#in fact every shade of black here is naturally occurring despite only one of them being called “natural” black

[worm-fanon-polls]

Now that Black won the hair color poll, it's time for something a little more contentious:

Tell me what you think and why you think it!

[ggtwrites]

Call of the Sea (v2)

selkie!Dawon a selkie is a magical creature said to be able to shapeshift between the forms of a seal and a human [includes angst] word count: 2920

a/n: This is a repost of a favorite fic of mine - I made some edits and I think it’s definitely better, and I’m glad I took the time to make some changes. Most of the changes are in the 2nd part, but there are some in the 1st part as well. I hope you enjoy this fic if you read it!

Today was going to be a day of relaxation. You had hauled all your beach gear down from your hotel room, carefully arranging it into the perfect set up. With your chair positioned under your umbrella and a soft sea breeze cooling the warm air, everything felt perfect.

However, just as you were opening your book, settled comfortably into your chair, a strong gust of wind blew down the beach, pulling your hat off your head and sending it sailing away. “Hey!” You yelled indignantly, scrambling up to chase after it.

You ran, praying desperately that it wouldn’t land in the water. Your hat angled towards the ocean, the wind intent on forever separating you from your beloved sun hat. You didn’t have the speed to catch it before it reached the water, your loss of hat seemed inevitable.

Fortunately, your hat did not meet a watery fate. With a deft arm movement it was in the hands of a stranger. His back was facing you, so all you could see was what looked to be a leather jacket, but it was gray, dappled with black spots. As he turned towards you, you were greeted by the sight of a handsome man with curly black hair. Your eyes met his and he smiled. His smile seemed warm, but there was a look in his eyes that promised mischief.

“Is this yours?” He asked as you jogged up next to him. You nodded, trying to catch your breath, and he placed it carefully on your head. “You’d better keep a hand on it, the winds around here can get pretty intense.”

You laughed, still a little out of breath, “Yeah, it would certainly seem so. You must come here often to know that.”

The stranger shrugged, a small smile on his face. “I do come around the area now and then.”

“Well,” you said, your hand on the brim of your hat to keep it from blowing away again, “thank you for saving my hat, I would’ve been sad to see it lost in the waves.”

“It was no problem, I was happy to help such a lovely person in distress.” While normally a comment like that might lead to an eye roll from you, there was something about the way he said it that made it seem like a joke, and you were beginning to realize that the twinkle in his eyes was very alluring.

“I’m Dawon,” he said as he stuck his hand out, “it’s nice to meet you, and save your hat of course.” As you shook his hand you told him your name. He repeated it, his lips curving up into another wonderful smile as he spoke it.

As your hand fell back down to your side you added, “It’s nice to meet you too, I haven’t seen many people around here, it’s nice to find someone to chat with.”

His smile widened, “You’re right, about there not being many people around. It’s a pleasant surprise for me to meet such a pleasant person here on the beach.” You looked down, not sure how to take his words, but he simply continued to talk. “So what brings you here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. If you don’t mind me asking of course.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind saying,” you said with a shrug, “I wanted to have some time to get away from my usual life and I decided that this was the place to do it. How about you?”

Dawon shrugged his shoulders, just like you had moments before. “I enjoy coming here every now and then, it’s easy to get to and a peaceful place to think.”

“Oh, I see!” You said with a nod. “It does seem like a good place for some peace, at least for me, the sounds of the beach, especially the waves, are very relaxing.”

Although you weren’t exactly sure why, this statement seemed to please Dawon, as his face lit up with a bright smile. “I’m glad you think so, it’s nice to find someone who feels like I do about the beach.”

“It sounds like you really enjoy the beach.” You commented.

With a laugh he said, “Yeah you could say that, but I like the ocean even more.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his statement. “What do you mean?”

“Without the ocean, I couldn’t enjoy the beach the way I do. It’s the crash of the waves, the smell of the salt in the air, the feel of the cool water on my feet that makes me enjoy the beach, and all of that comes from the ocean.” As Dawon explained he looked out towards the ocean, a far off look in his eyes.

But like flipping a switch his focus was back on you, a twinkle in his eyes. “Hey, want me to teach you to skip stones so well it looks like magic?”

Your eyes lit up with interest and you nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great! I’ve never had a chance to learn how to, and looking like magic sounds pretty cool.”

As it turned out, Dawon was a good teacher, and you picked up stone skipping quickly. Soon you were skipping stones eight or nine times before they sunk below the waves. He was even better though, with one particularly well shaped rock he was able to skip it fifteen times. There was something magical in the way he skipped the rocks, the way they skimmed perfectly over the waves.

After you’d both had your fill of rock skipping, the two of you took a break in the shade of your beach umbrella. As you settled onto your blanket, Dawon doing the same, you turned to him. “Aren’t you hot wearing a jacket like that in the summer?” You asked with a curious tilt of your head.

“No, this jacket is like a second skin to me, I’d feel odd without it.” He smirked as if something in what he had said was amusing. “But that doesn’t matter, let’s talk about how great a teacher I am when it comes to rock skipping.”

You laughed lightly, nodding your head in agreement. “Yeah, you are pretty great.”

“Pretty great?” He huffed, “that’s it?” Dawon looked at you with a pout, but you could see that joking sparkle in his eyes that you were quickly growing very fond of.

Tapping your chin you pretended to think. “Hmm, I suppose I could say you did excellent. Would that be good enough to satisfy Mr. High Maintenance?”

The look of mock indignation on his face made you double over with laughter. “I’ll have you know I am not high maintenance. Stop laughing, it’s true.” But you couldn’t stop laughing, even as he continued, “In fact, I might even say I’m low maintenance.” This statement was given a snort in response and the frown on his face only made you laugh more because of the smiling eyes that went with it.

With you laughing the way you were, he couldn’t keep up his act and soon he was laughing just as much as you were. His laugh, his smile, his eyes directed at you, your heart almost couldn’t take it. The wind blowing your hat to him had truly been a blessing.

Over the next few days you got to know Dawon better, but there was always a part of him that felt so distant. However, you grew to love the parts of him he let you see, especially his teasing and silliness. The two of you grew close, and it felt so natural that when he asked if he could hold your hand you agreed without hesitation.

There was something about him that just felt right, and you wished your time with him could last forever. As you walked down the beach, your hand in his, a question occurred to you. “Is Dawon really your name?”

“No.” He responded with sparkling eyes and a mischievous smile. “You like asking questions, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “Not always, but you’re a mystery to me, and I want to know more about you.”

The sincerity in your words seemed to shock your curly haired companion. He stopped and turned to you, a look you couldn’t describe in his eyes. “You’re quite the person, you know.”

“As it happens, I do know,” you said with a giggle.

“Good. It would be a shame if you didn’t know, you truly are something special.” He bumped his shoulder against yours as he smiled down at you. This smile had more warmth than any you’d seen before, and despite all his teasing it felt like he truly meant what he said this time.

Without even noticing the two of you had paused. As you gazed up at Dawon, you became lost in the depth of his eyes, the dark browns swirling around his pupils tugging at your heart. There was a warmth in his eyes, and beneath all the mischief you knew there was sincerity. But there was also something else in his eyes that you couldn’t put a name to.

“Hey,” he said quietly, letting go of your hands as he reached out to brush your windswept hair out of your face, “can I kiss you?” There was no longer any mischief in his eyes, and the warmth was being overtaken by an intensity that made it hard for you to breathe.

Caught up in his eyes all you could do was nod, your whole body filling with warmth as he leaned towards you, one hand gently lifting your chin as his lips met yours. He tasted like the sea in a way that was strange and yet enticing. As his soft lips brushed against yours your whole body felt alive.

You found yourself clutching the front of his shirt for support. It felt like you were being overwhelmed, Dawon’s presence was like a wave crashing all around you as he kissed you softly. And then, it was over. He pulled away from you, his hand dropping to his side and your hands let go of his shirt.

The two of you simply stood there, staring at each other with wide eyes, unable to say a word. He regained his composure first and with a laugh he said, “Wow,” which summed up your feelings as well. All you could do was nod, your mouth hanging open.

You felt his fingers on your chin as Dawon closed your mouth, a smirk now on his face. A shiver went down your spine as his fingers brushed against your chin as he pulled them away. Your eyes were still wide as you tried to manage coherent thought, but you weren’t able to.

“No questions for me now, huh?” He asked jokingly. “Maybe I should kiss you more often then.”

Spluttering indignantly you were finally able to speak again. “Hey!”

Dawon laughed as he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. You know I love your questions.”

You huffed and turned away, but when his hand reached out for yours, you let him take it. Turning around you were faced with a warm smile from him, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. You smiled back, giving his hand a squeeze and the two of you continued your walk down the beach.

Seven Years Later

Shaking off the sea water that still clung to his hair after the transformation, Sanghyuk made his way up the beach that had become etched into his mind. The years had passed so achingly slow, but finally he was back.

If he had known the way the tides of oceans and the magic in his veins would prevent him from stepping on these sands until now, would he have gotten close to the person he had met all those years ago? Yes, without a second thought. Over the years he had treasured his memories with them like precious pearls.

He knew it was a long shot to even try and find them again, but there was a small part of him that held onto hope. Even though Sanghyuk never had the courage to tell them, he had truly loved them. He had loved their beautiful eyes, their curiosity, the softness of their features when they were surprised, and more than anything, the way they made him feel at home.

The idea of feeling at home out of the ocean had both excited and scared him, but he had embraced the feeling, enjoying every moment with the person that had captured his heart. However, Sanghyuk was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of laughter further down the beach.

Turning his head towards the sound his heart lurched as another person laughed, and this laughter sounded like a distant dream. As he spotted the source of the laughter his heart stopped, and he felt like he was being stabbed in the heart.

Although the two people coming down the beach were too far to see clearly, his aching heart led him to believe that one of them was the person he had longed to see for so long. They were holding hands. His breath shortened as he began to notice more details the closer they came. The look in their eyes, the closeness, everything about the pair walking down the beach he noticed came with a stabbing pain in his heart.

Caught up in the hurt he barely managed to hide behind an outcropping of rocks as they got closer, too close, close enough they might have seen him. He knew it would be completely unfair to expect that person to wait for him, and it still wasn’t clear what their exact relationship was, but none of that could stop the pain and loss crashing down on, all reason like sand trying to stop a tidal wave.

He glanced towards the water, the pull to throw himself into the ocean and lose himself in the waves calling to him, but the aching to know and the fact that they might see him caused to stay still, immobilized by all the thoughts and emotions racing through him.

As he waited for the pair to pass he heard a voice he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear again. “Did you see that? I could have sworn I saw a person right here.”

They were right on the other side of the rocks. So close. And yet, it was like they were on the other side of the ocean from him.

The person they were with responded and Sanghyuk could hear the affection in their voice, even as they answered such a simple question. “No, I didn’t see anything. Are you sure it wasn’t the light off the water playing tricks on your eyes?”

“I thought… For a moment… Are you sure?” There was something both hopeful yet sad in their voice, many complex emotions just in the voice, he thought he might cry if he saw their face at this moment.

“Still looking for your mystery man, even when I’m standing right here?” While their voice was playful, there was an edge to it that made Sanghyuk tense up.

There was a sigh, a lovely sigh, and then, “You know I’m over Dawon,” his heart stopped, his breath stopped, everything stopped as he heard the name he had given to her all those years ago, “I can’t help but look for him, for closure. I never found out what happened to him, but you know my heart belongs to you. I may have had feelings for him at one point, but it’s been seven years, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

There it was, what he had been dreading since they had started talking in front of his hiding spot, one he was regretting the more he heard, but it was even worse than he had thought. While he had always wished for their happiness, a part of him had held onto the hope that their happiness might be with him, no matter how unrealistic that might be.

They sounded happy, they had someone, and it wasn’t him. His heart shattered to dust as the couple continued walking down the beach, their conversation becoming faint. Crumpling to the group there was nothing left in him but tears, he was empty, a void in humanoid form.

Coming back had been a mistake, his desire to know a curse destroying him from the inside out. Would he have been better off not knowing they were happy but with someone? Did the reassurance outweigh his grief? Maybe it would in time, but in that moment all he felt was despair.

Finally able to stand he made his way back towards the ocean. He waded in until the water was up to his knees, standing in front of a drop off. Closing his eyes he sighed and let his body fall into the ocean, the embrace of the cold salt water welcoming him into its depth. As his body sank beneath the wave his skin began to ripple and he was surrounded by bubbles.

Soon in the place of the man with curly hair was a seal, its gray body dappled with black. Although he was in the ocean where he felt most at home, a part of him was forever lost to the beach, to that person he had longed for all those years. In the pieces of his heart, still shattered beyond repair, he knew he could never leave the sea again.

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

On closer inspection, the house in the middle of the field was quite pretty. Simple, white, well kept. A secondary building with metal walls sat adjacent to the house – a garage, perhaps. Waiting on the porch was the man from earlier. Baekhyun. Now you remembered his name. He was joined by a few others – Chanyeol, Sehun, and one you didn’t know – who stared at you in curious wonder. Their eyes were wide and investigative, as if you were the supernatural creature and not Minseok.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Baekhyun said with a snicker.

“Or pup, in this case,” said the one you didn’t know. Black hair that fell over his forehead and an upturn sat in both corners of his lips, though he wasn’t smiling.

Minseok merely shook his head as he pushed past them into the house. The screen door shut with a loud slam. You flinched at the noise. Chanyeol sighed as he glanced at you. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” you nodded. He motioned for you to follow him inside.

Through a short front parlor and a cozy living room, he led you into the kitchen where you stood awkwardly. The only noise came from the water flowing from the refrigerator spicket. The ice clinked as it moved around the glass. Your eyes wandered across the large, open space. Sunlight poured in from the windows in the two outer walls. It gave the whole room a yellow hue despite the white and light gray coloring of the cabinets and backsplash. Whoever had last designed this room had done so in a way to make it feel bigger and open, welcoming even. You wondered if there must have been a woman living here to give the finer touches. Minseok hadn’t mentioned anyone beyond his male roommates. The thought of a woman living amongst them made you slightly jealous, but you shoved it aside when Chanyeol held out the glass for you.

“Thank you,” you murmured before taking a sip.

He nodded shyly. His foot tapped lightly against the hard wood floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked everywhere except for at you. Feeling eyes on you anyway, you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see several crops of hair disappear from the hallway entrance.

You scoffed. “You guys act like you’ve never seen a female before.”

“Not one like you.”

Minseok stepped into the room wearing a t-shirt with frayed edges where the sleeves had been cut off and a pair of basketball shorts. As angry as you were with him, the distrust still very much apparent, you were fighting the urge to run to him. What was this stupid, conflicting feeling? Making eye contact with Minseok, Chanyeol ducked his head and hurriedly left the kitchen.

“So,” you crossed your arms after putting down the glass and leaned against the counter, “is this the part where you explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“I will, but not here.”

“No, you don’t get to do that!” you snapped. “You didn’t want to tell me in the forest, so we came back here and now you don’t want to tell me here?”

Minseok shrunk back. “I just meant down here. Can we go upstairs? Away from where the others can hear?”

That suggestion could be accepted. Actually, you felt a little bad for exploding, but could you really be blamed? Given the information dump you were steadily receiving today? “Oh. Okay. Lead the way.”

Minseok’s hand twitched at his side, but he kept it in check as he turned and headed back up the stairs. The top spilled out into a hallway lined with doors. This space wasn’t as bright as the kitchen. Different shades of dark brown covered the wooden floor and plaster walls. No windows gave view to the outside making you feel trapped. “This one’s mine,” Minseok said. He held on to a handle of one of the middle doors and waited for you to come closer before pushing it open. When you saw what lied beyond the door, you nearly smiled.

On the walls were posters of famous soccer players and indie movies you’d never heard of. The bed was made with military precision, not a creased comforter or half-strewn pillow in sight. Against the far wall under a singular window was a desk. The notebooks were stacked in the top right corner, the edges so straight a ruler wouldn’t be able to find fault. Pens and pencils occupied a small cup to keep the rest of the desk clear.

“Not what you expected?” Minseok asked as he closed the door.

“Yes and no.” You stole a glance at him over your shoulder. “It’s very… neat.”

Minseok smiled shyly. He shuffled over to the bed and sat down. If he expected you to take the spot next to him, he was wrong. Instead, you chose the chair. A precaution for yourself.

Neither of you knew where to start. Who was supposed to talk first? What part should even be considered the beginning? Unable to continue in this awkward silence, you jumped in feet first.

“You can really… turn into a wolf?” The words felt like glue in your throat. Creatures like that belonged in fairytales and fantasy films, not a college campus.

“Yeah,” Minseok said. “We all can. All nine of us.”

“All nine.” Oh, great. A whole pack of them. “Even the one’s I met?” Stupid question. He’d already answered that, technically. But Minseok simply nodded instead of calling out the redundancy. “So, were you all bitten or-” You felt ridiculous basing the current situation on myth and legend, but what else did you have to go on?

“We’re all born this way. You can’t be like us from a bite or a scratch. It has to be in your DNA.” He snuck a peek before beating you to the next question. “The moon doesn’t really influence us either. I mean, its easier to see by at night in the forest, but it doesn’t force us to change. We can do that whenever we want. Witches have more of a connection with the giant rock in the sky.”

“Witches! They’re real, too? What else is real? Vampires? Dragons? Goblins?” What kind of world had you stumbled into?

Minseok flinched. “Maybe we should stick to one subject at a time.”

“Right.” That was probably best for your sanity. “So, if you have to be born like,” you gestured to him, “… this, does that mean both of your parents were, too?”

“Just my dad,” Minseok said. “Females wolves are extremely rare.”

“Well, that’s sexist.”

“Hey, we didn’t make up the rules. It’s genetics.” He scratched the back of his neck, twitching his lips from side to side. “I guess I should say that silver doesn’t bother us either.”

Why did you feel relieved at that random fact? It didn’t matter, as that wasn’t the most pressing issue to you. “Earlier you mentioned that it wasn’t you killing the campers-”

“It wasn’t any of us!”

“I believe you.” The words tumbled off your lips. And you realized that it was true. You couldn’t twist the nervous, sweet guy in front of you into a mindless killer. The way he was explaining everything slowly, cautiously, giving you time to understand. He wasn’t hiding anything from you. Not anymore. “I’m just confused when you said it was an omega?”

“Its just a ranking system within a pack,” he explained. “Alpha, beta, MR, omega. Junmyeon’s the alpha of our pack, he’s in charge. Yixing and I are betas, second in command. We help enforce Junmyeon’s word and keep an eye on the younger wolves who like to cause mischief.” He chuckled, as if remembering times when said mischief occurred. “The rest are all MR – Mid-ranking. They all have their own duties should they be needed. Well, except for Jongin and Sehun. They’re the youngest wolves so they get special treatment most of the time. Its okay, though. They kind of make you want to take care of them, the way they are.”

You nodded filing all the information away for later recall. “And the omega?”

“A wolf without a pack. Nine times out of ten they were kicked out for defying the alpha, for putting their own interests ahead of the pack. Without that structure, a lot of them turn feral.”

“Nine times out of ten?”

“It’s extremely rare, but sometimes a wolf will choose to never join a pack in the first place. It’s nearly unheard of though. We’re too social of creatures. Nine-point-five out of ten would probably be a better number.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out. Of course he would bring up math in a time like this. Minseok laughed along with you. Eventually, though, it died out, along with the smile that had been growing on his lips. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

Picking up on his mood, you tilted your head to the side. “I don’t think anything else could take me by surprise at this point.” Minseok stared at you pointedly. Your stomach began to sink. What other little secret could he possibly be harboring at this point? You didn’t think anything could be as shocking as his shapeshifting abilities.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘wolves mate for life’?” he asked cryptically.

“Yeah?”

“Well-” he shifted, crinkling the perfect comforter in the process. “We don’t know why it happens. Junmyeon thinks its nature’s way of compensating our ‘otherness’ while Jongdae just thinks it’s another level of torture.” An uncomfortable laugh. “But, um, every wolf has their own mate. Just one, that they stick with for the rest of their lives.”

Unable to keep looking at him, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “So, are you saying that you all get to pick whoever you want as your mate and that’s it? You claim them because of what you are?”

“No!” Minseok jumped to his feet. Swallowing visibly, he cleared his throat, but remained standing. “No, we don’t get to pick. It happens out of nowhere. Our mates are chosen for us before either is born. And we can meet them under any circumstances. Some favorable, some… not so much.”

You looked up at him “What are you trying to say, Minseok?”

He walked up to you, each step hesitant, each step full of fear. Crouching down, he sighed as he looked into your eyes. “What I’m trying to say, (y/n), is that… you’re my mate.”

At first, you only blinked. The words had to be soaked in one at a time before you could piece them together and understand the sentence as a whole. “I- what? How do you even know?”

Reaching out, Minseok took ahold of your hand. You didn’t fight it. The electricity was practically singing between your skins. “Really, all it takes is one look. A few seconds of eye contact and the pull takes hold. But this feeling we both get when we touch, its confirmation. And then there’s this.”

He pulled your hand closer, pressing your palm against his chest. The heat transferring through the thin fabric was enough to make you sweat, but that wasn’t the point of this exercise. It was the rate of which his heart was beating. As he stared at you with awe, his heart sprinted as if it were in second place of a race and needed to pass just one more runner to win.

“Every time I see you, this happens,” Minseok whispered. “It doesn’t matter how good my day has been, its always better when I’m with you.”

“We haven’t even known each other that long.”

“It doesn’t take long, apparently.”

You frowned, confused. “Apparently?”

A small smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “I’m the first one in the pack to find my mate. The first one to experience this.”

The first…. You wanted to laugh at the romantic angle your brain was seeing this.

A knock came from the door. Minseok stood up, reluctantly dropping your hand before answering the intrusion. “Yeah?”

Several roommates were standing in the hall, all peering around Minseok to get a better look at you.

“Kyungsoo said it was time for dinner,” one of them said. “And that he could hear your mate’s empty stomach from downstairs.”

“And it took all of you to come tell us?” Minseok questioned as he folded his arms. He shifted to block more of the doorway, shielding you from their stares.

“It was an important job,” another one said.

Minseok looked back at you before sighing. “Tell Kyungsoo that I’ll be down in a second.”

“But-”

The door was shut before the argument could be finished. The rush of footsteps faded in the background until it was only the two of you once again.

“Are you hungry?” Minseok asked. You nodded sheepishly. “You don’t have to go downstairs. You can stay here and I’ll bring it up to. Kyungsoo’s a good cook so whatever he made will be delicious.”

“Actually, I’ll go down with you,” you said, to the surprise of both of you. Everything Minseok had told you was still sinking in. There was too much to process and completely comprehend, but the pieces were fitting together. And you were curious about life here. If you really were meant to be his mate, maybe you should know where that road led. It was the right at the fork. You’d uncovered a sign that gave you a clue to where it was headed. You wanted to follow it.

Minseok waited patiently as you stood up and walked towards him. He let you out the door first. There was a moment where your fingers brushed as you passed. You could feel the muscles in his hand tighten. He wanted to take your hand again – and you almost let him. But you held back. There was still something stopping you. Or, rather, a who.

The noise hit you halfway down the stairs. Being told that nine people lived together and truly witnessing it were two very different concepts. There was no order that you could see. Most of the boys sat around the table, conducting multiple conversations at once that overlapped that you had to wonder how they could understand each other. A few sat in a small booth off to the side in a world of their own. It was the kind of breakfast nook you’d only seen before in home magazines. Two boys stood at the counters, their backs to the chaos behind them.

One of them – sporting a very well put together look and black rimmed glasses – turned and smiled at you and Minseok. “There you are. Glad to see you came down.” He held his hand out to you. “I’m Junmyeon.”

“The alpha,” you said as you shook his hand.

“I see Minseok told you most of it,” Junmeyon said.

“Pretty much everything,” Minseok corrected.

You felt your face contort as you tried to pinpoint where you’d seen this man before. “Wait. Aren’t you a professor?”

Junmyeon laughed. “Yeah, I am. In the literature department. Folklore, to be exactly. But I’d prefer if we kept this between us.” He sent you a wink to show he was teasing. Behind you, Misneok growled, making you jump. “I’m just playing, Minseok.”

“And I’m sure he’ll be playing when he rips your head off,” the other stove-top occupant stated. He held out a plate for you piled high with food. There was no way you would be able to eat all of that. “I’m Kyungsoo, by the way.”

“(y/n),” you greeted back. “It’s nice to meet you.” Taking the plate, you tried to hand it off to Minseok.

“No, that’s yours.”

Not wanting to be rude, you said between gritted teeth, “I can’t eat all of this.”

Minseok pinched his face as if debating on something. “Fine. We’ll share.”

“Are you sure about that?” Junmyeon asked. “There won’t be any left over for seconds. You know that.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Shaking his head, Kyungsoo held on to one side of the plate and added another scoop of rice and meat each. “Just in case.”

After thanking him, Minseok guided you over to the table with a hand hovering over your lower back. Even without the contact, you could feel the heat coming from his palm. Or maybe it was just your imagination filling in. Minseok pulled out a chair for you on the empty end before sitting next you. It was obvious he’d purposefully placed you away from the others.

“Possessive much?” Baekhyun snorted as he dug into a plate of his own.

“I’m sure it’s just instinct.” The comment came from one of the more slender boys – Boys? Wolves? You weren’t sure how to address them properly. Maybe later. Your brain needed a break. The one who had spoken had a very pointed face, but in a way that was still handsome. You weren’t sure if you’d seen him before or not.

“That’s Yixing,” Minseok said. “And the last one to meet, I guess, is Jongdae.”

Jongdae turned out to be the curled-lip one who still wasn’t smiling. In fact, he was the only one not in some level of a cheerful mood as he sat in the breakfast booth. He barely looked at you while everyone else was. Some were even blatantly staring at you as they shoveled in food to their mouths.

“You should eat.” Minseok picked up a fork and stabbed a slice of marinade-covered meat, holding it out for you to eat like a child.

“I can do that myself, thanks.” You took the fork and chewed slowly on the meat. It was good. More than good, really, so you took another bite and another. Soon, you were full, though there was more than half a plate left. You scooted the plate over to Minseok. “Okay, your turn.”

“You’re done? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m stuffed.”

Minseok didn’t reach for the other fork he’d grabbed, as if giving you a chance to change your mind. When you made no such move, he dug in. You smiled at the way he ate, enjoying every bite with satisfaction. At the sight of every plate being empty, Baekhyun stood up. “I’m going to watch a movie,” he announced.

“Oh, that sounds like a good idea!” Jongin said.

Yixing asked, “Which one?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever’s new. (Y/n), want to join us?”

Minseok cut in. “I don’t know if that-”

“I’d love to!” You turned to Minseok and gave him a cheeky smile. It felt a bit defiant. Perhaps he wanted to explain more to you or spend time with you alone in general, but you wanted to know how this group operated together. You wanted insight to their normalcy. Getting to your feet, you picked up the plate, but Junmyeon reached over and took it from you.

“Don’t worry about this. We’ll clean up.”

“But-”

The alpha wouldn’t have it. “You’re the guest. Shoo.”

More than happy with that argument (dishes weren’t your thing by a long shot), you followed the cluster of excited men to the living room. They crashed on nearly every surface – the couch, the chairs, the floor, anywhere they could fit. Minseok approached Jongin and Sehun who had taken a corner of the long couch.

“Move,” he ordered.

“But we were here first!” Sehun whined. Jongin look over to you and then got up without a word, sitting down on the floor with his back against the coffee table.

“Sehun….”

“You’re really going to kick the youngest off the comfortable seat?”

You tried to break up the awkward exchange. Well, it was awkward for you since you were the reason for the discussion. “It’s fine, really. I can sit on the floor.”

“You’re not sitting on the floor,” Minseok told you. To Sehun, he said, “I’m the eldest and she’s a guest. Please move.”

For a second nothing happened. Then Sehun huffed. “Fine.” He got up and joined Jongin on the floor. He lied down on his stomach and pulled out his phone, over it already. You felt bad but saw no point in arguing. Minseok let you sit first and then, once again, sat between you and Chanyeol, who happily occupied the other side of the couch.

Baekhyun flipped through a streaming service until he landed on a superhero movie. Everyone cheered at the choice, then quieted down as he pressed play. Someone turned out the lights so only the glow of the television remained.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder and leg to leg, you were hyper aware of Minseok. Arms crossed over your stomach and fists clenched, you told yourself repeatedly not to reach for his hand or lean on his shoulder no matter how heavy your eyelids were getting. Erik may have hit pause on your relationship, but there wasn’t much of a discussion of lines. You didn’t know the rules of that scenario and what was and wasn’t allowed. But as your tiredness grew, your willpower weakened. After a few bobs, your head landed softly on Minseok’s shoulder. It was too comfortable to move. It felt too nice, too right. Like his shoulder was the one you were always supposed to lean on. And that was when Minseok made a move of his own.

Holding your head up, he adjusted his arm so it was now draped over your shoulders. Your head rested against his chest when he laid you back down. Something vibrated against your cheek. Was that… purring? No, it had to be the booming from the movie. Right?

It didn’t take long for you drift into sleep. The movie was one you’d seen before so you couldn’t use that as an excuse to stay awake. You weren’t sure how long it had been. A slight bopping motion roused you. In the shallowness of your conscious you made out that you were being carried. Carried up stairs… and into a bedroom. While still holding you, that person managed to pull back the covers and tuck you into bed. As the arm slipped away you grabbed hold of the wrist. Through the slightest slits in your eyes you could make out Minseok’s silhouette.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take the couch downstairs.”

“No. Stay.”

He froze at your request. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

Even in the darkness, you could see him smiling. “Okay.” Shutting the door, he peeled back the covers once more and slid in beside you. Happy wasn’t even close to how you felt when he pulled you in close to his chest. You drifted back to sleep with a smile on your face.

[cherrysung]

pairing: soulmate!jaemin x reader

genre: guardian angel au / fluff / slight angst

warnings: language, sad themes, character death (car crash), suggestive (not explicit, I suck at smut), my shitty writing (I’m so sorry)

summary: the glimmering boy from the accident would often visit you in the depths of your dreams with eager eyes, your imagination the only place where he could allow you to see him. that is, until you finally became an adult.

word count: 10.2k

note: this is my first time writing a long fic, it might seem rushed or confusing but I’m sure I’ll improve with time, so feedback will be greatly appreciated. anyways, I truly hope you enjoy the story from the bottom of my heart! also, thank you @glossyjaems for hyping me up on this!

cherrysung’s navigation

The rain poured violently, hitting the car windows in near agression as you mindlessly watched the drops race down, ‘till they eventually disappeared from your view. The roads were hugely engulfed in a sea of haze, and it was complicated to decipher the direction in which the car was heading towards, amidst all the fog surrounding. You remember a gentle song playing quietly from the radio, and if it weren’t for the furious banging of the weather, you’d be fast asleep. Asleep, in the warm arms of your mother, who held you so dearly. No one expected what was to come. The anxious stirring from your father, the deafening crash, the cries of the woman who now held you tightly with fear, or the pitch black darkness that consumed everybody in an instant.

Four years, you were only four years when you lost your entire family; and you were supposed to leave with them. Softly, the song kept playing, when you caught a gleaming silhouette in the distance. Just like that, consciousness slipped away from you.

Years went by quickly, time left but memories stayed. The helpless screams of your father and your mother’s tears that fell onto your chubby cheeks; you remember them vividly. You thought memories were supposed to be cherished, but yours only managed to haunt you every progressing day of your life. A life that was meant to be taken away from you, a life that was meant to be spent with your loved ones. You lost one option for the price of the other and you weren’t sure what was worse, there was no way an answer from something as intricate as existence could be obtained. All you knew was the shimmering light before blackness tugged at your vision. Tall, lean and majestic; you wished it would’ve been one of the few memories that did stay, but it seemed like it was fading away more and more as the clock ticked by.

Attached to several tubes and beeping machines, you had woken up disoriented that day, completely unaware of your surroundings. So confused, you couldn’t even process or fathom what just had happened; the death of your parents, or the cuts and bruises that stung your delicate, baby skin. A nurse was walking by the room you were in when she noticed the small of your figure sitting up on the hard hospital bed, immediately bursting through the door with shock plastered on her young face.

You were not expected to survive a coma. You were not even meant to survive a deadly car crash. No one was really expecting you to wake up. In the midst of all the chaos that had eventually formed by the surprised nurses and hospital staff, you could only stare through the small-framed window, at the bright spark that shined outside in the empty streets. Only for your eyes to see.

Growing up with your grandparents had its perks. They were very pure beings; always trying the best they could to keep a content smile on your bruised face, always trying to show you the love their own children couldn’t. Their mythical, fantasy tales were your favorite; the ones where everything and everyone was magical, where anything could happen because suddenly animals and plants could talk, and the Earth wasn’t as soulless. Your lovely storytellers successfully distracted you from the harsh truth, that an innocent child like you had to learn at a very young age their family; the woman who birthed you and the man who held you in his arms for the first time, were gone. Just like they had left, the time came where their own parents had to step off the journey of life, too. This time, you were fully alone to face the frightening reality and malicious threats of those who weren’t happy. Fifthteen years old, you were now totally by yourself.

Or so, you thought.

Forming part of your grandparents’ usual anecdotes and short stories, was the tale consisting of soulmates. Soulmate, someone destined to be by your side forever. You knew they loved talking about myths and legends, so believing that something as harsh as life already had prepared an individual to cherish you, seemed impossible. More so, when it took your parents from you in the worst way possible. Naturally, you brushed the thought aside despite your grandmother’s last words, asking you to wait for the letter, one that was soon to come. You didn’t know what she was talking about, and quite frankly, you were too distressed to care; helplessly watching the world take yet again, someone from you.

Every night after the accident that almost took your life, images began forming in your head. What were images turned into short dreams, and soon, they were a common occasion every time you slipped off into slumber. After giving a final goodbye to your grandparents, those visions only seemed to increase. There, you would always meet him. The boy with excited eyes, somehow he always appeared remarkably delighted to see you, although you couldn’t understand why. Who was he? Why was he in your nightly thoughts all the time? You didn’t know, but you didn’t mind either. He was divine, always formally dressed in a white suit; black, lustrous shoes and hair combed back so carefully accompanied by a slight part enough to show some of his forehead. A person so tremendously handsome, you usually wondered how your young mind was even able to create such a heavenly man.

You never failed to meet him in your dreams. Enveloped by all the loneliness you had been left with, you looked forward to see him until the sun decided to rise from within the towering mountains and over the vast horizon; the sultry warmth of a new day bringing you out of the place where only the two of you knew. Life was mostly dull unless you were having your fair share of time with the celestial boy in the depths of your imagination.

Age seventeen came through, gifting you with the fading of majority of the scars that had been left on your skin as a daily reminder of what happened years ago. One of them, though, chose to accompany you forever. It was fine, you assured yourself, no matter how dark it sounded, it was the closest thing to your parents that you had. Rather than despising it, you’d enjoy it.

The town you lived in wasn’t all that special. It was small and far from the bigger cities, home to a low population of friendly people. Everyone knew each other; and everybody knew what happened the winter of 2006, when your parents died. The year your whole world came crashing down; like the angry ocean waves would hit at the random, jagged rocks that stuck from beneath the water. In spite of the tragedy you had to endure, nobody treated you with shameless pity, and instead taught you that yes; life can be threatening, but it can also be marvellous. You realized that living is unexpected; one day you’re breathing, the next one you could be gone. It’s difficult to accept the fact that everybody’s fate is exceptionally different. Sometimes they might leave with pride, sometimes they might leave with fear. Of course you didn’t know what the world had in store for your future, but you certainly didn’t want to keep drowning in your sea of miserable grief.

Sighing, you put an end to your train of thoughts as you plopped down on your bed’s soft mattress. Your grandparents’ wooden house was the same as it was the day they left; cosy, warm and vintage. You would often dream here about what the actual cities looked like, your last time catching the bright, colorful lights being the same day of the accident. Grandma didn’t want to tell you much as she usually avoided describing the occurence in detail, but she did admit you were on your way to visit her and the rest when the early winter storm caught up with the unplanned trip. Maybe, if your father would’ve chosen to spend one last day at your old house, they would be here today.

The endless questions and memories that consumed you everyday were enough to lull you off into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, everything around you looked magical and extraordinary in the sea of green, healthy grass that kissed at your bare feet oh so tenderly. Several flowers that accompanied the slightly flowing ocean of emerald were colorful; blues, pinks, yellows, purples. Every single shade thinkable was present. A sky so heavenly azure, and a small amount of white, fluffy cotton clouds decorating it beautifully. You discovered, you were no longer in reality. You were in your dreams. Far off in the distance, your eyes spotted the same white suit you had grown accustomed to seeing, and your feet immediately headed in the direction of the clean attire. There he was, the same boy who was nothing but absolutely ethereal, sitting on the soft field of tulips and roses under a large oak tree. He didn’t have to search to know you were there; he felt your presence from miles away, even when you were not meeting him in your lovely thoughts. After all, he had always been there with you. You just weren’t aware of it.

Despite the tall grass that occasionally tangled with your feet, you reached him easily, quietly taking a seat next to him on the velvety ground. “Hello.” He simply greeted, still looking off into the horizon as he slowly grazed his hands through the flowers surrounding him. Features so enchanting, his face looked like it had been sculpted and carved by the gods themselves. A defined nose and jawline, narrow eyes that only conveyed pure compassion, with a final touch of the smoothest skin you had ever seen before. He was literally glowing with beauty.

“Hi,” you replied shortly with a small smile, “we meet again.” He turned to glance at you, his eyes surveying lightly over your own features. He thought you were breathtaking.

He slightly nodded his head, the setting sun offering a nice dew to his warm skin. “We do.” A pause took over, and you wondered why he was so quiet today; usually, you were used to him being more talkative, even flirty. Before you could say anything else, he spoke up with a graceful smile. “You’re turning eighteen soon, right?” You could only nod, a huge knot forming in your chest at the thought of spending yet another birthday without the company of your family, you wished they would’ve been able to watch you turn into an adult. “Don’t be sad, just because they’re not with you physically, doesn’t mean they’re also not with you emotionally. If you think about it, they have never left.”

It had become a common feeling to be taken aback by his sudden rightful guessings of your thoughts. You never understood how he was able to tell what you were currently thinking, and honestly, it didn’t seem like you’d ever know, for his answers had always been along the lines of having a strong intuition.

By now, the bright sun had almost completely set behind the horizon, engulfing the vast grasslands with warm hues of oranges, yellows and reds; while the quick approaching night brought with itself a sea of blues, purples and pinks. The colors mixing together created a stunning evening sky, a view so captivating you could misinterpret it for a famous Italian painting. “I guess you’re right,” you agreed with his previous statement, “but I just wish I was able to spend a day meant to be so special with my family. In the flesh, I mean. I’m tired of spending my birthday by myself. Turning eighteen was supposed to feel exciting, but I can’t seem to find eagerness anywhere within my emotions when I know I’ll be on my own again.” Exhaling with slight disappointment, you softly pulled at a honeysuckle beside you and allowed yourself to savor the sweet taste of the nectar that it gingerly left on your tongue. You wondered if there was anything else more sugary than the tasty honey of the tiny flower.

“I understand.” He replied with a slight nod as he watched you grab another honeysuckle. Then, he did something he had never done before, and his hand grasped yours delicately. You were certain this was only a dream, still, you could feel him. You could feel his skin and the warmth that radiated from his hand, along with the creases on his much bigger palm. Somehow, the skin there wasn’t soft like you imagined, in fact, it was sort of rough; either way, they still managed to feel silky as they held your own. “But hey,” his eyes twinkled with happiness as he beamed, “I promise you, you won’t be spending your eighteenth birthday alone this time. I promise, really.”

“I hope you’re right,” you let the boy intertwine his fingers with yours, “I’ve been meeting you in my dreams for the longest time. Things like this don’t happen, so I believe you might be telling the truth.”

His eyebrows furrowed adorably as he shook his head, “I always tell the truth, lying is wrong. Besides, I would never do that to you.”

“Indeed.” You grinned lightly, and only now had you remembered this had been the first time in a while where you had shown genuine merriment. Night had taken over, and now the dark sky was covered in multiple little stars that, although from your perspective they barely sparkled, you were sure they glowed the brightest if close enough. Sometimes, what shines the most is not always the first thing noticed. The boy holding your hand frequently questioned why you couldn’t see that on yourself; why you couldn’t see how dazzling you really were, like the twinkling balls of fire that called themselves stars. Sighing with joy, you kept staring up at the endless heavens, the lively moon being your only source of light. “Hey?” You spoke up again, earning yourself a hum from the handsome boy. He didn’t seem to age, he still looked the same as he did the first time you ever saw him in yours dreams. Now, you realized his features resembled the same as a regular teenager like you, except he was obviously striking. “I’ve been meeting you here for as long as I can remember, but I never got your name.”

He chuckled, thinking you sounded cute. His free hand gently pulled at a fully bloomed rose, its scarlet red shade so bright and vibrant in the scarce night light. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that yet, love.” He shook his head, releasing your hand and instead replacing his own with the beautiful rose. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough, you just have to wait a little bit more. Then, you will get an answer to all your questions. They say patience is key.” Standing up, he carefully pulled you up with him too, pressing a faint kiss to your forehead. “Lovely, it’s time for you to leave.”

“But I don’t want to.” You muttered, not quite looking forward to another lonely day.

The boy laughed lowly as he began walking in the opposite path from where you initially came from. “Dont worry, you see me here everyday, right? I’ll be waiting for you here on your next dream. And the next one, and the one after, and the one after. I will always be waiting. Just do me a favor, will you? Take that rose with you, consider it my early birthday gift. Keep it, and care for it. Also, remember my promises, I won’t ever break them.”

Just like that, he disappeared in the multitude of blooming flowers, as you felt yourself fade away from the world you wished was your reality.

You woke up from your deep slumber, a smile etched across your face as you thought of your little secret, who you always encountered in your dreams wearing the same white suit. Your conscious itself was still adapting to the daylight of a new day and the comforting heat radiating all the way from your window. Hair disheveled, and eyes puffy from sleep, you had not woken up yet completely. As your senses adjusted, strangely enough, you felt something smooth against your arm, only then noticing the red rose resting nicely next to you while its petals softly kissed at your skin. A gasp left your lips instantly, and you quickly scurried off the bed as fast as lighting to stare incredulously at the flower laying on it. You were a hundred percent sure that was not there before drifting off. Yet, as freaked out as you were, the boy’s words filled your mind, and you reluctantly picked up the gorgeous plant to place it in a vase of fresh water.

The brand new day carried on as always, unwanted and repetitive. Many outsiders who traveled from the bigger cities claimed your small town was breathtaking; here, they didn’t have to deal with the awful sounds or smells that the multiple factories over there emitted, they didn’t have to deal with the large streets full of traffic and impatient car horns from people who were desperate to get home. Here, your town was everything but the opposite. Streets were not paved, instead, they were nice dirt paths created by the town’s own people so cars could drive by easily. It was mostly rural; adorned with greenery, flowers, crops and the overall touch of unbothered Mother Nature. A huge pond occupied by different, colorful fish was located in the center of the town, also serving as a usual meeting spot for friends or couples who wanted to have a lovely day out. Lastly, the most special detail; a large river stream ran through, which had been decorated between the passing years with several tiny shops and homely bakeries that had slowly started forming alongside it. Generally, it reminded you of pictures from Venice, Italy that you’d see on the internet.

In spite of how gifting your little town was, it’s not like you could enjoy it when you had no one to explore it with. You had your fair shares of adventures around it when you were young, but as you inevitably grew older, so did the cravings for companionship, for a friend. A friend you didn’t have. Growing up without any parents somehow prevented children at school from befriending you, claiming it was weird to not have a mother or a father. You never blamed them, nor did you resent them; they were merely young kids, who were almost just as clueless as you.

Due to many unpleasant experiences, you began believing this town had nothing else in store for you other than remind you of the unforgettable truth, so you often refrained from going out when it was unneeded. Living alone had also slowly become bearable; either way, you had to learn how to because there was nobody else who would be able to guide you through life. There was no choice but to become independent at an early age.

After taking a warm shower and placing the unexpected rose in a vase, you decided to make yourself some chamomile tea. While waiting for the water to boil, your eyes spotted a rusty note that was messily folded, laying on the kitchen counter. It appeared almost crumpled, like it had been bunched up in a rush. You confusedly stared at it for a short moment, trying to remember whether there had been a note there last night when you cleaned the kitchen isle. A sudden whistle interrupted your puzzled thoughts just as you were about to open up the strange looking letter, bringing you out of your daze as the loud hiss reminded you the boiling, hot water was finally ready. Cursing under your breath, you quickly whipped around in a hurry to turn off the stove, forgetting about the wrinkled paper altogether.

The rest of your day went by unbothered, the night sky catching up quicker than you had presumed. Regardless, it didn’t faze you. Rather than upsetting you, it only caused a huge wave of excitement to travel along your body; you knew what the night meant. You let out a squeal that bounced off the walls as you observed through the window the dark sky that had engulfed the whole town, decorated by the bright moon that had replaced the yellow, warm sun. It was only seven at night when you read the time on the digital clock hung on the thorough, wooden walls. You hurried off to your room, where you quickly readied yourself for sleep.

Not long after, you found yourself barefooted in the same place as always, although this time autumn season had began. Unlike reality, time worked distinctly in your dreams. When it was nighttime in the real world, it was daytime in your thoughts. Yet, you couldn’t understand why the season suddenly changed, you weren’t quite sure this had happened before. Right in front of your eyes, the oak tree you were so used to see standing gracefully with flowing, vibrant leaves, was slowly becoming leafless while the few ones that did manage to stick to the branches jumped between different, several warm and golden tones. The grasslands that were once a blanket of only verdant green with the occasional colorful flowers that would stand out, was now an ocean of faded orange mixed with a faint tint of pinkish red. Underneath the oak tree sat him, but this time he was not dressed in the same white suit from always; he was wearing casual clothes, and his typical perfectly brushed hair was left down and fluffy, covering most of his forehead.

White denim jeans paired with a white denim jacket, and a loose light, grey t-shirt tucked carelessly inside his pants; he seemed to already know what you were wondering, and answered your question before you even got the chance to take a seat on the dried autumn grass. “Everything is different because something important is nearing. No,” he giggled when he noticed you lean forward with a new question ready to be asked, “I can’t tell you what the special occasion is. Chill, you’ll find out in no time.”

Whining, you slightly sulked with an annoyed look plastered on your face, “I’m tired of all these weird clues.”

“Don’t worry, the answers are closer than you think. Quit sulking, drama queen.” He grinned warmly. The scenery appeared ridiculous when compared to his radiant smile, it was a battle he’d win right away effortlessly. A sudden breeze passed by, offering a pleasant warmth that felt sensational as the air slowly became cooler every time the season developed more. Whenever you met up with him, you always had new things to interrogate him for, but just recently your inquiries had gotten much bigger as you found yourself in stranger situations leading towards him. You turned to glance at him, despite his side profile being the only sight you could get from your current view, you knew he still looked unreal as ever. “I noticed you kept the rose.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “how do you know?”

“Can’t answer that either.” He shrugged with a cheeky grin, exhaling with calmness as he rested on his elbows, basking in the warm, soft breezes that blew by every now and then. His chestnut brown hair moved fluidly along with the infrequent winds too, letting his forehead show up for a split second. You thought he seemed so peaceful like this. Truthfully, he always looked peaceful, but today his features were particularly serene as they emitted a feeling of tranquility, even you felt it. He hummed, opening his eyes for a short moment before closing them again, “you forgot to read the note. I’ll get rid of that one and send a new one when you wake up. Make sure to read it, no excuses.”

A small huff of disbelief escaped your lips, as they soon turned into a smile. “Are you sure you’re not a witch? You were the one who put the rose on the bed, right? Because how else would that magically be there? Please answer me before I go insane.” You massaged your temples gently to simmer down all the jumbled emotions that had fallen upon you. “I thought you were just part of my imagination, but I’m doubting that now. Oh my God, what are you? There’s literally no way I can bring a flower out of my dreams-”

“Just part of your imagination, what am I? An imaginary friend? Sorry,” he laughed, “I’m not that. Yeah, I was the one who placed the rose next to you; but no, I won’t answer how.” You could tell he was having fun watching you experience an existential crisis in the middle of your dreams, it entertained him more than he would like to admit. “Today you seem very curious, that’s no good. So, we will be parting ways sooner than we usually do.”

“Wait, no, what-”

With only the snap of his fingers, it was nighttime, like a light switch had been flicked and suddenly the brightness was turned off. Due to the fast approaching winter lurking just around the corner, it was freezing cold, the temperatures so low you stared at the unfazed boy like he was crazy. You immediately began shivering, and he calmly took the time to place his denim jacket over your trembling shoulders. Honestly, the piece of clothing didn’t really provide you with much cover, but the warmth of his body that had stuck to it was enough to decrease the clattering of your teeth and the goosebumps that had formed on your arm the moment the temperatures abruptly dropped. “You can take that with you. For now, we have to go. Goodbye lovely, we’ll see each other soon.”

Your body shot up on bed in shock, anxiously feeling around your shoulders where indeed, a jacket comfortably rested on. His jacket. You felt like crying from all the utter confusion, so many questions swirling in your head that you wanted to desperately ask. Breathing irregular, you stood up with a slight stumble as you made your way towards the bathroom with a failing vision until you were able to grip the small counter, your reflection showing back on the flimsy mirror. There was no tone to your skin, which was accompanied by a light dampness; your throat felt like it was stinging and your nose was extremely runny. Was this a cold? A sharp pain hit at your temples before a grunt left your lips, demanding you to get some rest. Using all the strength you could muster, you went back to bed, falling weakly on the soft mattress.

“You fucker, now I’m sick.” You gritted through you teeth with irritation. As if on cue to your words, another crumpled ball of paper flew onto your forehead, gently bouncing off and onto the bedsheets. You cursed again, rolling your eyes before opening up the letter. It looked old, the delicate paper was covered in several creases and ink stains that were smeared all over the page; inside, was the messiest handwriting you had ever seen before. Squinting, you tried your best to make out the tangled words that were scribbled down.

Before I even start; you got to stop cursing young woman. The Heavens are watching and won’t be happy at you. Now, off to the actual letter. You must still remember your grandmother telling you about it, this was the note she was talking to you about. How are you? I hope you’re dealing alright with that nasty cold, honest, I knew you’d catch one after that weather. It’s alright though, it won’t last longer than three days, enough for you to spend your awaiting birthday without any bothersome sicknesses. How does it feel to be turning eighteen years old in four days time? Maybe you didn’t believe me, or maybe you did, but I’m still keeping promise to my words, and I assure you; your eighteenth birthday won’t be spent alone, neither will be your other birthdays to come. You’ve come so far in life, you have battled so much and yet you’re still overflowing with strength. You definitely deserve answers to all the questions you’ve often wondered about.

Remember all those fairy tales you would hear all the time from your grandparents? The ones you loved so, so much? Many of them were really only that; tales and nothing more, just something to keep you entertained, except for one. No, soulmates are not a lie, or merely another created narration from your lovely storytellers, they’re a real thing. You’ll meet your soulmate soon, I promise. I could tell you who it is, but I’d rather wait and watch you find it out yourself. For the meanwhile, you can look at your wrist the day you turn eighteen, you’ll notice some words engraved on it. They’re meant to be your soulmate’s first words ever said to you; in person, so the flesh and bones. I feel like I gotta make that clear because you’re so dense. When you do finally meet them, the words will fade away. Overall, you’re going to get a gut feeling when you meet the right person, you won’t even need to check your wrist to know. Everybody is destined to meet their soulmate sooner or later, you would know about it more if you ever left the house, lazy. Since you don’t, you’re not really aware of how many people out there have already found their fated lover. Even your folks were destined soulmates. Everybody is.

You certainly are curious. No, don’t be scared, stop thinking I’m a witch, I’m not. Yes, I can read your thoughts and I can feel your emotions. Yeah, even though I wrote this way before you read it. I can already decipher them from days, hours, minutes and seconds before. What’s up, I hereby officially present myself to you as your Guardian Angel. Just as one gets assigned a soulmate, they can also get assigned a Guardian Angel, way before they’re even born; life is weird. Truth be told, your family already knew me. This is why your grandmother asked you to wait for the letter, otherwise she knew your stubborn self wouldn’t have budged. Someone like me can only do much, I don’t really form a part of what The Heavens decide; therefore, I wasn’t aware that you were involved in a car crash along with your parents. As your Guardian Angel, I can only save the one assigned to me, that being you. And, as far as decisions go, it had also already been determined by The Heavens they would be taking your parent’s lives early. I don’t know why, but they must have their own reasons. One thing I can assure you though, is that their last breath was peaceful. All they wanted was for you to be fine, and they knew you’d be.

No one from your family had a Guardian Angel for themselves because it’s actually a rare thing to get one assigned. You were part of the small percent who did attain one. I’m not just a creation from the depths of your dreams, but it was the only place through which I could communicate with you for the meantime. Our situation though... it’s a little complex, or different, but very special since it barely ever happens. Little to no chances, I mean. Again, I’ll leave that for you to figure out. Look out for my visit on the 28th, your birthday. Once you turn eighteen, I’m allowed to see you. Not in your dreams, or thoughts or imagination, just reality. See, right? I promised you. You won’t be spending your birthday alone anymore, and I never break my promises.

I also want you to know, your parents and grandparents; they’re fine, they’re resting well. I really am sorry that I was not able to do anything to save your parents, trust me, if I could have, I would’ve. Thank you, for always thinking so fondly of me and calling me your hero when you were young, even though you didn’t even know what I was. I’m glad you looked up to me. Don’t worry, and don’t cry, remember I can feel when you’re unhappy; I can already tell as I’m writing this letter that you are in tears. Don’t be, I know you frequently worry about your family, if they left happy or sad; or, if they left in peace or not. They’re totally happy in The Heavens, where nobody suffers. You don’t have to be concerned over them anymore, they’re in peace and their wish is for you to be too.

Yes, silly, Guardian Angels can age. Mine was just frozen at twenty until I meet you. I still have a lot of explaining to do but you have to figure out the important part first.

I hope this letter answered all your big questions, it seems like it did. I apologize again, that I couldn’t save your parents. But, do believe me, they’re all fine. Stop crying, it makes me sad too. I can’t wait to finally meet you, I’ve been already waiting more than eighteen years. Anyways, I’ll be ending this here, lovely. I know your grandma said it was only a note but this got longer than I had planned, oops. See you soon,

Na Jaemin, your Guardian Angel.

Your hands shook as the crippled letter fell from your trembling grip, tears running down your face uncontrollably. You wouldn’t say your cries were of anguish, but rather, peacefulness. Peace because now you finally knew your parents were fine, and peace within yourself after that discovery. It was a question you initially thought was impossible to get an answer for. For the longest time, you had felt guilty you were given a second chance while they were not; but, although you still firmly believed they were taken unfairly from you, at least you knew they were okay. Words were not enough to express how you currently felt. So, the world that you thought to be so ugly and malicious actually had things such as soulmates and Guardian Angels? You always doubted they existed, much less were you able to process you were gifted with the two. It never crossed your mind that the boy in your dreams, Na Jaemin, was the reason why you were even alive.

You always told yourself the world had so much to make up for after taking away your loved ones. Little did you know you had been meeting with the most important person in your life for the entirety of it. Suddenly, it was you who had to make up for so much. The question was, how would you do something greater than what Na Jaemin did for you? He was after all, your literal savior.

And you’d be meeting him soon.

November 28th finally arrived, your cold long gone as the time hit twelve o��clock at midnight. Anxiously, you looked down, and time felt like it had slowed. Although the seconds kept counting down just fine, you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your veins as you watched black, cursive words gradually show up on your wrist. ‘Hello, lovely.’ You exhaled with a shaky breath, gliding your finger over the words swiftly; they looked like they had been tattooed on your wrist for a long time now despite their recent appearance. Astonished, you cursed before glancing around your bedroom, unsure of what to do and completely ignoring the angel’s previous scolding for your bad habit of swearing. It all seemed unreal to you, but the constant burn of the pinching you inflicted upon yourself assured you it wasn’t. Your heart rate was beating at rapid speeds, and you began wondering if it would eventually thump out of your chest to escape from all the unstoppable adrenaline rushing chaotically through your entire body.

“Alright, calm down, fuck.” The angel could only watch you in amusement from afar, shaking his head at your raw language.

The midnight winds were tremendously cool as the winter temperatures continued to drop, the heater or the cosy clothing you currently wore were not enough to fully rid you of the icy atmosphere. You wished you’d meet the angel in your dreams, so you could be welcomed by a warm and sultry weather. Unfortunately, you had not gotten to see him after the day you read the long, messy letter he wrote. It was weird to not have the daily visions you had grown so accustomed to.

Somewhere during the very early hours of the morning, you managed to drift off into a deep sleep, unable to meet the angel once again. You woke up to a much more pleasant climate air, and you would’ve been happy about it if it weren’t for the many doubts you awoke with. It had been four days since you had last seen him. The usual scenery you always magically appeared in with the help of your brain didn’t develop in the deepness of your thoughts; you didn’t care about your birthday anymore, you cared for the boy from your dreams. You still had to learn to call him by his actual name, but it was harder than you expected when he had basically been nameless for most of your life. Na Jaemin, you had never heard that name around your town or anywhere else, it was just as unique as him.

“I heard you calling?”

You shrieked, tumbling off the bed and onto the hardwood floor as your chest heaved up and down in fear. Quickly, you stood up on your feet, where you locked wide eyes with the charming smile you always admired, a grin beaming with pearly whites showing through that could light up the whole world. There he stood gracefully, unlike you, wearing the same attire he had been sporting the last time you saw him; of course, minus the denim jacket you occasionally hugged to sleep. Instead of the same brown hair he always had, it was now a light shade of blonde, to the point where it nearly looked silver. Eyes still widened in alarm after his unexpected arrival, you carried on taking in his features and tall figure; lean and majestic, exactly as you had described him the first time. He was absolute breathtaking, and his beauty only seemed more glorious face to face; you were utterly speechless.

An almost quiet giggle went past his lips, a smile still adorning his features as he carefully approached you upon noticing your frozen state. There was a slight glow that outlined his physique, similar to the one you always caught sight of as a child, but not as strong. With gentle movements, his hand softly came up to cup your cheek, tenderly caressing at the skin before pulling you into a warm embrace. You gasped, his swift actions successfully bringing you out of your daze; and ultimately, with shaky hands, you wrapped your arms around his torso tightly as well. He hummed lowly in satisfaction at the feeling of your returned hug, already loving how it felt to finally be held by you.

Hugging him felt oddly nice to you, there was an emotion inside that you couldn’t quite describe, but you knew for sure it was a feeling you had never experienced before. You felt free and no longer alone, like you had known him your entire life; not just because of the dreams where the two of you conversed, it was a feeling more personal than that, like he had always been there with you. Not all your senses worked in your nightly thoughts, and only now were you able to bask in the sweet smell that engulfed him; he smelled like home. Like the tall, grassy grounds he was always sitting on under the same familiar oak tree as he waited for you. Like the roses and tulips that were fully bloomed in all their grandeur by summer time, and like the warm sunrays that never failed to make his skin naturally glow with dewiness. You had never smelled anything in your dreams, because it simply was impossible, but you didn’t have to; you knew right away he was the epitome of the place where you always met up, in all the five senses. The enthralling landscape, the soothing sounds of nature, the sweet taste of honeysuckles, the feeling of the flowing grasses, the earthy scent of threes and flowers; all put together into a human body.

Not only did he feel like home, but his embrace also provided a sensation of comfort and safety that nobody else could emulate. Your heart was beating rapidly, but this time it wasn’t out of shock, it was nervousness. You felt like you had made the biggest discovery ever, yet you were not sure what the find was. Still, everything somehow felt right amidst the thundering thump of your chest that rang loudly in your ears.

“Hello, lovely.” He whispered in your ear, feeling the smile on his face as his lips gently pressed against the side of your head.

Overcome with emotion, a tear ran down your cheek before slightly pulling away so you could properly look up at him. “Thank you, for saving me. Thank you so much... Jaemin. How will I ever repay you?”

“Silly,” he simply chuckled, “you don’t have to repay me with anything, meeting you is enough.”

You nodded as he ran his fingers through your hair, confessing, “I feel very comfortable around you, even though I just met you. Well, in person, I’m still confused.”

“It’s totally normal,” Jaemin replied as he pulled away from his tight embrace, softly patting your back, “technically, I’ve always been here, you just couldn’t see me. Reminds me; happy birthday, lovely.”

Heart fluttering at his words, you began feeling all giddy and fluffy inside despite not understanding the reason why. You could not fathom why he was having such a huge impact on you already. “I have a question.”

“Not surprised.”

“Do you, perhaps, have any wings or a halo?”

Jaemin giggles in amusement at your question, shaking his head. “I don’t, but I used to. We only have wings and halos when we’re in The Heavens, not on Earth. I’m meant to form part of Earth from now on, so I can’t really show you, except for the glow around my body. That, I choose whether I want you to see it or not.” You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “Yeah, I’m still a Guardian Angel, your Guardian Angel specifically.”

Your cheeks flushed a faint tint of pink, muttering as you looked down at your feet, “stop reading my thoughts.”

“What? Are you scared I’m going to hear something naughty or weird one day? Don���t worry, I’ve heard plenty of those. Also heard multiple times you think I’m god-worthy handsome. Thanks, by the way. Its okay, it’s normal for me now. Just keep your thoughts in check, where did you learn all those dirty things, young lady?”

“Jaemin!” You screeched in embarrassment, your cheeks only becoming redder than they previously were, his grip tightening around you lovingly.

The boy shook with laughter, a melodious sound to your ears that you wanted to keep hearing for the rest of your life, and if it weren’t for the awful embarrassment you were experiencing, you would’ve surely relished in the contagious cackles more. Being with Jaemin was natural, it didn’t feel awkward at all, you instantly knew you could trust him with anything; besides, meeting him in your dreams for the past fifteen years was enough time to warm up to him.

“Come on,” you grabbed his hand, letting go not long after when a jolt shot through your arm. “What the hell! What was that?”

“You better stop cursing around me,” Jaemin jokingly warned, narrowing his eyes at you, “you have to find that out for yourself. I never thought you’d be this clueless, to be honest.”

“And lastly, this is the basement; tour is finally done! This used to be my grandparent’s house from mom’s side, where I spent my whole childhood in. My dad’s parents lived a little farther away and their house wasn’t roomy enough to take me, but they still visited here constantly; it felt like they all lived together, honestly.” You explained to the tall boy. You had decided to show him around, still rocking your hideous pajamas, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Jaemin hummed as he listened to you, eyes skimming over the wide, empty room; of course, he already knew every single part of your house like the back of his hand. He had been watching you your entire life, chances are he even recognized it better than you. Though, as he gazed at you with loving eyes, you seemed too excited showing him around so much that he chose to remain quiet and carry on pretending he was unfamiliar with everything surrounding him.

Your grandparent’s house was extremely welcoming; as most houses in your town, this was also built solely out of pure wood. It wasn’t exactly a cabin, but rather a small suburban home. Everything inside consisted of mostly vintage items left behind by your folks, the only modern objects around being the ones they had bought for you. As for the backyard, it wasn’t really spacious, but it was well appreciated and cared for since majority of the homes in the town didn’t have one. Your grandmother was always making sure her garden looked appealing at all times; and in memory of her, you would regularly keep it neat in spite of your hatred for gross bugs and itchy plants.

“I used to always come down here when I wanted to play with old stuff, like landline phones or typewriter machines, I thought they were quite fun.” You smiled automatically at the fond memories. “Oh! I also remember accidentally catching Grandpa and Grandma kissing, it was disgusting.”

Jaemin laughed, recalling the time you found your grandparents being way too romantic for your young mind to comprehend, and your startled eyes before running off as soon as you had identified the scene in front.

You sat down on the dusty wooden floors that were in strong needs of some good polishing and sweeping as you called Jaemin over. Complying, he took a seat next to you, creating a feeling of familiarity just like you would usually sit together in your dreams; except this time, the two of you were in a basement desperately screaming for a deep clean. You were certain his white clothes would be totally dirty by the time you left the room. “I forgot to tell you, you were right about the whole soulmate words thing.”

“Did you think it was a lie?” He cocked an eyebrow, paired with a sly smirk.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You waved your hands in the air fearing he had gotten the wrong idea.

Giggling, he nodded and brought your hands down gently, “I know what you mean. Tell me about it.” He might’ve been a holy being, but he had never experienced love for endless decades. Now that he finally found you, he couldn’t stop the crazy thumping of his heart.

“Okay so, I stayed awake until midnight yesterday - well, today, actually... anyways - besides the point.” Jaemin smiled adoringly at your cute stutters and fumbled ranting. He had learnt years ago that you stumbled over your own words when you were ecstatic about something. Hearing your thoughts in the distance was nearly impossible when he was so close to you, and it was inevitable to catch what your mind was currently thinking. You were talking, but your mind kept saying he looked ethereal right now next to you, going as far as comparing him to the most prepossessing events from Earth itself and claiming he was still prettier. “So, as I was telling you, I stayed awake ‘till midnight and you were right! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I noticed small letters appear on my wrist out of the blue, it was freaky to see it firsthand. Do you want to see?”

A cocky smirk was threatening to show up on Jaemin’s lips sooner or later, whether it be for your thoughts about him or what you were about to find out; yet, he fought the feeling and simply agreed at your request. It felt like euphoria was devouring him whole, but outside, he maintained a serene stance when you raised your wrist up to his eyes. As expected by him but not by you, the words were no longer there. A piercing shriek that hurt his ears left you upon realizing your wrist was not marked with the cursive letters anymore. Jaemin could only internally crack up at the sight of you scrambling away in panic, rushing towards the small window on the wall to get a better look of your arm with the aid of the sunrays. There was, in fact, nothing there.

The angel pondered playfully, humming specially loud so you’d be able to catch the mischief in his tone, “I thought you wanted to show me something? I don’t see anything there.”

Eyes wide like they were about to jump out of their sockets, you turned to look at him with a frightened expression, whining. “What do you know that I don’t?”

With a grunt, Jaemin got up from the floor as he brushed off the dust on his clothes, rolling his eyes at your question. “Silly girl,” he approached, your feet moving backwards the closer he got, eventually stopping when your back hit the wall behind you, “you’re so bad at this game.” He smiled cheekily before flicking your forehead.

“Ow!”

“Lovely, what did I explain it meant when the words faded away? Do you remember what I first said when I arrived?”

Oh. You realized what the current situation was. Jaemin was your fated soulmate, and as always, you did not notice because you were distracted; unsurprisingly, distracted by him. “But you’re not exactly human? How is it possible?”

He shrugged, running a hand through your hair, “Heaven and God are complicated. Angels can have human soulmates if that’s how The Heavens decide it, the only benefit you get, is you get to know when you’ll meet them - unlike humans who have no idea if they’re even gonna be fated to somebody or they’ll leave the world tragically because of their wrongdoings. The downside is that angels can take thousands and thousands of years to meet their soulmate; I was lucky to only have to wait three hundred.”

“Three hundred years!? But how come you’re twenty years old, how did you become an angel? Does me feeling all happy and sappy around you have to do with all this?” You were freaking out, but you didn’t want him to misunderstand.

Jaemin nodded, pulling you down onto the floor with him again, “there are two different types of angels; angels and Guardian Angels. Angels are people that died before their innocence was tainted which is basically all newborns or young children; teenagers and adults can too, just not as often. Guardian Angels are beings created by God himself, so unlike angels, we never existed in Earth first.” His hands were fiddling nervously with the end of his t-shirt, fingers adorned with a few silver rings. “We’re only allowed to meet our soulmate until they turn eighteen, so our age freezes at twenty while we wait. Angels can’t see their soulmate like I did in your dreams, but since I’m your Guardian Angel, I’m required to watch and care for you at all times. So, it’s acceptable to reveal myself to you discretely. And yeah,” he sheepishly giggled, “that’s why you feel all happy and sappy around me. I do too.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I guess. Someone dumb like me can only handle so much information, Jaemin.”

He snickered. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You pushed him away playfully, a small smile lingering on your lips before a blush took over your features. You never had a boyfriend previously, and you had no idea what to do from now on. Jaemin looked lovely as ever, the attraction you had for him only heightening as the bond became stronger. His once fully white clothes were now slightly covered in dust, as so was his face. Despite that and his tinted cheeks that you assumed were like that because he intruded your thoughts once again, he was the same handsome boy from your dreams that never failed to make you smile. Now, he’d be by your side for more than your usual six hours of sleep, and you were thrilled, to say the least. Meeting him for real got your heart rushing and doing flips, you didn’t know what that initially meant; but now you were sure it had to be love. It felt strange to feel something as deep as love for someone you met minutes ago. Then again, Jaemin was more than a soulmate; he had basically been with you the entirety of your life, your love went higher than a mere soulmate bond. “So, what do we do now?”

Rosy cheeks, the angel was still not able to look at you after listening to your thoughts. He knew he had to stop doing that, but it wasn’t easy when they sounded so loud and tempting in his ears. “Can I kiss you? I’ve really wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you.”

A series of wild coughs took over you upon hearing Jaemin’s confession, your reaction only making him feel giddier than he already was. “I - sorry,” the attack in your throat gradually slowed down, “I’m just, Ive never had my first kiss before, I’m new to all of this.”

He scurried closer with cheeky eyes, the darkening daylight that managed to show through the tiny window in the room signaled that the sun was beginning to set, the basement now drowned in a vibrant, saturated mandarin shade. Your breath hitched instantly when he cupped your cheeks, his eyes fully sparkling with love and adoration for you, gaze traveling down your features until it landed on your lips. He wet his own unknowingly, slightly parting them as light, irregular puffs of breathes left him. Jaemin leaned in, closing the short gap that was once between the two of you until the same jolt of electricity from before warmly hit you.

His lips tasted sugary sweet, like he had been previously sucking at the nectar from the honeysuckles you loved to have in your dreams. Now, you were certain that there was indeed something sweeter than honesuckles. Not only did he taste sweet, he felt sweet too. His mouth moved against yours slowly, the rhythm at which you two kissed was a little bit sloppy, but neither of you cared about it; hands still gently holding your cheeks while your own found their preferred location, lightly grabbing at his shoulders. Jaemin pulled back, chest heaving with pants as he attempted to catch his breath, leaning in again after whispering lowly against your lips.

“Hadn’t had my first kiss either.”

“Na Jaemin, you’re supposed to be an angel from Heaven!”

The boy ignored your protests, keeping you trapped between his body and the wooden wall as he continued a fiery assault on your neck, lips trailing all the way down to your collarbones where he mercilessly sucked hard reds and purples at the delicate skin.

Months had quickly gone by after finding out the angel was your fated special someone, and time flew peacefully as your feelings for each other grew more and more at rapid lengths, if it was even possible to be any more infatuated than you already were. A lot of remarkable things had happened once Jaemin officially stepped into your life; you weren’t low-spirited anymore like you used to be, coming to terms with yourself that Jaemin was happiness itself, it was impossible to remain miserable with someone as bright as him around. Although your biggest dream had always been to visit the wonderful cities that you knew awaited outside your small town, you decided to stay here; often reminding you of the views you’d always encounter in your imagination whenever you met up with the angel, instead of your parents like you used to believe.

Christmas was the best holiday you had spent, drowning in all the love Jaemin cherished you with while his arms held you tightly to his body as you both cuddled in front of the warm fireplace, under large, fluffy blankets. Or, the softness of his lips that pressed against yours in utter passion after he had shamelessly placed random mistletoes all around the house as an excuse to kiss you all throughout winter. It was little things like that, that made you fall deeper for him. Spring was slowly coming to an end as summer prepared to engulf everybody in the heat of its shining sun and the hot temperatures that gradually became warmer every day. You couldn’t wait for the orangey sunsets that were soon to come so you could take Jaemin out to the small shops located along the river, accompanied by the relaxing sounds of the streaming fresh waters and forgotten 70’s songs that the old ladies from the stores never failed to play.

With time, you found out Jaemin was tremendously clingy and overwhelmingly sappy. For a while, he seemed absolutely pure, the tittle well deserved since he did belong to the vast heavens that he described as divinely glorious. You believed him, for his looks and personality where the exact same. Though, your perception of innocence that you had for him might’ve gone overboard, because even a harmless angel like him could sometimes overflow with a burning fire of love and want.

“Are you even allowed to do things like this?” You whined under his towering frame, refusing to let out any sounds of satisfaction. He was supposed to be a holy and saint being, yet here he was, licking and biting at your skin with no remorse. No matter how hard you tried to keep quiet, the shocks of pleasure that his naughty kisses sent throughout you entire body were inevitable and tough to neglect, when the feeling was so exquisite.

He was panting with need, wasting no time in taking off both your shirts as his hands instantly began roaming around your unconvered, warm skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, “it’s fine.” His hands slowly moved up towards your flushed face, taking their own sweet time to run over your tummy and all the way up to your chest, which received special extra attention, until he eventually reached your cheeks and brought you into a rough kiss. Jaemin’s lips devoured you like there was no tomorrow, like he was a starved man, occasionally biting gingerly at your lower lip before lightly swiping his tongue across, engaging the wet muscles in a battle he would surely win. “Please, touch me.”

You pulled away shortly with ragged breaths, lips a cherry red and fully swollen from all the endless sucking he had inflicted on them. “Na Jaemin, are you sure this is right? I’ve never done anything dirty yet I swear I feel like I’m corrupting you so bad-”

“Stop swearing, it’s wrong.”

Jaw dropped in disbelief, you glanced up at the shirtless boy who still had you pressed against the wall with no way out, “I - you’re saying that while trying to get into my pants! I’m pretty sure swearing is the least of concerns here.”

“I’m not the one who’s thinking about sex all the time, you expect me to go through my day calmly when you’re thinking such naughty stuff?” Jaemin whined with a pout, running his fingers through his blonde locks in frustration before unexpectedly picking your flustered self up. He hurriedly carried you towards the bedroom, ignoring your loud screams demanding to put you down as he gently threw your body onto the soft mattress. “I’m literally a teenage boy, I have needs and your thoughts don’t help,” he kept complaining, “this is totally normal, it’s fine as long as it is with your soulmate, I promise. Now, please, woman.” The angel proceeded to leave a trail of feathery, wet kisses down your neck again, eyes landing on your bra straps before they locked with your gaze and wordlessly asked for permission.

Nodding slowly, you pulled Jaemin down and locked lips once again; though, this time it felt like all your unsaid emotions were pouring out into the desperate kiss, love being the biggest one swimming in the pools of several, different sentiments. He returned the kiss delicately as your hands slightly tugged at the little hairs that rested on the back of his neck, eliciting tiny moans and groans that rumbled in his hard chest. Breaths of pleasure that you swallowed escaped his mouth, the kiss progressively becoming messier and harsher as you allowed yourselves to get lost in the euphoric feeling of your bodies pressed close together, the warmth the radiated from your bare skin igniting a huge fire of arousal within the two of you.

“I love you. So much.” Jaemin pecked your lips one last time with a sincere smile, hands gliding over your shoulder blades as they unclasped your bra, gently sliding off the straps with eyes that twinkled with nothing but absolute love, lust and devotion. “I’m gonna take you higher than Heaven.”

“Jaemin! Don’t be rude!” Right then and there, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be; in the arms of your lover as he showed you a deeper intimacy than you had ever shared before. Despite all you had gone through, life gifted you with the greatest present, Na Jaemin. You didn’t have to dream anymore to feel at home, he brought it with himself.

A celestial angel, indeed. Life was no longer unbearable for you, it was the best thing ever; and you were ready to live it at its fullest.

[star-spangledstud]

Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite. 

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?” 

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.” 

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame. 

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most. 

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.  

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl. 

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules. 

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed.  He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa. 

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask. 

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again. 

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart. 

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book. 

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically. 

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were. 

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away. 

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense. 

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.  

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with. 

Roof. Omw. 

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed. 

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering. 

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.” 

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.  

“Because I have to get over you.” 

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried. 

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously. 

 “I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.” 

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.” 

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words. 

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.” 

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours. 

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt. 

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe. 

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive. 

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along. 

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.” 

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another. 

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like. 

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara. 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you. 

[insanityclause]

Guillermo Del Toro is no stranger to widespread acclaim, especially from his ride or die legion of fans. Pan’s Labyrinth, the Hellboy duology, the list of genre-bending, timeless masterworks goes on. Coming off his 2 Oscar wins for The Shape of Water in 2018, and moving into finally releasing his animated Pinocchio film from the pits of development hell along with an adaption of Nightmare Alley next year, this couldn’t be a more thriving time for the Mexican auteur. Though amongst all the praise and glory, something has still felt missing these last handful of years. Besides his Oscar-winning film, Del Toro’s works prior to the 2010s are what generally buzz conversations of his genius. Those aforementioned films did, after all, skyrocket his name to fame. His titles from the last decade, however, are just as crucial to the Del Toro canon and emphasize his greater influence as a filmmaker. One, in particular, has seemingly gotten by in its young life at the hands of few. But now that Crimson Peak has officially turned 5, it’s time to turn that few into many.

Del Toro’s trifecta of the 2010s (not counting his work on television) stand out vastly from one another. Pacific Rim, Crimson Peak, and The Shape of Water: all love letters penned from the ‘nichest’ corners of his mind. These 3 arguably boast more diversity in genre than Del Toro’s 5 films of the 2000s (3 comic-book adaptations and 2 Spanish-set fantasies). Not a criticism, as established, those films now flaunt an immovable place within the cultural zeitgeist. Though with a career notoriously marked by a slew of unrealized projects (more on this later), it’s not often recognized how the ideas that did make the cut still lead a crystal clear trajectory in Del Toro’s growth as a storyteller. In the eyes of many, Del Toro pulls ideas out of a hat and gambles on which one actually sees the light of day. Humorous sure, but this is far from the truth.

Each Del Toro project feels like a pivotal step for what would come later, take his work on Trollhunters paving the way for his upcoming first animated feature for instance. Despite this trajectory, Crimson Peak feels criminally unsung 5 years later. Pacific Rim continued its life with a sequel and more planned spin-offs. The Shape of Water literally set a new bar for the Academy. This leaves Crimson Peak feeling like the pushed aside middle child of this trio. This isn’t a call for a sequel, and ‘underrated’ gets tossed around very loosely in modern film discussion. But for cinema as quintessential as Crimson Peak, it just doesn’t feel like it gets enough recognition – especially when the current film industry is seeing less big-budget, R-rated projects heavily steeped in genre.

You can easily trace Crimson Peak‘s short-lived spotlight back to its marketing. The timely October release and scare-heavy trailers sold a classic ‘Haunted House’ horror, when in reality, Del Toro’s film is a Gothic Romance. Set in the early 1900s, an aspiring American writer, Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska), is swept away by a promising English baronet, Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston). They discover true love and marry, leading the young newlywed to her husband’s decaying mansion in the English hills. The age-old manor is slowly, but surely, sinking in red clay – the very source of Sharpe’s wealth. Here Edith is forced to live with her new sister-in-law, Lucille Sharpe (Jessica Chastain), a reserved yet commanding force who works to hide the true nature of the house and its endless secrets. Mystery lingers as untamed lust, envy and greed unfold between the mansion walls, not leaving enough room for the restless red-colored spirits who haunt them. When it snows on this cursed hill, the clay surfaces, making it seem as if the land bleeds. Given more than just red clay rises from beneath, a deeper meaning is given to the place locals call ‘Crimson Peak’.

Just like the clay at the center of its mystery, Crimson Peak is an amalgamation, but of genre. It would be novice to expect anything less from Del Toro. The Gothic elements call back to many classic tales, such as Alfred Hitchcock’s adaption of Rebecca and, of course, Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. On the horror side, homage is paid to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining and Jack Clayton’s The Innocents. It’s a devilish blend that only this filmmaker could pull off so beautifully. And oh is Crimson Peak so god damn gorgeous. To contrast common period pieces that go for muted or sepia-toned color palettes, Del Toro turns the saturation on high. The result is an eye-popping picture that heightens the core emotions at play: fear, pain, and more importantly, love. Simply mesmerizing, avid fans will be quick to recognize the same shades of golden yellows, sea greens, and ruby reds found in Del Toro’s other works. It feels right at home in his filmography visually, while packing its own unique punch.

Red, a color mainly associated with passion, here instead intricately represents endless bloodshed. A twist that would suggest Crimson Peak is just as equal a horror film as it is a love story. Regardless of what might have been initially marketed to audiences in 2015, this film is a Gothic Romance from start to finish. Del Toro himself made this distinction clear to the studio from the get-go and repeatedly draws the line whenever given the chance. Yet, much like the rest of his repertoire, Crimson Peak utilizes horror not as a means to an end, but as a means for introspection. Yes, there are classic horror conventions such as jump scares, but it couldn’t be more obvious that Crimson Peak isn’t trying to evoke the same kind of high and dry fear other films heavily rely on. Del Toro is actively trying to get under your skin to achieve a hell of a cathartic viewing experience.

The ghosts of our past and how we let them define us is a core theme in Crimson Peak. The film opens on a flashback in which Edith is visited by the charcoal black ghost of her recently deceased mother. The nature of this visit sets the groundwork for the rest of the narrative. Mother Ghost, dreadful in appearance, doesn’t necessarily come to haunt her child, but to warn her. “Beware of Crimson Peak,” she says. The way Edith takes in this otherworldly occurrence, and those that follow, sets her apart from everyone else in the film. Wherein others flee from or lock away the ghosts of their past, she learns how to wear them on her sleeves – reaching out to the dead multiple times in the story, each attempt more confident than the last. Not too dissimilar from what Del Toro was playing with before, Jaeger pilots confronting past trauma in their quest to defeat Kaiju. At the same time, the transformation that occurs in Crimson Peak when neglected demons consume you from the inside – humans becoming the true monsters of their supernatural tales – would only be amplified in Del Toro’s next film.

Every minute detail coincides with this strategized, therapeutic use of horror. And to the everyday moviegoer trained by common tropes, Crimson Peak is quite deceptive. Just like Mother Ghost at the beginning of the film, the red spirits never manifest with the intent to cause physical harm, but instead to give messages and guide. Red clay seeps down the walls and the mansion ‘breathes’ as the country winds burst in. The house feels alive in the most cinematic sense possible, but the case as to it being ‘horrifying’ is not so black and white. Expertly designed to every inch, there is plenty of beauty to be found in the manor. Much of it has just been corrupted by a debauched affair – keeping this story rooted as a Gothic Romance. Subversion has always been the name of Del Toro’s game, and it’s within Crimson Peak that he uses it to mix genre so well while still staying true to his vision.

Though Crimson Peak saw Del Toro take subversion to a new level, notably with his main character. This film is a key chapter in his overarching legacy; not the first of his works to be lead by a defiant woman, but the first to have the female hero entangled in an unabashed love story. Effortlessly played by the brilliant Mia Wasikowska, the not so damsel in distress at the center of Crimson Peak is one of the most significant characters of Del Toro’s career. In discussing Gothic Romance with The Mary Sue in 2015, Del Toro explains: “This is quintessentially a female genre, that was written with characters that were very complex, very strong. I wanted to make a movie in which to some degree I recuperated and, maybe if possible, enhanced all that.” And enhanced he did for every central male character acts in more distress than Edith ever does, even when she is literally at the edge of death. A more than welcome change of pace that makes for a more resonating film.

Edith’s willingness to tackle the unknown is captivating and her vigor inspiring. But she isn’t absolved of frailty. For someone who comes to terms with facing the dead, her sheer vulnerability to heartbreak and suffering brings great humanity to the role. Hardly recognized, but Edith is one of Del Toro’s most self-reflective protagonists. A marginalized writer, inspired by the great Mary Shelley no less, in the midst of drafting her magnum opus, she immediately faces backlash from her novel’s inclusion of the paranormal. “It’s not [a ghost story]. It’s more a story with a ghost in it. The ghost is just a metaphor… for the past,” she says – giving Crimson Peak a rare Del Toro tongue-in-cheek quality that he utilizes until the credits roll. Meta enough given that the crimson ghosts Edith later encounters are, in fact, echoes of the past, but when looking back on the public’s initial perception of the film, it creates a charming, albeit ironic, wit only found here.

Additionally, when tracing back to Crimson Peak‘s pre-production days, you’ll find something even more profound. Penned by Del Toro and an old collaborator, screenwriter Matthew Robbins; this was the first script completed after the release of Pan’s Labyrinth in 2006. The two first worked together an entire decade earlier on Mimic, which has now gone down as the only film Del Toro has truly lost to studio interference. Del Toro was supposed to direct Crimson Peak in the late 2000s, but along came Hellboy II and his involvement in launching The Hobbit (another R.I.P). Through this hectic time, Del Toro would reunite with Robbins in writing 2010’s Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, directed by Troy Nixey. However, the two also spent time together writing something else: an adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness.

For those unfamiliar, At the Mountains of Madness is by far one of, if not, the most tragic of this filmmaker’s unrealized projects. After spending years trying to get this dream off the ground, Del Toro had the following to say to Empire in 2010: “It doesn’t look like I can do it. It’s very difficult for the studios to take the step of doing a period-set, R-rated, tentpole movie with a tough ending and no love story.” The payoff of Crimson Peak being a period-set, R-rated, tentpole film only 5 years after that statement couldn’t be sweeter. In the film, Edith is told to insert a love story for the better of her novel. Del Toro is obviously commenting on expectations tied to gender here, but you can’t help but wonder if he’s also referring to one of the biggest thorns in his own writing career – one that also ties back to writing partner Matthew Robbins.

When faced with the question, Del Toro has consistently said that all of his films carry an inherent Mexican touch just from the utter fact that they come from him, and Crimson Peak is no different. Whether if deriving from his personal experiences with tackling genre, both on and off paper, or from actual events tied to his life – Del Toro reimagines two separate ghostly encounters experienced by him and his mother through Edith – this film beams with the very essence of Del Toro’s soul. Perhaps most personified when the marginalized writer gets bloody and fights back with nothing but her pen, a visual that cements this as an important stepping stone in his career. It’s a fascinating through-line, connecting to very different segments of his canon while still defining a clear path. The mending of our wounds and subversion of gender roles is continued from Pacific Rim, while setting a bold new course for delving into unfiltered, mature romance in The Shape of Water.

This is only a fraction of what makes Crimson Peak quintessential Guillermo Del Toro. Gothic Romance has long been part of this auteur’s framework, and you would be remiss not to indulge in all of its glorious melodrama. Even if it isn’t your cup of tea, Del Toro will make it so. Reaching its 5-year anniversary, the film hits stronger than before. The intricate motifs, compelling use of practical effects (complete with the involvement of Del Toro veteran Doug Jones), and cathartic use of horror make for something that has yet to be replicated by a major studio. Its lacking box office performance suggests that maybe the world merely wasn’t ready for this masterwork? But just like its characters, we hold the power to define what comes next. Del Toro himself has previously ranked Crimson Peak as one of the 3 best films he’s ever made, and straight-up called it the most beautiful. Take his word and dive in no strings attached, because who knows when we’ll get another large scale, unapologetic Gothic Romance with this much grandeur.

[thatscarletseven]

His Angel (Smut)

Dedicated to the anon who graced me with the prompt; “So Beej is like some kinda demon right? Then what if the reader would be some kinda angel but she’s a virgin. And if she’s gonna lose her virginity she wants to be the dominant one but she’s just too submissive and she fails. Idk if you want to could you write about that for me?”

Note: I made my own cannon for angels in the Beetlejuice universe. Basically, if Beej was once alive but is now a demon, the reader could’ve been alive too and become an angel. Also, despite how the first couple of paragraphs may look, the reader is of age at the time the smut takes place. I just have to set the stage, you know?

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction AND a request. It DOES NOT reflect the author’s real-world values and beliefs. Also, this is smut where the reader is female and gets just a tad sub-spacey. Also also, use of headcannons regarding Betelgeuse’s mood ring hair and excessive ejaculation + glowing ejaculate.

---

For the first time in your after-life, you were truly happy. You’d originally been sent by Juno to keep the Maitland-Deetz household safe from Betelgeuse. Every single entity occupying that house loved having you around. You cleaned, cooked, and protected, and you loved doing it. Even when Betelgeuse was integrated into the make-shift family and was no longer a threat, you stayed. You had finally found a home

You’d died as a kid during the black plague. Since your soul was pure, you weren’t just any old ghost or demon in the after-life; you became an angel. Juno raised you like Mowgli was raised among the wolf pack. Even though the black plague had caused a massive influx of angels, most of them had stayed far away from the evils of the underworld. 

In this new spiritual state, you grew to be the beauty of the underworld, just as a flower is in a battlefield. Besides that, you’d proven yourself in mastering your supernatural abilities and in combat. Even though you were witty and clever too, academics were never your strongpoint. You grew to your peak young age and there you stayed, this beautiful thing preserved forever in angelic death. You were eventually assigned to be the guardian angel of the Maitland-Deetz household.

As soon as Betelgeuse was decidedly not evil, you allowed yourself to feel what you’d previously pushed down; you really liked him. Not only was he sexy as hell, he was also exactly your type. Thick in just the right places (there were days you wondered if this extended to someplace else as well), and a face that you adored. When he hugged you, you melted into his soft form. Betelgeuse was surprisingly clingy and cuddly, but you didn’t really mind. One of your favorite features about him was his hair. When he was in a lighter mood it was green. When he was lonely it was a purplish blue. When he flirted with you it could be anywhere from a light green to a dark magenta, but that depended on the caliber of the joke. His jokes were often sexual in nature, so you saw something close to magenta quite often.

Thus you embarked on the best chapter of your after-life.

As far as the rat himself was concerned, he’d been lusting after you the day you arrived with the intention of kicking his ass. One of his favorite thoughts was sexually corrupting you, you who were so pure, and probably still had your virginity to lose. He often dreamed of tying you down and filling you up with his seed, or overstimulating you, or biting into and permanently marking your perfect skin, or, or, or- there were just too many good possibilities. However, on his more lonely days, he though of it the other way around; you riding him, holding him down with your angelic power. Completely and utterly using him for your own pleasure. Maybe you’d spank him. Since he was in the privacy of his own room (the basement) at the time this thought first occurred to him, he moaned aloud at the thought. 

One summer evening, the two of you sat outside the house. Lydia had just had a fight with Delia, and tensions between everyone else had been high due to the nature of the argument. Delia had made a snide comment at dinner about how all the living inhabitants of the house “might die someday because of all the ghosts! I mean, what if Betelgeuse decides to go rogue again?”. You and Lydia had immediately jumped to Betelgeuse’s defense, and Lydia was absolutely livid. She cut you out of the debate all together, but this gave you time to notice that your favorite demon’s hair was getting progressively bluer. He had also found his family in these people, and to have one of them say something like this must’ve hurt. Though the hair confirmed what he was feeling, his facial expression said it all. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and he was trembling. The two of you had gotten to know each other a little, and you could tell that he needed to get out of here. His literal blue-ness often turned to panic, and panic often snow-balled into rage. You touched his arm lightly, and his head snapped up, eyes meeting yours. If he had been living, the action would’ve been painful. “Take my hand.” you whispered softly to him. Betelgeuse nodded and interlocked his fingers with yours. His grip was tight.

This was how you ended up comforting him. You didn’t touch him and he didn’t touch you. You just sat on the porch next to him, and it was enough.

To you, Betelgeuse seemed like the perfect picture of despair. His blue locks hung over his sad eyes. Old eyes, you realized. Betelgeuse wasn’t young. He probably died in his mid-thirties, but he’d been dead for so much longer. His large frame was hunched over, wide shoulders stooped. He wasn’t wearing his overcoat or his suit jacket, but he’d kept on his suspenders, rolled up his sleeves, and undone his top buttons. If he was a little less sad, he’d be downright sexy.

You were snapped out of your little trance when you heard him say your name softly, “Am I a bad person?” The question hung in the air for a few moments, and then you spoke, “The fact that you’re asking the question means that you probably aren’t.” And that was the beginning of your friendship.

You and him spent more and more time together, and Betelgeuse began seeing you as more than just good jerking-off material. He saw you as another person. He noticed something very human in you despite your angelic state, and you began to see the human in him. You two found laughter in each other. Betelgeuse was particularly amused by you when you kept yourself from cursing. It was only natural, since you were the purest being he’d ever encountered.

You noticed the way he got all giddy over mundane human things. You loved the gross things about him, like his taste in insects. You loved his sense of masculine fashion. You like his eyes - sad, old eyes - and the way they let you in on his internal thoughts even better than his hair did sometimes.

He noticed the way you hid your pain, tucked away where only you and him could see it. He was fascinated by you. He’d always thought angels were little happy babies with wings and halos, but you weren’t. You didn’t have wings or a halo, and you certainly weren’t a child. You just had this calming infectious glow about you.

Everything was fine when you and Betelgeuse were together.

The first time he kissed you, it was a quick peck on the lips and neither of you talked about it. You reciprocated it later that night.

Whenever he got sad, you kissed him.

Whenever you got sad, he’d hug you.

Soft intimacy became part of the normal routine.

True to his nature, soft intimacy grew sexual in private. You didn’t mind, but the thread was getting thinner every time.

One night, Betelgeuse had gotten all sad on you in his basement bedroom. He responded to your soft kiss with a passionate one, and you didn’t mind. He did this often, and it never led anywhere. You and him exchanged soft kisses that quickly heated up. You found that you couldn’t bear to separate yourself from him. 

“Beej-” you used the nickname that he’d adopted recently. “Beej, I want- “ he kissed you again, “-me too-” You loved his gravelly voice all the more in this situation. His sleeves were rolled up and his suspenders were on and his top buttons were undone the way you liked. His hands pulled you closer and then you were straddling him and you could feel how much he liked this. 

The thread was gonna break soon.

“Lawrence.” He stopped and pulled his face from yours for a moment. Now you only ever used his real name when you were being serious. He growled softly because you were pressed against his junk and this was so not the time to be serious. His hair was a sinful shade of pink. “Betelgeuse,” you started again. “I want- shit, I want you, but I-” He’d never heard you curse before and it was automatically a turn-on. He silently vowed to make you curse more often. “I’ve never had sex before but I really wanna ride you.” Well damn, he certainly didn’t expect you to be dominant this early on. “.. Ok.” The demon said simply. “Uh, I don’t think ghosts can get knocked up, just sayin’.” Betelgeuse chuckled.

The thread that suspended your boundaries snapped.

Even though you’d never even gotten yourself off, getting naked and being intimate with your demon felt natural and taboo all at the same time. You were experiencing the pent-up sexual energy of the past few hundred years and it was hitting hard. Your entire body was burning with turbulent need, and your core was practically dripping with slick. Your mind was spinning and spiraling with fantasies of what could be that made you all tingly. The feeling was so foreign and wonderful. 

Betelgeuse was almost as needy, feeling so free after using his hand for so long. He’d been so busy in the past couple months that he just willed his boners away instead of dealing with them. 

Even though you had opted to dominate him, you were much too shaky and turned on to do much of anything. He spread you out on his unmade bed and buried his face in your neck. He inhaled sharply, eyes shut as his body convulsed and he almost gave up on foreplay then and there. He shuffled himself downward and spread your thighs apart.

Your slick had made a dark spot on his bed and had cascaded down your thighs. The musky perfume of your slick made his mouth water and he longed to taste you. Betelgeuse hiked your legs up on his shoulders and then his filthy mouth was kissing your cunt. You tasted something like salted dark chocolate to him, a flavor that he quickly became addicted too. He dipped his tongue teasingly into your hole, but payed much more attention to your clitoris. You ground your hips against his face as his short beard scratched the interior of your thighs. The pleasure that sung through your being made you feverishly warm. He sucked and licked and you felt like you were going to piss yourself, but you knew this wouldn’t be the case. You thought you could feel some kind of vibration in your throat and you weren’t sure how loud you were being.

Betelgeuse was shocked by the dirty noises that made their way out of your throat in long sighs and broken moans. Your face was red and teary-eyed and you were utterly gone, lost in the pleasure. He was swallowing mouthfuls of your addicting slick at this point, and he was so thankful that he didn’t have to breath. He was painfully hard but was too invested in your pleasure to do anything about it just yet.

The feeling off needing to piss was getting stronger but you let it happen, bucking your hips up into Betelgeuse’s face. The feeling flooded your body, up your spine and radiated inside your skull. It danced down your arms and burst forth again from your cunt and down your thighs and all the way into your toes. This feeling was no longer like fire, but like lighting, striking your body repeatedly and constantly.

The feeling seemed to sit and simmer for a moment as your lover pulled away to wipe off his mouth and position himself over your body.

Betelgeuse was big. So big, in fact, that even when his pants were on and he was flaccid, there was a substantial bulge there. The stretch of his cock head was nothing but electrifying pleasure. You thought for a moment that you were paralyzed because you just couldn’t move. Betelgeuse tucked his head back into the crook of your neck and you were both sobbing into each other as he all but shoved the rest of himself into you.

Betelgeuse realized just how much power he held over your pleasure. He knew she hadn’t ever cum before (thanks to a game of drunk truth or dare) and the power this situation gave hime completely went to his head. Before he really knew what was happening, he was pressed all the way inside you and experiencing the most intense pleasure he’s felt since his first orgasm back when he was alive (and he really didn’t remember it so it didn’t really count anyway). He was in this weird space between cumming and not cumming and it wouldn’t take that much for him to start.

You felt yourself suddenly seize up and jerk and pulse. The immense simmering pleasure was magnified a hundred fold and you wrapped your leg’s around your lover’s thick hips. You were in complete euphoria. Your being was numb and all you could feel was Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse.

As your orgasm continued, Betelgeuse whimpered into your neck broken curses and whiney pleads. Without pulling out, he humped into you as the accumulation of a good few months burst into your womb. He generally produced significantly more semen that any average man, ghost, or demon, but after saving up for so long, you were sure to be flooded.

Betelgeuse was pressing into you so hard, and with your recently-virgin pussy, his cum wasn’t able to leak out of you when you got full. You got full almost immediately. “Oh- fuck, gah-” he moaned into your neck as he felt your belly beginning to push up against his own.

You enjoying the sight of your lover enjoying himself as you regained your other senses. You decided that you liked the increasing feeling of fullness in your belly, even though you were way too fucked out to really get aroused again, especially after something so intense. You reached a hand up to thread in his pink hair, just softly playing with it as you cooled down.

When he had finally stopped cumming, you realized with dawning amusement that he had fallen asleep against you. You decided not to wake him back up just yet.

You knew that you loved him and he loved you, but actions speak so much louder than words, don’t they?

-END-

[corancoranthemagicalman]

Complimentary

@fantasticallyfoolishidea here is the official attack.

Magic and Destiny had always been bullshit. That didn’t stop those forces from occurring in the world, occurring around Geralt of Rivia, but it also did not make it any less a load of bullshit.

(Horseshit, Geralt had decided, painted a rather unflattering picture toward Roach. Emotional state be damned he cared for that mare.)

So, of course, Magic, which Geralt was a common bedfellow with, used to his advantage, and Destiny, which. Geralt held grudge against like no other, fucked Geralt over. They did so by fucking each other and having a baby and calling it Soulmates. If Geralt’s internal monologue was running a foul mouth today, well, he could hardly be blamed when Destiny and Magic’s child was taking its lineage from Destiny and ruining Geralt’s carefully established routine one misstep at a time.

Soulmates were considered ordained by some. Destiny’s way of pointing a clear path to someone whose soul your own would be so intertwined with you would be as one. This was not always a romantic partner, but more often than not those who were soulmates grew happy and old together. Geralt chagrined at that thought.

Some thought Soulmates a poor man’s excuse for why people could not see. As it so happened, in a world of Destiny, Magic, and Soulmates, one could not see in full color until one had realized one’s Soulmate. It could not be as simple as meeting them. Magic was never that simple and it seemed Soulmates did take that from its other parent. Geralt had begrudgingly seen the world in greys and orange in his childhood.

It was quite an unexplained phenomenon. The world was painted with values of black and white with one exception. A major scholarly debate was whether the color you were born with the ability to see was indicative of yourself or your Soulmate. As it stood, the world was undecided. Soulmates, like Destiny, and sometimes like Magic, was something that you did not question. It merely happened to you.

Geralt’s sight had been taken when he had become a Witcher. Instead of eyes that could see orange, Geralt saw the world in all of its hues. Animals and certain creatures, creatures that were considered without souls, had no Soulmate and therefore saw the world as it was. It was a blessing and a curse to see the world at its face value with his cat eyes.

He had never considered its merits or demerits until he had intangled himself in Yennefer’s web. That powerful sorceress was someone he was drawn to, felt himself open up more to, however regretable the circumstance. He might not have liked to believe in Destiny, in Soulmates, but he did believe in Magic. Magic was who he was, who Yennefer was, how he survived. Perhaps, since Yennefer too had her vision filled and her fertility taken in that gruesome process, they both needn’t worry about Soulmates.

Then the damned mountain happened.

Accusations about wishes and things that Geralt saw quickly spiral before his eyes had flared and soon Geralt had lost not only Yennefer but Jaskier as well. That bard had sung his name, granted him way in towns where his reputation alone had not. That same bard had thrown him into every Destiny filled encounter. His Child Surprise, Yennefer... had it not been for Jaskier, Geralt would only face Magic his mistress and not her distasteful wife nor their bastard child. It seemed now Geralt had worried about neither as Jaskier’s eyes, wide and grey, burned into his vision as he tried to sleep. Dammit, it was the time before the djinn all over again.

For all the running from Destiny and Soulmates that Geralt had done, it seemed those two had quickly caught up to him. Destiny, his Child Surprise, running to him not far from the farmhouse of the man who had saved him. Cirilla of Cintra, asking who Yennefer was, Geralt’s own confusion. As if all of these things had not been enough as if Destiny still had one final nail to put into Geralt’s coffin, as Ciri and Geralt were traveling North they stopped at an inn.

They had made many stops on their way to the North. It was a long journey and Geralt had questions that only one man could provide the answers to. But those questions and answers did not matter when the strumming of a lute drew Geralt’s gaze away from Ciri beside him. The girl had beamed as her face turned to face the bard. She leaned toward Geralt in a hushed whisper.

“That’s Dandelion!” She spoke excitedly. “He played at my birthday celebration when I was ten!” Then her face fell, brows furrowing. “What if he recognizes me?”

Geralt grunted, turning from Jaskier to face Ciri. “You can trust him. If he spots you, introduce yourself as Fiona as you’ve always done.” He instructed his Child Surprise. “He’ll catch on.”

Ciri’s eyes widened as she looked to Geralt, gaze appraising as she turned her vision back to the playing bard. “You know him? Personally?”

Another grunt as Geralt adjusted himself on the barstool. He huffed a breath as he buried his face in his mug of ale. “I used to.”

“Oh,” came the soft voice beside him. Ciri did not push. She had learned never to ask too much. To listen even when there was no one speaking. It was how she had survived so far and how she would continue to survive.

Geralt could not help it. Even as he tried to hide in his shadow, to become one with the dark shades he knew Jaskier could not see, he had turned his gaze. The Witcher wondered, once he saw Jaskier’s gaze sweep where he was, if he had been spotted. Then he recalled that late conversation one night by the fire as Jaskier had stared wistfully into the fire.

“I wish I could see it,” he had whispered. “People say it’s orange, is that true?”

Something between a grunt and a hum had escaped Geralt’s lips as he had prodded the fire.

Jaskier had nodded as if he had understood. Perhaps he had. “Not that I know what orange looks like, eh?”

It was not uncommon to speak casually of what colors could and could not be seen, but it was not yet a subject they had broached in their... partnership. Geralt had inhaled sharply, straightening where he sat. “And what color do you see, bard?”

“Blue,” Jaskier had hummed with a shrug. “Pretty boring I suppose. Or maybe it’s just boring because it’s the only color I see.” He had looked over his notebook sprawled over his lap. “And you see every color, don’t you? What a life.” There was a startled laugh that had escaped him. “What a waste! A man who never uses words sees every color! Imagine the poetry the world is missing out on all because the great poets have never met their Soulmate.”

Geralt had scoffed, looking away from the little lark. Jaskier already knew his opinion on Soulmates, on Destiny. Looking over Jaskier’s shoulder for a moment, Geralt had squinted his eyes. “I suppose it looks... warm.”

Jaskier had blinked in surprise, leaning back where he sat. “The fire... looks warm?”

Gritting his teeth, Geralt had thrown a large stick into the fire, causing it to swallow it aggressively as the flames licked closer to Jaskier’s sitting form. The bard gaped for a minute before regaining his composure, lecturing Geralt on his rudeness for a moment.

“So,” he had started softly, almost out of character to the charismatic bard, “orange looks... warm.”

A moment of silence had passed before Geralt had relented, nodding. “Orange is... strong looking. Stark against the green. Complimentary to the blue.”

Jaskier’s eyes had gained that distance they usually did. Far off even as he stared at Geralt. “Strong and warm,” he had nodded, taking notes quickly with his illegible hand. “I think I understand.” Shyly, the bard had looked up to Geralt with fluttering eyes.

Gritting his teeth as something churned deep in his belly, Geralt had quickly stood. “I’m tending to Roach,” he had announced before leaving Jaskier to the fire. He could not help but to notice how the orange glow was soft against Jaskier’s skin, how his grey eyes took in the light as he had looked on.

He had missed that. Missed that constantly inquisitive nature despite it being covered in inane questions. That never wavering smile despite its flirtations. Jaskier’s presence was not Yennefer’s. Geralt had never lost himself to it, but instead, he felt himself grow in it. Gain new insight even as the hymns he pretended to abhor gave him insight into how Jaskier saw the world. Big, beautiful, and blue.

The Witcher never understood how Jaskier saw in blue. In fact, he had never told the bard but he was quite certain that the man had never seen blue a day in his life. When he had tried convincing Geralt that his tunic was blue, the Witcher had considered it a lost cause. It was more seemingly true that the bard could see orange as Geralt once had. He started to wear oranges and reds, commenting on the fire. Geralt decided not to ask if he had met his Soulmate during one of their partings, but also found it unreasonable that Jaskier should be able to see in color and still not know the difference between grey and fucking blue.

“What color is his tunic?” Ciri whispered beside Geralt, tugging on the Witcher’s arm. She had always asked him what colors he saw. The young girl was unique in that she was granted three colors to her vision, but otherwise could not see. Greens, Reds, and Golds were the colors granted to Ciri the Lion Cub.

Geralt studied Jaskier as opposed to taking in his shape, his scent, the very presence that he had so missed. His hair was greying, age, and his crow’s feet were more prominent. Damn that lark was getting older. It made an ache in Geralt’s chest that he knew could not be soothed as a common ailment. Jaskier’s tunic was grey, like his eyes. Geralt furrowed his brow.

“Grey,” he answered, turning back to his mug.

“Grey?” Ciri nearly pouted. “Grandmother always said he wore brilliant colors.” That small nose scrunched into her face as if she had smelt something awful. “Grey seems... boring.”

Nothing about Jaskier had ever been boring. Not his apparent one color blue and never, most certainly, his dress. Geralt merely shrugged. “He likes to match his eyes.”

Ciri seemed disheartened by the aspect, as if grey were dull, as if Jaskier’s eyes did not breath life into a room, into his very music. “Oh,” she had said again. “I suppose that’s fair.” The girl turned in her seat to face him fully, enraptured with how the audience joined him in his singing.

Geralt could not help but watch. How Jaskier demanded attention was different than others the Witcher had known. It was not through power or seduction but rather an enjoyment. He drew people into his stories, demanded his stories be heard. There was power in a bard’s song, Geralt had no doubt about that, and perhaps Jaskier had seduced himself into many courts, but Jaskier commanded the people with his voice. It was the same manner of magic that had people paying the Witcher instead of sneering at the Butcher.

A simple thought had crossed into Geralt’s mind. His chest ached and he had missed Jaskier’s company. Missed what his companionship had brought. Missed being asked questions that deserved no answer and being aided with rubbing salve on his wounds. He missed how Jaskier seemed to change somewhere in their travels, looking as if colors were everywhere even when he could not see. And that was always an aching thought, wasn’t it? Perhaps he could see colors and yet still chased the company of others?

It was quite possible to have a Soulmate not be your Soulmate. As Geralt’s inner musings had spoken on numerous occasions, Destiny and Soulmates liked fucking people over. What if Jaskier could see the orange fire? The green grass? The blue sky? But yet again, how could Jaskier claim to see blue and wear that stupid, grey tunic?

How could that brilliant bard, so in tuned to the world, so knowing of his audiences’ wants, be so stupid? How could he know what words to twist, what observations to make? What questions to ask even if Geralt did not wish to answer them? How could he sing crowds into compliance and not win the heart of his Soulmate? How could that beautiful bastard not see fucking-

blue.

When Jaskier turned to him, looked him straight in the eyes, and winked, Geralt saw it. He saw every piece of it. His superior vision gave him every fluid ounce of the blue pools of Jaskier’s eyes, of his ocean colored tunic that framed him so well. It was so sudden that Geralt nearly toppled over with the sudden sight of blue.

All of his life, he had seen colors he thought to be blue, and those who could see blue he had never met and those who could not did not know better to correct him. Geralt was seeing fucking blue in Jaskier’s attire, in his dance, in his eyes. It was a surprisingly surreal moment, to realize that perhaps his Soulmate was not stripped from him along with everything else. Then there was the immediate thought that Jaskier was his Soulmate.

It was not orange. Orange was what bathed Yennefer. Greens and Reds colored the whores. Jaskier shone with blue and Geralt knew that Destiny had decided to fuck him one last time. Maybe it was Destiny or Soulmates, but it was bullshit.

But it was also Jaskier.

So when a humbled bard graced another ride along with Geralt of Rivia, well... Destiny was already guiding him with Ciri, wasn’t it? What was one more piece of him?

[inspirationdivine]

The Pianist’s Portrait || Lydia and Simon

Lydia shows Simon the music room, and they learn a little about each other

The advantage of a home this large was that it had been easy for Lydia to keep Simon completely separate from the humans. There were simply parts of the house she didn’t go to, and she had only had to ask him to wait on the other side of the door a couple times. What, exactly, he thought she was hiding was anyone’s guess, but he was easy enough to be in the same space with, and while they had little choice in the matter, Lydia preferred to keep it that way. A large delivery had arrived this morning, and as Lydia used an exacto knife to unravel the wrapping, she pulled out several kilos worth of clay, in various grades and shades. “Simon, I need to bring these upstairs. When you have a moment to spare.”

Lydia seemed very private and Simon adapted quickly, having picked back up his habit of carrying around a book with him whenever she would go about the day in her house, which was… definitely the biggest house HE’D ever been in. There were times where she would want to go into one of the many rooms of the house by herself, leaving him pressed to the wall to give her the most amount of space and he would’ve been lying if he didn’t wonder what it was she did. Then again, she WAS Fae and he was sure there were facets of that species he still didn’t understand despite having read a book or two about them by this point. When she had received a delivery of clay, which didn’t surprise him given her profession, he curiously examined the bricks before she asked him to help her carry them. “Yeah, no problem,” He said quietly, proceeding to pick up several of the bricks. “I’m following you.”

“I appreciate that. That’ll save us a trip or two,” Lydia said as he picked up some of the bricks of clay. She also picked up as much as she could carry, and began leading them up the stairs. At the top, she turned them right - not anywhere she’d taken Simon before. “We’re just going to put the clay in the music room for now,” She explained, a little more loudly than usual. Not that anyone was in there right now. Balancing the clay carefully against her chest, she carefully grabbed the door handle and nudged the door open until she could push it open with her knee. The clay swayed dangerously and Lydia dug her chin into the top one to catch it. Inside the music room was another window that stretched from wall to wall. A bookcase stood by one wall, covered in dozens of books about musical eras, old notepads, and music, stored in vinyl or cassette or CD, lovingly displayed. Next to the bookcase was a desk with blank sheet paper on it and an acoustic guitar. On the other side of the room, a beautiful black bosendorfer upright piano stood. “We can leave the clay here, against the wall for now,” Lydia told Simon, crouching to set her own clay down.

Simon followed her obediently, making sure he was close enough behind her to not strain the bond though he found himself looking around as she led him to a new part of the house. He was curious about why she had said what she said louder but… He didn’t know, maybe there was a ghost in the house or something. Ghosts were a thing, right? Either way, he tilted his head slightly as they went up the stairs. Music room? He didn’t know Lydia was a musician. He wondered what she played and eventually settled on ‘harp’. When he noticed her struggling with the clay and the door, he felt himself lean forward slightly as if to assist her but he righted himself when she recovered. He quickly realised when they actually reached the music room however that it was not, in fact, a harp. He DID stop this time and only barely remained within the confines of their bond as he looked around the room, absorbing everything about it; the way it smelled, the amount of knowledge gathered in one place, the music… the piano. He hadn’t seen a piano outside a store in just under a year now and though he placed the clay where she told him to, he didn’t want to take his eyes off it.

Lydia was quite perfunctory in stacking the plastic-wrapped clay against te wall, and didn’t notice Simon stopping until the ache dissipated as he approached, setting the clay beside her. Once happy with how it was all stacked, Lydia stood up, but Simon wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the piano. It was a beautiful piece in its own right, that Lydia had looked after lovingly for decades now. “Do you play?” She asked softly.

Her voice snapped Simon out of staring at the instrument and he shook his head to return to where they were; he must’ve started thinking of a different time, a different place, different circumstances. He started to open his mouth to respond but he forced himself to temper his enthusiasm with his usual brand of humility. “I used to,” He replied just as softly as he went over to the piano and looked it over delicately as if it might break under his gaze. “I haven’t in awhile,” He added. He took a step back and closer to Lydia again. “Sorry, I got… distracted. More clay?” He asked though a quick flicker of his eyes back to the instrument betrayed his attention; this was her house, he played by her rules. He was told to take clay up stairs so that’s what he had to think about.

“You’re still always apologising,” Lydia commented, raising her eyebrows. Her blue eyes flickered with something that she hadn’t often reserved for him in the midst of all this. Kindness. “The clay isn’t going to grow legs and walk away - I hope.” Unlike the time those scalpels had grown the capacity to fly. Lydia shook those thoughts away, and began to walk over to the piano, gesturing for him to come with. Lydia flicked her wings briefly before she turned to lean against the wall beside it, looking at him.  “You know, she plays like a baby grande. Beautiful bass notes. Would you like to play her?”

‘Sorry’ crossed Simon’s mind at the mention of his incessant apologies but he kept it to himself and followed her when she gestured with a timidity like a child being beckoned by the teacher to the front of the class. He trained his gaze on the piano once more as she spoke and dared to touch it this time, gently brushing a couple fingers along the black surface. He broke away to regard her and he could feel his heart skip a beat. “May I?” He asked for confirmation, taking that time between his asking and her answering to study her ethereal form, beautiful and mystical. They had established that she was more than allowed to be comfortable in her own home and he never was one to gawk so he didn’t but every once in a while, he caught himself looking at her though he couldn’t explain exactly why. But this time, he did know; if he was allowed to play this beautiful piano, he looked to her for inspiration.

“You may,” Lydia replied softly. “I have all kinds of sheet music, if you’d like something to reference. There are a couple books down there, more on the bookshelf.” She watched his fingers drift over the black wood, and she gently leant over to lift the cover, exposing the keys beneath it. “Although I may change my mind if you play like a five year old.” He was so timid, Lydia thought. So opposite to her, who would boldly demand whatever she wanted. While it was certainly smart to never take a fae at what they implied, it was also… a little sad, how uncertain he was of himself. “I can even offer you a little inspiration, if you like.”

Dozens of songs flitted through Simon’s head as she spoke and he observed her, like rifling through a book of music he had memorized. When she made the comment about sounding like a child, he shifted his perspective to something perhaps a little slower, remembering that his left hand couldn’t keep up with more strenuous songs anymore, at least not yet… “You already have,” The sentence felt almost unnatural to him so he kept it to a whisper and accompanied it with a small smile as he sat down. “I’ll try not to hurt your ears with my being out-of-practise,” He joked as he settled into position, which DID feel natural. He recalled the song that occurred the most consistently when he saw her form and unusually, it wasn’t classical… hopefully she didn’t mind songs that came from movies. Not enough people did, he thought. He placed his fingers on the keys, inhaled quietly and deeply and began to play, quickly feeling his posture loosen and fall into a position he remembered was ‘right’.

“Have I now?” Lydia replied, almost as quietly, smiling  as he sat, adjusting the seat for his height. There was a shift in him as he looked at the piano, setting his fingers delicately on the keys. She tilted her head as she watched him settle into the memory of a song, and began to play it. It was a soft, delicate melody, that Lydia didn’t recognise until it hit a refrain she knew intimately. Her smile only grew as he grew more comfortable, rising along with the music. She listened wordlessly as he played through, right up until the end. “James Horner, it’s the portrait scene, isn’t it? You play beautifully. I shouldn’t have teased.” She pushed herself off the wall, stepping a little closer. “So why does a forty year old werewolf janitor know obscure Titanic melodies?”

Instead of turning into himself, trying to not touch anything or take up any space as he usually did, Simon allowed himself to relax as he finished the song, giving a nod of affirmation to her recognition of it; he wasn’t surprised that she knew the song but not a whole lot of people knew it was James Horner, at least not that he’d met. “Uh…” He paused. “My mother really liked that movie,” He started. “And I had already been playing for… about fifteen years by that point so I learned it for her as a Mother’s Day gift.” He explained, running his fingers across the keys of the piano again. “Normally I just… play a nocturne or something and call it a day but,” He blinked trying to think of the appropriate words.. “I dunno, it just felt right.” He turned to her and gave her a different expression - it was a smile but it was reflective of how he felt inside, which was peaceful. “Thank you for letting me play,” He said quietly and gratefully. “S--” He started but cleared his throat as he stopped himself from apologising.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Lydia commented, although it hardly surprised her that Simon was sweet and considerate. She’d seen that much over the past couple days, whenever she hadn’t been gritting her teeth and baring the whole ordeal. He was almost too sweet. It made her feel guilty for taking it out on him. “As long as it didn’t feel right because you’re about to freeze to death.” Or because he thought they were about to have sex in the car. He wasn’t uneasy on the eye, mind you, but right now all she really wanted from him was space. “You can play whenever you like. You’re a better player than I am by far. I’m surprised it’s been a while since you last played.”

He chuckled in response to her joke, remembering well what the context for the actual scene was. Perhaps that was why Simon thought of it - the artist and the muse... though he himself drew the line at making it feel erotic. They were literally tethered together and he knew that this wouldn’t have been remotely possible without it; all he was before this was the weird guy online that called a stranger’s hands ‘kitten mittens’. He lit up faintly at the invitation to play whenever he wanted, his hand subconsciously resting on the keys though he turned the rest of his body away from the instrument. He refrained from mentioning that the whole time he was playing, though it felt natural and he had the song memorized like the back of his hand, he had felt anxiety tugging on him, hoping he wouldn’t screw up or hit the wrong note. “Oh, it’s uh…” He let out a noise between a scoff and a nervous laugh. “It--” He stopped himself, not even sure what he wanted to say at this point and he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. He looked to the clay again, feeling like he should ask her about… herself, the clay, anything.

Lydia’s smile only grew more lopsided as he struggled to get a word out. “You are a shy one, aren’t you. There’s nothing wrong with accepting a compliment.” Her eyes drifted to his fingers on the keys, resting there like he wanted to keep playing. Maybe he’d work his way through the full movie, if she let him. Maybe he had more styles up his sleeve. Lydia had no doubt about that. “You know, I cannot wait to work out what caused this. I like having my own space, and dislike getting to know strangers so quickly. But I must say, you aren’t the worst person to be attached to, by quite a long way.”

Right. Compliments were… Simon struggled to think, reorganize his thoughts and process things in what he considered to be the correct order. Accept the compliment. “...” No, don’t say sorry for being in her way, accept the compliment. “Thank you,” He said quietly, wondering if even that was the right way to respond to what she said most recently. “I mean--” He did pull his hands out this time, wringing his wiry fingers together; at least when he was nervous playing the piano, she had something to listen to instead of having to endure whatever he was doing now. “I…” Spit it OUT. “Appreciate your patience with the whole ordeal.” Close enough. “I’m s-- uh, hrm. I’m also thankful that…” Well NOW what was he trying to say? “Thank you for… letting me play.” He said, trying to get his train back on track. Don’t follow up with an apology.

Lydia gently put her hand on his shoulder once he was finished. “I did not think that would be such an ordeal for you,” she teased gently, as she leaned her leg against the piano stool on which he was sitting. “I don’t think I’ve been very patient at all, but it is kind of you to think so. I was close to tears last night in the bathroom with frustration. It would almost be easier for me, if you were taking it all out on me as much as I have been on you.” Lydia had hoped that as the moon waned and his strength diminished, it would be easier for her to steer the bond, but that had not happened yet. “Like I said, you can play on it any time you like. I always have time for good art.”

Simon gave her a soft smile at his own expense though it waned slightly when she mentioned having felt the way she did the previous night. He didn’t expect her to be transparent with him regarding, well, anything and that was fine but it still made him ache. Then came the part where she-- wait, what? He was going through with this challenge letting her strong will take the lead, something he vastly preferred but… “No no, you’re fine,” He said with more conviction in his tone, certainly more-so than trying to take a compliment without burying his face in his shirt in the childish hopes that she wouldn’t catch how obvious his failure to accept them was. “It’s been rough for you; you said it yourself,” Okay, heartbeat under control. Talking about her. “You’re used to privacy and having all this space to yourself,” He motioned at the room but he meant the house. “It can be really jarring for such a…” He didn’t want to call it ‘comfortable’; that usually implied ‘lack of work’. “Habitual lifestyle to change literally without even having talked to the person you’re tied up with.” He cleared his throat. “And I know… I know you told me not to but I really am sorry.” Okay, his turn and he reached out and clasped one of her delicate, ethereal hands in his and he held it briefly, with the gentleness of having been told that it was a thread of precious glass long since to have been thought of as ‘nonexistent’. “I want to solve this just as eagerly as you do,” He said. “But please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to ease the strain.” Strain? Pressure? He wasn’t sure which word he was going for but he said the one he said and he hoped his point got across okay.

Lydia didn’t correct him about all the space being all her own - she was used to having all the occupants completely under her control, though. It was much easier to leave those things unsaid. “It is hard. I don’t love spending the day watching you work only to return to work myself in the evenings. I don’t love pressing myself against walls and having you do the same in kind so that we can have our privacy. I know it isn’t easy for you either.” Lydia sat, perching on the edge of the stool beside him. Personal space seemed rather irrelevant at the moment either way. “You’re a compassionate man, and I hope you do not feel like you have to apologise for this. You’ve said yourself that you aren’t causing this. You shouldn’t feel guilty. I don’t, and I am imposing much more significantly on your life.” She looked down at their hands when he took hers, and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “If I can think of anything, trust me, you would be the first to know.”

She didn’t immediately pull away when Simon took her hand. Okay, he didn’t screw up. He did, however, remove his hands slowly when he felt the squeeze, exhaling as he gave a small nod. “Thanks,” He said, almost wanting to say that she wasn’t really imposing on his life at all; he never considered it a necessarily bad thing but he spent a lot of his life being instructed on where to stand, how he could assist in ways that were… sometimes less than pragmatic but always held at arm’s length and that feeling that rolled his stomach over and made his heart flutter… He thought it was ‘companionship’ and he found himself inwardly frustrated at himself for not minding the limited space between them nearly as much as she did. He reminded himself that these moments of getting to play the piano, reading quietly while someone else worked, even being in a well-lit house with its labyrinthian interior were ephemeral. With that, he slowly got to his feet once more. “Wanna get the rest of the clay out of the way?” He offered a hand to help her to her feet.

@inconvenientsimonstrocity

[theliterarywolf]

So... Let's talk about Hetalia. Controversies, Specifically.

Tagging @apply-force-too-begin since they’re the one who was interested.

Hetalia was one of my first big fandoms outside of 'The Big Three' anime (Naruto, Bleach, One Piece) and outside of video games (mostly whatever wee babby weeaboo me could get on the Gamecube).

And, you know what? It's a dumb, silly anime about stereotypes, poking fun at the absurdities of History, and one's relationships with clashing cultures. It's dumb... But, remember, we all need our daily thirty minutes of dumb. And some of the characters are cute.

And, you know what? Most of the most engaging aspects of the fandom were those who used the initial shallow splash of history that the anime gave them to actually research and make engaging, well-written, culturally-sensitive content.

Of course, I'm not going to ignore how... Over-the-top some members of the fandom have been. We've seen how, whenever recent political conflict or natural disaster have occurred, we have to remind younger members of the Hetalia fandom to not cutsiefy it with the Hetalia characters. Examples that come to mind are: when the conflict between Russia and Ukraine was surging up, kids kept trying to draw art of 'Russia just wants his big sister back~!', and the last major earthquake that hit Japan that had people making fanart of the Japan character which, while some was tasteful and was meant to bring awareness and donations for Disaster Relief, not... all of it was...

Hell, that’s not even bringing into account the last time I went to Anime Expo (way back during Hetalia’s hayday), I was walking around and saw a bunch of Russia and Baltic State cosplayers being interviewed by the news and the one dressed up in a USSR uniform was holding up a Communist flag and shouting ‘Whoo! SOVIET TAKEOVER!!’

However, one thing that I have noticed, while researching for this write-up, was this:

Most of the controversies and pieces of fandom-wank that have surrounded Hetalia and its fandom... Aside from one instance... Are the results of the Western-fandom and Western-localization of the anime  via Funimation.

Aside from one... Most of the issues surrounding Hetalia are due to the West and not even the source media in of itself.

So, with that in mind, let's talk about the main controversies of both Hetalia and its fanbase.

Controversy 1 – The South Korea Controversy/Protests

As I recently answered a question about this, so I'll just pull that answer for this segment:

'To summarize it: there’s a Hetalia character meant to represent South Korea. As every Hetalia character has a gag related to them (America gorges himself on fast food and constantly proclaims himself to be the Hero, Italy is cowardly, Germany is constantly angry, China constantly builds Chinatowns wherever he goes and sells bootleg merchandise, etc), so did S. Korea.

His gag was calling all the other Asian countries ‘big brother’ as well as groping the chests of male characters (China and Japan mostly), proclaiming ‘these mountains belong to South Korea, da ze!’

Of course, people would draw pictures of S. Korea doing his thing but one day during a meeting between a bunch of South Korean politicians and representatives, someone brought out a piece of fanart that depicted S. Korea groping Japan’s chest with the latter looking embarrassed and what not.

They interpreted the character as being an offensive, lecherous stereotype that was somehow belittling S. Korea’s worth as a country.

There were a bunch of small protests until, finally, Himaruya Hidekazu (the creator of Hetalia) just decided to say “you know what? Fine! I’m not getting rid of the character but he’ll never appear in the anime adaptation, okay?!’

So… Yeah! Fun times…'

Magnitude of Controversy – MAJOR

Like... In what universe is 'this meme hurt my feewings, we need to take VALUABLE TIME DURING GOVERNMENT FORUMS to talk about it RATHER THAN OTHER PRESSING ISSUES' a good response? And the fact that people took to the streets to protest? Come on, guys! There's so much more to worry about in this world...

Controversy 2 – Emperor Heliogabalus and Himaruya's 'Transgender Erasure'

There was a section of time where Himaruya Hidekazu, rather than focusing on the nation characters of the series, made chapters and updates about certain historical figures. They were all done for laughs while interspersing various bits of trivia and facts about them.

One of these updates centered around the Roman emperor Heliogabalus (or 'Elagabalus'). And this is where certain portions of this hellsite got soooooo upset...

You see, Himaruya titled the update centered on Heliogabalus as 'The Emperor Who Tried to Live as a Woman... Even Though He Was Really a Guy'.

Almost immediately people were typing up callout posts about how 'transphobic' Himaruya was for the title and 'how dare he misgender my precious trans baby~!' or 'this just goes to show how ignorant Japanese people are to Western history' and so many more, all because Himaruya didn't use out-and-out female pronouns for Heliogabalus.

Now. Mm, two things!

One! This was during the time when Himaruya had an open blog where, not only did he post pictures and updates about where in the world he was traveling and what he was researching, but it also had an inbox that was open for people to send insight to him.

So, if people were really incensed by this, you would think that they would use such a means to let a creator know 'hey, this is kind of problematic; can you edit it to show this information', right?

Right?

NO ONE tried to inform Himaruya of their upset; they literally didn't want an answer, they just wanted to be upset!

But, here's the kicker: the guy that all of these people were stanning for? Emperor Heliogabalus?

WASN'T FUCKING TRANS!!

The real Heliogabalus was a sadistic little shit who was connivingly put on the throne by his mother via a bunch of espionage and assassinations... Who, as thanks, had his own mother murdered once he was emperor. Other wonderful exploits of this 'icon' that tumblr kids decided to stan was:

Getting politicians and countrymen drunk and then, while they were passed out, brought in lions to kill and eat them

Deciding 'fuck Jupiter, Helios is my husbando – We're all going to worship him now!'

Completely wrecking Rome's monetary system

Promising favors to his lovers (whom he called his 'husbands' despite not making anything official) that strictly contradicted favors to his other lovers

And just generally being a hot mess

So... why were tumblr children so insistent on him being a transgender woman?

You ready for this?

Okay.

Because he occaisionally dressed in women's clothing and called his male lovers his 'husbands'.

Yeah.

One of the earliest case of tumblr children trying to ruin someone's life because they didn't follow their headcanons.

Magnitude of Controversy – Honestly, this was just fandom-wank. But it was one of the earlier instances of fandom brats using serious terms (transphobia) to justify being upset at a creator not following their headcanons.

Controversy 3 – The Passover Photoshoot

…

…

I'm sorry, just...

Everytime I remember or have to go over this one, I have to stop and reflect; maybe grab a drink.

…

Okay.

So, pretty early into the Western reaches of the Hetalia fandom, a group of friends and Hetalia fans decided to meet up together at a mall for a cosplay photoshoot.

Okay. Cool. Fine.

They were all dressed up as their favorite characters from the series! Germany, Austria, Hungary, P-Prussia, Holy... Roman Empire...

Ahem. Okay. Cool. Fine.

So, they get to the mall and start taking pictures. But then someone in the group gets the amazing idea for everyone to do certain poses.

I... You know, why did I start this, I could have just not done thi--

Nazi salutes. You had a bunch of dumb kids dressed up as Germanic nations. Performing Nazi salutes and shouting 'Heil Hitler'.

Now, as bad as this was... you could have just drawn it out as shitty edgelord humor; we still have plenty of that going on today.

H-however. There were two factors that made this photoshoot 50 Shades of Tasteless.

Number one. This photoshoot took place during Passover.

And number two. The mall that this photoshoot took place at...

WAS JUST A HOP, SKIP, AND A JUMP FROM THE UNITED STATES HOLOCAUST MUSEUM!!!

This is the one, THE ONE, instance where, anytime someone talks about 'lol, young Hetalia fans are so cringey', this is what pops into my head.

Those of us older members of the fandom can never fucking forget this. Yeah, the perpetrators were called out; yeah, they learned their lessons, yeah it opened up a conversation about appropriate behavior in fandom. But this one event will always remain as the big 'Ooh, baby, nooooo! What are you doing?!' moment in the fandom.

Even moreso than what the current batch of hatedum is about.

Magnitude of Controversy – Huge. The South Korea controversy was discussed on a governmental scale, but the Passover Photoshoot is what remains as the biggest mark on the fandom.

Controversy 4 - FUCKING FUNIMATION!!

Okay, I... 

This one is so infuriating because it’s the result of Funimation just not giving a DAMN.

So, Hetalia got popular enough to be localized! Yay... And it was going to be handled by Funimation. Yay... They do quality work... Sometimes.

*kicks the Black Butler dub into the sun*

So, they dubbed Hetalia. And, you know what? So many questionable decisions went into this fucking dub. 

You have Vic Mignogna! You! *clap* Have! *clap* Vic! *clap* Mignogna! You could have easily put him as one of the Axis characters or the Allied characters and you...

Don’t use him...

Until three seasons down the line...

And then you have him as Greece. 

A character who barely says anything.

... And this was WAY before the clusterfuck of KickVic, so they really had no excuse. 

Oh, also! For China, who is a main character, maybe we should have an actual voice-actor?

Pssh! Fuck that shit, let’s just have some random chick from accounting voice him. 

... They literally had some random-chick from accounting do an overly stereotypical Chinese accent and said ‘yeah, that’s fine; print!’

And she gave us such... wonderful line-reads as: during the Hetalia movie Paint It, White! --

“SUCK BALLS! I knew za fortune cookie today was bad ruck~!”

But as bad as the dub got sometimes (Oh God, I’m having war flashbacks of Russia...), the exchange from the dub that people constantly point to as ‘see! This show was antisemitic all along!’ were these: 

Exchange 1 - 

S. Italy/Romano - ‘Hey asshole, I have a surprise for you~!’

Germany - ‘What is it? Another Jew?’

And, you know what? As asinine and idiotic as that brief exchange was... 

IT WASN’T IN THE ORIGINAL MATERIAL!

Funimation, in their infinite wisdom, wrote that in and thought ‘yeah, that’s fine; print!’

So, there goes another issue of ‘problem that only existed because of the idiocy of a Western presence’.

Magnitude of Controversy - Well, people are still talking about it, despite it literally being because of Funimation’s laziness, so...

'Controversy' 5 – The Civil War fanart

So, this segment will be short because it doesn't even need to exist. But, you may have noticed an upsurge in people hating on the series again; even going so far as to raid Discord servers for fans of the series with gore.

Hell, I even scrolled past one person doing a 'call to arms' for people to spam any server that has to do with Hetalia as a big 'gotcha'.

And you wanna know where this fandom-wank started?

Someone on tumblr re-posted an old piece of... questionable chibi fanart of Confederate!America and Union!America. Union!America is hiding a slave woman behind him while shouting at Confederate!America to 'Pick your own damn cotton!'

(deep breath... okay)

And, while the art in of itself is... not great, the fact that it is an old piece of fanart and that someone posted it onto tumblr for the 'lol, look at this cringe' lolz, is what rallied some people to start shitting on fans of the show and raiding servers.

There also may have been some drama over on picrew by some teenage LGBT user lashing out at the whole 'stop spamming Picrew with gay shit' sentiment and then some edgelord over on this hellsite screencapping their game and talking about 'lol, of course it would be a cringey Hetalian to post some dumb shit like this; get off the site, queer' but, honestly, this last one, while being the reason why people are acting dumber than usual, is the most inconsequential.

Magnitude of the Controversy – It would be minimal at best, especially compared to the other ones in this write-up, but like I said, it does have some trickling into the current hatedumb.

So, yeah, here was my little write-up/mini-dive into the madness. You guys can let me know if you want more insight or if you have any questions, and I love you and buh-bye!

[thenecropolix]

First Meeting: A Wandersong Lab Experiment AU Oneshot

A oneshot based on an AU I came up with on Discord

Summary: The only reason Kiwi was in the medical sector of the facility was because they were waiting to take their usual physical as scheduled. What they weren't expecting to find was another experiment like themselves for the first time since they've been there, although it goes far more unexpected than they anticipated.

Genre: Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Supernatural

Word Count: 2090

Author's Notes: This fic was inspired by a short comic I drew in Discord in regards to an AU that I had personally created. The Lab Experiment AU, as I have been calling it, revolves around the trope of laboratories conducting private experiments, specifically with the creation of mutants and messing around with human/animal DNA in an attempt to give humans otherworldly abilities. Kiwi is a failed experiment from a small project that sought to find the perfect test subject, someone who could survive an experimentation process and come out with powers beyond man's wildest dreams while still retaining a human form/conscious; they’re primarily based off of a grizzly bear in terms of body shape while their claws are more like that of a mole. Miriam on the other hand is based primarily on an octopus and looks like a standard cecaelia, with some crocodile and black panther added into the mix. Having said all this, enjoy the fic!

-----------------------------------------

The brightness generated from the evenly spaced-out utility lights of the hallway did nothing to help the makeshift waiting room of the facility’s medical sector, if you could even call it that. As soon as you entered, the dimly-lit atmosphere was immediately apparent; even with the piercing glare coming from the hallway, it seemed as though a shadow was always cast within the area, preventing it from being completely lit and forever keeping it under the influence of its presence.

The only reason it wasn’t referred to as another containment unit for the scientists’ experiments was because of the objects scattered about; at every corner of the room there was a potted plant, and off to the right side there was a small coffee table in front of fairly large sofa. Had the facility choose to ignore the option of catering to its employees to some degree, this would otherwise look like a plain and empty room built for the sole purpose of detaining the laboratory’s ‘creations’ until further notice.

Kiwi supposed it could be worse; after all, if the personal demands of the employees were not met, the room would have otherwise felt as if it had been made to restrain some accursed abomination of the lab that had a high probability of escaping  and therefore wreak havoc upon the world as a dangerous, unnatural force of nature brought to life by man. The scientists involved with the experimentation process considered themselves to be a prime example of such, although in their defense, they didn’t mean to appear frightening; despite their happy-go-lucky attitude and pacifistic nature, most, if not all, of the employees working at the facility were rather terrified of them, from the nervous glances given to them by the scientists to the loud shrieks that escaped from the mouths of the office assistants that accidently ran right into them.

However, that was beside the point; their primary reason for being here was because they had another diagnostics test scheduled for today. It was simple enough; as soon as they walked through the door on the opposite side of the room, a small group of scientists were going to be waiting for them, where they will then have them go through an extensive physical, with at least two people taking notes on their health before finishing it off with a full-body scan for further documentation. Standard procedures as they called it; they wanted to make sure that they were aware of any “developing abilities” physical or otherwise in case they needed to go through further testing based on their assessments. 

As if their sharp fangs, inhuman super strength, and abnormally large claws weren’t enough.

Still, it’s not like they really had a say in the matter; in all seriousness, the point of the physical examination was to help keep the scientists from panicking over any minute changes that could impact their performance for better or worse. Even then, they really couldn’t say anything literally speaking; their vocal chords were scrambled during the experimentation process, thus hindering their speech save for the occasional growl or bark.

They could only hope that they considered a universal translator as their next project.

For now though, Kiwi remained in the so-called ‘waiting room’ for the time being until the scientists were ready for them to come in for their physical. Understanding the amount of time it would take until they were called in, they choose the option of lying down on the floor for a quick nap. They moved across the tile floor as their claws tapped against the ground with a rhythmic clack clack clack as they prepared to lower themselves closer to the floor. They were just beginning to lie down when their eyes landed on something they had completely missed when they first entered the room.

Just a few feet away from them on their left sat a large, dark blue container. Circular in shape, the containment unit appeared to be rather small; Kiwi figured that if they were to completely stand up, it wouldn’t be able to reach their arm at its midpoint.

Intrigued by the presence of the mysterious containment unit, Kiwi decided to change their plans and amuse themselves by leisurely walking over to the container for the purpose of further inspecting it as a way to cure their boredom.

They were barely a few inches away when they made contact with another pair of eyes.

At the edge of the container was another experiment staring at them from inside. Her pupils were slitted like that of a snake’s, but instead of being upright, they sat on their side horizontally speaking. Peeking out above the rim was her nose, which Kiwi found to be rather pointy, yet still on the blunt side like that of a shark. Two wispy, fin-like ears were attached to her head in addition to a spiky layer of cyan hair that stuck out at different angles. Her skin started off as being a dark shade of blue with black freckles dotted along her nose and around her eyes before gradually becoming lighter in color.

What had caught Kiwi off-guard however were the tentacles protruding from the container, with two on the other mutant’s right and one on her left. They wriggled and squirmed repeatedly, twisting in on themselves in a manner that made it seem as if they were having trouble deciding on how to feel about their current situation.

It was during this moment that Kiwi realized that the containment unit in question was in fact a transportable tank as they took notice of the amount of water that it retained, just barely a few inches away from reaching the rim and overflowing. Turning their attention back towards the experiment, the other watched them from her spot in a crocodilian manner. 

After a few minutes of staring at one another, Kiwi couldn’t help but smile. In the midst of their joy, their tongue lolled out of their mouth like a very happy golden retriever, but it didn’t matter to them. The facility was known for keeping their personal projects separated, making it hard to tell what went on deep in the bowels of the large, yet publicly inconspicuous research center. Such precautions left Kiwi wondering if there were any others like themselves beyond the rooms they frequented, but at last they knew the truth; there were other mutants apart from themselves. With this in mind, they were rather pleased with their discovery. Perhaps they were strangers now, but they could very well soon have a friend in just a moment.

Excitedly, they moved closer to the tank and raised their right hand (Errr…..paw? They really couldn’t tell at this point) in order to set it down on the rim while they attempted to make light conversation. 

Their claws were inches away from the containment unit when the other experiment suddenly moved.

With surprising speed, the mutant quickly rose from the water, revealing the rest of her body. At a glance, her arms appeared abnormally lanky in a cartoonish manner, and would have very well been mistaken for another pair of tentacles if it weren’t for the webbed claws that gripped the edge of the tank; meanwhile, her actual tentacles began to writhe as if they were a nest of angry snakes that were rudely disturbed from their slumber. Her eyes were narrowed as they locked onto Kiwi and pierced their soul; ears flattened, she bared her fangs in a snarl as a low, aggravated growl rumbled from the back of her throat, filling the atmosphere with a sense of hostility. 

Kiwi’s eyes slitted in fear; they pulled their claws away from the tank, lowering their head and body in the process as they backed down. 

When they first saw the experiment, they couldn’t help but think about how small she was as they had practically towered over her.

Now it was occurring to them that the only reason she had appeared small in the first place was because she had been lying down…..and as of right now, they were the small one here.

They could only hope that the other would understand that they were sorry.

With every passing second, the guttural growls continued to grow in both volume and agitation; a hardened stare was locked onto Kiwi, eyes alight with anger and ready to strike at any given moment.  The friendlier mutant figured it was only a matter of time befor-

“Miriam!”

Surprised, Kiwi’s eyes widened, and they turned to face the newcomer. 

From across the hallway in which they came from, a woman briskly moved towards both mutants. As she came closer, Kiwi could make out a few details about the unexpected visitor; she was much older in age based on the wrinkles that covered her face and her graying hair, which lightly bobbed up and down as she moved. She wore what appeared to be an oversized lab-coat, but upon further inspection, they deduced that this was because she was shorter in stature as she appeared no bigger than 5’0 in height. When she arrived at the doorway, they could make out the name inscribed on her ID as Saphy. 

Turning back to face the other mutant (now identified as Miriam), Kiwi realized that her attention was now directed towards Saphy. Furthermore, there was a tonal shift in her growling; she no longer sounded completely aggravated, and instead sounded a little more inquisitive, as if questioning the woman that called out to her.

Saphy spoke once more.

“Now now Miriam, there’s no need to get upset with them, they were only looking.”

Miriam appeared to be listening; her growling had completely softened until all that could be heard was a small rrrrrr as she mulled over Saphy’s words. Her eyes had shifted to the side, implying that she was legitimately processing what was being said to her and carefully thinking about what she ought to do, all while refraining from making any sudden movements.

Meanwhile, Kiwi could only stand there and wait in anticipation to see what would become of them; during this small and somewhat tense moment, they couldn’t help but note how Ms. Saphy spoke to Miriam. It was as if she already knew her…..and based on how Miriam reacted, it seemed to be a very likely case. Question is, how could these two unlikely individuals have met? What’s their story? Have they known each other longer than Kiwi had realized, or was it all in their head? The questions continued to pour into their mind like water being poured into a bucket and spilling over.

In any case, they quickly snapped back to reality when they noticed Miriam moving. To their surprise, she slowly sank back down into the water until she reassumed the position she had been in before. Once she had completely settled back down, Saphy calmly walked towards the tank and stood where one of her tentacles now idly sat. Gently, she placed both of her hands on the tentacle as if she were consoling it; as soon as she made contact, a second tendril rose from the water and high into the air before arching over and placing its tip on the back of both her hands, as if mimicking her. 

With a soft, yet cheerful smile, Saphy warmly responded with “See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?” 

Miriam answered her question with only a huff; she continued to calmly sit in the water and allow Saphy to hold onto her tentacles while keeping an eye on her.

Kiwi could only stand there and gawk in befuddlement, bewildered by what they were seeing.

Having gotten over their fear, they now stood upright, their ears perked up and their eyes still wide with surprise as they watched the situation play out in front of them. This woman, of whom seemingly came out of nowhere, managed to pacify a creature that was probably three times larger than she was, highly irritable, and no doubt temperamental, with nothing but her words, and was now physically touching her and speaking to her as if she was nothing more than a fussy child, all while still in one piece. 

In Kiwi’s mind, she was clearly a force to be reckoned with despite her appearance saying otherwise.

Judging from everything that had happened up to this point, they had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they’d be seeing Saphy.

Nor would it be the last time they’d be seeing Miriam.

[darkstarofchaos]

So recently I had a bit of a disagreement with someone about IDW Prowl. I commented on how I don’t think he deserves all the hate he gets, and my discussion partner disagreed, citing the Overlord Incident as an example of one of his more “morally questionable” decisions. Specifically, that “the way he went about things came damn close to shades of black”. And I’m... a bit upset.

How about if I dissect the story behind that incident for y’all, and we’ll just see how abominable his methods were?

Let’s set the scene. The war has just ended: Cybertron is coming back to life, bots of all alignments are returning, and the Autobots have the Decepticons in confinement - among them most of the High Command. Most. Because Megatron is unaccounted for, and with his history, he’ll come back. Prowl, already upset by the behavior of the neutrals who hate both sides, refuses to acknowledge the war as over. He sees possible Decepticon uprisings around every corner, and goes to arguably extreme measures to keep them in line - and it’s not just paranoia, because there are Decepticons who are up to no good (spoiler alert: Megatron eventually returns - who could have guessed? - and slag goes down).

Enter Chromedome. See, Prowl has been thinking about Decepticon supersoldiers; specifically, the fact that only the Decepticons have them, which means they - the Phase Sixers - aren’t naturally occurring. He wants to know how to make them, so that the Autobots will have a powerful weapon to fall back on. To accomplish this, he wants Chromedome to enter the mind of a captive Phase Sixer, Overlord, and dig out the secret.

Morally dubious? Of course: in fact, that’s putting it mildly considering we’re talking about mind rape. There’s also the risk to Chromedome - injecting is dangerous for the mnemosurgeons who do it, and going as deeply as Prowl wants him to could kill him. But you know what, I don’t hold that against Prowl. Yes, he’s asking Chromedome to risk his life, but he’s the Autobots’ Second in Command. He asks bots to risk their lives every time he sends them to battle. He’s used to it, sad though that is.

Now Chromedome, he doesn’t want to do it. He thinks the war is over and that the Autobots don’t need their own Phase Sixers anymore. But more than that, he promised his Conjunx, Rewind, that he was done injecting. No more entering people’s minds. And I’ll grant you, Prowl’s response isn’t exactly moral - he does attempt to blackmail Chromedome to get what he wants. “Attempt” because, well... I'll just let these panels speak for themselves:

So let’s put this into perspective. Hacking Overlord - an enemy - is a no-go because Chromedome doesn’t want to break his promise to Rewind. Hacking Prowl - an ally and Chromedome’s one-time partner - and breaking that promise to keep a secret is a-ok. And I ask you, which is worse? Blackmailing someone for what you believe is a good cause? Or mentally raping someone and erasing the information they were using against you, along with their memory of the attack, for purely personal reasons? And perhaps more importantly, what did Chromedome do? What was so bad that he would go so far to keep it hidden? Rewind already knew that he’s hacked and lobotomized and tampered with the memories of thousands of people - what could he possibly have done that was so much worse?

But sure, Prowl’s the villain here. Whatever you say.

Despite Chromedome's tampering, Prowl still remembers what he wanted him to do. And so he makes his next morally dubious move: Chromedome will soon be leaving the planet onboard the Lost Light, so Prowl arranges for a slow cell containing Overlord to be attached to the ship's hull in secret, with instructions that Drift should convince Chromedome to go through with the hack. Not the best way of handling the situation, since Prowl could simply have taken no for an answer, but he does take every possible measure to keep the crew safe: five seconds inside the slow cell is half an hour outside, and the cell can be ejected with the push of a button. Overlord himself is restrained and lacks the motivation to even attempt escape, wanting only for someone to kill him. Even if he does begin to free himself, there's no need to risk anyone's life recapturing him; just press the button and he's gone. The only thing Prowl doesn't do is tell the crew, which, yes, he should have done. But they never would have gone along with it, and by this point in time, Prowl is used to going behind people’s backs when he thinks it for the best. It’s not commendable, but it is how things stand.

So we have the plan and we have the security measures. But the thing with plans is, they rarely survive contact with reality. Even the best strategist can only plan around the information he has, and everyone else involved has this little thing called “agency”. That means they can make their own decisions, and those decisions impact the success or failure of even the best laid plan.

This is how things fall apart. One of Prowl’s agents gets too close to the Lost Light’s quantum generator while attaching a tracer to the engines and accidentally causes a premature quantum jump, becoming fused with the engine block in the process. He dies, one of the Lost Light‘s thrusters explodes, and a hull breach results in the death of two others. The explosion also frees a variable Prowl had no way of knowing about: the Sparkeater kept locked in the basement by the previous owners of the ship. The Sparkeater kills Prowl’s other agent, as well as one other crew member, and the incident also prompts Chromedome to break his promise about injecting after all (and he will do so at least two more times before Overlord comes into the picture).

The Lost Light is pretty good at finding trouble. Eventually Rewind nearly dies, and Drift is finally able to convince Chromedome to go through Overlord’s memories. It takes him about a dozen tries to find what he’s looking for, and in that time he grows careless. He stops bringing guards with him when he enters the slow cell. On that last visit he mentions that Megatron might well still be alive - a revelation which finally motivates Overlord to free himself. This is the second variable that Prowl couldn’t have anticipated, because until now, Overlord had no desire to do anything. And there’s one more thing Prowl didn’t know: Overlord has studied mnemosurgery, and he knows just enough to turn the tables on Chromedome and dig through his memories. He obtains the security code to open the cell, tears free of his restraints, and because Chromedome came alone, there’s no one to stop his escape.

Overlord gets free because of a combination of unforeseeable circumstances and sheer stupidity. And how many people die during his rampage?

Two.

Rewind is one of them.

Could the entire series of events have been avoided if Prowl had left well enough alone? Yes. Is he solely responsible for how things turned out? Not even close. He made the plan, but he couldn’t force anyone to follow it. Chromedome disregarded the measures put in place to keep him and everyone else safe, and that’s on him. Ore did follow the plan, but because he decided to plant the tracer during takeoff rather than doing so beforehand or waiting until they were on their way, the ship took damage. One could put it the way Ultra Magnus eventually did - Prowl loaded the guns and left it to other people to fire them - but there are so many things wrong with that statement that it would take another essay to cover them (short version: Second in Command! Tactician! Making plans and leaving others to carry them out is his job!).

People have free will, and everyone has responsibility for their actions, whether they choose to take that responsibility or not. Prowl might not be innocent, but he sure as hell isn’t the only guilty party.

Well. People have free will up until someone literally takes it away. But that’s another story.

I’M JUST SAYING!

[mrschangrettawrites]

Feel Like This

Summary: You came to Stephen an eager student, and he would never be the same again.

Words: 3220

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female!Reader

Notes: Nothing really, aside from the fact I still haven’t seen Doctor Strange. I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

Tagging: @gameofdooweeoo @doctor-strange-thirst-club if you want to be tagged in future chapters lmk!

Chapter One

It had been six months since you had arrived at the Sanctum, and while initially Stephen had been reluctant to let you in, he was glad he did.

You had arrived as a pilgrim of sorts, seeking out ‘arcane knowledge’ as you had put it.

“If you wish to learn the Mystic Arts-” Stephen had begun to say, but you cut him off.

“I have my own magic.” And with that you stretched out an arm, and formed a sphere that seemed to be made out of smoke in your palm. “I was born with it.” You had said, in answer to Stephen’s unspoken question. “But I want to learn. Please, just let me learn.”

And who was Stephen to turn away a willing student?

Almost instantly you became a source of fascination and curiosity to everyone within the Sanctum, from the greenest apprentice to the most experienced master. None of them had ever seen power like yours, and to learn that it was a natural gift was an even bigger surprise. You denied being a mutant, which left everyone wondering how you came to acquire your powers.

“I stopped asking that question a long time ago.” Was your reply whenever you were asked.

Stephen personally took you under his wing, as he saw it as his duty as he was the Master of the New York Sanctum. He taught you everything he had learned at the Kamar Taj, trained you in martial arts and gave you books to read. While he had been unsure as to how you would adjust, to his surprise you took to it like a duck to water. Your agility was impressive, your strength and endurance moreso. And Stephen never had to ask you twice to open a book and absorb the knowledge within. It appeared that your desire to learn was genuine, and Stephen was consistently impressed by you.

This soon turned to fondness. And this in turn became love. Which left Stephen at a loss.

After Christine, Stephen began to think he was the kind of man who was ill-suited to relationships. While he had been a different person then, the thought still plagued him. That old arrogance was still there, lurking in the shadows, and even after his metamorphoses, Stephen could be hard to get on with. And then there was the issue of your age.

You were young. Far too young for a man like Stephen, at least in his opinion. He was of course aware of relationships with age gaps like the one that existed between the two of you, and ones where the gap was even more significant, but he still hesitated. He worried you saw him as being too old for you (God knew that was what he had thought at that age), or that you only saw him as a mentor. He didn’t know how he would react if he poured his heart to you, only to have you tell him that you saw him as a teacher, a guide, and nothing more.

Well, he had an idea at least. He imagined he would try and find the deepest, darkest hole he could and throw himself into it.

So he endeavoured to nip these feelings in the bud, but that proved to be far easier said than done. You were vivacious, eager, and possessed a charm that was laced with sweetness and sincerity. It was all a very dangerous combination. At least in Stephen’s opinion. It was as if the universe had purposefully sent him someone he would not help but fall in love with.

More than once he had been tempted to use the Eye to see in the future, or to peer into the other dimensions to find one where the two of were in love and happy. But he never dared. He was too afraid of what he may find.

So he told himself to be content with what he had now. No matter how difficult that may be.

“You know this really has to stop.”

Stephen turned to Wong with a raised brow and a frown. “What does?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“All of this lovesick pining you do.” Wong waved a hand, although whether it was to describe said pining or his irritation with it, Stephen didn’t know. “It was funny at first but it’s gotten really old.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stephen replied calmly, despite the fact that he could feel his face flushing and he imagined it was only a few shades lighter than his cloak.

Wong snorted. “And I’m the queen of England.” He deadpanned. “Have you tried, you know, talking to her about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Clearly this displeased Wong, as he gave Stephen the most withering look he had ever seen. “I don’t know if you think you’re good at faking, but I will tell you right now you’re not.” He climbed up a ladder and ran a finger along the spine of a row of books before finding the one he wanted. “And if I have to go through another day of seeing you like that I might just tell her myself.”

“No!” The suddenness of Stephen’s reply, along with how loud it was, surprised him, but Wong appeared to be unfazed. “I mean…” Stephen tried to think of something to say, but all the words he had ever learned disappeared, leaving him with a dry mouth and throat.

Wong raised his head and seemed to be far too amused for Stephen’s liking. “It won’t kill you to be honest you know.” He pointed out.

“Easy for you to say.” Stephen retorted, having re-found words. “It wouldn’t be your dignity at risk.”

“Oh I’m well aware of that. Why do you think I want you to do it so badly?” He grinned.

Now with a face definitely as red as his cloak, Stephen stormed off, leaving Wong to chortle.

Frowning, Stephen ran his eyes over the large, thick, heavy tome that sat on the desk in front of him. The cover was as black as onyx and he suspected that once it had shone and looked very grand indeed. But the lacquer had long since dried and started to peel, and the edges of the pages were so yellowed it was hard to imagine any of them had once been pure white.

Tony had found it during a raid of a HYDRA base and taken it straight to Stephen, suspecting it to be a magical artifact of some sort. Stephen could definitely something deep and old and powerful emanating from it, but he didn’t know what it was. And he didn’t know if he wanted to know.

“Stephen?”

At the sound of his name, Stephen looked over his shoulder, but he knew who had spoken. “Name. Is something wrong?”

“Wong told me Mr Stark brought something to the Sanctum.” Your eyes landed on the tome. “Is that it?”

Stephen nodded and he gestured for you to come forward. He watched as you did so, although with an apprehension he hadn’t seen since your first few days at the Sanctum and you had yet to build up your confidence. “I’m not sure what it is.” He admitted. “So be careful.”

But it appeared he needn’t had bothered to warn you, as you seemed determined to keep your distance from the possible artifact. You remained a few steps behind Stephen, your eyes boring into the tome. The look in your eyes was so unusual and foreign, at least on your face, that it took Stephen a few, very confused moments to realize what it was.

Fear.

“Everything’s perfectly fine.” He said, trying to soothe you despite what he had just said before. “You can step closer.”

But you shook your head firmly. “It-It’s alright.” You said. “So...have you read it?”

Deciding to leave you be for now, Stephen nodded. “But I can’t understand any of it.” He opened it up again, as if hoping that it would make sense this time around. But the words remained a cipher in a hand that was at times elegant, at others rushed. “Wong hasn’t come across anything like it, but he’s trying to find any information that could-are you alright?”

Your face had gone unusually pale and you looked on the brink of heaving. Without waiting for you to reply, Stephen put an arm around you to keep you steady. He quickly shed one of his gloves and pressed his hand to your forehead, grateful for the fact that he could pass the shaking off as his usual hand tremors rather than admit to it being nerves. “You’re burning up!” He said, shocked that you had managed to fall so badly under the weather so quickly.

“I’m fine.” You croaked in a manner that very clearly showed you were anything but fine.

Without a second thought, Stephen lead you out of his office to take you to your room, asking you if you had been sleeping well, how much water you had had that day, if it was that particular time of the month.

“Stephen really there’s no need to fuss!” You protested. “There’s nothing wrong!”

“Who’s the one with the medical degree here.” As Stephen went through every illness that could possibly be responsible for this sudden change in you, he hadn’t yet noticed that this was the closest the two of had ever been physically. It only occurred to him when he laid you down on your bed, and the realization hit him, along with the fact that you were lying down, gazing up at him with half lidded eyes and a half open mouth, like in so many of his dreams.

Feeling utterly mortified, Stephen managed to get out a “I’ll get you some water!” before leaving your room and almost slamming the door behind him.

As Stephen waited for his heart rate to decrease, he had his back pressed against the door, trying his very best to resist the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard surface.

‘Pull yourself together you fucking idiot!’ He scolded himself, but his heart continued to beat wildly, like a door in a hurricane.

When Stephen found you, you were sitting in an armchair in the library. It had been a few days since the incident in his office, and despite your protests Stephen gave you strict instructions to not over exert yourself, even going as far as to use his medical degree as leverage over you.

That was another thing he adored about you; your stubbornness. Which was unusual as when other people were stubborn it tended to annoy him. But your stubbornness always came from a well-meaning place, like everything else you did. You always seemed to act, first and foremost, with your heart and soul.

Apparently hearing his footsteps, you looked up from your book and gave Stephen a smile that made his knees go weak. “Stephen, did you need me for something?”

‘More than you know.’ “No, I just wanted to check on you.”

You smiled wider, making it harder for Stephen to breathe. “That’s very kind of you.”

Without warning, Stephen’s cloak flew off from his shoulders and wrapped around you, settling on your lap as if it was a beloved pet. This wasn’t the first time the cloak had done this. It appeared that it had developed fond feelings for you (the fact that it could feel anything at all still baffled Stephen), and was loathe to waste an opportunity to get close to you. The cloak was able to do just about everything Stephen wanted to do, purely by virtue of being a cloak.

You laughed, the library ringing with the sweet sound, as you gently stroked the cloak. “Did you miss me?” You cooed teasingly.

The cloak responded by nuzzling your face, making you laugh again.

Stephen smiled, feeling both elated to see you in such a state of joy, and jealous that it was his cloak making you feel that way.

(And then he felt ridiculous for being jealous of the cloak.)

That night, Stephen dreamed of you again.

His dreams of you went one of two ways.

In some, the two of you are immeasurably happy. The sun was always shining and the weather was always good and Stephen couldn’t stop smiling. He would lift you up in his arms, spin you around as you laugh and squeal in delight. You are both in your own home, with no one to bother either of you. There are no otherworldly threats to the universe. Everything smells like vanilla and cinnamon and when Stephen kisses you he tastes Eden.

He is not having one of those dreams.

This dream sees him throwing you onto his bed, climbing on top of you as his mouth latches onto your neck, alternating between kissing and biting. You mewl and cry out as you run your nails down his back, making Stephen groan.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes, hazy with lust, and holds your wrists above your head. “Bad girl.” He whispers, his lips so close to your ear that you shiver. “What have I said about scratching?”

You whine and stutter out an apology to which Stephen can only tsk. He makes a gesture with his free hand and uses his magic to form chains that bind your wrists together, so that both of his hands are able to wander your body.

Even though he has never had the privilege to map out your body in real life, in the dreams you are soft and sensitive, the trailing of his fingers along the parts where your body dips and then expands making you moan, making you beg.

There has never been a sweeter or more erotic sound to Stephen’s ears than the dream version of you begging.

(He could only imagine how he would react to the real version of you doing it.)

Stephen gritted his teeth as he tried to land a hit on you with his whip, but as usual that proved to be far easier said than done.

You rolled out of the way, dirt staining your training clothes and getting into your hair as you formed a shield made of thick black smoke, successfully blocking Stephen’s attack. You rose to your feet and charged. You dodged every lashing Stephen sent out, moving as if you were a swan gliding across a lake, before finally knocking him onto his back.

Stunned and winded, Stephen could only blink and once again marvel at just how sturdy the things you conjured could be before he felt something lapping at his neck. When he looked down he saw a dagger, pressed to his throat, and when he looked up he saw you, kneeling and taking up his whole view. Your head was blocking out most of the now low hanging sun, leaving what was left to make something like a halo around you, outlining you in gold.

Stephen’s heart jumped right up into his throat and he found himself at a loss for words.

Taking his silence of adoring reverence for one of admitted defeat, you smiled and dispelled the shield and dagger, rising to your feet with an outstretched hand. Stephen took it and rose with you, his whip disappearing.

“I didn’t hurt you too badly did I?” You asked immediately.

Stephen couldn’t help but smile. He found your fretting endearing, and loved how it revealed your soft heart. “I’m perfectly fine.” He assured you. “You did very well today, you’re improving quickly.”

You beamed, seeming to glow under Stephen’s praise, making his heart flutter. “Thank you.” You said, sounding breathless.

Still smiling, Stephen noticed that Wong was watching the two of you from a window. When he saw that he had been spotted, he pointed at you urgently, raising his brows. Stephen immediately looked away. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.” He smiled and patted your shoulder before walking away.

“Stephen.”

The urgentness and hesitation in your voice makes him stop, and he turns to face you, suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately going back to your side, genuinely afraid now.

You gaze up him, your beautiful eyes filled with unease and it makes him grip your shoulders. “Stephen.” You whisper, and it sends the sweetest of shivers down his spine.

“Yes?”

The two of you gaze at each other in silence, and Stephen searched your face, trying to find what it was that was bothering you.

You took a step forward, so that only a small sliver of space existed between the two of you. Stephen’s breath caught in his throat.

“Stephen.”

Who knew his name could sound so sweet?

“Name.” He licked his lips. “Are you...are sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” You whispered. “Nothing-no one, has ever made me feel like this.”

He isn’t sure who moved first. He thinks it might’ve been him, but who can say? All he knew was that he was kissing you, his arms around your waist and your hands clinging onto his chest.

As fireworks explode inside Stephen he pulls away, gazing into your eyes. “I love you.” He whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would lead to the moment shattering.

You smiled. “No shit Sherlock.”

Stephen snorted with laughter before capturing your lips in another kiss.

When Stephen awoke the next day, he saw that the other side of his bed was messy. For a moment he was confused, as that didn’t usually happen, before he remembered.

Last night, after finally opening his heart up to you and watching in astonishment as you did the same, he took you to his room. Nothing really happened, just lots more kissing and cuddling as you were both so tired and sore from training, but that hardly mattered. You had been in his arms and your mouth had been kissing him and his mouth had been kissing you and nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you again, Stephen got up, threw on some sweatpants and a shirt, and went off to find you.

He immediately went to the library, every step feeling lighter than the last.

When he opened the door, he was brought back down to earth.

Wong was lying on the ground, eyes shut and groaning.

Stephen went to his knees and helped the other man up, his heart hammering. “What happened?!” He asked frantically. “Who did this?!”

Once he was firmly on his feet, Wong looked at Stephen with the most stricken expression he had ever seen on anyone. “Stephen-I-I’m sorry.”

“What happened Wong?”

“Name.” He said softly, casting his eyes downwards.

All at one Stephen’s guts constricted and his heart froze while his brain went into overdrive, thinking of every possible scenario that would’ve lead to this. “Where is she? Wong where’s Name?!”

“She took the book Stephen.” Wong croaked, still unable to look up. “I ran into her last night, here, and she…” He trailed off, but Stephen was more than capable of putting two and two together.

And as he did so, he felt his heart shatter, and already knew that what had happened to his hands would always pale in comparison to this kind of hurt.

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

If You Give a Troll a Taco: Book 1 Part 2/10

Summary: Jamie Bennett knew a lot can happen during the night. He just never thought that making friends with a half-troll and aspiring wizard with tacos was one of them.

Notes: The perspectives will be changing between the three J’s. Jamie, Jim, and Jack. And i’ve decided that If You Give a Troll a Taco will be the first book of two. So enjoy!

Warnings: mild swearing and anxiety.

Word Count: N.C. (No Clue) 

The trek from Arcadia to New Jersey was tiring to say the least. Jim didn’t know what to expect as he and Claire made the cross country backpacking trip, but he didn’t think it would be this hard. According to Claire’s calendar, he, Claire, Blinky and the trolls had been walking across the country for roughly 4 months. It probably wouldn’t have taken this long normally; but alas, they were trolls, and could only move from dusk to dawn. All while avoiding campsites, security cameras, horse ranches, and the regular couple camping by the side of the road. And don’t forget about the rogue goblins or other malicious creatures that sought to do the trolls of Trollmarket harm. It was exhausting. Jim never really thought about how well Blinky and Aarrrgh!!! moved around without being noticed, but now he did. And he has to admit, he has a whole new level of respect for the both of them because of it. Of course, Claire was usually the one to go into convenience stores or gas stations to buy more supplies for the group. So Jim didn’t really have to worry about her being spotted. Only the mass group of 350-400 trolls that relied on him to get them to safety. No pressure there. And after a week or so after the Battle of Arcadia, Jim’s armor shut off, leaving him with tattered jeans and a torn up piece of cloth that barely resembled a jacket. The transformation from human to part-troll wasn’t kind to his clothes. So one night during their travels, he and Claire snuck into a mall and stole some. Claire decided to tag along because she was getting tired of sleeping and walking in her armor, so she opted to a simple

 t-shirt, pants and boots. But she chose to leave the bracers and greaves on, just in case they came across goblins or something. But about a week after that, Claire got tired of not being able to protect the group that so desperately needed protection. She was getting antsy and tried to do anything that kept her mind off of that fact. Which is where the dozen or so friendship bracelets came from. But that’s not important. So after talking with Merlin, he decided to help her make another staff, a new one. This one made up of black wood that curled around itself, with a purple gemstone glowing at the top of it, wood curling around that too. The making of the staff was the easy part, but it was the magic that was hard. After some serious thought, Claire decided on what she wanted her new Shadowstaff to do and they worked on it every day for five days whenever they decided to make camp or rest. It turned out to be pretty badass, having it make shadows bigger and darker and allowing the wielder to melt into shadows. It wasn’t the exact same as the Skathrun, but it still had some of the same properties to it as it did. After some practice with her new staff, Claire became a master of it in no time. Sparring with Jim and sometimes ARRRGH!!! while they were took breaks from the road. It was nice to be sparring with her again, it made things seem almost normal and that they didn’t change like they did in the past weeks.           

But when Jim entered Burgess, Pennsylvania, he was not expecting what Blinky said. “Watch and listen. Never know what you might see here.”  He then proceeded to talk about the strange incidents of the town and that occurred there in the past. Flash freezes, chaotic frost, unpredictable blizzards, stinging hailstorms, and wind gusts that could tear down anything less than brick and wood. It had started just over 305 years ago. And it was worrying to say the least. For just by the way Blinky was saying it, it seemed that the causes of these phenomenons was not natural. So Jim was anxious when they entered Burgess. He didn’t know what he was up against like he did with Gunmar and Angor Rot, and that made the enemy all the more dangerous. You can’t hit what you can’t see. 

They had been in Burgess for no more than twelve hours, when they were passing through the backstreets of the town and experienced some trouble. One of the trolls, Zulg, had apparently smelled something good in one of the trash cans and decided that it was a good idea to rummage through it. Alerting the entire neighborhood that there were trolls passing through their backyards. Luckily, no lights turned on from the homes within. Jim let out a sigh. That was the umpteenth time Zulg threatened to expose them, him and his apathetic responses made it aggravating to work with the guy. After scolding him for the thousandth time, Jim thought that they would be able to get away this time, without any bumps or glitches. Oh, if only the universe was that kind. But then there was a flash. Out of the corner of his eye. And that was all it took. Before he could say anything, the Daylight armor appeared and the familiar sword glowed in his hand. Claire’s new staff was at the ready, glowing a dangerous purple and prepared to do whatever kind of damage it needed to do.

“What was that?” Claire asked tense. 

Everyone held their breath, waiting for something to come out of the shadows and attack them. When nothing happened, everyone let out a sigh of relief, and slowly began to move forward. 

“We need to be more careful.” Jim whispered. “That was a close one.” 

Claire nodded. And they began to move forward once more. Jim hoped that that was the last strange thing they would see in Burgess; but that was just the beginning. 

By the time dawn came around, the trolls were able to find a spot deep in the woods and make camp. They set up large tarps, family size tents, stolen bed sheets, and umbrellas to make up for the lack of shade. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could while travelling on the road. and while they were travelling along the roads, they came across a Walgreens that hadn’t opened yet. Seeing as how they were just starting to run low, Claire had decided to wait till it opened to gather some more supplies for the group. So she deviated from the group and sat by the doors waiting for the store to open. Jim was worried though that she’d run into trouble, a young girl by herself sitting on the streets this early in the morning, so after he helped the trolls set up everything and told Blinky where he was going, he went off to find her. 

After some searching and remembering, Jim found the Walgreens and saw Claire leaning up against the side of the door, head tilted to the side and ebony hair covering her face. Jim smiled. She had fallen asleep. Sneaking behind the drug store, Jim came around to Claire and lifted her up into his arms. She cuddled up against his warmth, despite his skin being rough, and her head laid on his chest. A content growl rumbled from his throat and in that moment Jim was glad that Claire wasn’t awake for that. He would have never heard the end of it. He rounded the corner and crept behind a dumpster before sitting down, Claire now lying in his lap. She looked so beautiful there, just sleeping. How did he end up so lucky as to have met Claire?

They had been hanging around the dumpster for a few minutes, when all of a sudden Jim heard something odd. It sounded like a bird twittering and vibrating. Like a hummingbird. Why would there be hummingbirds here in the middle of autumn? In the back alley of a drug store? Don’t they usually hang around in parks or forests? But as much as Jim wanted to investigate, he couldn’t for fear of waking up Claire. So he just sat there and waited till Claire woke up. 

When the Walgreens finally opened and the interior lit up, Jim looked down at Claire and decided that it was time to wake her up, much to his dismay. She was so cute while she slept! Shaking her shoulders, Claire slowly began to wake up, her voice hardly a gravelly whisper. 

“No.... I don’t wanna get up yet.....Five more minutes.” Jim smiled softly, and tried to wake her up again. 

“Claire? It’s time to get up. The Walgreens is open now.” She groaned the only groan you would groan in the morning and proceeded to sit up. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Claire smacked her lips obviously having that morning breath syndrome that everyone got and suddenly realized where she was. A blush crept up and blossomed in her cheeks, making her whole face turn red. Jim began to blush too, and he was regretting that he couldn’t stop it. She smiled. Oh what a beautiful smile that was too. And even though she just woke up and her smile was all lopsided, it looked even cuter to Jim and he tried his best in that moment not to melt. 

“You were saying something about Walgreens?” She asked. Jim gulped down the lump in his throat and tried to talk. Nothing came out. Claire scoffed and went to brush the hair from her eyes, the stark white bangs flashing. 

“Jim?” Claire prompted. 

“Uh, yeah! I was just saying that the Walgreens opened just now. So you should probably get going.” 

Claire nodded before getting up and off of Jim’s lap and went to take her bracers and greaves off. They glowed one last faint purple before they disappeared into her pack and Claire shouldered the backpack on. 

“Good morning!”

“Good morning.” they said to each other like an old married couple. “Would you like me to get you some whipped cream for breakfast?” Claire asked, an eyebrow raised. Jim laughed. 

“Yeah, that’d be great. And if you decided to get coffee, i get the cup.” Claire gave her boyfriend a nod and exited the alleyway and into the early morning light. She turned around just to be sure Jim was safe and out of sight when he gave her one last toothy grin. She smiled and went to enter the drug store.

On their way back to the camp, Jim and Claire talked and ate their breakfast. Whipped cream/the can for Jim and a cheese danish and some black coffee for Claire. They talked about anything that came to their minds and it was nice for them to have that. It was a bit of normalcy in their crazy lives. Claire talked to Jim about her new staff and how excited she was to use it, and Jim couldn’t help but smile at how cute she was when she was happy. It was like watching a little kid at Christmas! 

Jim talked about the new things he learned from Blinky that he never knew existed till now. Like how Blinky started teaching him how to navigate using constellations and stars one night when he saw Jim looking at them. He could now name every constellation in the sky, with some thought, and predict the movements of planets and when they would appear. Claire was glad to hear that Jim had something like that going for him. Something to distract him from the weight of protecting the survivors of Trollmarket, leaving his mom and Toby behind in Arcadia, and not being human anymore. But Claire didn’t want to bring that up, so she stayed quiet and listened to Jim talk. 

They arrived at the camp just in time. The sun was slowly reaching up overhead, and racing against the sun was hard. Despite how many times they had already done it. Jim got nicked by the sunlight a few times, but it wasn’t anything too serious thankfully and the injuries went away quickly. They spent the rest of the day inside the camp; checking in on everyone, helping when a sheet or tarp feel over, sparred a little, and checked in with the main defense trolls. Who guarded the camp while they were both on the move and resting. The first day they decided to have them, Jim turned to talk with Draal about being in charge of the group, but then he remembered what happened and a piece of his heart cracked a little bit more. 

They reported nothing bad had happened, but there was something rather unusual. One of the trolls on the PaTroll, Keja,  said that she saw a glittering shadow running through the trees before vanishing into thin air. She also said that it smelled cold and like rotten wood. Before, when Jim was human, these descriptions would’ve meant nothing to him, but now that he was part-troll, he had noticed scents that he never smelled before. So now he understood what she said when it smelled “cold”. 

The sighting of this creature only added to Jim’s fear. He was aware that out here in the daylight, they were all vulnerable to an attack from a supernatural creature; which is why he wanted to find the new Heartstone as soon as possible, get the trolls started on their new home, and then head back to Arcadia to Mom and Toby. That was the plan. Or at least, the plan that he had. But the main point was that Jim was anxious. In fact, he was anxious about everything. Whether it was about getting enough food, hiding, protecting the trolls, getting enough rest, avoiding daylight, dying, his mom missing him, Toby all alone by himself, that he’s convinced that he should be having meds for that shit. So hearing about a possible malevolent creature, did nothing to improve his current mental state.

But other than the sighting, nothing out of the ordinary happened for the rest of the day. It was just after dusk and dinner when Jim thought it’d be a good idea to check the perimeter, so after telling Blinky and Claire, he headed off to the edge of the forest. Alone. 

The walk there was peaceful and nice as he breathed in the crisp autumn air and enjoyed the way it cooled him down. The leaves in the trees clapped their hands, the last birds of the day still sang and the sound was sweet to Jim’s ears. The sky was a deep shade of purple with creamsicle orange clouds still hanging above the sun. The stars were just starting to peep out from their black curtains and as he reached the edge of a forest, you could see just how green the grass was. It was one of those moments that you wished lasted forever.  

Another breeze fluttered by, seeping through Jim’s sweater, and causing him to shiver. Even if it was just a little.   

Jim thought it’d be best to view the landscape from above. That way he could see more and be a better look out in case something bad came along. It also gave him an excuse to see more of the sunset. So he climbed a tree and rested on one of the stronger and bigger limbs. Sighing, he pulled out the amulet and began to fiddle with it. Something he began to do as they started traveling. It helped to occupy his mind and pass the time. 

Jim had been sitting up there playing with amulet, till the sun disappeared and the stars came out in their shining glory. The birds stopped chirping, crickets taking their place and the air cooled down to a formidable degree. Sighing out of boredom, Jim leaned his head against the rough bark of the tree. Thinking about what else this town would bring. It had been less than 24 hours and already, there had been things that he couldn’t explain. The bright flash, the fluttering of a bird behind a dumpster, and then that shadow creature. Something was off about this town, and Jim wanted to know what. But he didn’t have time to find out and neither did anyone else. They had two-three days max before they had to start moving again, it wasn’t long, but it was long enough to gather new supplies. The stuff Claire got at the convenience store wasn’t enough for another three weeks on the road. 

Suddenly there was a sound of rustling and footsteps. The sound perked up Jim’s ears, drawing his attention. It was coming from within the forest. Slowly standing up on his branch, Jim got ready to do his job as Trollhunter. When suddenly a voice called out. 

“Master Jim?” 

The Trollhunter breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Blinky.  

“Up here!” He replied. The six-eyed troll looked up and relaxed. He must’ve been slightly worried about where Jim was. After all, he hadn’t been back to camp in some while. 

“Deya’s grace! How did you get so high up?” the scholar exclaimed. 

“Umm, i just climbed? I take it trolls don’t climb trees too often.” Jim said as he climbed down back to the ground. 

“No, we do not. You know that we prefer the ground, Master Jim. It’s where we live! I must say, what were you doing up in that tree anyway?” 

“I was just keeping a lookout. I have a weird feeling about this town.” 

Blinky chuckled. “You and I both.” He then noticed the look on Jim’s face. It was one of worry. “Master Jim? Are you alright?” Jim shook his head. 

“No. I’m just really worried about what’ll happen while we stay here. Already there’s been incidents. I’m not so sure that staying would be the best idea. Even if it is just for a few days.” 

Blinky nodded. Taking Jim’s words into account. “I understand your apprehensiveness, but alas, we cannot move forward without our supplies. But fear not,” Jim looked up at Blinky. “I have no doubt that our Trollhunter is strong enough to take on any disputer he may come across.” 

Jim smiled at the words of praise. “Thanks, Blinky.” The said troll nodded with sincerity. He gave Jim a one-sided hug, who gladly returned it. 

“Well, I should probably head back to the camp. I told them that I’d bring you some snacks in case you got hungry. It has been a long day for you. For us all.” Blinky said as he reached into his satchel and pulled out three soda cans and a nearly empty can of whipped cream. The same can that Claire had gotten this morning. Jim smiled at how much Blinky cared for his health. He always did, even when he was human and still in Arcadia. 

“Thanks Blinky. Again.” Blinky nodded. “I will see you back at camp, Master Jim.” were his last words before turning around and heading back into the forest.  A smile still placed on Jim’s face, he climbed back up his tree and started to eat his new snacks. 

He chewed on the soda cans for a bit, before moving on to finish the whipped cream. But before he could, the crickets went silent. the Trollhunter paused in his binging, all attention on his surroundings. Ears perked, shoulders tense, and pressurized can forgotten, Jim was alert and aware of everything and anything around him. He heard the sound of crunching leaves and footsteps. Even the puffs of someone breathing if he strained his ears enough. He quietly said the incantation to summon the armor and once again, within a day, Daylight glowed softly in his hand. 

Eyes narrowed and growling softly, Jim was ready for anything. He saw someone enter his vision. And then he threw Daylight right at them. Or at least nearly. Until he saw that they were just a kid and nothing more. Other than the hoodie and torn pants, he looked like an ordinary human being. That is until Jim caught his scent. 

He smelled cold. A low growl picked up in his throat once again, and Daylight glinted menacingly in the moonlight. And Jim knew that it was the middle of an autumn night, so of course anyone would be cold. But this was something more than that. It was a deep-rooted cold that held strong to someone’s bones and didn’t let go. It must’ve been the same creature that Keja spotted. Was probably disguised as a human too. Jim was determined to not let it into the camp, and it will not get away.  

Before Jim could think about what he was doing, Daylight flew from his hand and pierced the ground before the ‘creature’. He jumped from his post, screaming a battle cry and landed right before the thing. Prepared to take on the creature. The boy fell back, a yelp escaping his throat and eyes wide at the person standing before him. 

Jim waited for something to come from the boy. An evil laugh or smile was suspected. But nothing came. Instead, he laughed. the Trollhunter tried hard not to reveal how confused he was, but his facade was tearing down a little. 

“Yes! I knew it! Do you know how crazy you’ve made me look!? My friends thought i was going insane! I’ve been looking for you guys all day!” 

Jim’s facade fell. He was thoroughly confused about what was happening. Was this not the creature that Keja saw earlier? If not, why did he smell cold? If he wasn’t the creature, then Jim just made a huge mistake. And his face showed it. 

“Oh no.” 

[team-free-squiggle]

Warmer In the Winter

Okay holy crap I didn’t know that this was a recommended blog for Polysanders fics... like ahh that’s amazing and it’s all thanks to you guys?? So seriously, thank you so much and I’m just a fangirling, giggly, happy mess rn which is amazing so thank you all so much.

Anyway, here’s a cute, fluffy Polysanders fic in honor of the fact that I’m in the middle of a heavy snowfall. 

Also, the title is named for Lindsey Stirling’s album, which I love (and yes I know it’s a Christmas album but she’s amazing).

Afterthoughts: That ending took forever, like wow... 

But I really just want to say thank you so much for reading this, you all are amazing, and thank you so much. See y’all soon, I hope!

~~

Summary: Winter fun with the Sanders Sides we all know and love!

Characters: Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, and Virgil Sanders, (also dark sides are mentioned but literally for like a sentence or two, nothing much)

Pairing: Polysanders/LAMP, though there is a slight focus on analogical at a certain part

Warnings: none

~~

The thing that Logan woke up to was Virgil chasing a laughing Patton and Roman around the mindscape’s living room. The thing that he figured out had caused this somewhat annoying and yet amusing was Roman and Patton had been singing “Do You Want to Build A Snowman” from Frozen. They, stupidly, had sung it loudly enough to wake up their emo boyfriend. To be fair, they couldn’t help it. It was snowing outside, and there was a song about building a snowman from Disney. Logan would have laughed, but he was still tired and did not like being woken up.

Logan left the three emotional sides to go get himself some calming tea, but he remembered it was snowing and decided to make them all hot chocolate, with whipped cream and chocolate chips, instead. The three smelled the warm aroma, coming in and apologizing for waking him up. He laughed it off, happy that he and his boyfriends were doing okay. 

The four of them sat at their kitchen table, silently watching the gentle snow fall outside. They all observed the scenery, but each in different ways. 

Logan, for example, analyzed how the light from the sun reflected into his eyes to let him see the pale grays. He was fascinated at the snow itself, how each tiny dot was truly a different crystal that was never the same, but pretty in of itself.

Roman saw the swirls of the clouds that never failed to remind him of a tempest, and he loved the shades and colors. He was reminded of plays written in a time not quite forgotten, and he was reminded of just how much nature could truly inspire any artist.

Patton, too, saw the colors, and figured out what they reminded him of. The pale grey made him think of small, adorable kittens. The darker grays reminded him of Logan, the way that logic was mostly black and white but could still be brought into the realm of moral grays that Patton himself lived in. The whiteness was like Roman - blinding. Beautiful. Noticed. He smiled at that thought, knowing despite how much he loved the spotlight that Roman would never be too much or too bright. A sun, but a warm one. But there was one more person Patton was reminded of when he stared out the partially frosted window - Virgil. As Patton stared out the window, he noticed the little hints of blue in the sky, the small bits of grass poking through the soon-to-be-deep snow. That’s what reminded him of Virgil - seemingly covered up or ignored, but always fighting, even if it was from behind the scenes. Patton knew that as long as Virgil had their backs, everything would be okay, because he would never let anything bad happen to them.

Virgil simply had been enjoying the scene, how picturesque and calming it was to look at. Then he felt a flood of warmth in his heart, smiling as he turned to look at Patton. Sweet, sweet Patton, who was in a world of his own, thinking about the sky and Virgil didn’t know what. But Virgil was happy, that Patton was thinking about him in a way that made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

It wasn’t Roman or Patton who suggested that the four of them go outside. It wasn’t Virgil. Interestingly enough, it was Logan. He noticed how they all stared at the Great Outdoors, and made a decision once everyone was finished with their hot chocolate. Roman and Patton readily agreed, grabbing their coats and heading gaily out. 

Logan moved to follow, but stopped when he noticed Virgil still sitting down. He frowned, putting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Are you alright, Verge?” Logan asked, concerned. Virgil nodded.

“I am, I’m just anxious.” He cracked a smile. “I’ve never actually seen snow before, that’s why I created it... I saw a picture and my curiosity spread out into it snowing outside. Pure instinct, I guess.” 

Logan smiled. He knew that Virgil had never liked the cold too much, and he knew that the other Sides only made it snow on Christmas Day, and only when Virgil wasn’t outside so he wouldn’t get anxious. But then a thought occurred to him.

“Wait, if you created it, why are you afraid of it?” Logan sat back down, now holding Virgil’s hand so that Virgil knew he wasn’t alone. 

“B-because, Logan... I’m still dark. Not as Dark as the others, but...” Logan flinched slightly at the mention of the Dark Sides. He knew how they had made Virgil feel, and couldn’t help but be angry at them for what they had done. 

“Virgil, you never were Dark like them. Believe me. You help protect Thomas, and all of us. And that’s my point: you heal. You help us. So, believe me when I tell you, your creation will not turn Dark. Your creation is beautiful, and look - there’s Patton and Roman! They’re happy and safe, and it’s because of something you did, Virgil! All on your own! And you said it yourself, it was out of instinct. If you can create something that holds that much of a symbol of purity and goodness, on instinct, no less - Virgil, my love, that is proof more than anything that you are never, ever going to be dark. Oh, and since I don’t say it often enough - I love you.” Logan smiled gently, gripping Virgil’s hand a little harder. He had meant every word he had said, and he knew that Virgil knew it too.

Virgil had felt love and hope and even a little bit of peace wash over him as he listened to his rational boyfriend’s words. He knew that Logan was right, and he kissed Logan in order to convey all of his feelings. Logan smiled at Virgil, who smiled right back, and they went outside (after grabbing the proper items like coats, of course). 

They joined Roman and Patton, who were in the middle of building a snowman. “Because Disney!” Roman had exclaimed, before dissolving into a happy, giggly, fanboying mess. The others smiled and slightly shook their heads at their dramatic boyfriend, helping him calm down a little before they finished the snowman. 

Virgil found that he could enjoy the cold, and Logan was proud of him for opening up about how he was feeling. Later, Logan would tell Roman and Patton what had transpired between himself and Virgil, but for now he watched happily as Virgil and Roman got into an all out snowball fight. Patton walked towards Logan, happily cuddling into him as they talked and laughed at their other two boyfriends. 

And that was it. Snow softly fell around them, an innocent and pure setting that made them all feel secure once they were there to experience it. They were all quite sleepy by the time they had dragged themselves inside (or, in Logan and Virgil’s case, had dragged themselves and Patton and Roman), so they went to Patton’s room. They saw new memories appear - pictures on the walls of the memories they had made together today, and they fell asleep just content to be with one another.

The snow continued to fall gently outside the window. Somewhere, a fireplace was roaring, and there was hot chocolate waiting to be made the next morning. And when everyone was fast asleep, and everything in the mindscape was still - that’s when it happened. 

A picture appeared over the gentle fire in the living room. It was one of the for of them with their snowman, holding hands and smiling at each other. When they discovered it, they wouldn’t know where it came from (considering this wasn’t Patton’s room), but they would end up leaving it up year round to always remind them that they truly did have one another. 

So as the snow falls gently to the ground, and as we are all lulled to a peaceful slumber by the sound of soft, gentle flames - picture happiness, and hope, and love. Just picture the peace, and the relaxation, and the feel of knowing that you are home - right where you ought to be.

~~

Tag List:

(Sanders Sides)

@astraastro

@madly-handsome

@amber1594

@lie-lie-birdy

@thebaagelboy

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@ravenclawunicorn1

@ako1209

@funsizedgremlin

@princessbelix

@water13girl

@romanasanders

@deathshadowrules

@virgils-jacket

(All)

@birdybabybird

@awesomelissawho

[bankrutcy0]

via Bankruptcy,

Home flooring is a simple and classic way to sell your home for more money on the market today. Home flooring takes a beating every single day whilst entrusted with a monumental task: determining the design tone for your whole household. The picture-perfect pages of your Pottery Barn Pinterest board don’t reflect the family pet shedding settled deep into your living-room carpet fibers or the typical wear-and-tear of your wood floorings.

You can bet, though, that prospective buyers who visit your home for showings have those magazine images in mind. They not only would like floors in excellent condition, however materials that go with the purpose of every room and appear like a million bucks.

” Flooring, in my point of view, is usually an affordable expense, yet you get a much higher yield on your financial investment,” suggested Leighann Russell, a real estate professional in the Atlanta area who’s got 329 transactions under her belt to date.

Our experts undertook all the ROI investigation around several styles of floorings and identified what’s trending (spoiler: hard wood’s still king), and also spoke to an interior designer with 30 years of expertise who has her own line of hard wood flooring.

So the short answer to “does new flooring increase home value?” is yes– if you’re wise about your selections. The right upgrades also make your home sell more quickly on the market. Follow these 5 expert strategies to get the most out of this practical property financial investment.

1. Pick Wood Flooring to Sell Your Home For More Money

Sometimes you simply cannot beat a classic. And even when it relates to houses and the kind of floor purchasers really like, hardwood floorings have definitely stood the test of time.

Through the 18th century, wood made floors progressed from bare lumber, to check or geometric decorated planks to go well with the ornate decor of the times. In the late 1800s, the glossed wood floorings so prominent in American houses today began being manufactured in mass. These days, any prospective buyer who walks into a home will probably gush over the stunning hardwood floorings if your house can provide it.

54% of house prospective buyers want to spend more for wooden floorings when acquiring a home– up to $2,080 more, according to data coming from the National Association of Realtors.

And revealing that wood floorings aren’t solely preferred among luxury home prospective buyers, a 2017 survey from the National Association of Home Builders found that 87% percent of buyers in the $100,000 to $149,999 price range desire wood floor.

Both timeless and extremely versatile, hardwood is even more durable over the long haul than carpet and rugs. Both of which have to be replaced about every decade. Re-coating wooden floors every three to 5 years or refinishing them every Eight to ten years can make them last for the long haul.

What should you project to invest in the total plan that is hardwood flooring?

Installing about 300 square feet of pre-finished hardwood floor sells at approximately $2,700 to $3,800 nationwide, also including building materials and labor costs. (By means of comparison, adding the equivalent amount of carpets costs a nationwide average of approximately $1,300 to $1,800.).

Rates fluctuate by location and contractor, of course. The very best method to find out just how much the job would cost you is to assemble a handful of estimates from nearby experts.

However, to get a range for your area, Porch (which possesses data on over half a million projects) offers this Hardwood Floor Install Cost Calculator that gives you a rate range personalized to your ZIP code.

How Do The Various Types of Wood Differ in Costs?

Even within hardwood floors, there are various cuts, degrees of thickness, and lumber varieties that impact cost:

Stained Red Oak: Among the most common wood-strip flooring all over the country, stained red oak costs around $3.30 per square foot.

Black Cherry: Black Cherry, which has an all-natural cinnamon pigmentation that deepens with age, costs about $4.90 per square foot.

Rusty-Hued Heart Pine: Sought-after in Southern households considering that frontier times, rusty-hued heart pine falls in between at about $4 per square foot.

White Ash: Light in color but sturdier, white ash costs around $5.60 per square foot.

2. You Can Do Wood– And Floors That Resemble The Appearance– On A Budget

If you like the look of wood however need to improve your floor on a budget, you’ve got various options at your disposal. Carpets and vivid throw rugs are still well-liked, and environment-friendly and organic materials and cutting-edge styles mean that homeowners have more flooring options than ever.

Vinyl: Versatile however not as sturdy Long-inexpensive sheet vinyl floor can be found in a range of contemporary designs like artificial hexagon marble mosaic tile, porcelain, and even stained and distressed reclaimed wood. Despite the fact that it will not improve your house’s value as well as the true wood floor since it’s not as long-lasting. Sheets of vinyl flooring merely cost from $0.75 to $4 per square foot, plus setup, and can last from 10-20 years. Vinyl planks and tiles cost around $5 per square foot, however, homeowners generally can install those themselves.

Linoleum for the Long Haul Linoleum is another long-wearing but extremely versatile alternative, running about $4 to $6 per square foot for sheets and tiles, and about $7 to $9 for click-together pieces, plus installation. It’s created from renewable building materials, recyclable, and naturally antistatic as well as antimicrobial, though not water-proof. It additionally requires resealing almost every five years or so. Installing about 300 square feet sells for approximately about $1,100 to $1,400 nationally.

Pick Wood With Character Hardwood floor additionally is available in a variety of “grades” which describes the particular qualities of the product. Lumber is naturally occurring and bound to have some character! Some lumber backyards promote affordable oak flooring, with more variation in shade, knots, and streaks. You can get “rustic” or “utility” grade wood with more blemishes and imperfections– or some might say character– for a discount. In the right place, sheets of 2 × 4-foot plywood that are stained and sealed as flooring planks can produce a rustic look for a fraction of the price tag, about $0.70 per square foot.

Grab A Paintbrush For A Quick Remodeling Other affordable options for new flooring include carpet tiles, which cost under $2 per square foot in a range of tones and styles; and painting the floor. Yes, paint can cover wood, cement, tile, or linoleum flooring that have actually seen much better days, and there are specialized items that make the preparation and surface stunning. Nationwide, the typical cost of painting 300 square feet of flooring varieties from about $400 to $900. Get motivated by these 22 painted floor designs from Home Flooring Pros, which offers in-depth customer guides on home floor covering.

3. Select Floors That Make Sense For The Space’s Daily Traffic

Looks matter when it pertains to flooring, however so does standard daily use.

Kitchen areas and entryways need a material that can handle heavy foot traffic, one reason that ceramic tile is a frequent choice here– and why a more difficult wood such as oak or hickory holds up well here, too.

However, solid wood floor covering is a poor option for a basement, where high humidity can warp the wood. (A crafted wood flooring is more stable).

Because of humidity and water, a strong wood floor likewise is a bad choice for bathrooms. (Check out this guide from the National Wood Flooring Association for more ideas about selecting types of wood flooring and finishes.)

The floor covering’s foundation likewise will influence your spending plan and flooring option. For example, if you rip out carpeting to find concrete or tile underneath, your brand-new floor covering requires to be a click-together drifting choice or floor covering that can be glued down– nothing that needs nails.

4. Select Colors With Broad Appeal That Fit Your Home’s Design

Russell stated she’s seen that a lot of buyers tend to desire “tile in the bathrooms; hardwoods in the main” part of your home– but that does not mean you’re limited to the shade of brown.

For wood flooring, some color combinations and textures expected to be popular in 2019 are neutrals stemmed from nature, stated Emily Morrow Finkell, a Georgia interior designer with 30 years of experience who sells wood flooring through the Emily Morrow Home Collection.

These consist of:

Dark charcoal black that results in a matte, silky appearance.

Rich brown, particularly in walnut woods.

Bermuda stone gray, a go-to backdrop that bridges other design and color styles quickly.

Off-white similar to French limestone.

Matte off-white is similar to gesso and plaster.

Interior design junkies: watch on these patterns. And for sellers, discover something that’s in style but also fits with your house and interest a vast array of purchasers.

Russell added that purchasers like floor covering with gray and brown tones because of the maintenance element. “People aren’t going as dark since it shows everything,” she said.

5. Be Aware Of The Overall Flow In Between Living Spaces

If you do pick to change your floors to improve your home’s value, make certain to watch on the big picture– how well the floor covering flows from room to room. Purchasers do not like floors that create a patchwork of colors and finishes.

A professional flooring business will take a look at your home’s floor plan to examine that each shift between rooms looks right– which with wood, for instance, might involve sanding and refinishing surfaces so that they’re level and the color matches well.

“You absolutely don’t want to walk into the foyer that’s a cherry color, and then your dining room and your living room off to the left and the right are 3 shades lighter,” Russell stated. “You want to match it to what you already have as good as you can so that you get that flow sensation when the buyer first strolls in the door.”

Purchase Flooring as The ‘Canvas’ Of The Home

As Morrow Finkell explains on her site: “Home interior design begins with the floor. The flooring is your blank canvas and it determines every design decision you’ll make once it’s down.”.

Not every home buyer is a design aficionado. Regardless, your floors are among the first things they’ll discuss when they stroll into your home due to the fact that it sets the whole tone. Pick your products based upon toughness and style, and it will be a financial investment you won’t be sorry for.

Long-inexpensive sheet vinyl floor covering comes in a variety of modern styles like faux hexagon marble mosaic tile, porcelain, and even stained and distressed reclaimed wood. It will not improve your home’s value as well as real wood floor covering since it’s not as long-lasting, sheets of vinyl floor covering just cost from $0.75 to $4 per square foot, plus installation, and can last from 10-20 years.

Hardwood flooring likewise comes in different “grades” which refers to the particular qualities of the material. Other economical options for brand-new flooring include carpet tiles, which cost under $2 per square foot in a range of shades and styles; and painting the flooring. Get motivated by these 22 painted floor designs from Home Flooring Pros, which provides thorough consumer guides on home floor covering.

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