or the way he was holding onto you, hands desperately gripping to your waist as though you were about to slip away into the darkness of the galaxy and leave him alone forever. Just a few hours ago, that had been a very real possibility.

You’d admitted to yourself earlier that you probably couldn’t have survived in a world without Obi-Wan Kenobi. Little did you know that he’d admitted to himself years before that he couldn’t have survived without you.

‘I love you.’ His words were softer now, barely a whisper against your lips as pressed his forehead to yours.

‘If I’d known that almost dying was all it took to make you tell me, I would have done it years-’

‘-Y/N.’ He groaned.

‘Sorry.’ You smiled softly. ‘I love you too.’

[imherongraystairstrash]

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, do you think Charles,Barbara, Eugenia and Anna were close? Anna maybe less because she’s closer in age to the merry thieves set and she probably ghosted Charles after the Ariadne engagement. Would you consider a fic of them all growing up, starting with them 4 as little kids and then slowly becoming teens and adults and then dealing with Barbara’s death. I think it would be a fun idea since nobody ever considers them to be a older merry thieves.

You can thank my social anxiety for this one bc I stress wrote it in school 🙃

TW: panic attacks, death

Title: When we were young

Characters: Barbara Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Cecily Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Alexander Lightwood, Sophie Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Anna was sitting by the fire when Charles came into the room. She hated him. She truly did. But, somehow, at that moment, she felt strange. He looked at her and it took her many years back, to when they weren’t exactly friends, but  they were far from what they are now to each other.

…

“And that was how Consul Wentworth fixed the crisis of 1687.” Charles said with a satisfied smile to himself.

The Lightwood girls were his audience. Well, sort of. Eugenia’s cheek was resting on her fist, squishing the right side of her face as her lidded eyes approached shutting completely. Anna was slumped against Eugenia, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes opened wide, staring at a fixed spot on the floor. Their luminous dark blue glittered in the witchlight, looking exquisitely uncanny. Barbara was mid-yawn, leaning on the leg of a sofa.

“Wow, Charles. Thanks for the history lesson.” Eugenia said, monotonously. It was evident that she’d inherited her mother’s sass from the day she was born, when Barbara had woken her up by exclaiming at the sight of her newborn sister, and Genie responded by pulling her sister’s hair.

“Oh, and in 1690-“

“NO!” All three Lightwood daughters shrieked.

“I’m still not done, though.” Said Charles.

“Yes, you are.” Eugenia said, standing up and settling the matter. “We are positively bored. There is absolutely nothing to do except listen to Charles talk about politics, and if those are the only two options, frankly, I’d rather be bored.” 

Charles crossed his arms. “Being an intellect is not boring.”

Little two year old Anna looked at him with one eyebrow raised. 

“I swear, Thomas is having a better time than we are,” Eugenia said glaring at to where their parents were, with the tiny, almost invisible baby nestled in Gideon’s arms, his fingers wrapped around Sophie's thumb. The parents were all laughing about something, which made Eugenia scowl even more. 

“To be an adult.” Barbara said, with a martyred sigh. 

“We needn’t be adults to have fun.” Charles said.

“I suppose you’re going to torture us with more political trivia.” 

“No,” Charles said. “I was going to suggest we go through the attic.” 

The girls looked up at this and Charles smirked, clearly proud of himself at having come up with a good idea. For once. 

“What is in the attic?” 

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s probably strange and obscure things. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in our house.” 

Barbara and Eugenia exchanged a look before the eldest Lightwood sister turned to him. 

“We shall go and discover this mysterious attic you speak of.”

…

“What could this even be?” Barbara said, holding up a loose gear-like contraption. 

“Papa sometimes builds things out of clockwork.” Charles said, sitting cross legged. “Or, he used to at least.” 

 “That’s…” 

Genie and Charles looked at Barbara as she trailed off.

“Nevermind, I have no comment.”

Charles nodded as though that was a common reaction people had in terms of his father’s experiments. 

They rummaged through boxes upon boxes, finding momentos they didn’t understand such as papers upon papers of things that said many difficult words. They could distinguish a couple of words such as “infernal” and “devices”, however there were many that made no sense to them.

“What is a Mortmain?” Asked Genie.

“I think it’s an undead horse or something along those lines,” said Charles.

“Oh,” said Eugenia. “That’s disgusting.”

“Quite,” agreed Barbara.

Anna was toddling around the room, giggling. She almost tripped over a loose floorboard, and would have, had Charles not reached out and grabbed a hold of the back of her dress. 

“This is too dangerous for a small child like Anna,” Barbara said, ever the mother-goose. “I shall take her downstairs before she hurts herself.” 

Anna protested at first, but acquiesced once Barbara bribed her with the promise of dessert.

…

“What are you doing here?” Anna asked.

He looked up, his green eyes meeting her blue ones. 

…

Charles remembered that day like it was just yesterday. 

He and Eugenia had stayed behind rifling through boxes, which wasn’t unwelcome, as Eugenia and Charles had an easy, lighthearted and, at times, profound, friendship. Despite their age gap, they enjoyed each other’s company, though neither could say why. Perhaps, it was simply because they mocked each other. Or perhaps, it was sometimes they would occasionally talk about things such as philosophy, and whether what they were seeing was true, or the world was just a figment of their imaginations. Or a mixture of the two; they’d never really discussed it. 

Eugenia surprised him when she said, “do you ever feel… different from your parents?” 

Charles furrowed his brows, “in what aspect?”

“Love.” 

“Have you a suitor?” Charles inquired, intrigued.

“No. Actually, that was my question. I find that, sometimes, I don’t only enjoy the idea of a male suitor, but perhaps, I also enjoy the company of a woman. Perhaps.” She pressed her lips together tightly, as if forcing herself to stop speaking.

Charles looked at her, his bright green eyes wide. “I-um-…”

“But I’m not sure, of course.” Eugenia blurted out. “It’s not as if shadowhunters are precisely fond of that particular preference or-“

“Do you really think they wouldn’t like it?” Charles asked, softly. “Do you believe they will reject those who are like that?” 

Eugenia looked down. “I’m afraid I’m most sure of it.”

Charles had then realized that he couldn’t have both. There was no way around it. 

He knew his parents were happy and that love made them complete. However, they didn’t have to choose. They could be married and the idea wouldn’t affect their respective occupations. Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be Consul and have the kind of love he wanted. He almost resented them because of it. They were able to do what they loved and nobody forced them to pick between one or the other. 

It was unfair. So incredibly unfair.

“I guess you better get rid of your feelings towards women than.” He said simply, “unless you’re willing to let something as simple as love get in the way of your dreams.”

“Dreams?” Eugenia asked, looking confused and a tiny bit hurt. 

 But Charles got up to go back downstairs to his parents, aunts and uncles.

… 

Charles slumped down in a chair and dug his fingers into his hair.

“She was just here.” He said quietly. “Babs, was just here.”

Anna felt sudden rage. “You are not allowed to mourn her.” 

Charles looked up. “Just because you don’t like me doesn’t mean I can’t be sad. She was my cousin too. Perhaps not by blood, but she was still a cousin.” He pressed his lips together angrily and stared fixedly at the witchlight stone that was illuminating the room. 

Anna, however, couldn’t find it in her to be diplomatic; she got up and left the room. 

…

Anna had never seen Eugenia look this way. She was always put together, posh. But now, she looked hollow. Like a shell of who she used to be. Anna wanted to go up to her, to say something, but she felt lost for words. What did you tell someone who lost a dear sister? If Anna felt sorrow, she couldn’t imagine what Eugenia was feeling. 

Her head was tilted upwards, looking up at the pyre where the corpse of her sister lay. Tears were streaming down her face, rolling down her cheeks, throat and chest, leaving streaks on her face that looked like the roots of a tree.

Sophie had her arm around her daughter. The sight of the four of them was very strange. There was a gap missing where Barbara should have been. She suddenly felt a hand take hold of her own. She looked to her right and saw her mother looking straight ahead, squeezing her daughter’s hand. Her father was looking down, holding Alex. Her baby brother was one of the few who looked up at the cousin who’d taught him to play simple songs on the piano, and had always let him sleep in her arms on New Year's eve.  

She didn’t know what he must have been thinking now, staring up at the pyre. 

Though, to be fair, she didn’t quite know what to think herself, as she looked up at the cousin who’s life was cut far too short.

…

Eugenia’s body didn’t feel like her own. She hadn’t felt this body was her own for a while. Even since Augustus and the secret she’d kept to herself.

This was somehow worse. To be torn away from your best friend, whom you’d shared a room with almost your entire life. Eugenia didn’t know how to live in a world without Barbara. Sometimes, in the rare moments when she forgot about her sadness, she’d call her sister’s name, ready to tell her about what had happened in her novel. Or find herself walking to Barbara’s room without thinking and then staring blankly at the door that has remained shut ever since the day she passed away.

A couple of weeks ago, she’d found a letter Barbara had sent her when she’d been in Idris. It was in between her copy of Jane Eyre. She couldn’t bring herself to read it in its entirety, but she stared at the signature blankly. 

Suddenly, she got the urge to run. So she ran. That’s how, an hour later, she’d gotten a small tattoo under her ankle that said “Sincerely, your favorite sister Babs.” 

It felt right to have Bab’s signature there, we’re only she could see. It made her feel accompanied everywhere she went, even though nobody else could see. 

Now, looking up at the pyre, her face tight from tears she’d left to dry, her mother weeping silently, she could almost imagine that her sister was there, simply caught in a slumber and that she’d wake up at any moment and come tumbling down, throwing herself in Eugenia’s arms.

Any moment now, she thought when the pyre burst into flames. 

“Ave atque vale, Barbara Lightwood.” The crowd said at once.

Eugenia shook her head and swayed on her feet. Her breathing became heavy and her fingers began prickling. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. No nononono. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder, vaguely that it was her father’s. 

Not Barbara.

Not Babs.

“Calm down, Genie.”

Not her sister. Her sister couldn’t possibly be up there.

“Breathe Eugenia.”

She wanted to scream that she couldn’t, that she’d never breathe again, as long as her sister wasn’t breathing with her. Why did she have to live? She would have much preferred that Barbara live in her stead. 

The world was numb and fractured, never to be fixed again. 

…

(Don’t worry, Gideon was able to help Genie after the fic ends bc he’s the best dad)

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[constellaj]

16

Please talk more about your reboot!

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

okay so how i would re-do CANON is completely different from how i would talk abt a reboot so im gonna touch on a couple things in both contexts! the reason for the difference is canon rewrites imply i can go back in time and introduce dp fresh and new, before anyone knows what it is; but for a reboot, id be working with an audience that has a better understanding of the source material, so i dont need to spend as much time explaining, but i also need to keep everything recognizable

Valerie

REWRITE: i would def make it more danny's fault that her dad lost his job, like danny was intentionally being reckless and shattered some security stuff, and he has a whole mini lesson about learning to not just run in guns blazing. i would probably remove the dating stuff with her and danny (and tuckers crush) too, I think them wanting to be good friends is good enough for freshman year

REBOOT: the fandom already knows valerie exists, so i would actually skip the whole shades-of-gray introductory episode and have her be present as the huntress from day 1-- probably even before danny got his powers. cujo is also HER dog, and her backstory-- we'd find out in like, season 1, that a natural ghost portal (maybe one wulf opened) ripped open on her dog and killed him, and since then shes had a vendetta against ghosts cause of how reckless they are and their disregard for life-- of course, cujo isnt actually dead. cujo is a halfa. a puby halfa. anyway instead of a hoverboard she actually rides cujo around cause he can fly and its big and epic. valerie has BEEN amity parks ghost-eradicating superhero for at least a year (tho shes been in the shadows abt it) and her hatred towards danny actually just becomes really petty, like them flying next to each other chasing skulker just going "I got this. no I got this. no I got this" and they just get in each others' way and its a mutual grudge.

BOTH: i am NOT keeping in vlad giving her the suit to watch danny under any circumstances. it was only utilized half assedly in canon (when vlad couldve just had an invisible duplicate watching him instead) anyway, and I dont have any reason to keep it in a reboot either. instead i want her tech to be a combination of half-stolen and half-gerryrigged stuff and she slowly slowly learns how to build her own.

I also dont want anyone knowing her secret identity, except maybe her dad, and sam or tucker. i think it works better if danny isnt privy to this magic info

Freakshow

REWRITE: i would honestly just remove him. the episodes hes in arent particularly interesting, theyre just generic "we need a plot about x" filler and he's not compelling enough a character (at least in writing) to carry a better plot that another antagonist couldnt. i'm serious

REBOOT: unfortunately in a reboot he's gonna have to pop up somewhere or else ppl will be like "where IS HE" so I'm going to stick with running some kind of ghost circus, maybe a few occult things, but cut out a lot of the spooky magical knowledge and mcguffin stuff. maybe i could make him like, someone from vlad/jack/maddies college who always felt pushed around by them and so he has a vendetta? and theyd be the only reason he even learned abt ghosts in the first place. idk in either way I want to force him into being irredeemable but also include LYDIA (the tattoo girl ghost) way more-- I want to give her an arc that ends in her tossing freakshow aside and running off to be a ghost vigilante.

BOTH: dear god the infinity gauntlet is stupid that needs to GO AWAY. especially for the reboot cause it would exist in a post-mcu world and way too many people would complain about it

Vlad

REWRITE: amp him up to a far more sinister and villainous character. the crushing on maddie isnt enough, I want to show him on-screen performing experiments on ghosts and himself, dismissing everyone else cause he thinks hes smarter than them. i want him to be actively sabotaging the fentons at every turn. i would also clarify that he doesnt actually want danny as a son, but as a trophy-- a line where danny says something along the lines of "you don't want a son. you want a slave". i want to make him a character who wants to destroy the entire planet and put it in the ghost zone so he can be the true ghost king and i want to make this all evident from day one. if i'm writing a series villain you can bet i'm going to write a GOOD one. less petty drama here and more actual stakes.

REBOOT: it seems silly but sense with reboot we have the benefit of hindsight and recognizing that vlad wasn't a big series villain, theres no way i'd actually go back and write him to be such. for starters, of course, theres the fact that anything he does would really be an exaggerated part of the original, and it would bore an audience to see the same story again-- theres also the fact that it doesnt seem right to take a character who was treated as a joke half the time and suddenly make them big and important. no, instead for my reboot i want to lean into the petty gay uncle vibe. he had a crush on jack and now just casually insults him. he moves mansions every now and again by just haunting the family who lives in the one he wants, and taking over-- i mean, who is gonna believe that an actual ghost haunted you. he dislikes danny not because he has some concept of 'evil' and 'good' but bc danny is just too damn active. of course he actually does care about danny and his safety deep down, it's just on the surface they have very conflicting motivations-- not to mention that danny has been raised on legends from his parents of the villainous Wisconsin Ghost, who has to be stopped at all costs.

BOTH: i want jack and maddie to KNOW he's a half ghost and to actively be hunting him down for it, maybe bc they think hes possessed, or been a ghost tricking them this whole time, or the victim of a tragic lab accident who needs to be put to rest, etc. whatever the case it will give vlad actual tangible reason to despise them and genuinely suspect they dont have dannys best interests at heart. i think it would be neat if vlad was cynical and every time danny hit him with the "I'll expose us both. at least theyll still love ME" vlad could be like in the back of his head "oh god theyre going to kill this child"

Dani

REWRITE: cut her out. we don't need her character at all. maybe replace her with a more ominous shadow duplicate / clone that actually looks like danny himself and doesnt really have a name? you could probably combine her and dark dans characters for their arcs

REBOOT: instead of a clone from vlad, she's a guys in white creation using some of dannys dna after he was captured (and vlad broke him out bc he was like "ugh i guess i have to save this child")

BOTH: vlad actually cares abt her (duh), shes nonbinary (double duh), she gets the funny dissolve into goo powers

i had more i thought i was gonna write but this post is already very long and also im running out of coherency for this LUL

[jojosbizarrefanfics]

Hello! Can I order up a Jotaro x childhood friend(he has a crush on her ahdhhehshda) and she's kinda like Microphage from Cells at work? Motherly, a stand user(so she tags along on the journey), and she's busty so she accidentally smothers the joot in them? Not nsfw, but maybe something a bit light hearted and funny bc theres so many angst and we need more silliness. Hope you're okay with this, and hope this isn't vague or anything! Bye~!♡

One order of Jotaro x busty lifelong friend reader coming right up! I got carried away oops

I’ve never seen Cells At Work but the fandom wiki + your request being not-vague = I think I got what you’re going for and I love it for Jotaro fkkdfkskfkskfk

You were friends with most of your class in elementary school, but that changed once you hit puberty. Jotaro was the only friend who didn’t care that you suddenly had boobs, and you were the only girl in the class that didn’t have a weird crush on him. You valued each other as people and had a deeper bond than most people even realized.

Holly loved you and often made comments when you weren’t around about when you two would start dating. Especially while he was still in high school, Jotaro always shrugged her off, insisting that you two were just friends.

When his Stand awakened, you were there for him. Along the way to Egypt, you’d explain to him how you were born with yours but no one could see it and, as a child, your parents and teachers just dismissed it as an imaginary friend so you never brought it up to anyone. Your bond only grew deeper, and as you joined him on the quest to defeat Dio — he tried to tell you it would be too dangerous, but you refused his refusal — you two just grew even closer, especially over nights of you dressing his wounds and grieving lost friends. Your Stand, called Macrophage, took the form of a stark white woman wearing a maid outfit and would often cuddle with Star Platinum during these intimate moments.

You both shared your first kiss during one of your Stands’ cuddle sessions after you helped patch each other up. It was in a hotel room in Egypt and you both weren’t totally sure you’d live to see the next sunrise. Neither of you ever spoke about it again.

Ever since returning from Egypt, Jotaro started to wonder if there was any merit in what Holly was suggesting: should he ask you out, or was it better to not risk ruining a decades long friendship?

He decided against testing those waters. He convinced himself that kiss you shared was just the heat of the moment and from a fear of dying. But over the years, he noticed you denying men left and right — just like how he’d deny women. He knew why because he experienced the same thing: people tended to not care enough to look beyond the surface.

Josuke Higashikata was still trying to figure out the enigma that was his nephew when he saw Jotaro heading to the train station. Was he leaving already? It didn’t look like he had a ticket. Josuke, alongside Okuyasu, followed Jotaro in from a distance, but before they could approach to ask, a train pulled up and the passengers departed. They decided to linger back and wait.

You spotted Jotaro instantly: he was hard to miss due to how tall and broad he was, so you always knew to look up and go wherever you saw one of his signature hats. Josuke saw Jotaro smile for the first time when the gorgeous and large-chested (HC) woman ran up to him and jumped up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Jotaro was quick to lift you up into the hug, strong arms wrapping around your torso. This wasn’t his style, but it was yours and he knew by now to just let you have your moment of affection. There was no stopping you and resistance was pointless.

“How’s my favorite marine biologist?” You asked.

“I’m the only marine biologist you know, (YN),” he replied as he set you down.

You ran your hands over the lapels on his jacket, then one up to cup his cheek. “You look good. But have you been sleeping?”

“Trying to,” Jotaro said. “It’s good to see you, (YN). I’m glad you came.”

“Come on, now. My best friend tells me there’s some weird, potentially-Stand related activity going on in a normally quiet town and you think I’m not gonna drop everything and catch the next train?” You said with a laugh.

“Do you have any other bags?” Jotaro asked.

“Just these two. I tried not to overpack but you know how well that works out for me,” you said with a nervous laugh.

“やれ やれ だぜ,” Jotaro said playfully as he picked up your bags. “Don’t even fight me on this. Come on, the hotel’s not far from here.” He swallowed, not sure why he suddenly felt nervous asking you, “Are you okay with sharing a room with me? I’m not sure how dangerous things could get.”

“JoJo, please,” you said. “You should know by now that it’s okay.”

“Did she just call him JoJo?” Josuke asked Okuyasu. Now that you two were on the move, it was easier to overhear.

“Look at her! Do you think it’s his girlfriend or somethin’? Man, she’s hot!”

The hotel was just across the intersection, but you stopped Jotaro before you could cross. You held a hand up and took a deep breath. Macrophage emerged and confirmed what you thought for you.

“What is it?” Jotaro asked.

“We’re being followed,” you said. “Two men... no. Teenage boys?”

Jotaro groaned. “Remember what I told you with my grandparents?”

“Oh, is this..?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you like him?” You asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Jotaro said flatly.

Suddenly, the two of you were much closer to one another: it was almost as if the space between you two vanished into an invisible vacuum. Jotaro, carrying your bags and not expecting the sudden shift, lost his balance a bit and, as you tried to help catch him, his face ended up firmly planted between your chest.

“(YN), forgive me,” he said as he stood. You noticed a hint of pink to Jotaro’s cheeks, a rare sight indeed.

“It’s ok. Is your... uncle?”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Is he a Stand user?”

“I swear that half this damn town is,” Jotaro said. Just when he felt the embarrassment fading, he felt someone pushing him and his face landed right between your breasts again.

“Clearly they want a show,” you said. You looked around, saw no one on the street, and to Jotaro’s surprise, you pushed his face further between your breasts. “Trust me, ok?”

“What the hell?”

Suddenly, the sound of Josuke and Okuyasu screaming could be heard clearly as they ran from the alley they were hiding in. From there, you helped Jotaro stand up.

“I’m so glad you were never like that as a teenager,” you said with a laugh.

“Jotaro-san!” Okuyasu cried as they approached you both. “We’re sorry! Miss! We’re sorry!”

“Please tell your Stand to not kill us!” Josuke cried, hands clasped together.

Jotaro was hiding his face with his hat. He was equal parts furious and mortified, hoping you wouldn’t think any less of him.

“If you two got your heads out of your pants you’d have seen Macrophage coming,” you said. “ばかやろう...”

“Her Stand is just as deadly as Star Platinum,” Jotaro said. “You two should be more careful next time you decide to snoop around.”

“We’re sorry! We thought it would be funny!” Josuke said nervously.

“Is this your girlfriend, Jotaro-san?” Okuyasu asked.

You looked to Jotaro, who simply picked up suitcase with one hand, slung your backpack over his shoulder, and then grabbed you by the hand and dragged you across the street. They didn’t follow.

“You okay, JoJo?” You asked.

“I’ve decided I don’t like them.”

You stifled a laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re pissed off or flustered.” He never let go of your hand. “You don’t have to worry about it, you know.”

He was silent still, so you said nothing. You knew pressing it wouldn’t get you anywhere. But, you noticed, he didn’t let go of your hand.

Jotaro sighed in relief once the hotel room door was closed behind you both. The Morioh Grand Hotel lived up to its name, you thought. Once Jotaro set your things down, you sat next to each other on the edge of the bed.

“You have this look in your eyes that I know all too well,” you said. Jotaro looked up at you and you both made eye contact. “There’s something you want to say. And it’s not about the Stand users in Morioh.”

“Do you remember that last night in Egypt before we faced DIO?”

You nodded. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Have you ever thought about what it would be like if I were to kiss you again?”

You smiled. “Yes. I do, and frequently.” It all made sense now, why he was so nervous when Josuke and Okuyasu pulled that prank with their Stands.

“And I’m not just thinking this because of what just happened.”

“I know,” you said. “I know you better than that, JoJo.”

Jotaro didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just kissed you again. This time, the world wasn’t ending. This time, he allowed himself to feel everything in full.

[impalementation]

if you're interested, i'd love to hear your thoughts on That scene in empty places, bc the way that i've seen most people talk about it doesn't always feel very nuanced and like... i get being frustrated and i for sure think some extremely unfair things to/about buffy were said, but i don't think it's as cut and dry as buffy being totally blameless (even though i love her) and everyone else (particularly the main scoobies, who don't have her responsibilities but have fought alongside her and earned the right to disagree w her imo) being terrible. Like it may have gone too far?? But idk, I have trouble articulating why, but I think there's more nuance to the situation than people want to say, so I'm curious about your thoughts

Anonymous asked:

whats your take on empty places and the scoobs kicking buffy out of her house?

Anonymous asked:

Why did Buffy allowed Dawn to kick her out in Empty Places?

Wow, so many questions about “Empty Places”! Sorry, as ever, that these took me a while to get to.

I actually agree, I think there’s more nuance there than it’s given credit for. I talked about that a bit in this post a while back. I wouldn’t say that the character build-up to that scene is as well-executed as it could have been, but it hardly comes out of nowhere, and it’s not some random thing. Or, as I’ve seen people suggest, simply there to make Spike look good and push him and Buffy together. I’m sure their romantic arc was a factor in the storytelling, but to call that the only motivation seems to me a vast oversimplification and dismissal of ideas that were built over the course of the season.

Season seven is, as I’ve discussed before, about how the Slayer system is broken. It’s a system that isolates Buffy and puts all of the decision-making in her hands. Meaning that it’s a system that is neither good for her, nor good for anyone around her, no matter how strong and brave Buffy is. All season long, we see Buffy struggle with both the limits of her power, and the demands of her authority. She wants to be able to save every girl, and fight every ubervamp, but she simply can’t be everywhere and stronger than everything. She wants to be a caring friend, but when she’s the one who has to make decisions about whether people should live or die, she can’t always be. When she’s the one who has to make all the hard choices, that means the blame always falls on her shoulders. When she fucks up, there’s nothing for her to fall back on. The fact that Buffy is forced to be this kind of sole authority means that the people around her are right to feel that they aren’t being listened to, or fully considered. Because often they aren’t. They see the people around them getting maimed and killed and suddenly realize that maybe it isn’t right that all their eggs should be in Buffy’s basket. But at the same time, they’re wrong, because they’re the ones who put their eggs there. They’re the ones who kept looking the other way as Buffy made hard choice after hard choice on their behalf. They’re as complicit in (and victimized by) the broken system as Buffy is.

Keep in mind the season’s perception themes. Everyone gets mad at Buffy, and Buffy gets mad at herself, because they’re all too close to the situation to see that the problem isn’t really Buffy, it’s what being the Slayer has forced Buffy to be. The dynamic it’s forced between her and the people around her. Notice how in the very next episode, Faith finds herself dealing with the exact same problems that Buffy was. The same hard decisions, and the same ambient resentments. It’s actually very important that Faith has to be a leader for a bit, in order to show this--the fact that the problem is being the Slayer, not Buffy. I’d even argue that it’s the much more thematically relevant motivation for the scene than getting Buffy and Spike alone.

As far as thematic motivations go, I also think it’s crucial that Buffy is thrown out of her house. That is some powerful symbolism for a season that leans so hard into the symbolism of Buffy’s house in general, and it’s disappointing to see people ignore it in their eagerness to be mad at everyone. The house is a lot of things—the familiar, the stable, the normative, the safe—but most importantly it’s also Buffy’s self. Notice how Spike and Faith, both Buffy’s shadow at different times, hang out in Buffy’s basement: the realm of the id and subconscious. Notice how as the house breaks down, Buffy gets injured as well.

So for Buffy to be thrown out of her house, it’s the climax of the season’s isolation themes not just in terms of story, but also metaphor. She has literally been cast out of herself. She’s been banished from her identity and role. But at the same time, once she’s on the outside of that myopic, claustrophobic system, she is able to connect with her shadow (Spike) and see the situation with new eyes. The reason that Spike is the one who can talk Buffy back is that firstly, unlike the Scoobies, his later seasons arc is all about learning to not ask Buffy for things that aren’t appropriate--romantic reciprocation, moral structure. Secondly, he was once the tool and symbol of her isolation, the icon of her shame and guilt and belief that she needed to isolate herself. For her to make peace with Spike is about her rejecting that isolation and shame, and transforming it.

Of course, I can talk about symbolism all I want and it doesn’t necessarily matter if the writers didn’t make it believable on the object level too—the level of character and plot and all of that. It’s a regular problem on Buffy, the writing caring more about symbolism than sense. While I think that most of the characters have adequate motivation for the scene—really, it’s been building from the beginning; remember the confrontation between Buffy and Xander as early as “Selfless”? or Buffy fighting with Giles and Wood two episodes earlier? or the way she argued with everyone in “Get It Done”? or the Potentials doubting her from basically their first episodes?—the one character that seems truly undeveloped is Dawn. She got that warning from the First in “Conversations With Dead People”, but the season doesn’t follow up on it well enough to draw a clear line between that seed of doubt and her attitude in “Empty Places.” Given that Dawn is Buffy’s “humanity” or “youth” or what have you, it’s symbolically significant that she would be the final one to cast Buffy out. But that seems like a clear case of the story not earning its metaphor, unfortunately.

To answer the third ask: as far as why Buffy let Dawn kick her out, on a character level I think she was pretty defeated by that point. But symbolically, I think the part about Buffy’s human self rejecting her is important for that. Buffy has a tenuous relationship to her belief in her humanity at the best of times, so it’s pretty easy for me to believe that she would feel lost and numbed enough by being rejected by that part of herself, that she wouldn’t fight it.

(Controversial opinion, but I actually kind of like that “Empty Places” isn’t due to the First sowing obvious discord. I’ve seen lots of people suggest that that would have been the stronger and more believable choice, and I get the instinct. But if the point of the season is to show that the villain is the Slayer system, then it makes more sense for that to be the thing that drives the conflict, and not an external force influencing them. There might have been a way to use the First that was compatible with that, but it wouldn’t have worked if the problem was just The First. Imo, of course.)

All of which is to say, that if you see the season as being about faulty perception, broken systems, and the dangers of isolation, then “Empty Places” actually makes perfect sense as a climax of the season. The problem really comes down to whether you think it was earned enough (which in some cases I think it was, and in others it wasn’t), or generally handled well, and whether you think those ideas are interesting in the first place.

[twink-frank]

hi i’ve noticed the pencey prep gay conversation going on over on @awsugar and i have spent lots of time dissecting pencey prep lyrics and subjecting nathan @faggot-frank to my deranged ramblings so Here is my pencey prep super ultra mega gay lyrical analysis masterpost. it’s very long so its all under the cut but i will include a TL;DR for those who dont wanna read paragraphs of my deranged ramblings: Pencey prep uses lots of themes of: heartbreak, forbidden love, keeping love a secret, and toxic relationships. which none of that is gay on its own but combined with them almost never using gender indicators in their songs and the “nail in the coffin song” of 8th grade it ends up being a very Fruity Album.

I will be going through heart break in stereo in order and pointing out which lyrics and elements of certain songs jump out to me as Super Mega Gay and then summarizing my conclusions at the end <3

1 ) PS Don't Write

PS don't write is about leaving a toxic relationship, it has notes of moving on and leaving someone behind. "packed up all my shit / stole back all my tapes / left your spare key under the mat / this is not a joke / you'd better learn to take a hint / 'cause i'm not coming back / maybe you'll understand / when you're waking up alone / in a cold and empty bed." it has no gender indicators or pronouns which is the case in a lot of pencey prep songs, and something i'll bring up quite a bit. it also has general "coming of age" themes, something common in lots of pencey prep songs. which Yeah apply to straight people to but read in this context combined with future evidence can be pretty Fuckin Gay. "somewhere along the line / i found a hidden strength / i didn't know i had / standing on my own / cutting all the strings / that you used to control / surprise surprise / i am long gone / if you thought you could hold me down / by holding me up / you were wrong / you don't call the shots anymore." not to say only gay people can find inner strength and the room to love themselves but combined with other context it is a really poignant message about accepting yourself for who you are.

2) Yesterday

Yesterday is very repetitive and has a lot less to analyze, but the constant themes of wanting to "run away" strike me as very Fruity. once again, not saying gay people are the only people who can want to run away or escape from something But Combined With Other Context. and once again a song with no gender indicators, doesnt specify who the speaker is running away with or what they are running away from. just that they want to Leave. "i wanna run with you / i don't care what we do / gotta get out of this place / because it feels like yesterday." also saying "it feels like yesterday" could mean that the town feels backwards or old timey in its beliefs, implying homophobia. how the speaker wants to run away from an old fashioned town.

3) Don Quixote

i'm going to bring up the cultural significance of this title and literary reference first. Don Quixote is a classical novel by Cervantes which is about a crazy dude who thinks he's a knight, and goes on weird adventures with his best friend. It's typically used as a symbol of following your dreams and breaking free from what people expect of you. In the context of the song its used as a symbol of following your dreams with Someone. once again this someone is given no gender indicators. "you say it's not worth it / been burned too many times / if your spine's receding / you can borrow some of mine / don't go and quit right now / cause i'd follow you through hell." "you say so many things / and not a word of it was true / if you're still in that state of mind / i'd still vacation inside of you / cause i think you're worth every minute / and every dime that i spend / i'd spend all my time fighting dragons / just to keep you alive and talking." it's about wanting to spend time with someone, wanting to be with them no matter what. and its also about how this person feels unreachable, like being with them would be a fairytail but the speaker Still Reaches for it. "your imaginations running wild / round your deceptive heart / this is my crusade / and you're the unreachable star / but i'm reaching." talking about this person being unreachable and unattainble. which isnt gay By Itself  but again combined with the other context. FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

4) 10 Rings

another breakup song once again with no gender indicators, are you guys sensing a theme here? anyways this song is about someone cutting you off and then coming back suddenly wanting to talk again after breaking your heart. it has a sense of forbidden love, like this person Told the speaker they cant be together for Whatever Reason ;] and is now trying to come back and repair their mistake when the speaker is already hurt and reeling. "learn to live with decisions you make / i learned things from the break i can't forget / catch you doing drive-bys at 1 AM / it must kill you to know we can't be friends." "end of the summer you cut me off / i cut you out all the pictures i have." which this Isnt Gay By Itself. but bringing that phrase back with other context this is such a uniquely gay experience. being in love with someone and they cut you off Because theyre weirded out by that and then they try to come back, convince you it meant nothing.

5) The Secret Goldfish

my FAVORITE pencey song. this one has a lot. it's another breakup song about heartbreak and loss and im not even gonna dwell on the no gender indicators because yall see the theme now. it has themes of heartbreak and losing someone who is very close to you and having to let go of them and having to accept that this person cant be yours and you cant be with them. "land of the lost / i found myself in nothing / this time, promises broken find me / clutching to you for something / something that you're not / believing in what you say / it makes me lie awake at night / the truth, the truth is not what scares me / it's why you have to lie / all the time." here we see these themes of having to let someone go because they just Aren't The Same as you. "clutching to you for something / something that you're not." maybe like chasing after a straight boy and getting rejected? also the repetition of "heartbreak is forever" when you're young and gay losing that first person you felt some kind of love and attraction to can feel like the end of the world and can be a huge deal because of the lack of representation and guidance young gays get. and the themes of nothing lasting forever, the fact that gay people never get promised eternal love the same way straight people do.

6) 8th Grade

this song is the nail in penceys fucking coffin honestly. the rest of these songs have a lot of plausible deniability, just vague enough to maybe Not Be Gay. but framed in the context of 8th grade they all start to get a lil fruity. Im just gonna go through lyric by lyric for this one. "caught staring again / like a deer in the headlights / when you can't move fast enough / i take a hit for the team / pretty girl is blushing / i can't tell if she's disgusted / laughter starts to swell / someone gets the joke." this kid was staring at some cute boy ass and got caught and everyone is laughing at him for being gay. the "pretty girl" here is what most people think he's staring at but with the rest of the song it's obvious she's not the one he's looking at. "bells ring, i make my escape / helps a little, but doesn't save / beat downs a common thing / with us every day / maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools / so maybe i like the abuse / or maybe i just like you." literally This is the nail in penceys fucking coffin. "maybe i like the abuse or maybe i just like you." this kid purposefully takes beatings from his bully who is Obviously male if you take into context the next verse. because he Likes Him. "maybe im just strange / cause i dont change schools" literally willingly taking beatings from his bully bc he has a crush. "another confrontation / you've got something to prove / your girl can't tell how tough you are / when you beat me up in the boys room." this just confirms that the subject of the song is a boy, and a tough macho boy with something to prove. maybe also hiding his own internalized homophobia through bullying? "well i made a big mistake / but i can't help who i like / this may not cost my life / but i am branded forever lame." LITERALLY ITS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE. "can't help who i like" "branded forever lame" do i even need to fucking explain this oh my god. he got outed as gay, he Can't Help Who He Likes and is now branded forever as "the gay kid." the rest of the song is general "im gonna get back at my bully" stuff but literally THIS. THIS is the song that brands all penceys other very vague songs as 100% verified super mega ultra gay.

7) 19

this song has a lot less, and is more about internal struggle than anything. but it is the only song with a "she" pronoun in it. but there is one thing i wanna mention. "I scream out loud / but no one hears a sound / i take my life with lack of sleep / i believe the things i feel / the things i see are fooling only me." this song is about not believing what the world shows you, believing what you think is true in your heart and what You feel. not what anyone else tells you. which is a gay experience. believing in yourself and your heart and your feelings, believing theyre right and theyre true and valid. Also this song has a significance in coming right after 8th grade on the album, going from being 13 to 19, from being unsure in your feelings and angry about the people who dont like you to lost and hopeless but somewhat grounded in yourself.

8) Trying To Escape The Inevitable

this song is about an abusive and toxic relationship, knowing you Need to escape it but being so infatuated with the person you literally cant. “i have this reoccurring dream / you make it hard for me to breathe / i gave you everything i could / i gave up everything i owned / and when you smile it’s not for me / you offer little sympathy / your grasp so far exceeds your reach / i wake up, this is not a dream.” “i have this reoccuring dream / where you admit that you’re not happy / i know that you will never leave / you’re here just to torment me.” which like again this isnt an exclusively gay experience but it is very interesting when framed that way. in that gay people are way more likely to throw themselves into abusive and toxic relationships because they dont feel like they can get anybody else. the repetition of “i know i should run” makes it seem like the speaker Knows he should get out but he just Cant because what if he never finds love again? and the little reprise in the middle “i have a new dream / and everything is perfect / the sky is pink, yellow, green, blue, and orange / and all the past has been forgotten / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and we fell in love / and i fell into your trap.” implying that even if he escapes, even in his dreams he still falls for this person because he feels like he cant have anything else.

9) Lloyd Dobbler

another love song about wanting to have someone but not being able to because of Unspecified Forbidden Reasons. “why are you so far away / even when you’re standing next to me? / your eyes give you away / telling secrets your mouht don’t feel like talking.” falling in love with someone, maybe sensing that they like you too. that they Are Like You and that they have a Secret they dont want to vocalize. do i even need to explain it at this point? and in the chorus “That I’ll be your lloyd dobbler / with a boom box out in the street / and i’ll be there if you need someone / even if he isn’t me.” saying you’ll be there for someone even if that person isn’t you, also the use of Pronouns which is big for pencey prep. which yes the use of “even if he isnt me” could imply a straight girl ooorrr....Fruit Behavior. also this line “There’s a norman rockewll painting / of two kids sitting on a bench / it reminds me of all the stupid things / i’d like for us to share, but i dont care.” normal rockwell is a painter that paints traditionally “american” scenes. like the american ideal, that maybe he wants with this person. but he knows he cant have, but its stupid and domestic and he wants it but he Cant Have It because of FRUIT BEHAVIOR.

10) Florida Plates

another of my favorite pencey songs, and this one brings back those tragic “love but we cant have it” themes, except with a more somber tone. instead of being angry or resentful or spiteful in the face of adversity. its an Acceptance, of what they had and how good it was and how it just Cant Last. “kiss a mouth to open eyes / stall one last moment before goodbye / drive in different cars in different directions / never write all the letters full of good words, better intentions / it’s for the best although we don’t know it / paper words will cheapen the moments we shared / it’s better if i say nothing at all.” it’s about knowing you have to leave someone, even if having them in the moment is great they Can’t Stay and you can’t even talk or write about the moments you had. which do i even need to explain it at this point? forbidden love, not being able to have each other, not even being able to Talk about it. its a secret, and painful one but its beautiful while you have it. Conclusion alright!!! thank you so so much if you read all the way through that i Know it was long i Know it was a lot of repetition but i wanted to make my point. pencey prep has very big gay themes in their music. with forbidden love, letting go, heartbreak, keeping secrets, toxic realtionships. which none of it is gay on its own but in the context of: almost none of the songs having clear gender indicators and always speaking really vaguely about the subject and Eight Grade the “nail in the coffin song” you can see my point thank you and goodnight.

[enderspawn]

It's alright if u don't wanna answer this cuz this argument gets people really riled up but do you think c!Techno is a tyrant or nah?

Cuz many c!techno apologists argue that he isn't just cuz he's an anarchist but I've also read a lot of essays that go against it and it'd be really interesting to see ur opinion on this

i think he, in some contexts, can most definitely be called tyrannical, yes. a tyrant? no.

to avoid spamming ppl w discourse we've all def heard before (and bc this ended up MASSIVE (like 2.3k ish), but fairly in depth bc i didnt wanna speak out of bad faith and wanted to be EXPLICTLY clear-- oops), the rest will be under readmore

so heres the thing i want to preface: i used to really LOVE c!techno. i joined beginning of s2, right when exile started, and he was arguably my favorite character. since then though i've fallen out with him a LOT, to the point i almost... actively despite him at times (though mainly in a toxic kind of way which i can acknowledge is flawed).

in short, his actions started to speak louder than his words and i lost investment in his personal character struggles because of the actions he took (doomsday was my breaking point. i get feeling angry and betrayed, as well as seeking revenge against lmanberg, but his actions went too far for me to CARE and it hurt so many more characters as well.)

so when i speak, i come from a place of disliking him but also somewhat understanding the position c!techno apologists come from: i used to be one of them myself.

NOW, do i think he's a tyrant? no. for reference in my analysis, i try to look up the definition of terms to make sure they are utilized properly. while "tyranny" and "tyrannical" can have multiple uses, tyrant itself is a more specific term. to combine the top two definitions, a tyrant is referring to "an extremely oppressive, unjust, or cruel absolute ruler (who governs without restrictions, especially one who seized power illegally.)"

techno's position as an anarchist, imo, DOES indeed make him unable to be a tyrant. tyrants are rulers with very clear power over others from a structural way. anarchists are about the lack of structure or power over others and instead viewing the people around you as equals in power.

in forming the syndicate, they very explicitly worked to not designate a leader and instead make it so that no one would have any power over the others systemically. techno may have taken a integral role, yes, but it doesn't make him suddenly "the leader", its a role that wouldve had to be filled by someone (even if it was democratic to decide who to invite, they'd need someone to hand over the invite itself yknow? like no matter WHAT there needed to be A ROLE)

one could argue that he IS a leader in the shadow hierarchy of the syndicate (which, yes, is a real and professional term used in management courses despite sounding like it comes from a 4kids yugioh dub) in that everyone CONSIDERS and looks to him a leader without him having any actual structural basis behind it, but to argue that allows him to be a tyrant is in bad faith i believe. especially because to the people he would be "ruling", he ISNT oppressive, unjust, or cruel. they are his friends and support network and critical for a lot of his personal development (since feelings of betrayal and trust issues are critical to his character and why he acts the way he does). I wish we were able to SEE this develop more, but oh well.

but like i said: tyrant is fairly specific in definition. TYRANNY, and thus TYRANNICAL are not as limited. I've discussed their definitions here. originally, i made that post because i was angry at a take i had seen that claimed that, like you said, because techno was an anarchist and not part of any government or leadership position, he couldn't be tyrannical. to which i heartily disagree.

for something to be tyrannical, they simply must have an overarching/oppressive power over someone or something. it would not be inaccurate if i were to say that something is "under the tyranny" of a concept, because what it means is that something is under the power of another thing/concept. you can frankly call anything tyranny if it is widespread/overarching and you don't like it. mask mandates? tyranny, its forcing me to act in "rigorous condition". hell, theres even such things as tyranny of the majority in which people agree too much on one thing and it gives them unfair power or tyranny of the minority where people with minority opinions have too much power (thats a very grossly oversimplified definition of both, but it covers the base idea well enough for my point)

the point im making above isnt meant to be taken as "anything can be worked to be defined as tyranny thus it is a meaningless claim", it is that tyranny (and again, thus tyrannical) are very open and nonrestrictive terms.

to make it easier to define, alongside the definitions provided i want to add an explicit clause that is (imo) implied in the original definition: tyranny is... well, bad. that is to say if someone has power over a group but literally everyone is fine with it and agrees to it, its not tyranny. thats just a group of people getting along and one happens to have power over another. a leader does NOT equal a tyrant (as discussed above), so leadership should not be equated with tyranny.

thus as an example: wilbur acting as president (before the election) may have been "unelected" with power over his citizens, but no one was upset with that power. thus, he is not a tyrant and not acting tyrannically (as well as the fact his power was, arguably, NOT rigourous or absolute but thats another topic for another time). SCHLATT however IS a tyrant, as his power was absolute (he did not consult his cabinet) and forced people to comply instead of them complying willingly, thus he was acting tyrannically.

now to finally get to the damn point of this essay: where does c!techno lie? honest answer? it depends slightly on your perspective, but it depends a LOT on the future of the syndicate.

techno is incredibly clear in his goals: no governments, no corruption. in fighting with pogtopia, he is actively working to topple a tyranny-- he isn't tyrannical for doing that.

when he strikes out on nov 16th, it is because he opposes them forming a new government. when they oppose him and disagree, he launches an attack against them. is this tyranny? maybe, but probably not. he IS trying to impose his own physical strength and power (as well as his resources) over the others to stop them from doing what HE doesn't want them to do.

however its more nuanced than that:

1. hes lashing out emotionally as well as politically. he feels betrayed by those he trusted and he believed that they would destroy the government then go (i'm ignoring any debates on if he did or did not know that they planned another government, though it is a source of debate). but typically idk about you but i dont call tyranny for someone fighting with another person.

2. he also may be acting with good intent again, in HIS EYES. if tubbo was part of manburg, whos to say he wont be just as bad? he, in his pov, is likely trying to stop another tyrant before they rise.

3. and finally, and tbh the most damning from any perspective: he gives up. he quickly leaves then RETIRES without intent to try and attack again until he is later provoked. tyranny is defined by it not just being power, but power being USED. if he doesn't use his power to try and impose any will, then he's not tyrannical.

Doomsday I am also not going to touch very in depth on for much of the same reasons. My answer is again a "maybe", depending on the weight you personally place on each issue:

1. he's lashing out as revenge for the butcher army and as revenge against tommy for "betraying" him (though this one we explicitly know he was ignoring the fact tommy did not want to go through with it, however he still did trust and respect tommy regardless so his feelings are understandable anyway)

2. he sees new lmanberg as corrupt and tyrannical (which is undeniable: house arrest for noncompliance, exile without counsel, execution without trial, etc), and thus obligated to destroy it

but also, theres the implicit understanding he's doing this to send a message: do not form a government, or else. its a display of force that also works to warn others unless they want a similar fate. phil even explicitly states that he is doing so to send that message, so one could assume techno is doing the same alongside his personal reasoning listed above.

what i just described is the use of a oppressive and harsh (physical) power in order to gain compliance from people (that compliance being 'not making a government'). does that sound familiar? exactly. it follows the definition(s) of tyranny given previously. technoblade is acting in a way that is, by very definition, tyrannical.

so the debate shifts: is he valid in doing so because he is trying to PREVENT corruption and tyranny. like i said, new lmanberg was undeniably corrupt at points. i held nothing against techno for trying to topple manburg, so does that apply to new lmanberg as well? short answer: i dont know. it depends on your specific opinion of what is acceptable. its like the paradox of tolerance: to have a truly tolerant society, you have to be intolerant of intolerance. to have a truly non-tyrannical society, do you need to have a tyranny enforcing it?

personally (and bc im a lmanberg loyalist /hj) i say it is. regardless of the corruption of new lmanberg, they are also giving a threat to EVERYONE. even those who are innocent, they are presented with the exact same threat and rule set: if you make a government, you will be destroyed.

(which, small divergence here, is part of why debating c!techno is so frustrating. so many times you end up hitting a "well it depends on your political views" situation and there ISNT a correct answer there. im here to analyze characters for fun, not debate political theory)

so: the syndicate then. this is where this debate really "took off" and i think its due to one very specific miscommunication about its goals and plans. the syndicate, upon formation, declares itself to stand against corruption and tyranny. when they are found, the syndicate would work to destroy it. so heres the golden question: what do THEY define as corruption and tyranny? if you were to go off c!techno's previous statements, seemingly "any government" is a valid answer. however, he also states he's fine with people just being in groups together hanging together.

what then DEFINES A GOVERNMENT for them? what lines do they have to sort out what does "deserve to be destroyed" and what does "deserve to exist freely"

this is a hypothetical i like to post when it comes to syndicate discourse:

i have a group of people. lets say 5 or so for example. they all live together and build together. any decisions made that would impact the entire group they make together and they must have a unanimous agreement in order to proceed, but otherwise they are free to be their own people and do their own thing. when you ask them, they tell you they are their own nation and they have a very clearly defined government: they are a direct democracy. does the syndicate have an obligation to attack?

there is absolutely no hierarchy present. there is no corruption present. but, they ARE indeed a government. is that then inherently negative? my answer is fuck no (see the whole "difference between a tyrant and a leader" thing above).

but THATS where the issue of this discourse LIES. in some people's eyes, the answer to that is YES. techno's made it clear "no government" is his personal view, but does that spread to the syndicate as a whole? do they act preemptively in case it DOES become corrupt? is it inherently corrupt because its a government, regardless of how it is ruled? the fact of the matter is because of how little we've seen the syndicate work as a SYNDICATE, we don't know that answer. so we're left to debate and speculate HOW they would act.

if the syndicate were to let that government exist, then they are not tyrannical. they are showing that they are working to stop tyranny and corruption, just like in pogtopia again.

if the syndicate were to destroy/attack that government, then they are tyrannical. simple as that. they are enforcing a rule of their own creation without any nuance or flexibility under the threat of absolute destruction.

miscommunication in debates comes, in my opinion, in the above. of course theres more points of nuance. for example:

would the syndicate allow a government like i had described with early lmanberg, where there is an established hierarchy but everyone in the country consents to said leadership? on one hand, there is no tyranny or corruption present which is what they are trying to work against. on the other hand, theres more a possibility of it occuring. perhaps they'd find a middle road between the two binary options of "leave or destroy" i am presenting, such as checking in occasionally to ensure no corruption occurs.

but if they were to destroy it without, for lack of a better word, "giving it a chance" they would be, in my opinion, tyrannical. they would be going aginst their words of opposing corruption and instead abusing their power to gain compliance.

your/others opinions may differ, again it depends on if you see it as worth it to possibly stop future tyranny or if a hierarchy is INHERENTLY a negative thing.

part of the reason so many blog gave up this debate, beyond not getting very clear answers for the syndicate, is because of the nuance present. there. is. no. right. answer. every single person will view it differently, because there is no universally agreed upon truth of right or wrong here. BUT, i hope this helps shed some light on the discussion and my thoughts on it

[piningeddiediaz]

I personally think Pynch anniversary is November 2nd because 1st is ronans bday and idk they kissed and all and probably talked through the night and i think it makes sense that the anniversary would be November 2 but thats just me. They’re basically together now for 1 yr and idk 1-2 months. Since they got together 1 yr before adam left and now it’s November/December again.

I have a question btw. Why do you think so many people seem to dislike Adam and/or Declan? I mostly am following pynch / Adam blogs but i see a lot of negativity too and idgi.

I personally like gansey and blue for example even tho they’re not perfect but actually no character is, not even adam even tho i love him dearly. But so much of the stoey happens bc of adam and idk…

Also I hate kavinsky apologists or people who say ronan had a crush on him wtf 😳 like. No. Kavinsky was disgusting and yeah maybe lost too but an asshole nonetheless. Ronan was already riding his crush on adam wave and he def wasnt interested in kavinsky except for the racing and dreaming convos ?! Sorry brain dump

yeah, I suppose that makes sense. depends on when you define their anniversary ig? is it an anniversary when you first kiss? when you admit feelings? when you officially declare you are together? I sure as fuck wouldn't know!

and oh boy, I have thought about why people hate Adam a lot and I think Adam perfectly described why in trb - "rags to riches isn't a story anyone wants to hear until after its done." I can't speak for everyone, but it wasn't until end of trb/start of dream thieves that I started to like Adam. I liked gansey immediately, but barely skimmed over adam's chapters until we got to his "what do you want, Adam? to feel awake when my eyes are open" because suddenly I could understand with vivid clarity why I was so eager to not pay attention to Adam - it's because he is real. gansey, at least at the start, was not. he was from the get go established to be the typical male lead. handsome, popular, rich. he's privileged but tries to be humble (even when he fails at it), he tries to be a good friend (even tho sometimes he fails at it). gansey was presented to be the kind of protagonist we are all familiar with. we've seen him in nearly every piece of literature. but Adam? Adam is real. Adam is like the average person. he doesnt get to hope for a future, he has to make one. he understands this fact, perhaps more and way earlier than any other person might, and he wont let anything stand in the way. in trb it made him appear to be cruel, because when people read books about friendship they want it to be all or nothing. you would give up your life for your friend. you would give up everything for them. and so the audience, who are already naturally inclined to immediately go towards gansey, are frustrated at Adam because he's your friend! he just wants to help you! it's not until adam's arc ends that people really understand where Adam comes from, why adam does this. you cant give something to someone who has always had nothing and expect them to not think it doesnt come with strings attached. in the real world, it always does. and I think that is why adam's character arc hits all the more. I thought he was an interesting character from the start, but it wasn't until dream thieves, it wasn't until Adam had really really started his character development, that I finally understood. to me, personally, thinking too hard on adam's character was uncomfortable because then I would have to face the reality of life. liking gansey was safer, because he is the prince. the hero. the one you know is going to make it out in the end. the one you're supposed to like. but then Adam, who was supposed to be the side character in gansey's story, makes his own. he becomes the protagonist, takes charge of the story and the narrative - he doesnt just get the title of protagonist, he specifically makes it for himself. and honestly, I dont think adam's absolutely amazing spectacular character development hits as well if you didnt dislike him at the start because, Maggie makes sure you inevitably have an 'oh' moment where you realise that its been about adam parrish all along. its one of the main reasons why I will undoubtedly say Maggie Stiefvater is my favourite author - she is so good at manipulating her readers!

the same goes for declan, I think. we're not supposed to like him, because aside from that one pov he has, we only see him from the perspective of people who don't like him. I personally liked Declan right from the start, but I am in the minority because I know what its like to have to parent your shithead brother because your parents wont. but we were intended to not like declan until we finally saw his story from his pov in the dreamer trilogy. again, expert storytelling by mstief.

(tho if you still dont like declan and adam idk what to tell y'all. maybe reread the book with critical thinking skills?)

and yeah, I have to agree with you there. I have a lot of problems with a lot of things gansey and blue - especially gansey - do (more or less all of dream thieves??? I dont think I will ever forgive gansey for the car convo) but I cant say that makes me hate them exactly, because they are very complex characters.

and yeah dont even get me started on kavinsky. tbh I have his tag blocked and dont ever interact with any k posts. he was gross and disgusting and im glad he died.

[chocosvt]

⚬ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader | purge!au ⚬ word count: 15,728. ⚬ warnings: weapons, death, drugs, blood. ⚬ genres: ANGST, spicy/nsfw scenes, fluff to mend the heart, romance, action, and whatever else you could fathom lol.

✧✎ synopsis: the annual purge was a system of purification, alleviation, a supposedly psychological device in which people found a moment to unleash their indignation. you never purged until you met mingyu, a boy whose warmth was just as palpable as his darkness. you begin to fall for him, which means involvement with the evil he’s managed to attract.

✧✎ a/n: longer note at the end of the fic! sorry i’ve kept this in the vault for AGES bc i couldn’t figure out how to write in the ‘twist’ or whatever the fuck. you’ll know when you get there. anyways this is for @mihgyu (sorry it freakin took so long!) and @solgyus​ as they are my Resident Mingyu Stans. i also changed the title bc i thought... yknow... it fits better!

You had always wondered what life was like for the previous generation, the generation who grew up without acquaintance to the annual purge. It was an alien concept if any concept at all, one so foreign and inexplicably bizarre that the cogs in your mind would start jamming against each other in a struggle of comprehension. The education system had groomed its pupils into believing it was the only plausible way to recover from an economic collapse, feeding into gullible and malleable minds the possibility of clearing rage through bloodshed.

When your parents disappeared at dawn, leaving nothing behind but the sound of a lock clicking shut and a note advising you to stay away from the windows and doors, it could be assumed they’d return at morning with crimson-stained clothing, crusted lacerations, and heavy weaponry sealed taunt to their hands; or maybe they wouldn’t return at all. Yet you were taught to believe that was okay. At least if you didn’t have your family, you had your friends. 

At least if you didn’t have your family, you had Mingyu. 

As much as you despised admitting to yourself, Mingyu meant to you what the moon meant to the tides, what the sun meant to the meadows. He kept you in perpetual motion, allowed you room to recuperate and blossom into a much stronger version of yourself after your father never came home. When he lost his job your family lost its momentum. The last you ever saw of the man was his backside as he slipped through the door frame, a chortling in the evening air, a black revolver clasped to his hand.

He seemed to disappear alongside your mother’s sanity. She isolated herself and pushed everyone away, even you, the only person capable of nurturing her. In school you’d learned that the purge was supposed to bring purification, it was responsible for cleansing humans of the everyday stresses that slowly crushed them flat. Purging allowed them happiness; a twelve hour capsule to unleash what the law prohibited three-hundred-sixty-four days a year.

Yet when you looked to your mother, you didn’t see any traces of happiness or fulfillment, just an empty shell that sat with sunken eyes in her rocking chair, mumbling to herself like a toddler. Before you even had time to find closure after your father’s disappearance, your mother suffered a similar fate, abducted through the windowsill by a maniac who sought vengeance for the crimes committed beneath your father’s hand. He was a stingy businessman who often scammed to make his money, therefore collecting a myriad of enemies.

Notably, you didn’t start purging until you met Mingyu. The first time you’d ever used a gun with malicious intent was when you ran into the man responsible for abducting your mother. The kick-back from the trigger had you stumbling across the watered asphalt, the silver slick rain that caved down from the clouds washing away the minuscule spatters of his blood that blew onto your face. As he slumped down against the red bricks, the animation draining slowly from his eyes, he spluttered,

“S-She’s dead, she payed for your father’s incompetence, his greed.”

In complete lifelessness you lowered the weapon, not realizing how close the  distant gunfire sounded until Mingyu had to drag you away by the wrist. He murmured his condolences to you when the air was tinged with less bloodshed, carefully nuzzling you into his chest when the reality of what you’d just done had come spiraling forth, leaving a slap so brutal across your face the burn seemed more realistic than the raindrops hitting your skin.

You felt disgusting, enclosed in a body that had been consumed by the purest form of hatred, and there was nothing you could do to evade the feeling of that ugly gun pressed into your hand. But within that same moment, hot tears pumping onto Mingyu’s shirt, you understood a certain satiation that tempted so many people to do what you had just done.

“We can’t stay here,” You felt the vibrations from his deep voice against your cheek, coolness stinging the heated flesh of your face when you lifted your head to meet his gentle eyes.

“Gotta keep moving, alright? It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Mingyu’s composure was definitely an admirable trait. But then again, he’d been exposed to this environment long before you ever questioned purging. At that point you had felt completely numb, allowing him to wind you through the crevices and shadowy tunnels building the foundation of the city, your vision blurred by a mixture of salt and rain water. You felt safe with Mingyu, though it hadn’t always been like that. Before your friendship you were an outsider to the boy, harbouring nothing but a tiny crush toward him and his handsome face.

In fact the first time you’d ever spoken to Mingyu, it was after his fight with Wen Junhui, one of the most infamous, cynical purgers you prayed to never meet.

Two Years Ago –

“I’ll kill you if you come near her again!”

“Is that supposed to scare me?!”

You’d never seen a fist fight in real life before, and you were positive that was a good thing. A large crowd steadfastly increased around two tall, venom-eyed boys caught up in their alcohol. They were spitting profanities, threats, and whatever else their clouded minds could formulate within the gap of the other’s speech. The party had been rather lackluster before that point anyways, so like the congregation swarming to the centre of the room, you etched into the crowd and managed to stand just inside the inner circle.

“Shit – sorry,” you squeaked as you were suddenly shoved into the girl beside you. Your face became hollow like a crater on the moon when you saw that it was Mingyu’s girlfriend.

“What am I supposed to do?” She mumbled whilst biting her nails, “I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Stop the fight?”

She continued babbling, “Junhui kept coming on to me and Mingyu saw. They’re both competitive, boggle-brained idiots when they’re drunk. I don’t know what to do.”

Her name was Yang Yeeun, born and raised by parents maintaining such wealth that rumours began circulating their bloodstream was crushed rubies. You could see her pearl earrings flashing behind the straight black locks framing her small face. You don’t think she ever took them off. Her father manufactured security systems for the purge; however, the most recent release had been proven to bore many defects and flaws. She didn’t care, as long as she got a slice of the wealth.

In the beginning, Yeeun and Mingyu’s relationship came as a slap to the wrist. How could two people reaping such difference in personality become so close? Yeeun was frank and staid, with cold, cindered eyes that never displayed an eclipse of emotion. Her complexion was just as pale as the pearls she wore and her heart swam darkly.

Mingyu was her polar opposite. 

Sure he was intimidatingly tall, but any menace he constructed with his height was easily derailed through his bubbly nature. He was what you call, “a gentle giant,” and anyone who contacted him for more than a brief period understood this. The warmth was in his honey-brown gaze, the velvet of his tanned skin, the sepia tones that were shaggy in his hair. When he spoke you could feel the gravel roll beneath your feet, and when he said your name heat would flood your face like steam throughout a hot spring. 

Again, Mingyu and Yeeun made a bizarre couple, yet he loved her so deeply you swore the dark coverings in her heart had peeled back a little.

You kept in mind, a little.

“They’re fighting over you?” You questioned carefully, trying not to exaggerate your words so that it seemed utterly impossible for her to be worth fighting over.

“Yes,” Yeeun gritted, her eyes darting around the crowd, strangers pressing into the circle, allured by drunken shouting, “can’t they wait until purge before they start ripping into each other?”

Wouldn’t it be best if they didn’t rip into each other at all?

“Like you said, they’re drunk and stupid,” you opted for the latter choosing.

Mingyu’s mellow stare had been licked over by enraged flames, the remaining liquor still pumping through his system and warming his blood until it sizzled. His fists were balled tightly, fangs peeking past the taunt snarl on his lips. Junhui appeared calmer, though the bar of composure was quite low to begin with. The unkempt ends of his midnight black hair were shaking, his sharp nose crinkled, and his stare so impossibly intense that you were nauseated a vein on his neck might become engorged and pop. 

As interesting as it would be for you to witness your first fist fight, you knew it wasn’t a wise idea for these two to start swinging at each other.

You set a hand on Yeeun’s shoulder, “maybe you should stop thi—,”

Suddenly, her palms encased her mouth as the last few words of toxicity were spat between Mingyu and Junhui, the crowd erupting in brazen cheering as the two lunged for one another in a flash of blurred colour. Your jaw was permanently unhinged, your body set in stone, attention completely spellbound under the boys who were viciously entangled. The world seemed to spin at a snail’s pace whilst the fight flickered faster than lightning. At one point Mingyu had Junhui shoved up against the wall, one hand nearly ripping through the boy’s black-collared shirt as he tore his free fist back and swiftly launched it forward. The hard ridges of Mingyu’s knuckles connected with Junhui’s eye, his head smashed back into the drywall so that an indentation remained.

“G-Get the fuck off me, Mingyu!”

“You fucking asked for this, dumbass!”

In another fuzzy whirlwind of movement, Junhui managed to push Mingyu backward and onto the snack table, bowls and bottled alcohol spilling across the floor with jade shards of glass scattering in flurries. Junhui drew his fist into Mingyu’s face, the collision splintering against Mingyu’s brow bone. You could see the speckles of blood flying off Junhui’s hand as he curled his fingers into another ball, preparing to throw once more. Panic encompassed you from every angle; it drowned you above your head until the crowd’s bellowing became a muffled choir to your ears. 

You could hardly breathe as your sights shifted to Yeeun, the girl with her hands still clasped to her mouth, doing absolutely nothing.

Was that a smirk hidden behind her hands?

She really did have a dark heart. By the looks of it no one was going to intervene. You were most likely the soberest person in attendance. Even if it downright petrified you, letting those two get their hands so bloodied it would look like they doused their arms in red paint wasn’t a viable option.

“Hey!” You barked, slowly etching your way into the clearing, “what the fuck is wrong with you two?! Get off each other!”

Mingyu and Junhui were still a violent mass now buckled to the floor, anger and alcohol swelling through their bodies like a drug. You felt your knees wobble, as though a tight fist had an ironclad grip on your entrails and was squelching them around slowly. Junhui had Mingyu pressed to the floor, and raised in his arm was a sparkling shard belonging to a smashed bottle. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside compelled you to react. In a mere instant you were ripping the shard from Junhui’s hand and screaming at the top of your lungs, the crowd’s cheering turned to hushed whispers.

“Enough!”

Your chest was heaving, fingers grasping the glass piece tightly enough that thin lines of red began dripping down your hand. Junhui and Mingyu had peeled themselves apart, the deep marring of hatred etched so profoundly into their eyes you’d never be able to forget it. Yeeun suddenly blossomed with emotion after standing on the outskirts smirking into her palm, the girl bounding toward Mingyu and snaking her arms around his neck like she’d been downright sobbing with worry the whole time.

“C’mon, Gyu,” she gritted, “we’re leaving.”

Thanks for the help.

You were tempted to call.

The fight between Mingyu and Junhui might have stopped, but the party continued to thrive. You were wandering through the upstairs hallway as the wooden floorboards jolted beneath you, driven by incessant music that became a furthering echo. Fresh blood had yet to stop streaming down the grooves between your knuckles, pooling from the lacerations of that jagged, glass shard and wetting your warm skin. You continued seeking for a bathroom, any room really that might contain a first aid kit, or at least some water and tissues that would help to clean your hand.

Each room was either occupied or locked. A defeated sigh ghosted from your lips as you stood at the end of the hall, weakly knocking your healthy hand against the last door. Scarlet drops were creating a puddle on the wood whilst you waited, until the brass handle jiggled and you were stepping back in shock that someone had actually acknowledged your presence.

Of course, the person doing the acknowledging had to be Yeeun.

“Oh! It’s… you.” She murmured. Behind her slim frame you could see Mingyu sitting on the sink, holding a cloth to his eyebrow.

“It’s me,” you replied, desperately wanting to skip the small talk and use the first aid kit. Didn’t she say she was leaving?

Yeeun finally noticed the red pathways on your hand and nodded, “I see you need to get yourself bandaged up.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You hummed, trying not to sound impatient but utterly failing.

“Well… I’ll be right back then. Just so you know there’s no gauze left.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think I’ll need an—,”

“I’m going to look for some!” Yeeun called as she squeezed her way past you and began trudging down the corridor, “be back soon!”

Mingyu tossed you a lopsided smile when you entered the bathroom. You kicked the door shut with your foot to drown as much noise as possible. Though the small barrier didn’t do too much in regards to sound, it certainly made the bathroom feel one-hundred times smaller. Or maybe it was solely Mingyu and his gargantuan height. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those factors and you were just feeling nervous to be enclosed in a private space with him. Either way, your face turned into magma and you felt like swallowing sand. Without saying a word you turned on the sink and let the cold water stream between your fingers.

“Hey.” He began.

Oh no. If you initiate conversation with me there’s a ninety-nine percent chance I’m going to fall in love with you.

“Thanks for intervening. You kinda saved my life there.”

You scoffed whilst scrubbing the dry scarlet from your wrist, “I think you could have taken him.”

Mingyu took the wet cloth from his brow and folded it over before reapplying pressure to his own wound, sighing deeply. “Fuck this. I hate getting drunk.”

Fastening your teeth into your lower lip, you remained silent and continued swirling around the bloodied skin until the red currents seemed to all drain away, down the white porcelain. You winced a little because there was indeed a stinging sensation, but it was better than allowing the cuts to get infected. Mingyu’s curious gaze was watching the scene intently, and with his body propped right next to the sink, there was really no easy way to avoid your feelings other than to talk with him.

“How’s your injury?”

“I don’t know, how is it?” He peeled the damp cloth from his brow bone. You could see that directly in the centre the skin had spilt, a little ways above the brow and a little beneath it, bright pink flesh gleaming from between the dark hairs and tanned skin. It would definitely leave a scar.

“I’m no doctor, but you might need stitches.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu grimaced. “That fucking sucks.”

You scoffed. “That’s funny. The same kid who socked Junhui in his eye is afraid of getting a few itty bitty baby stitches.”

Mingyu pouted, his thick brows then slanting downward which made him wince petulantly. You couldn’t suppress your chuckling, turning off the sink with a coy smile playing along your mouth.

“I’m joking.”

“I know.” Mingyu said. “I’m sure everyone’s gonna start saying he’ll rake my eyes out at purge.”

You laughed at that too, though deep down you both knew it wasn’t anything flowery to laugh about. Junhui was the definition of nefarious. Similar to Yeeun his family danced in riches, their security systems were top-notch, and his access to weaponry and blueprints of the city could be in his hands within minutes. People worshiped the ground he walked on, but it wasn’t because they liked him. It was only sensible to play nice to the person capable of taking your life away in a single breath. 

Of course, Junhui’s reputation made him a prime target, yet despite all the people who secretly wanted him dead, it was difficult to even lay a scathe on his amber skin.

In your eyes it was better to avoid the boy altogether. That way you never gave him any reason to seek out your oblivious-self during the annual purge. Mingyu had crossed that line to the fullest extent. He laid more than an innocent scathe on Junhui; the boy had given him an entire fist to his pretty, supposedly untouchable face. Feeling your heartbeat thump widely, you quickly willed to change the subject.

“Do you see any cloths? Or Kleenex? Anything?”

Mingyu frowned. “Sorry, nothing.”

You shook your arm out over the sink to shed some water droplets, yet the blood still continued to bead. Mingyu looked sympathetic. He presumed it was his fault you were even injured in the first place.

“Yeeun’s getting gauze.”

“I think I’ll be okay—,”

“Wait!” Mingyu suddenly piped. “This might be super awkward but—,” the boy’s tongue peaked out between his pink lips as he gripped the end of his white t-shirt and gave it a tear, pulling off a strip of fabric.

Your cheeks began crackling and your palms felt oddly clammy, “M-Mingyu, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy said, “this shirt’s old and busted anyways. It’s better than walking home, dripping blood everywhere.”

You smiled softly and stared at the floor.

“Here! I’ll even wrap it for you.” He purred, gently reaching for your arm and twining the white material like a roll of bandages around your hand. 

Forgetting about his own spilt brow that began clotting with blood, Mingyu finished his dexterous work with a tender glance that made your stomach flip, his chocolate bangs falling endearingly before his eyes. After shaking the fringe away, he gave you a thumbs-up.

“Now you look like you just got into a fight.”

“Right, because I’m the first person everyone suspects to start a fight. You hit the nail on the head with that one.”

Mingyu chuckled at the heavy sarcasm, blinking his pretty lashes at you with such warmth you keened to melt like an ice cream cone. You supposed after that moment, Mingyu might not be nearly as brutal as his drunken, love-induced mind influenced him to be. For a fleeting moment you even doubted that this was the same boy with his own kill-list. His eyes glimmered like diamonds catching a shaft of light.

“That’s something only time can tell.” He purred

Two Years Ago –

When Mingyu and Yeeun broke up, it was like the universe took its cue to make everything in life feel unreal. If their romance was nothing more than a mirage, then had romance ever existed in the first place? At least to you, it routinely appeared as though Yeeun’s heart had never been within the same realm as Mingyu’s. There was always an island of separation between them, one little ploy that prevented the couple from truly clicking like puzzle pieces. That ploy was exigent in the form of onyx hair, a sultry voice, and bottomless eyes.

In other words the obstacle was Junhui. Yeeun started dating him no less than a month after the break-up.

Mingyu, he was crushed; taking the point of devastation and expanding it an extra nine yards. In contrast with Yeeun’s heart, his was always wide open, warmer than a summer fire and more embracing than sun rays. You swore she would be the girl he took to meet his mother, the girl whose finger he delicately touched to slide upon a silver loop. A part of you crumbled each time you saw them together, before the break-up, and even more so after the party.

Remembering how his rough fingertips skimmed the wet (and surely burning) skin of your hand as he wrapped the cloth around it did something peculiar to your mind. Reminiscing on the soft timbre of his chuckles made your head spin, and replaying the manner in which his eyes twinkled as he gazed at you through his thick bangs brought forth fluttering in your stomach. It was what you were daydreaming about even after their infamous break-up, fingers clacking against the keys on your laptop whilst you finished an essay in the library. To your dismay, the thoughts were scattered by conversation at the table behind you.

“Think Junhui is gonna gut Mingyu at purge?”

“Probably not, Mingyu would be expecting it. And it’s not like he’s hopeless. Did you hear about how he stabbed someone to death in the tunnel last year?”

“Yeah. But Junhui’s clique practically owns the purge. They’ll tear your fuckin’ house down if they can find it.”

“…True. Those two seriously have some bad fucking blood. Do you remember the rumours about how Junhui sho— ”

Unable to listen any longer without this horrendous churning against the walls of your stomach, you shoved your laptop into its carrying case, swung it over your shoulder and began shuffling between the book shelves. Your stare traced the floor whilst a pummeling sensation thundered into your ribcage. Mingyu didn’t seem like the type to kill, though you didn’t know him personally, and perhaps he had matters of vengeance that crooned for redemption. This tiny hope inside you flickered, prayed that Mingyu was unlike Junhui, the kind that tortured for torture’s sake, the kind that shoved a pistol beneath your jaw because you looked at them funny.

Suddenly, you collided with someone. Blinking upward, you gazed at the body you’d walked into, Mingyu, who was in the midst of pulling out a book.

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized.

You hadn’t seen him for a while, but he looked healthy, a bit tired perhaps, but mostly healthy. Dressed in comfy clothing, a grey hood drawn with his earbuds plugged in, he popped one of the speakers out and lent a small smile. His eyes were slightly veiled by his earthy bangs, the coarse fronds wavy in front of his forehead. His scent was a concoction of something tropic mixed with cannabis, and when he spoke his voice was lower than usual.

“Were you leaving?” Mingyu asked.

Yes.

“No, no. I wanted to finish my essay somewhere that wasn’t... back there.”

“Oh,” he sighed, “seemed like you were in a rush.”

“I was just thinking.”

Mingyu stuck the book back into its gap and smiled, “about?”

You sniffled. “What?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Obviously you were not going to admit that you just overheard conversation about Mingyu being gutted under Junhui’s hand, about Mingyu supposedly cramming a knife through whoever’s chest during last year’s purge, about Mingyu’s history of participation in the annual mayhem that plagued the country like a sickness each year. Now that the purge was on your mind, a dark worry skulked in the shadowy crevices of your brain, yet it seemed to dissipate just as quickly as it arrived when Mingyu stared at you so gently.

“How much I hate essays.”

He nodded. “That must be it.”

Without thinking, you blurted, “what happened with your eyebrow? Did you get a scar?”

He simply carded back the bangs covering his forehead and poked at the nick with his finger. It would have been courteous to receive a warning that he was going to reveal his forehead. He had no clue how powerful a mechanism it truly was, how badly you wanted to kiss that tiny scar after seeing the slit through his brow. Swallowing the flushed heat that arose in your throat, you grinned with a closed lip.

“Well, it makes you look like a badass if that’s any comfort.”

Mingyu let his hair flop back into place and laughed quietly. “What’s up with your hand? That cut looked so nasty.”

Looking down at your fingers, you probed the faint lines of where the glass had sliced your skin, engraved almost, like a stone carving.

“Kinda. It doesn’t look as cool as your eyebrow slit though. And you’re way less busted than Jun. His eye is still purple.”

For a brief ellipse you simply embraced the opportunity of being alone with Mingyu. That some higher deity had taken pity on your life barren with romance and granted you this precious exchange to add to your vault of daydreams. The more his hoarse voice lapped at your ears, surely roughened yet equally soothing, you felt your chest create a burrow for him, a gap that only he could fill. It baffled you, that Yeeun could break his heart. But it didn’t surprise you. She was built from titanium, similar to Junhui, and together they were hawks that would make prey of everyone.

“Trust me,” Mingyu said, “it wouldn’t make me feel any better if we were matching.” 

His jaw clenched, and his stare slipped to the floor for a transient moment. A nearly imperceptible breeze tickled up the back of your neck, causing you to rub at the fine hairs as Mingyu’s usual aura slowly dissipated into a much darker nuance. You gulped, attempting to laugh something of comfort back into the air.

“There’s a lot we could match in, like... bracelets! Or a necklace! Or one of those couple t-shirts... Not that we’re a couple,” stuttering helplessly, you felt electricity tingle in your cheeks, “I was just thinking about matching stuff and that popped into my hea—”

“It’s fine.” Mingyu responded, the storm clouds cast in his gaze finally ebbing away. He smiled, and a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“You’re pretty cute y’know? I don’t think I’d mind.”

1 year ago –

You never spoke commonly to Mingyu about the idea of purging until you were thrust into the political nightmare on a whim, a stupid, stupid, moonstruck whim.  The few times the morbid topic arose seriously, neither of you had enlightening stories to exchange. A bitter knot lodged itself into your throat the night you reiterated to Mingyu about the tragedies concerning your parents; the disappearance of your father and the abduction of your mother, a tearful lining glossy in your eyes.

You’d never seen Mingyu express such grief when he returned the storytelling.

He moved out from his parent’s house when he was eighteen years old, his best friend, Minghao, making the journey alongside him. Faintly, you remembered Minghao, more or so from your high school days when you shared the same last period art class. He had always been rather subdue, never really speaking with anyone apart from Mingyu, though there had was a handful of times where you caught him and another boy, Wonwoo, skipping class together. Apparently Wonwoo didn’t have a very good home life. He’d supposedly been forced into purging since middle school, and his psyche never quite recovered. 

You never even saw Wonwoo smile apart from when he was with Minghao. 

However, one day that boy from your art class just disappeared, and the rumours hadn’t stopped swirling since. It was a common fact that Minghao never purged. He didn’t have any bad blood with anyone either.

Not that you were aware of.

In the beginning stages of Mingyu’s purging he used to commonly venture with a group of three friends. Wonwoo happened to be one of them, plus another named Jihoon (who you could recall dawdling around in the background of the party) though Mingyu never named the third. He described it as being pure, inexplicable dread. They were constantly finding themselves in gruesome situations that forced their true colours from camouflage, how they stole burning glimpses of the other when the night came to an end and blood was caked to their clothing. The purge had tainted all of them, some more than others, whether it be with drug addiction, eternal madness, or an unhealthy fascination to mend so seamlessly with the evil that they personified it.

However, genuine fear pitted in the core of your stomach when Mingyus’ fists had clenched in his lap, his features distracted by a look of anguish as he sucked in a breath and spoke in an unsettling, distant tone.

“It was four of us in my car. I was driving, Wonwoo and Jihoon were in the backseat, and he... he took up the passenger seat. It was different... How he reacted to the purge... The rest of us were still somewhat fearful of it but he almost thrived in all the destruction. We were even talking about going purging without him the next year, but...

Mingyu had to clear his throat.

“I guess Minghao was waiting for me to come back to the house. He probably wasn’t even waiting on me specifically, he had this little crush on one of my friends, Wonwoo. They were always messing around together. Minghao probably got excited when he heard us, so he came outside, onto the grass... But then I heard the pop of the gun out the open window... I just... I don’t fucking know if he thought Minghao was a maniac or... If he was on drugs or something... But, God... He just —“

You didn’t allow him to say anymore when his words became warped, when his voice cracked and his eyes split like a sheet of broken glass. Minghao didn’t just disappear - he was killed, and Mingyu knew who was responsible. Instead of pressing him for details, you reached for his hand, rubbed your thumb along his knuckles, made sure he knew that you were there for him. 

And yet you had been thrust into the setting of the same picture during your first purge, the first time you had ever experienced what it was like to harm someone, turning their existence into an irreparable patch in the universe.

This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual purge.

At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve hours.

All emergency services will be suspended.

Your government thanks you for your participation.

“This is going to be your entire fault if I die tonight, Mingyu! I just want you to know that!”

“Relax. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

It was nothing short of chaotic. Pitch blackness shrouded the skylight like a heavy cloth, the distant rattle of gunfire and screams sitting heavy in the air as you raced down the street. The horrendous acts were most commonly centred to the city’s heart, where prime businesses, rich corporations, and notorious killers congregated to create havoc. Still, that didn’t make you any less petrified, your nails sinking into Mingyu’s hand like dog’s teeth. Fights were slowly beginning to litter the sidewalk, a store going up in orange flame and hissing embers now glinting behind you.

“I knew that we weren’t going to make it back to your place on time. I knew it was stupid that we even questioned going out on purge in the first place - Ah!”

You shrieked at an unprecedented decibel as two men came tumbling out of the alleyway only meters away from your feet, your body slamming into Mingyu’s backside when he cemented himself to a halt. The men payed no notice to you, entirely engulfed in their own world of vengeance through bloodied fists and messy punches.

“This way.” Mingyu’s words were like a breeze in the midst of a hurricane.

You hardly registered he’d even said anything until his grip lurched you forward and you were stumbling to the opposite side of the street. Then, your jogging pace skyrocketed into running, the breaths just squeezing from between your lips and the pain in your chest aching so potently you felt like vomiting. Your stamina was breaking faster than glass. You couldn’t afford to run any longer.

“M-Mingyu, can we please stop?”

The boy didn’t seem to have a choice as your fingers began unclasping from his hand, your body collapsing on the concrete staircase belonging to the city bell tower. Mingyu anxiously carded his hair back, his eyes moving hyperactively down the street only to be greeted with more and more violence consuming his vision. Gunshots seemed to thunder from every direction, splintered shouts joining hymn. Large trucks blared down the black pavement with ominous members hunched in the open cap, holding weaponry and wearing masks of painted wood.

The boy squatted down, his palm firmly encasing your cheek and keeping your head up.

“I’ll give you a minute. But then we have to keep going. It’s too dangerous to stay in one spot.”

You stared into Mingyu’s face with a tiresome expression, the bronzed and gleaming hue of his skin reflecting the fire that crackled in the distance. His touch became sterner as he moved in closer, his eyes no less than a few inches from your own.

“Trust me, I know you’re exhausted. We’re gonna be at my place soon though, okay? You just gotta hold tight for a little longer.” He pressed his forehead against yours, and met your gaze head on. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

An intruding shout echoed a little too closely down the street, engendering you to choke on your own heartbeat. Mingyu growled in irritancy, pivoting his head and glaring at the stranger who stepped from an alleyway. Rather than looking frightened (you were on the verge of sobbing bullets), Mingyu’s forehead crinkled angrily, the tiny scar that cut through his brow beginning to slant.

“Stay put.” Mingyu commanded you.

There was a colder lining to his tone that you’d never heard before, malevolent and icy. As soon as his touch fell from your cheek, you knew his hands were about to tend to a much different matter. Your mind implored for you to look away, yet your heart waned for the exact opposite. The man was scraggly and a bit stockier than Mingyu, a mischievous intent welling in his movement as he seemed to dance back and forth like a hummingbird. He wore a smooth, white mask and a heavy brown coat that bore many unidentified stains, a long, curved blade in his hand.

“You’re just a kid,” the man taunted, “it’s always the younger crowd that get so riled about the concept of murder, think they’re all that, but they drop faster than flies when it comes down to it.”

Mingyu didn’t waver. “You should keep talking if you want that knife poking through the opposite side of your throat.”

You inhaled stiltedly. This was definitely not the same Mingyu who smiled with the power of a burning star, his mannerisms filling your chest with laughter and his golden eyes bathing your face with heat. You thought back to the library, the conversation that drawled behind you. This was the Mingyu they were talking about. You had a feeling that the innocent projections in your head were close to changing.

The man chuckled and pointed his knife, shaking it at Mingyu, “you’ve got the same cockiness as that rich China boy’s little clique. I’m sure you’ve heard about them. They’ll be flocking to the streets any minute now.”

Mingyu spoke gutturally in response, the disgust and repulsion so thick in his voice you almost couldn’t recognize it. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him.”

The man chuckled darkly, “hit a nerve, did I?”

You weren’t sure what happened next, mainly because it all happened so fast, a series of swift movements (on Mingyu’s behalf) that resulted in your pulse fizzling like hot oil. Ultimately you were going to be exposed to murder one way or another, though watching it reflect in the glassy curve of your own eyes left behind a deep scarring. The man lurched at Mingyu with his hefty blade slashing for the chest, most likely assuming that because of Mingyu’s height he would be quite slow and lack agility.

However, that was severely not the case, to the man’s dismay more than anyone else’s. Within the span of sixty measly seconds Mingyu had tripped him onto his back, snatched the blade from his grip and wedged the knife directly into the man’s windpipe, exactly as he said he would do.

At that point you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Mingyu’s breathing was level as he rose from the man’s waist, a burgundy pool of blood bubbling at the neck where the blade had punctured skin. Mingyu lifted his jacket, pulled the knife out, and attached the weapon through his belt. He spent an extra few moments patting the fresh corpse down until he uncovered a small revolver hidden in the inside pocket on the man’s coat. When Mingyu handed you the revolver in means of protection, you didn’t realize you were shivering.

“Now,” he pronounced, “we’re going home.”

And at the time you believed him. 

Until thirty minutes stretched into an hour, an hour into two hours, three hours, four hours. The chaos that was the purge had encompassed you both. This supposedly psychological device controlled you like a ventriloquist. Violence sneered at every turn and eventually an unspoken conclusion emerged; that it was easier to join chaos than it was to run from it. Later that night everything came full circle. 

You were the one pointing the weapon, aiming the silver barrel into the face of the man who had broken in your home and abducted your mother last year, on account of stupid, petty crimes your father had committed in the past. Seconds before touching the trigger, all you could picture was his face swathed in moonlight, the horror that clawed in your stomach when you ran down from your room that night to see him yanking her out the smashed window. 

And when you felt the release of the bullet, it became emboldened that it truly was a small, cruel world.

Present –

Squeezing one eye shut, you held the black gun with both hands and aimed the muzzle toward a tree stump that acted as your target, a cheek pressed into the taunt muscle of your shoulder as you inhaled a steadying breath. Delicate winds blew across the meadow, each strand of grass rippling in a hypnotic wave. The horizon lay beyond the tree trunk, a bleeding yellow sun submerging quietly behind the endless terrain, casting a honeyed glow to speckle like rain droplets upon your face.

There was not a single sound apart from the grassy fronds tickling against each other, your concentration solidifying to a mar in the tree bark. Then, your finger ghosted over the trigger, a sharp burst echoing into the pale yellow sky and causing a distant congregation of birds to take flight. The bullet struck the wood, right where you had envisioned the lead entering.

“Look at you,” the tension keyed into your bones drifted away, exiting your body in a shallow exhale once Mingyu’s prideful tone filled the spaces between the winds, “your shot may be even better than mine now.”

After lowering the firearm to face the earth and switching the safety on, a demure smile danced across your lips. Mingyu’s arms were strong and looping carefully around your waist, hauling you back into the broad expanse of his chest. He buried his face into the smooth plane where your shoulder met your neck, his soft locks feathering along your jaw. You giggled the second his lips kissed your shoulder, evening sunlight spilling across the meadow and encouraging heat to caress your skin.

“The student becomes the teacher,” you purred, “I even remembered to turn the safety on this time.”

“You’re damn right you remembered to turn the safety on,” the boy quipped sternly, his palms gliding downward to grip your hips and spin you around, “you almost took my kneecap off the last time.”

Furrowing your brows, you pursed your lip at him petulantly, “can we stop talking about that? It was a mistake you big idiot.”

“I know, I know,” Mingyu cooed, “a very, very, very dangerous mistake.”

You rolled your eyes as he unwound the black firearm from your fingers. He walked toward his jacket that sat on the blanket you’d strewn across the grass, making sure to place it back inside the pocket.

“You still need some more practice, but I think for today we can call it quits. How does that sound?”

The boy then fell back onto the blanket with his head titled to the side, his eyes staring up at you winsomely. With the sun flaring behind you, the vibrant streaks set the grass aflame, making it appear as though Mingyu was sitting in the centre of a fire. His skin twinkled like golden silk and his canines peaked between his lips in a smirk. Shrugging your shoulders impetuously, you stumbled toward the blanket and fell into the boy’s lap, squirming against his broad body until he became pinned beneath your weight. As though he were a glass vase, you gingerly swept your finger along his scarred brow.

“Sounds fine,” you hummed, “since I kinda wanna makeout with you right now.”

“I love how straightforward you are, baby.” Mingyu confessed with his intoxicated gaze drinking in your image, already imploring for a taste of the strawberry balm that defined the pretty arches of your mouth.

Unable to quell how your body yearned for him, you gave your eyes a toss and pressed your lips to his. Mingyu craned his neck forward in immediate desperation to feel more pressure against his mouth; however, he soon gave up his craning and allowed his elbows to give out beneath him. His hands snuck beneath your shirt, to which he placed soft squeezes against your ribcage, fingertips skimming lower and lower until they were running along the back hem of your shorts. You continued to straddle his waist as the kiss drawled further, rhythmically slow and sweet.

You didn’t think it was humanly possible for your chest to be so encompassed with fondness, yet here you were, brushing your digits through Mingyu’s tresses, pressing your forehead to his, encasing his lower lip between your teeth to experimentally tug until the flesh swelled and glistened in garnet. You weren’t really sure how you started dating, it just sort of happened. It was perhaps an escalation of lingering touches, infatuated glances, and hot, fever dreams that kept you both slamming awake at blue midnight.

After your first purge together, the connection between you strengthened, like welding two pieces of molten iron into one. It was an experience that ruined you, stripped you of any innocent fragments still clinging to your bone, and once the night came to an end and you were sitting on Mingyu’s bed with blood spatters sopped into your cloths, you burst into tears. Strangely, you weren’t sobbing out of pain, mortification, you were sobbing because you could. It was the only accurate way to depict the weird melancholic, hopeless lump in your throat.

You squeaked as Mingyu grew impatient of your slow kisses. His want was increasing and he couldn’t bear to hear the quiet mewls that kept slipping from your mouth. His strength effortlessly allowed him to flip you on your back, his mass keeping you slack against the blanket as his lips dotted your jaw, your ear’s cusp, until he craved to taste more of the natural salt on your skin and his kisses ventured further down your throat.

Mingyu began suckling at a sensitive patch near your pulse. The warmth of his tongue combined with his teeth, and you felt him scrape his canines sharply against your skin. It wasn’t until the boy nudged his thigh between your legs that your fingers lurched into his scalp, tugging the earth fronds tightly. You couldn’t help but buck up against him, summoning a growl from his chest that only made him press his fangs into the soft skin with more force; not enough to actually break the petal-thin flesh, but enough to leave deep, possessive indentations. The ecstasy drumming in your veins was insatiable.

And yet, you knew it couldn’t progress.

With a fragile whine you placed your hands against Mingyu’s chest and gave the giant a small push, his mouth regretfully detaching from the beautiful marks he was intent on leaving all over your body. He spoke coarsely, breathlessly, when his rosy face surfaced from your neck, though the glaze in his eyes had quickly softened out of fear he’d made you uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t being too rough, was I?” He gathered your hand in his and kissed along your knuckles apologetically.

“No, not at all,” You mumbled, still dealing with the blare of crimson running through your veins, “I just… Don’t think we should, do it, in a field.”

The hollow grooves in Mingyu’s features immediately flushed with solace, a large sigh escaping from his chest as he allowed his head to tumble into your shoulder.

“Thank God, I thought I hurt you or something,” he heaved in relief.

Your heart sang wildly, knowing that he truly was a boy gentler than butterfly wings and softer than cotton. It was difficult to imagine him as the same boy who ruthlessly shoved a blade through a man’s windpipe, allowing thick trails of blood to slide from the open wound and create morbid puddles on the hard cement. The evening air seemed to turn cooler, the wind’s peaceful lilting now picking up with more vigor. Mingyu collapsed at your side, one of his long legs still tossed over your waist as you stroked his hair.

With the sun halfway behind the horizon, you gulped whilst watching the yellow sky fade into watered, fierce shades of orange.

“Mingyu?” You hummed.

“Yeah?” His warm breath scattered in a ticklish manner against your neck.

“What’s going to happen with you and Junhui?”

Mingyu stiffened instantly. Nibbling on your lower lip, you watched with sincere eyes as the boy lifted into a sitting position. You joined him, closely monitoring the contours of his face that had surely twisted at the mention of the sinister purger. There was no room to blame Mingyu for harbouring such distaste toward the boy. Junhui did swoop in and steal his ex-girlfriend fresh after the breakup and run purge night like he invented the device himself.

Still, you wondered if there could be something more. If there could be a more profound explanation for why the air was so stale between them.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Mingyu said flatly, “are you scared?”

Caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you stumbled over your syllables for a painful second, his gaze turning back to wrack you curiously.

“N-No, I was- I just- I was only wondering.”

“He’s too obsessed with himself to care about me. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing is going to happen, baby.” Mingyu said in a much lighter tone, his signature, canine smile quirking along his lips. 

Despite his calm protrusions, you could sense that something murky was swimming behind the curve in his eyes. The boy leaned backward and planted his lips against your forehead, leaving a small, adoring kiss. Shaking away the ominous tension that came with simply speaking the purger’s name, you grasped for Mingyu’s hand and smiled.

“Let’s head back into town.”

He set his jacket as well as the blanket in the backseat and climbed to sit at the wheel.

“Don’t forget about that, y’know,” you reminded him whilst gesturing to his jacket, “it’s not like there’s a gun in there or something.”

“A gun with the safety on.” He replied sheepishly, to which you simply huffed and stared out the window.

You stopped Mingyu when you were no less than a block away from your new apartment building, the tires crunching to a halt beside the common coffee shop.

“I’ll get out here,” you told him, “I’ll be fine to walk back to the complex. I just really want caffeine.”

Mingyu leaned over and pushed the car door open for you, his palm tenderly grazing your thigh as he found your lips. He gave you a quick goodbye kiss, and you felt flowers bloom between the bones of your ribcage.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” He reminded when you slid from the passenger seat.

Scurrying into the coffee shop, you already had an idea of what drink you’d like to get. As you stood off to the side waiting for an employee to call out your coffee, you fell into a slight trance, your eyes casting mistily across the cozy atmosphere whilst the sky began darkening beyond the clean window panes. You thought about Mingyu, how laughable it was that you were dating, and yet you knew you loved him like ink loves to kiss paper.

Hm, you chuckled inwardly, that girl sitting in that booth by the window, she looks like Yeeun, and that guy beside her really resembles Junhui. That’s funny.

That’s funny.

That’s… funny…

“Order 24, half decaf, two sugars one cream.”

To your inexplicable terror, heart-twisting dread, and every other repulsive emotion that could have cloaked you in that moment of realization, the couple sitting at the window booth was indeed Junhui and Yeeun. The employee called out your order again, this time a little louder, drawing customers to look left and right with puzzled glances. The nefarious couple was sitting across from two familiar faces, one with jet black hair brushed away from his forehead, the other disquieting with how vacant his face appeared, a grey beanie pulling back the fronds from his porcelain features, and a lollipop shoved between his lips.

It took you a minute, but you eventually recognized the lollipop boy as Wonwoo. He looked insanely different compared to your outdated, high school memories, where he was just a scrawny, fox-faced boy with the straightest black bangs you’d ever seen, always running around next to Minghao, getting pink in the face when the younger so much as smiled at him. It was evident that purging had completely hardened his face, his aura, to which he developed an almost sinister light. Whoever he was now, he definitely wasn’t the same boy. Jihoon sat next to him, impatiently spinning a stir stick between his fingers.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving. Mingyu’s words rang in your head.

Are you scared?

Craving nothing more than for a sinkhole to form beneath your feet and swallow you whole, you did the sole thing your body permitted you to do; walk sternly out the coffee shop and pretend you never ordered a single thing.

God - I hope they didn’t see me. That would be the last thing I want, for Junhui and his purging buddies to have anything to do with me.

Jihoon and Wonwoo with Junhui was odd. Had they always been friends? Junhui never attended your high school either, rather he used to be a student at a prestigious private school you couldn’t ever dream of getting into.

Your apartment was close. You could distinguish its height amongst the low-cut buildings lining the sidewalk. If you just walked a little faster, you could be up the cement staircase, swinging open the glass doorway, and be safe within the front lobby. Titling your head back you quickly ogled at the sky. It wasn’t completely black yet, but there were distant tinges of dark, oily colours that pressed down like a heavy thumbprint amongst the grey. The wind picked up behind you, slamming into your backside in menacing howls.

Finally, you’d reached the cement steps—

But it was too late.

His tone was smoother than a crystal ball, lower than baritone, and incredibly seasoned at feigning genuineness. Hearing your name cascade from his mouth that was deceivingly shaped as a heart made your breath flatten. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but it was too late to pretend you never heard his chant. Unwillingly, your body pivoted like a stone statue, your foot taking that one victorious step back as it left the staircase.

“You walk so fast, you could have been sprinting.”

“Exercise is good.” You nearly wheezed.

For the first time, you realized just how tall Junhui was, his body appearing as a shadowy mass as the wind blew the tails of his trench coat. His brows were slanted, lips quirked, his irises so rounded you could hardly see the white bits. He was handsome in the way that some people found graveyards entrancing. It was the eeriness that allured you.

“You left your coffee.” He stated.

“I realized I had somewhere to be.” You tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible to evade the nervous eye fluttering.

“As anyone would, it’s getting late.”

The wind whistled between you, dark clouds swirling above your head as though the sky were a witch’s cauldron.

“I think it might rain,” you said meekly, “are you looking to ask me something?”

Junhui took a step forward. He’d never been this close to you before, maybe a few inches away from the tip of your nose. Your gaze tripped to his eye, the eye that Mingyu had driven his clenched fist into that one night, causing Junhui’s head to thrust back against the plaster. You swallowed the salty brick in your throat.

“I heard you like to purge now.” Junhui said with a smile. You swore his caramel gaze glinted with excitement.

Your blood froze. How did he know about that? Junhui saw through you like a translucent piece of plastic. He saw how you inwardly panicked.

“I was surprised,” he cooed, “you don’t seem like the type… But I suppose all that running around with Mingyu changed your morals.”

Your heart was beating at such a frantic pace you feared it may dislodge itself from your chest and land in your mouth.

“I’m so elated you found purpose,” his midnight fronds then fell mischievously before his eyes, keeping the candor of his secrets hidden from you, “the purge is a time of cleansing intended to help people like us find a little alleviation in the world. That one person whose been causing you grief? You won’t have to worry about their disgusting discrepancy that makes you so infuriated. It’s quite healing,” Junhui purred, “if you ask me.”

It felt as though someone just ripped your tongue from between your teeth. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. A splash of rain thumped your forehead, and yet you allowed the cold bead to trickle along the side of your nose and run onto your cheek. Junhui’s hand delicately raised, his thumb caressing the droplet away. He stood closer now, eliminating any room in which the wind could whisper through, his bangs tickling your forehead as his onyx pupils bore through your heated face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking toward your lips through his heavy lashes, his fingers pointing your chin upward, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt just because Mingyu can’t take care of you.”

“I-I trust him,” You managed to squeak, though it required every bone in your body to summon equal modicums of courage.

“C’mon,” Junhui seemed to taunt, “you know who I am, right? I can have any weapon, any blueprint, any ctv footage I want directly in my hands, and all it takes is a single phone call.” He grinned wolfishly. “Besides, Mingyu doesn’t have the most durable history of looking out for others.”

His grip on your chin hardened like steel, heart-shaped lips pressed lightly to your ear’s cusp, “you do know what happened to Minghao, don’t you?”

Your body turned more frigid than ice, the warm blood that pumped beneath your skin running colder with every second that Junhui stood, seeing straight through you and to his old friend he’d hurt so dearly. You instantly grew sick to your stomach. The universe beyond Junhui’s shadow was spinning wildly, darting in nauseating circles like a carousel. The images came in flickers; the truck pulling into the driveway, the window cranking down, the crack of the gun as its bullet pierced a shape in the darkness. No wonder Jihoon and Wonwoo were friends with Junhui. He had been the other person in Mingyu’s car.

You felt lightheaded, like you were going to faint.

“I’ll let you go, but just consider your options. Really, truly consider them.” Junhui murmured. “I’m sure you have some personal contentions kept covert beneath that kind tongue of yours. Given your participation, I know you can upheaval your need to feel purification. If you’re wise, you’ll cleanse with us, with me, as you are entitled to.”

Without a single ripple Junhui broke away, his touch drifting like the edges of a silk blanket from your cheek. Immediately afterward, a disturbing burst of wind whipped between your bodies, inducing a long shiver that crept down your spine and fizzled at your fingertips. Your throat felt like cracked sandpaper and your chest bottomed out with a horrendous, wrenching fear.

Junhui knew that Mingyu didn’t fear him, but he knew that you feared him, and he knew that your fear would grow to consume you now that you’d been introduced to the devastating truth. 

The radio was on, high-pitched static and monotonous advisement rasping through the car’s sound system. It was clear that in time, there would be a chorus of other harsh noises leaping to fill the sky, any pockets of oxygen, and the spaces that lingered between your hazy breathing. Yet in the dense heat, you could care less.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of The Annual Purge, sanctioned by the government.

It was hot, burning. The air felt like scorching linen that pressed fire into your skin. Mingyu’s teeth scraped along your collarbones, the thin layer of flesh that mapped over them singed with bruises and bites and kisses that still glistened.

Weapons of Class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.

The radio continued to blip. Your fingers tangled through his earth-toned tresses, gripping the thick strands and tugging on them as your throat started to ache. The windows were splotched with oily fingerprints that had been left earlier, when you first climbed onto his lap.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Your legs quivered over his thighs, his hands guiding your hips with such a brute strength that the pain welled into numbness and everything that surrounded you seemed nonexistent, save for where your bodies connected like a jewel to its staff. His forehead fell on your shoulder, groans muffled as they brushed your hot skin. He continued to hit deep, and you knew you couldn’t hold on for much longer, the sparks catching a foreshadowing flame 

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

It was then, when your weight came down on his lap for the final time, his hips stuttering upward at the perfect moment, that your head tossed back and you felt the energy rip from your body in a single scream. Mingyu wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against him, working the pleasure for all its worth. You then buried your face into his neck, a soft sea of your whimpers filling the thick air whilst Mingyu emptied inside you, filling you with warmth.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7am, when the Purge concludes.

For a moment, you just needed to close your eyes and breathe in his scent, hear his heartbeat, feel the familiar heat spread throughout your abdomen. He squeezed your hips tight, and his words were barely audible, attempting to drown over the radio’s static as well as the heavy breaths from your lungs. You heard them, even if your ears really had to strain to decipher the syllables whispered at the peak of his sensitivity. Mingyu said he loved you, and he meant it with every ounce of his soul as he felt your body shake in his arms.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and a nation, reborn.

And you would have meekly hummed the words in return, if the sudden cacophony of a siren didn’t shred the air like pastry, startling your system that had just come down from the best cloud nine experience you could ever fathom. It would have been wondrous to bask in the afterglow, to trace patterns on his biceps and run your lips over the scar in his brow.  It had all been purloined from you in an instant. Though your centre still ached, you crept off his lap and into the passenger seat, cleaning yourself up as best you could.

“Here,” Mingyu held out his jacket that he’d tossed in the backseat, probably since your training in the fields, “it’ll keep you warm if it actually rains tonight.”

“Thanks.” You murmured whilst slipping the fabric around your body, noting that something a little heavy was inside one of the pockets. You remembered the gun was still inside. Suddenly, Mingyu started the car, the engine purring lowly and musty clouds of exhaust puffing into the empty parking lot.

He tapped the steering wheel with his palm, “where should we head?”

When the sirens faded away, you looked to him and smiled, “wherever you want.”

The red sun seemed anxious to disappear, for its rays cracked across the sky like bloodied, broken ice, hurriedly pushing itself further below the horizon as Mingyu drove into town. The Purge never introduced an easy atmosphere to stomach, yet tonight, you felt the bile in your throat was more acidic than usual. Maybe it was because you knew a huge secret, one that tied Mingyu’s hatred to Junhui’s existence.

You didn’t confess to Mingyu anything. Every word that seeped like a venom from Junhui’s lips was sealed within you, and only you. It was already painful enough for Mingyu to brace through such a traumatic incident. There would come a time when he told you his reasons for hating Junhui, and that time had yet to come.

Even so, the terror was exhausting. The first few nights after your encounter with Junhui, your slumber was plagued by gruesome nightmares, his comfortable laughter, and the black fire that seeped in his eyes as though he were some underworld creature. You’d slam awake in a cold sweat. At times you’d be so drenched that you needed to take a shower before going back to sleep, that is, if your mind allowed you to. Sometimes you would phone Mingyu and lie to him, tell him you needed to hear the brass in his voice as your nighttime spell.

You never told him about the nightmares, the panic, or the anxiety. Now the Purge had returned after its position was quelled in the nation for a year. Your head turned to glance more thoroughly out the window after you flitted past a man holding an axe tool, a painted mask shielding his face.

It didn’t take long for the streets to begin flooding with people of the same stature, and if their eyes of thirst were hidden behind costumes, then it became more than evident in the weaponry that adorned their guises. Mingyu seemed calm as he stared out the dash, his eyes giving away nothing that would hint toward his inner complex. You sighed and let your cheek rest in your palm, your gaze unable to stop tracing each and every person that emerged from the dark crevices.

About forty-five minutes had passed, driving around the quieter outskirts of the city. Looking into the side-mirror, you watched as the occasional killing occurred behind you.

Mingyu smiled. “The night just started and you already look like you’re over it.”

The echo of a gun pierced the air. You cringed slightly.

“I don’t know if I’m over it or not. I guess I’m thinking about how I’ll ever suppress witnessing senseless murder, y’know?”

The boy gently stuck his arm out, across the glove compartment, his thumb stroking your cheek for a fond moment.

“We don’t have to hang around. I can drive up to the field where we’ll be away from the worst of it. What do you want, baby?” He asked.

You scratched at your knuckles and puffed through your nose. “I don’t even know what I want. Am I supposed to feel this way?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, “what way?”

“Melancholic, sorta like everything seems pointless. How do you feel?”

Mingyu took a wide turn to avoid a collection of smashed bottles that glinted on the road, increasing the vehicle’s speed steadily as the chaos increased. Like your first Purge, you saw the distant glow of burning buildings appear across the lake, at the other side of the city.

“I don’t even know if I can describe it anymore.” He shrugged.

You turned your head to look at him, deciding to ask something rather abrupt, but a topic you were curious on nonetheless. 

“Why did you start purging?”

The boy’s canines pushed into his bottom lip as he probed his mind.

“Because I was friends with someone who wanted to. Even involving yourself once makes enemies. You can’t hide from it after that.” 

Staring at the side of his face, you felt almost dirty for knowing a pivotal piece belonging to Mingyu’s past.

“Were you friends with Junhui?”

There was a thick silence as you waited for Mingyu’s response.

“At one point, yes.” He admitted, his words sounding distasteful. 

You shifted up in the seat, stretching out your hand to rub Mingyu’s bicep. 

“I don’t care if you were. I know you aren’t the same as him, and that this night changes people. You don’t let it consume you like he does.”

Mingyu took a turn through a wide alleyway to avoid a hostile situation escalating at the far end of the intersection. You didn’t get a good look as the sky was continuing to lose its orange light, but the flash of the group’s masks and weapons was convincing enough to take a different path.

You couldn’t help but note that Mingyu’s eyes had become slightly watered.

“It was never about purification,” he told you, “I never had any specific target, or someone I detested. Neither did Jun. But he comes from a family that relies on purging as their income. His mom designs weapons and his dad works for some underground branch, assigning bounties. He just isn’t the same as us. I was lucky if I could even hold a gun in my hands without trembling. I had to learn how to desensitize myself. For Jun, it was almost natural.”

A familiar sickness made your stomach twirl.

“It’s sad he had to grow up like that.” You sighed, glancing out the window whilst Mingyu remained silent. 

A few minutes later, and you were laughing. “I didn’t mean to make the mood so terrible. I was just wondering.”

“I know,” Mingyu said, his lips curling warmly, “I can’t blame you for being curious, baby. I just don’t think back on my past all that much.”

He then gave you a thoughtful look, and your chest started fluttering embarrassingly fast. “I like focusing on right now, where I have you.”

It was quiet again, to which you let your thoughts roam astray. 

You pictured the night your father disappeared, the night your mother’s life was taken away from her when she wasn’t even capable of defending herself. The feeling of coming down the stairway to broken glass, spilt moonlight, and a dirtied face lugging her away couldn’t be compared to any pain. And daring to unlock that enraged, bitter half of yourself, you thought to applying pressure on the trigger that killed the man responsible for her death.

Those memories influenced your appreciation, your gratitude, toward Mingyu, the boy who you had always admired at a distance, never knowing he could be so tender and benevolent. It was possible that you could have turned out similar to Junhui if you let your indignation take control. Seeing how Mingyu always remained so grounded helped you keep your footing, and you hoped there never came a day when you started looking at the world how Junhui did.

All of sudden, your musing was shattered when a pick-up truck roared from an alleyway and soared into the street, plumes of grey smoke pumping from its pipes as the tires screeched against the asphalt.

”Mingyu, watch out!” You screeched, gripping the steering wheel.

At the same time, Mingyu veered away from the truck, your heart nearly tearing a hole right through your chest as the head of your vehicle rammed into a light post. The collision jolted your body forward, though the seatbelt kept you strapped in and unscathed. Mingyu cursed through his teeth.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He rasped.

“I-I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” You replied shakily.

Mingyu’s facial expression relaxed for less than a second. He appeared ready to oblige, though casting another inspection into his features relayed a nauseating truth. Suddenly, Mingyu’s hand gripped the back of your neck and he forced your head down between your legs. You heard it, the crisp echo of a gunshot. Except there was no bullet that punctured the glass and made fragments rain over your body. There was no dent in the metal door either. The barrel was purposely aimed to a different area, and as the second shot fired off, you felt like passing out.

They’re shooting at the tires.

Mingyu whispered to you with a coarse urgency, “this way!”

He’d managed to open his door, your only choice of escape a labyrinth of alleyways that lay beyond the mangled car. The alleys were dark, damp, and most likely rife with impending danger. Your throat closed in when you attempted to swallow. You could see the blade that Mingyu had collected from the console, already tight in his hand. Licking your leathered lips, you squirmed out his side after he’d gone through. He was squatted down, waiting for you.

Just as you joined him, you cast a glance above Mingyu’s head, your blood turning into ice as a slim figure appeared around the back end of the car. It was a man, dressed in a black raincoat, long and glossy. He was wearing a dirtied, white mask, where kohl paint was runny down the large eyes and the mouth was outlined in a red marker. Next to his side was the long barrel of a shotgun, and you felt unimaginably dizzy. Mingyu immediately identified the terror that leaked into your gaze, and with a thick gulp, he dared stare over his shoulder.

“Hey Mingyu,” the stranger mumbled, taking the pointed chin of the mask and tipping it upward, revealing a fox-like face, “long time no see.”

Mingyu wrapped his fingers around your hand and stood up slowly, ensuring your body was sheltered by his size. You breathed as quietly as your vandalized chest would allow, your diaphragm keening to erupt. 

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu echoed, “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you or anything.” The boy said, his voice very deep and smooth. The depth reverberated in your chest and made your skin crawl.

“Are you crazy, dude?” Mingyu growled. “You shot out my fucking tires.”

Wonwoo scratched the nape of his neck. “I was just following orders.”

You had no idea what was happening. The only piece of concrete knowledge that hadn’t been fogged over in tangible fear was that you could still hear incessant firing in the distant, chaotic screaming and rioting. Looking down to the blade that glinted in Mingyu’s palm, you were able to plant a little reassurance in yourself knowing of his skill and ability to stay grounded. Keeping your mouth shut, you held Mingyu’s hand in a vice grip.

“Following orders from who? What are you talking about? Are you wired?”

“It’s understandable you would think that,” Wonwoo sighed, “but I’m not. If I were though, your death might be a little easier.”

“Since when are you supposed to kill me?” Mingyu sounded flat out bewildered.

It was then that it dawned on you: Mingyu really had no idea Wonwoo was still a part of Junhui’s brigade. 

Grinding your teeth together in contemplation, you finally decided to swallow the grain in your throat and break the truth. Getting close to Mingyu’s ear, you whispered to him what you knew, no matter how much of a fable it may be perceived as. Visibly, his body stiffened. His fingers gripped the blade’s handle with an unprecedented rage. 

“What are you doing?” Mingyu implored, candor in his despair. “Even after what he did to Minghao? What the hell is holding you to him?”

“It’s nothing personal, but as you know already, Junhui is filthy rich,” Wonwoo gloomed, cocking the barrel once more, “and he’s promised me some things.”

Mingyu clenched his jaw. “You mean more of those drugs he keeps stealing from his dad’s lab? Wonwoo, what the fuck happened to you? The last time I heard from you, you were getting clean, you were going to start fresh!”

There was an unorthodox twinkle in his black stare, oddly full of emotion, hurt, repressed pain that cut deeper inside than out. 

“I tried,” Wonwoo stated, a slight anger tainting his voice, “I went to three different rehabilitation clinics. I took a vacation to the rural springs and received lessons in guided meditation and bought myself a journal so I could document my success in getting clean. And you know what? I haven’t touched that journal since the day I fucking bought it. Tell me, Mingyu. How the fuck am I supposed to care about staying clean, how the fuck am I supposed to care about anything when I saw the love of my life get fucking shot right in front of me?”

Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, “Wonwoo, I--, I know that was horrible, I know that hurt you and--”

“Just shut up,” the elder interrupted flatly, “maybe today I’ll actually feel something when I put this barrel between your eyes.”

It was impossible to stand by and remain silent. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gathered a modicum of courage and poked your head around Mingyu’s shoulder.

“So you’re going to kill us just because Junhui wants you to? That’s how you’re going to live the rest of your life? Listening to his psychotic fantasies about purification and entitlement?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw taunt.

“I know you loved Minghao, I know your life hasn’t felt the same since. Minghao was Mingyu’s best friend too. You weren’t the only one who lost somebody. Do you think when I came downstairs at fourteen years old and saw my mother get pulled away through the window that I wasn’t upset, angry, confused at the world? Junhui just sees you as a pawn to delegate the matters he doesn’t want to dip his hands into, but you’re a real person. Wake up and act like it!”

For even just a fraction of a second, Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped, his finger that was feathering the gun’s trigger drifted from contact, and the stoic cloud in his eyes fuzzed a little. You were starting to feel confident. Yet just as easily as the feeling came to you, you were caught off guard by an arm that slid around your neck and lurched you backward, against a hard chest.

Mingyu barked immediately, his blade drawn and eyes wildly dilated as he turned to face the person responsible for holding onto you. Biting the inside of your mouth, you squirmed and thrashed and kicked, until something cold pressed into your temple and suddenly the energy evaporated from your body like dew droplets on an August day. 

Mingyu’s voice sounded rusty as he gaped again. “Jihoon?!”

Wonwoo piped up suddenly, and his eyes turned cold once more. “Be careful, dammit. She’s the one we can’t afford to bruise up.”

Jihoon’s arm was now wrapped around your neck, pressing against your windpipe and causing your air supply to falter. You knew it was a gun that was poking sharply into your temple. 

Mingyu’s gaze was wild and rife with fire. He growled between his teeth like a wolf. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Jihoon.”

Wonwoo stepped forward and shook his gun at the boy who was closing off on your breathing. “Junhui wants that one,” he pressed the snout of his weapon into your chin, “alive.”

Jihoon sulked, his voice rumbling in his chest, “So what’s our fun tonight? We kill Mingyu and then pack up?”

You wriggled again in Jihoon’s arms, tempted to gnaw right into his wrist. “Can we not kill anybody?!”

“Calm down,” Wonwoo instructed, “I hate shouting. If any of you shout I’m planting a bullet in your brain.”

“You’re such a bore,” Jihoon whined, pressing into your windpipe with more force, painting speckles of white across your vision. Mingyu was bubbling with rage, like a teapot left on the burner for too long, his teeth clamping down so tightly his whole face was aching.

Wonwoo used the muzzle of the gun to tip your chin toward the moonlight. “A word of advice. Stop struggling and you won’t get hurt.”

“H-He’s hurting me,” you attempted to coherently spit past the pressure concocted against your throat. Jihoon was issuing enough force to make your eyes water and your head spin. Mingyu piped up, but Wonwoo was swifter and beat him to it.

“Lighten your grip.” He told Jihoon.

“I’m not even holding her that tightly!” The boy protested. Wonwoo’s face didn’t crack. He just repeated himself with an underlying menace.

“Lighten. Your. Grip.”

“It’s all pretending! Can’t you see? They’re trying to distract you so Mingyu can shove that blade through your back. Don’t be so fucking soft, Wonwoo. Look! I’m hardly touching—“

Bang.

Wonwoo dug his gun right into Jihoon’s forehead and pulled the trigger, the strict barrier against your throat immediately releasing. A fresh gulp of air hastily entered your lungs as you stumbled, Jihoon’s body folding onto the sidewalk from the corner of you eye. Mingyu quickly caught you, cupped your face in his hands and wiped the beaded sweat at your forehead. He kept whispering to you that you were okay, repeated the words in a soothing, husky mantra, his thumbs stroking your jaw in comforting sweeps. The ringing in your ears was unfathomably painful, it stung and stung and stung.

“Well,” Wonwoo announced with a despondent sigh, setting the gun over his shoulder, “I really do hate yelling.”

Mingyu’s kissed your forehead briefly. Your lips were still dry and they struggled to form a word of thanks to Wonwoo. The boy shrugged.

“He was holding you kind of tightly.”

Mingyu gasped, “no fucking kidding.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I guess I don’t expect to live much longer now that I’ve gone and wasted my companion here with my last few bullets. Not to mention I have  prolonged the existence of your life, Mingyu, which I was strictly ordered not to do. It was nice to meet your little partner in crime too.”

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu questioned whilst gathering you into his side.

“I didn’t follow through on my order. I can’t bring myself to do it. ” Wonwoo mumbled. “We’ll catch up in the afterlife or something. Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. You’ll probably be with Minghao while I deservedly rot. One of life’s many mysteries, right?”

There wasn’t much of an opportunity to process the situation, not when a gunshot echoed from down the alleyway and pierced the boy in his temple. The shotgun clamped in his hand clattered against the cold, concrete sidewalk, and his mask clattered off his head. His body joined the likes of Jihoon who’d been staring up at the night sky with dead, glazed eyes, a trail of red leaking down his nose. Your head pivoted and you felt a surge of vomit climb to the back of your mouth, for the person behind the trigger was Yang Yeeun, her pearl earrings flashing against the silver moonlight.

“Horrendous.” Her accent was thick with venom, heels clicking down the alleyway as she stalked in her black trousers and white dress shirt.

Intimidation sweltered against your skin at just her attire. The fact she dressed expensively for the night proved she wasn’t expecting to get in any confrontation that would result in her own blood being spilt.

“I expected Jihoon to cause trouble, but not Wonwoo. He was so promising. I guess he really did need drugs to stay sane.”

She stepped over a corpse you hadn’t noted lying face down in the alley, growling between her teeth.

“Filthy,” Yeeun remarked without a grain of empathy, “nothing but filth.”

Mingyu gripped your wrist and you felt your body stumble behind him. Keeping your arms drawn against his back and softly breathing, you inhaled the musky scents of damp, nighttime air and car exhaust. Though you couldn’t directly see Yeeun, her voice was still audible, lacquered in such a feigned delicacy it reminded you of Junhui. Mingyu hadn’t said a thing. He didn’t have to speak for you to know his heart was decaying.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Yeeun cooed. She was close now, so close you peered between Mingyu’s legs and saw her shiny heels standing in blood spatters. 

She regarded Mingyu like they were still together, like they still reflected the image of romance that was envied by so many people, you included. Her arm extended, pale, numb fingers brushing along his amber cheek. You wanted to scream at her to never touch him again. It was her own mistake to let Mingyu go, when he was positively in love with her and preached their future with honeyed words, like an artist who preaches with paint.

“You know, I miss you,” she hummed, tracing the flint of his jaw, “I’m so terribly sorry you had to witness your old best friends get a bullet to the brain, but, that is what happens when tensions are high, and, you know, we can’t afford to let many errors slip past us. Now, let’s not let that put a damper on the night. It’s still young, and so much has yet to happen. How about you come with me?”

You knew there was a handgun she was keeping pressed to her leg right now, and that if neither of you complied, it would be put to good use. Mingyu hadn’t opened his mouth. His lips were tight and his eyes were concentrated. Maybe he was trying to scheme.

Yeeun stretched out her gun and let the muzzle clink with Mingyu’s knife, trying to push the weapon from his hand.

“Just drop this and follow me, sweetheart. Due to these unforeseen events, there’s been a change and your presence has been urgently requested.”

Quicker than expected, Mingyu complied. He let the blade untwine from his grasp and rattle against the ground. If he did have some sort of plan, you were hoping that giving up his only weapon was part of it.

“She can come too,” Yeeun purred, “Junhui wants to see both of you.”

Yeeun trudged behind you, her weapon drawn, a manicured nail feathering upon the trigger just in case one of you attempted something of trickery. Tall, grimy buildings surrounded you, leading up to the black sky, where the stars gazed down in lamentation. Mingyu’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist with such steely strength that you felt your circulation dwindle, though the tiny, tingling feeling would never surpass the fear that sat like a pound of tar in your stomach. Similar to your first purge, tears pushed at your ducts, though there was a certain exhaustion shrouding your body that prevented them from falling.

Despite your unstable condition, the possibility of death snickering right in your face, the wavering thought that either Junhui or Yeeun could imbue a torturous fate, you were worried about Mingyu.

Yeeun was playing him expertly. She knew it wasn’t her heart that cracked after their breakup, it was Mingyu that suffered independently.  Only he bit the nail, only he felt the salt mix with his wounds, and only he would welt in self-contemplation over a love that he nurtured, alone. If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate? Would he be afraid of hurting someone he used to treasure so dearly? You didn’t doubt his affections for you. His heart was strong, but what if Yeeun’s deceit was stronger?

The labyrinth of alleyways had finally led you to a dead end. Your wrist shook in Mingyu’s grasp, for the man nonchalantly leaning against the solid wall was none other than—

“Junhui,” Yeeun cawed, “you won’t believe what the fuck just happened. Wonwoo popped Jihoon. He’s dead, should have brought more crew instead of displacing them like we did.”

She finished her sentence by fitting her gun right snug at the back of your head.

Junhui spat onto the floor before he unstuck himself from leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark trench coat.  

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, “using Wonwoo and Jihoon was a squander anyways. I could have concluded both their lives at a much more efficient pace. I’m guessing you took care of the traitor?”

Yeeun cackled, “right though the side of his head. He fell like a stack of cards.”

“It’s a real disappointment,” Junhui huffed, “since the beginning Wonwoo and Jihoon have shown the utmost loyalty for me and my craft. But, I guess this just demonstrates how purifying this device truly is. We’re ridding the streets of scum, aren’t we?”

Mingyu released your wrist, and you felt like a bomb had just dropped to the soles of your feet. His lips parted and his voice was deep. Hearing him speak allowed your heartbeat to calm, even with Yeeun’s gun taunt into your hair.

“The streets will never be rid of scum until you’re over and done with.”

Junhui cocked his head, his mouth falling open and his eyes twinkling as though a tiny flame had ignited in their inky depths.

“And here is the biggest traitor of them all!” 

Junhui tossed his head back and ludic laughter echoed into the compressing air, “how do you suppose you’ll rid me, Mingyu? Are you going to give me another black eye? Curse at me? Damn me to hell and back because of what happened that night? Damn me behind my back because I took Yeeun away from you? The girl you once loved and valued with your every essence?”

It was then that Junhui shifted his sights on you, his lips pulling wide in a smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Mingyu, but your partner and I exchanged a very compelling conversation a while ago. I guess word never got around to you.”

Junhui’s boots dragged over the crumbs of dirt and asphalt that littered the ground, his presence nearing closer and closer. When you tried to lower your head, Yeeun’s gun pressed with a stricter force into your scalp, filling you with enough fear to keep your gaze straight.

“You’re very fortunate, Mingyu. To have such a pretty thing to call your own.”

Junhui’s hand reached for your chin. His touch was colder than the dark shadows that masked his soul, and it engendered a shiver to slither along your spine. 

“Don’t put your hands anywhere near her!” Mingyu seethed, to which Yeeun instantly switched her gun to point against the back of his skull.

You could see his jaw clench from your peripheral vision. But Junhui didn’t listen, and his thumb pushed down on your bottom lip as though he intended to brand your skin with his insanity. He spoke lowly, smoothly, confidence lathered into his every syllable.

“Do you know why I did it?” Junhui stared into your eyes and asked.

“Dd-did w-what?” You warbled.

“It wasn’t because I was jealous of Wonwoo and Minghao, or because I had some personal contention against the boy. I didn’t even think when I pressed the trigger. I spent the whole night adding so much blood to my hands, that the moment I saw another shadow move, my body just - it just acted for me. Like it was an instinct. I wasn’t sad... But I wasn’t happy. I only knew I was no longer myself... I was someone stronger, someone enhanced, and that is the greatness of this evening!”

Junhui clutched your shoulders and shook them, his eyes alight with a certain derangement that petrified you to your core.

“You’re reborn! Don’t you get it? You’re no longer tied down by the concept of goodness, and your free will is truly free. When will you two realize that--”

Out of nowhere, Mingyu shoved into your side so aggressively you stumbled sideways and collapsed on the sooty ground. The air was knocked from your lungs and your heart pumped like it had been electrocuted. Fuzzy splotches of colour coalesced before your watered vision, projecting nothing but an obnoxious blur. There was shouting, the loud crack of a harmless gunshot, and scuffling that emanated from every direction. Before you could separate the blacks from the blues, something cold wrapped around your wrist and dragged you backward. Then, your entire body was thrust up against the brick, scrapes and bruises already forming on your bare skin.

When your head stopped spinning and the world dulled down from reflecting three versions of the same image, you were shuttering, whimpering, as Junhui held you firmly against the wall.

Across the alleyway you could see that Mingyu had Yeeun pressed to the floor, his palm covering her throat whilst he took advantage of his weight to keep her slim frame still. He fought to unwind the firearm from her fingers, but when he did, the weapon was digging into her forehead. You wanted to scream at him to pull the trigger, to fucking end her already, even if your throat felt like it had been scraped of all moisture and scrubbed with a pad of steel wool. You heard Junhui snicker, his mouth twisted cynically. It was evident what he was thinking, for it was identical to your own thought.

“Like hell you’ll do it!” Junhui screamed.

If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate?

Love. It was just as much a weapon as it was a comfort. And as Mingyu stared down at Yeeun, silver pearls of water slipping from her brown eyes, the eyes he had fallen for, you felt consumed by terror, that your life may truly end at this exact location. Mingyu proved your doubts were transparent and his finger jammed against the trigger. Except – there was nothing, nothing at all. The gun had no ammunition left. Yeeun sighed heavily.

“Don’t do this,” she mewled, still wriggling beneath him, full-fledged tears pumping down her flushed, scarlet face, “I never meant to hurt you. It’s just – you wouldn’t understand why – he didn’t leave me any choice!”

Mingyu released his ironclad grip over her throat and used his fingers to sweep the stray hairs from her eyes.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He abruptly snapped. “You lie through your teeth like it’s the only thing you’re good for. You don’t love anyone or anything. I bet you lost that silver spoon you were born with, huh? Daddy’s security systems aren’t as bulletproof as he thought they were? So you had to run to Junhui?”

She gargled slightly on her own saliva, coughing a bit of foam, though she never tried to respond.

Mingyu lifted Yeeun’s head in his hands. Squeezing your eyes shut didn’t make the snapping noise any less gruesome. If anything, it only amplified the sickness building in your gut, it only amplified Junhui’s enraged storm of cursing as his companion’s body went limp, her eyes stained with not even a smidgen of regret. If there was any regret at all, it was that she couldn’t have killed you herself. Hope began trickling back into your body, and, taking advantage of Junhui’s distracted vacancy, you attempted to give him a swift kick.

And yet that thought was a mistake in itself. Junhui lost his composure, his sophistication.

Your struggling only encouraged the anger spilling inside him, prompted him to uncover a blade that was hidden inside his coat, its silver gleam reflecting off your eyes for a millisecond before you felt its sharp edge nuzzle into your skin, somewhere around your stomach. A surge so violent and unbridled soared through your body, forced you to lean over the blade where your eyes soaked up the unholy sight of Junhui’s knuckles pale as snowflakes wrapped around the handle. You spluttered out nothing but air, watched as dark liquid began seeping from the wound and wetting your shirt.

Junhui took it upon himself to slowly, ever so slowly, extract the knife from its crevice, his teeth grinding together as just the point remained in your flesh. Then, he dug the blade back in through its opening, giving the weapon a slight twist. 

When Mingyu had risen from Yeeun’s corpse and tore Junhui away from you, a silent sob wobbled off your lips. At some point that your mind was too fogged to remember, you were sitting, slumped against the wall as thick, grey storm clouds crowded the night sky. When you could no longer find solace amongst the stars, your gaze flitted across the alleyway, to where Junhui and Mingyu were a vicious tangle of limbs that punched and kicked and pulled. It reminded you of the party, the stupid party that had somehow preluded your path to cross with Mingyu’s. They were shouting at one another, at war for Junhui’s knife that kept slipping from their grasps like butter.

Wincing, you stretched an arm to fold over your stomach, attempting to apply even the meekest amount of pressure to your wound. Your brow furrowed when something hard nudged against your arm, a harsh weight that seemed to sit inside your jacket.

Well, it wasn’t your jacket, it was Mingyu’s.

Chewing down on the inside of your mouth, you ignored the pain that cut through your every nerve and fought to wind your hand within the jacket, fingers poking and shuffling around until they brushed the pocket stitched to the inside. Despite your battered condition, you nearly yelped when you gripped the handgun, the same gun that you’d used to practice your aim in the fields. There was not a moment to squander, nor a moment to think. Your whole body screamed as you drew the weapon from its pouch, fingers slippery with blood as you fought to turn the safety off.

Your entire arm shook like a brittle leaf in mid-autumn, yet you still held the gun forth, your head banging, your vision blurred, bile pushing and stinging against your throat. Junhui had Mingyu pinned to the grit, his boot heavy on Mingyu’s wrist. Raised in the air was the knife, stained with red globs of your blood. It was just like the party, except it wasn’t a tiny glass shard sealed between Junhui’s fingers. It was a literal hacking device. There was nothing you could do to stop your arm from shaking. You had no more ammunition apart from the bullet left in the gun.

What if I miss, what if I miss Junhui and hit Mingyu? What if I hit Junhui but it isn’t enough to stop him? I don’t think I can do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t—

“So,” Junhui barked, his vocal chords strained and hoarse, “where’s your little guardian angel now, huh? If it weren’t for your girlfriend fucking getting in the way two years ago, you would have had it, Mingyu. But now there’s no one to save you. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. Finally, I’m entitled to purge how I’ve always wanted.”

The tears finally erupted from their ducts, streaming down your dusted cheeks and dripping at your chin. You felt like a child, a blubbering infant.

But it wasn’t worth it to lose Mingyu.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened when you sucked back the distracting binds of your self-doubt and clamped the trigger down. It didn’t register that the bullet had struck Junhui’s head until his body collapsed off of Mingyu’s lap, lying lax on the pebbles like a sack of flour. It didn’t register that you had saved Mingyu’s life until the first few cold splashes of rain thumped against your forehead, dampened your lashes, and trickled along your scuffed flesh. The gun dropped from your fingers and the whole world went black.

The next time you awoke, you were faced with a pair of glimmering, penny eyes that rapidly blinked, tiny crinkles mapping along wet, amber skin. An instant pain jolted into your gut when you attempted to fidget, and a whine nearly tore itself from between your cracked lips.

“Don’t try to move,” you heard a rough voice, “stay still as best you can.”

“Mingyu?” You croaked, reaching upward to stroke his cheek. 

His fingers coiled gently around your wrist, bringing the scars that were carved like ancient hieroglyphics to his lips. The second he pressed kisses to the old wounds, you smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake,” he rasped, his eyes soft, gleeful, “you fucking saved me, y’know? It’s because of you I’m still here, still breathing. All because of you.”

Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Wait… So, I’m not… dreaming?” 

Despite Mingyu’s earlier advisement to stay still, you forced your body upward, though you faced immediate repercussions as a jarring bolt struck you in the stomach. Mingyu attempted to make you relax once more, but you refused to listen to his cooing. Distant thunder rolled in the distance, and you could see a pale glow beaming behind the flossy clouds that shielded the sky. Seven o’clock was probably on the brink of arrival. You were still in the alleyway. Casting a glance toward your new wounds, you noticed that Mingyu had wrapped his jacket tightly around your waist.

“Now would be a good time for lots of gauze, right?” You smiled.

Mingyu settled his palm delicately at the back of your neck and pushed your lips together, a smile slowly dancing along his mouth as he felt your fingers thread through his locks. Just like Mingyu had predicted, a misty rainfall was spraying from the early morning sky, infinitesimal droplets of glass sitting upon his skin as though he were a springtime rose. You kissed his lips again, and again, and again, until the pain in your stomach became too much of a distraction and your head was falling to the crook of his neck. Stealing a glance around the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice that Junhui and Yeeun’s bodies had been laid beside each other.

You thought about what Wonwoo had said.

Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. One of life’s many mysteries, right?

Well, at least Junhui and Yeeun would share an eternal fate in the one place they truly belonged, and it wasn’t exactly a mystery where that place was either.

“Mingyu,” you reached for his shirt and gave it a small tug.

He peered down at you through the fanned arch of his lashes.

“Are you still in a lot of pain, baby? I wish I could take it all away from you. I’m sure the medical services will be here soon, I promi—“

“I love you.”

Mingyu stuttered over the humid air. “O-Oh – I, um, I – I love you too… But, I think you already knew that.”

A molten blush crawled up from the column of his neck and flushed throughout his face akin to a raspberry burn. Though it ached to giggle, you couldn’t evade in doing so, your eyes turned to crescent moons as more golden splashes of dawn light ebbed through the clouds. Somewhere in the distance, you no longer heard gunshots, incoherent slurs, riots and the skid of tires creating friction against pavement. You heard the whirr of emergency sirens and helicopter wings, medical services beginning to flood throughout the city like a creek. It was over. Mingyu was still tangible, warm, smiling whilst he pressed kisses against your forehead.

You don’t know how, but you survived the chaos, you survived Wonwoo and his ludic friend, Jihoon. You survived Yeeun and you survived Junhui.

You survived the Purge together.

✎ a/n: ugh. this is just one of those fics where you become v attached to the characters. i was able to write this quicker than expected (MINUS THE STUPID TWIST THAT STUMPED ME) bc i was truly invested in the plot, and i rly adored every moment of it. actually, this fic was supposed to be posted ages ago, i think last year? but last year was terrible in terms of my health and wellbeing, so i kinda forgot this fic existed as i went on my hiatus. anywho, in my opinion, the first purge film was the best.

i haven’t watched any of the newer purge movies tho, so they could be good! since im a horror/thriller fan, i liked the aspect of vulnerability the purge brought and how it forced ppl to invest in their capacity for violence, especially when the ppl they loved were involved. obviously - only for the fic lmao. bruh, during a real purge i am going to lock myself in the crawl space with a blanket and some cheerios. ALSO!!!! A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!! be proud of me!!!! this was an adventure!!! i hope you can enjoy the story as much as i!! hearing ur thots is appreciated as always!