#it's been kind of encouraging almost feeling the creativity coming back

[wantonlywindswept]

ngl i'm just happy to have a last line that wasn't written over six months ago x_X

The wound that bisected Wolffe's right eye was still jagged, still healing: still an angry red that echoed the lightsaber that had put it there.

Last Line Challenge

Rules : in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thank you @cocotter for tagging me ☺️

So, there you go with the last line i wrote on one of my WIP (it was a few days ago because i spend more time reading on AO3 than progressing on things...)

Ponds didn't get to go ask his general in the end. It's Windu who came to him. 

And for the tagging part, I'm going to play it like I'm not starstruck just a little bit and ask very nicely and politely (with a flower 🌻) if @varpusvaras @mamuzzy @here-be-bec and @commanderfoxdeservesbetter have anything you'd like to share ? Would love to know but no pressure what's over !

[soapoet]

describing your next love...

...because i'm just as nosy as you are.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Lucky people by Waterparks

they have a very sunny energy. the kind that peaks out behind the clouds after a fall of rain. rejuvenating, always welcome. they try their best to stay optimistic, for loved ones and strangers alike. it feels a little tragic because there is a darkness inside them that they choose to ignore. their sunny disposition seems less like a mask and more like armour. it's what has gotten them this far. they may have had a rough childhood, and their heart may have been wounded particularly by one of their parents. they struggle with mental health and might be neurodivergent. they're the kind of person to end a depressing sentence with 'lmao', or turn a therapy session into a stand-up comedy show. they cope with their struggles through humour, because if they take themselves and their problems too seriously and lean in too close to where it hurts, the pain becomes overwhelming. their heart is much like a dam, holding back tons of tears of almost biblical proportions. even still, if they opened the floodgates they'd find a way to muster a 'noah, get the arc' joke to force some sunlight through the clouds.

despite their dance around their own feelings, they're encouraging of others expressing theirs, and stand firmly by their side and always have a shoulder to offer if needed. they love to make people laugh, and aren't afraid of making a fool out of themselves if it puts a smile on someone's face. they'll gladly cast themselves as a jester if it makes their loved ones feel like royalty. they're very excitable and fun to be around. at their best they are a firecracker, bursting with an energy so infectious and bright. they're creative and very passionate about their hobbies, often to the point of obsession. it seems like all they do they do with such love. like a show is never just a show, but a whole world of its own to explore and come to know as home. they love the escapism of foreign lands, fictional and real, and something about them makes a simple trip to the grocery store an adventure with many memories to one day share.

you either already know them, or will meet them very soon. especially if you're in a transitional period, moving away, changing jobs or applying to schools, then this is a person you'll meet in this next chapter of your life. this has friends to lovers written all over it. you might be in the same friend group, or meet them through a mutual friend. their hair stands out for some reason. it could either be in the literal sense because it's messy, perpetual bedhead, or they have a unique colour or cut. perhaps they change their hair frequently and have a bit of chameleon vibes in which they become unrecognisable with every change that they make to their appearance. they're average in height but could look taller than they actually are. their posture isn't the greatest, especially if they're an artist of some kind. they have golden retriever energy and may be a dog person in general. for some, they have freckles or dimples, or prominent birth marks. there's a lot of mutual pining involved before anything happens. they're a little bit oblivious, too. someone else might have to step in to spell things out for either of you.

02.

Shufflemancy: Into you by Ariana Grande

being playful and flirtatious can get you in quite a bit of trouble, and they know this from experience. they're attractive, and seem very aware of it, though there is less legitimate arrogance and more playful cockiness involved. they like to make an effort to look good, and have a strong appreciation for a partner who does the same. generosity may be a way they show this appreciation because they understand the time and maintenance this effort can take, and are of the mindset that they ought to reward what they like rather than simply expect it or take it for granted. they're likely involved in business such as investments or trade, or could be working on building a business of their own. they're physically fit, and might frequent the gym or be into sports. they have a lot of stamina because of this, so do with that information what you will.

they could have a bit of a reputation due to an unscrupulous past, and it is one they have done much work to rewrite. they want to settle down, but haven't found someone they could commit to. a big issue for them is the way fun gets sucked out of things too quickly in the relationships they've been in. they're very spontaneous and have a big capacity for romance, but they often find themselves lacking space and time to do anything special. like how you would decide to clean the house to surprise your mother, only to have her call and ask you to do just that, ruining the gesture. similarly, in their relationships they may find themselves cornered, and in the suffocation of their freedom and passion their capacity and desire to impress and to woo begins to fade like a smothered flame, which in turn causes strife. and the nagging that so often followed turns them into a complacent shell of themselves, wherein it's better to nod along than risk discord. they seek an equal. somebody powerful in their own right, who can support them and be supported in return. they want love to be an adventurous undertaking of a power couple ready to seize the day.

this feels like a right person wrong time -scenario. when you meet they're probably in a relationship with someone else, or you are. you could meet at some sort of social gathering or organised event like a fundraiser or a concert. there's a distinct sense of delay here, though the interest is mutual and very persistent right from the beginning. they could hold themselves back from pursuing anything with you at first because they want a clean slate. it may at first to you seem like frustrating indecision and make you question their intentions, even integrity, but they may just be untangling their life and closing chapters. they yearn for the long-term and would like the house and the kids and whole nine yards, but need to make sure their life is upright, straightened, and ready for it. there is a playful glint in their eyes, which may be hazel or brown. there is a distinct warmth to them and a loving gaze feels especially adoring from them. they would make a very good and attentive parent and spouse for the right person. there could be a noticeable size difference between you. if you're softer and curvier, they're more angular and dense, and if you're shorter, they're taller, etc.

03.

Shufflemancy: Great shipwreck of life by IAMX

oh, how charming! they're gregarious, and attract quite a few admirers. though it seems they take few, if any, seriously at all. their popularity may be a byproduct of an important or visible position that they hold. they could be a prominent figure within their community or be very successful in their field of work or hobbies. their schedule is often packed with meetings, events and social obligations. they could travel a lot too, both for pleasure and for work. for their work they may spend extended periods of time away from home. in spite of their sociable persona, they keep their private life very private, under lock and key, and may even be secretive about it to an extent. they may be unapproachable or simply be unattainable by people outside of their established circles. there is an element of social games or hierarchical factors present in their life, and whilst they're good at networking, climbing ranks, or beating records, they may actually find many around them to be uninteresting or outright obnoxious. where they spend their professional hours draws a lot of similar types of people together, and their tastes differ quite a bit. being married to their work in a way leaves few options for them in love since they look for something outside of their norm, which they have little time to explore.

there could be a fear of being taken advantage of. like they can't seem to trust people easily, and expect everyone to have ulterior motives. to use them or get something from them. these trust issues run deep, and either they have been burnt before or have watched somebody close to them fall from grace and are afraid they'll share that same fate. there could also be legal reasons for their caution, as they may have signed contracts or taken an oath that dictates what they can and cannot share, particularly if they work for the government or a big corporation.

this connection might begin online or otherwise have distance involved even if you meet in person first. lots of messages or calls. they revel in good banter and enjoy entertaining more out-there ideas. they feel starved off of deeper conversations because their life seems to revolve around a lot of simple niceties and professional talk with tons of things redacted, edited, and filtered to fit into a very narrow box deemed correct and good and appropriate. it's very tiring and wears them out, even though they won't show it. they really appreciate things that differ from the norm or breaks the status quo in some way. what they consider their type is also very different from what would be expected of them, and their peers would be shocked to hear what they find ideal both in terms of a partner and a life that they would like to lead. their voice seems important too. they have a very attractive voice, could be a great speaker or an artist. their hair is either longer or shorter than average (shorter for women, longer for men), and their physique leans slimmer and angular, not a lot of curvature just lots of straight lines and sharpness.

04.

Shufflemancy: Willow by Taylor Swift

they probably don't get out much. most if their life occurs behind closed doors. they could work or study remotely, and their schedule might be different from the usual nine to five. their friends and family may live at a distance, too, which leaves them few reasons to leave the house. they need mental stimulation and might be a little high-strung, their nerves like violin strings wound too tight. independence is of great importance to them and their boundaries are clear, almost like austere walls protecting a castle. they appear aloof and don't say much, especially around strangers. though their shyness is often overruled by their intrigue. they like to tinker with things and minds alike, and may often step in to play devil's advocate just to stir the pot. especially in their boredom they may seek out discourse as a form of entertainment. they have strong opinions, but are not stubborn or unable to bend. in fact, something they abhor is weak convictions and mindless agreement. they respect admittance of ignorance far more than the parroting of popular opinions if there is a lack of substance behind them. they really do not seem to mind different views at all, and may surround themselves with people of all walks of life and various temperaments and opinions. this is in part driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. it's as though they've made their quest in life to seek information and learn everything they can in one short lifetime. they are open-minded and curious, and have great respect for anyone who has something to teach them. and they're a great teacher themself! even if they do not literally teach as a part of their work, they might have been told by many that they should consider it because they really have a way of adapting information, hand-tailoring it to their audience, so that even complex things get delivered and comprehended.

where they may be a great source of knowledge and advice to those around them, they aren't the greatest in terms of emotional support. they are a problem solver, and they can't fix tears. they try, but it feels clumsy and awkward. though that can be a little charming, too. they care a lot, more than people might expect. they're just terrible at showing it through big and extravagant gestures and displays of affection. they're more likely to give praise or take on tasks to unburden you. they like routine and solitude and seek someone who rivals the comfort of their peace and quiet. they could die happy if they could simply share a space comfortably with someone without constant noise, buzz, and attention. they could be strangely private about things that don't necessarily call for privacy. like, they might easily drop childhood lore in a casual conversation, but find inquiries about what they did yesterday suspicious even if they didn't do anything special.

because this is a bit of a 'rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair' -type of situation where they're very comfortable in their ivory tower that gets no visitors, it might take a while before you meet them. they're far more social online and you could meet through common interests like online games, subreddits, discord, or through mutual friends. if you already know them, there may be a sense of unrequited love for a while. they rarely act on their infatuations and just wait it out, enjoying the feelings for what they are but do little, if anything, about them. alternatively they participate in very indirect chasing that appears more like making the other person chase them. they have attractive hands, could be ambidextrous or they fidget a lot with their hands. they may be a writer, play an instrument or play a lot of video games. they always appear deep in thought or even a little irritable, even if they're actually not. not so much RBF as simply spacing out. their eyes seem hazy. whichever colour they are it looks desaturated and blurry, like there's mist covering them. blues lean greyish, greens look muddy, browns look more true and lack the amber warmth. they might wear glasses or contacts. regardless of race they're a little paler and may have some health concerns or struggles.

05.

Shufflemancy: I want you to want me by Chase Holfelder

there is something broken here. their home, their heart, or perhaps their mind. it'll be difficult to break through this shell because the exterior is harsh and uninviting. whatever it is that haunts them, it really shows in their relationships. they walk a path seemingly unlit and full of horrors, leaving behind them a trail of broken hearts. pieces of both their own and those of past lovers scattered along the way. to some their love is suffocating, draining and overbearing. when they get attached they latch on with a powerful grip that seems unyielding. they're a rock that could weather the strongest of storms and they're used to being a pillar of strength. but it seems as though their past is full of people who would have needed the room to bend with the winds and were left feeling too restricted. they may have a jealous streak that's rooted in fear of betrayal, likely from past hurts. they could struggle with a mental illness or have history of abusing drugs or alcohol to numb what haunts them.

they really want a partner in crime. someone who is similar to them and understands their turmoil. they have a big capacity to understand and deal with heavy burdens and mental issues in a partner too and aren't easily fazed by emotional outbursts or any type of spiraling mentally or emotionally. they also remind me of the quote 'a hero will sacrifice the person they love to save the world, a villain will sacrifice the world to save the person they love'. they seem a bit like an outcast or a misfit, and those closest to them may also be underdogs and form a very tight-knit group. they're a little bit of a hopeless romantic and have a soft side. if they're musically inclined they might write you a song, or otherwise use writing as a way to express their feelings in a deeper way. their cold and rough exterior is there to ward off the most frail and flaky. they don't want to ruin dainty petals or have their own ripped out by players.

funnily enough they actually look like one themselves. they have that quintessential heartbreaker look to them. the one all the movies deem nothing but trouble. a villain in the story of many but their own and those closest to them. there is a feminine energy close to them that they're very protective of, like a sister or mother. for some they might be providing and caring for a sick relative. they have an unusual job or field of study, and peculiar working hours. they might work a graveyard shift, gigs, or do work that's seasonal or done on the go. music plays a big role in their life and you could meet them at a concert or through another kind of relation to a band or artist you both enjoy. they take a keen interest in the strange, and the mysteries of life. they might study the occult, enjoy conspiracy theories, true crime, etc. they're distinctly cool toned, blondes are dirty and ashy, browns are void of red pigment and lean darker, almost black. blue eyes are very cold and piercing, and brown eyes are very dark and may appear black. they have piercings, tattoos or scars and may bruise easily, or be into those things in others.

06.

Shufflemancy: Trust by Boy Epic

somebody send this person on a mandatory holiday. i really should not have left this one for last, because the energy is really heavy. their life seems unbalanced, like it is all work and no play. there is a jittery energy here as though they are running on fumes and caffeine to fuel a big machine with hundreds of intricately moving parts. they might work in real estate, management, law, IT, or have a lot of people they're in charge of who depend on them. they have impeccable memory and somehow manage to stay on top of things with ease. they like being personally involved and may be hands-on with many of their projects. task management comes naturally to them. it's as if they're playing a game of chess with life and stay aware of every possible variable and reach outcomes long before they show in the present. this spills into all areas of their life and allows them to map out goals with great precision, leaving very little room for uncertainty. they're very stable and competent. but they're also miserable. even though they enjoy their work for its challenges and the heights it allows them to reach, it may seem to them as though they are wearing themselves out without real purpose beyond the accolades. like they're building an empire in vain because there is nobody to share their glory. they want more from life, namely a home. their home is as big as it is hollow and they don't like it there. it lacks a lot of love and light and they wish to bring some of that into it through children and a spouse.

they may come from a big family themselves, even one of good fortune. their discipline and work ethic is likely something instilled in them by a father figure, and there could be a bit of an eldest child complex at play, wherein they have always felt the need to set an example for their younger siblings, but also feel embittered by what they cannot get away with that others so easily can. they could use with a bit of whimsical and carefree energy in their life. they're aware of it too, as they find a bit of chaos oddly attractive in a partner. in previous relationships they may have been with people far too similar to them, allowing them no place of restoration and solace, but instead a constant movement of the goal post. they seek someone comfortable and more easy-going who can help them relax and live a little. they are generous and would spoil a worthy partner rotten, but are also afraid of gold diggers and don't want to be taken advantage of, as they may have run the risk of in the past.

out of all groups, this one leans the oldest. depending on your age they could easily be 5-10 years your senior, and if you're very young it will likely take some time before you meet them. you might meet through work, through coworkers, at a work related event, or if it is a leisurely occasion it's one with a mixture of age groups like a family gathering of sorts. for a few, you could run into them a few times at random whilst running errands and going about your daily routines. either way interest is established quickly, even though they may seem stand-offish or even stiff at first. in actuality they busy themselves with observing, and throughout your interactions, and your interactions with other people in their presence, they size you up and try to figure you out. they could be very taken with you, but they try their best to not show it. they're cordial, but keep their cards hidden. once they decide to pursue you everything happens very quickly. again, because of their game of chess having played out various scenarios while they figured out their feelings and rearranged their life to fit you into it. they're eager to please, and one-on-one you may be surprised by their sensitive and softer side. they're doting and have a lot of adoration once they fall, and out in public where they seem level-headed and collected you can easily distract them and have them stumbling a bit. they're very protective and are bigger or stronger than you. their features lean darker and they may have an earthy look to them, like green or hazel eyes and auburn hair. this one has the strongest indications of marriage.

[sailoryooons]

Gods of the Dark | Two | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Dream god!Yoongi x f. human!reader

☾ Summary: Don’t ask for help in the dark. It’s an old tale you always heard whispered among the people of your village. But when you find yourself dragged kicking by the man you’re to marry, you have little choice but to beg for help long after the sun has set. The god who answers your pleas promises to save you, but every deal comes with a price. 

☾ Word Count: 21,443

☾ Genre: Fantasy, angst, strangers to lovers, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sexist and patriarchal society inspired by medieval europe, a lot of world building and discussion about theories/concept of dreams, discussions of morals and ethics, world building, angst, mentions/light depictions of an abusive family, discussions of gender roles and forced marriages, attempted murder via arson, sexual dream sequences, depictions of oral (f. receiving), exposed bodies (in a brothel), pining, townsfolk essentially bullying reader, intense nightmare sequences, light depictions of PTSD (including memories of almost drowning/being physically attacked), explicit language, idiots who are obviously into one another being idiots, recreational drinking, topics of desire, feelings of shame, depictions of anxiety and fear, slight voyeurism, attempted murder

☾ Published: December 2, 2023

☾ A/N: It's finally here! This chapter took so long to write and I want to apologize for how long it took. The creative process can be so difficult sometimes, and I have been having a very hard year, which reflects in my writing. Thank you for sticking with me - I really hope this chapter is okay. This originally wasn't going to be as slow of a burn as it is, but this is where the story took me naturally, so I hope that's okay with everyone. I am going to be adding an extra chapter to this now to tell the story the way I want, so we will have five total chapters to this. I am already working on chapter three, and my goal is to write just this series until the next three chapters are done! Note: The sections of italics are used to indicate dream sequences for this fic - the way I use these are very specific and with intent... that's the only hint I will give you.

A huge thank you to @here2bbtstrash for being my beta reader - I give them huge beta projects with very little time to do them, and this story would not be nearly as polished or tuned as it is now without them. Also thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging and patient with me - your kind words are not lost on me and I'm thankful for you all!

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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Eyes in the sky crying geysers How dare I have private desires

-

First is your mother’s screaming. It’s loud enough to make you clap your hands over your ears, wincing as she drops all of the things in her hands. Second is your father storming into the house like a hurricane, an axe clutched in his hand from cutting wood in the yard. When he sees you, he blanches and takes a few steps back, raising the axe. 

“Demon,” he whispers. He reaches for your mother and pulls her behind him. “You are a demon.” 

“No, I-”

Without a warning, your father launches the axe at you. You scream, arms going up to block your face, unable to dodge the attack. There’s a loud crack as the axe hits an invisible barrier. You feel your hand fly to your open mouth, staring at the axe that’s now hewn in two on the floor. 

Silence follows the destruction of the weapon. In that silence, it occurs to you that your father has attempted to kill you, and was only stopped by whatever protection Yoongi promised you. The realization is dizzying and you stumble away from your parents a little, bumping into the wall that separates the kitchen and the entryway. 

No one says anything at first. Your mother clings to your father, trembling violently. Her hair is greyer than you remember and it looks like the last few days haven’t been kind to her. But she has always been soft and weak.

It’s your father who no longer looks the same. Always such an imposing figure in your life, he looks aged. His face is wrinkled, his hair is grey. His presence is so much smaller than you remember, once full of rage and ferocity, now just a terrified man in a doorway. 

You cannot believe this is the man you’ve spent most of your life afraid of. Where once stood a great fear of yours now stands nothing more than a shadow of a man. Weak. Afraid. Vulnerable. 

“You can’t hurt me anymore,” you say in a voice much steadier than you feel. “You can’t marry me off, you can’t make me burn my books, and you can’t hurt me anymore.”

“What kind of demon are you?”

It occurs to you that you could tell him you’re not a demon. You’re just you, with a little added protection. But the realization that they are afraid of you wakes up something ugly inside of you. Something oily, that slithers, something wicked and sharp.

You don’t have to tell them you’re not a demon. You don’t have to tell them that you are. They have come to that conclusion themselves, and it has put them beneath you. Afraid of you. You’re more powerful than you’ve ever been in this home. 

So you let them think you are. “The kind that survived Nathaniel Laudermill beating me in the woods and trying to drown me.” 

Your father straightens. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! You weren’t supposed to run and he- he wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“Well, he did. And he paid for it, didn’t he?” 

When you say it, you have a sneaking suspicion that Nathaniel Laudermill is dead. When your father nods feebly at your question, the knowledge slides into place. You don’t feel bad. It almost horrifies you that you don’t, but you think of the burning in your lungs, his nails against your skin, the roaring of the water. 

You’re glad Nathaniel is dead.

“What do you want from us? Money? Our lives?”

“Nothing.” You realize it’s true, suddenly stricken with wondering why you came back at all. “I want you to go about your lives, and let me do what I will.” 

Pushing off the wall, you turn around and head out the front door. You feel their eyes on you as you go, but you don’t look back.

For now, you walk out into the woods. Crickets chirp happily, growing quiet as you walk by and starting once again when you’re a distance from them. Under the shade of the trees, it’s cold. The river isn’t flooded up into the woods anymore, but the ground is soft beneath your feet, mud giving way to your steps.

It feels different when you walk through the woods this time. They aren’t as vibrant. No Tiera is lurking in the boughs of the wisteria. There’s no lake with merfolk peering at you with large, alien eyes. A world that was once so full of life and peace feels unsaturated now. Devoid of color. 

A nasty feeling creeps up on you as you walk. You look for the creatures of the wood, hoping to see their bright colors and little lives. A snake slithers away from you, but it’s just that. A snake with normal scales, in a normal bush. A rabbit rushes by, quick as lightning, a blur of fur.

None of the birds have plumes of purple feathers. There’s no trilling song that sounds like dreams spun into notes, no smell of drifting sweetness on the wind. The air is damp and cold, and it smells like fresh earth and water. But there’s nothing about it that seems as vibrant as before.

By the river, the water rushes as fast as your thoughts. You weren’t sure what to expect when you came home, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t your parents thinking you were a demon, but that isn’t the worst part. 

The worst part is that only after two weeks, your world has lost its magic. It pales in comparison to Yoongi’s world or even your imagination. You stare at the water you used to think rushed with so much promise, the waxy leaves that used to contain so many shades of green. Now they’re just leaves and the river is just water. 

A tingle presses at your neck. You turn, expecting Yoongi to be looming behind you. There’s no one there, but the feeling of awareness doesn’t go away. Frowning, you lean against the tree and stare out into the woods unseeing. 

Clove and cinnamon hang in the air. You close your eyes, inhaling. The tingle at the back of your neck feels familiar. In your mind, you feel it like a phantom touch, sliding from your neck across your shoulder, dragging down the length of your arms until there is a soft twitch in your palm. 

It’s easy to imagine Yoongi this way. But when you open your eyes, Yoongi isn’t there. The feeling doesn’t go away. But you always have that feeling out here, the something of other. Your heart flutters at the thought of the god lurking somewhere that you can’t see. 

A silly thought. You brush it away, trying not to delude yourself into fantasies that Yoongi has any interest in you beyond your deal and beyond that night in the woods where you asked for help. Yoongi’s kindness is just that, and though you dream of him often, you know the difference between your dreams and reality. 

Instead of leaving to go back to the house, you sit down on the ground. Closing your eyes, you imagine a brighter world. A more magical world. It’s easier to do this than to contend with the fact that the woods you loved so dearly are not as you remember them. 

This, at least, is familiar. Sitting in the woods for hours and imagining worlds away from yours. Now, you imagine a specific world, made up of twilight and mountains in the distance. With a wonderful castle full of rooms saturated with candlelight and books you’re learning how to read.

When your stomach growls, you’re forced to stop your imagination and get up. You feel a bit better, knowing that you can at least remember what Yoongi’s dream realm looks like. Two weeks. You have two weeks until you can go back, and until then, Yoongi expects you to study. 

Back at the house, your parents stare in silence when you enter. You hardly look at them, walking to the kitchen as though they are merely ghosts harboring the same space as you. Your movements are methodical as you make yourself lunch. When you reach for the knife to cut cheese, you feel the pointed look of your parents. 

Part of you wants to turn around and scream at them to scare them. Another part of you has divorced the idea of them as your parents already. Yet you do nothing, biting a piece of cheese as you finish plating your meal and go to your room. They say nothing. 

Sitting on your bed, you eat your meal. The world is quiet for the most part, though the muted sound of nature hums beyond your closed window. You realize there is a desk in your room stacked with books, parchment, and inkwells. 

Heart racing, you get up from your bed and cross the room. You wipe your fingers on your shirt as you pick up a note written in Yoongi’s neat scrawl. You chew your lip as you look at the swirls and dips of letters on paper, immediately intimidated at the prospect of making sense of the writing. 

You take the note with you to the bed and begin to parse the letters and sentences apart. It takes all of your concentration, going over the sounds each letter makes in your head to build a word. It’s not fast work and it isn’t easy, but after a while, you work out the first sentence. 

Do not forget to practice every day. 

A smile makes your mouth twitch, both in pride that you managed to work out the sentence and at the thought of Yoongi hunched over his desk writing you a note.  

The second sentence is trickier. Afternoon light pours through your window as you spend another fifteen minutes sounding out the letters, quietly muttering them to yourself until you’ve got full words to build the sentence.

I will be watching, so you better practice as often as you can. 

You bite your lip. It sounds like a playful threat, quietly muttered in one of Yoongi’s teasing moments. You can almost hear the soft rasp of his voice and picture the smirk that would accompany his words. You shiver before reading the final sentence. 

Sleep well, and dream as often as you can.

The desk is a nice touch. You don’t remember seeing it this morning and you wonder how it got there. Remembering Yoongi’s magic is overwhelming. You’re still unsure what the limits of his power are, if there are any at all. 

Hunched over the papers, you begin to trace letters again. It feels good to have the quill in your hand. You’re careful not to spill the ink all over the paper like you do when you’re practicing in the library - you have a limited amount of parchment here, compared to Yoongi’s endless amounts in the House of Dreams. 

It does beg the question whether he’ll drop you off more magical paper if you run out, though. 

By the time your hand is cramping too much to practice more and your head hurts, it’s evening. Your parents are locked away in their room when you come out. You can hear the soft voice of your mother go silent when they hear you enter the kitchen for food before heading out to the porch.

Twilight skies stretch above you. Sitting on the edge of the porch, you watch the world fade from purple to black. The stars begin to dot the sky, the moon making her climb upward. You grin, feeling relieved that maybe not all of your world has lost its magic. 

Perhaps it’s just the light of day you’re no longer interested in. The night is far more mysterious and alluring, calling to you as you finish your last bite of dinner. You set your plate down on the porch and hop down, feeling the soft grass beneath your bare feet.

The last time you entered the woods in the dark, you were almost killed. That memory alone makes you pause at the edge of the woods. Your mouth dries a little bit and though the urge to step into the shadow of the night is strong, the memory of Nathaniel’s hands on your hair is stronger.

You turn around quickly and walk back to the house, picking up the plate along the way. It feels shameful to be afraid of the dark woods, a sour taste in your mouth as you lock yourself in your room and crawl onto the bed. 

Closing your eyes, you try not to think about Nathaniel. His yelling haunts you, the phantom grip of his fingers pulling your hair, the way your mouth filled with water- a hooting owl disturbs your spiraling thoughts. 

You open your eyes, straining your ears, only to find silence. Just as you begin to close your eyes again, you hear the hoot once more. Turning toward the window next to your bed, you sit up and pop the latch, casting open one of the shutters. 

Above the house, the moon is a glowing coin in the sky. Everything her light touches is awash in grey. Sticking your head out of the window, you sweep your gaze back and forth, trying to look for the sound of the hooting.

As though it senses your gaze, the owl hoots again. You see it this time. A great horned owl stares at you from its perch on top of a pile of chopped wood. Its eyes are burnished gold, like two burning beacons in the night. It’s a stunning owl, all browns and whites, feathers luminous under the sheen of the moon. It moves its head in a circle, opening and closing its beak.

Then, the owl surprises you. You flinch and sit backward on your haunches as it takes flight, great wings flapping as it flies to your window and lands on the ledge. You gasp in delight. The creature is far bigger up close, its ochre eyes warm and intelligent. 

The back of your neck tingles familiarly and you smile. 

“Are you supposed to watch over me?” The owl chirps, a much higher-pitched noise than the hoot. “Hmm. I see. Do you have a name?”

The owl bobs its head from side to side in an uncanny movement. Though you’re not sure, you think it means to tell you no. “Well, what if I give you one?” The owl chirps again. “What about… Moony?” 

Fluffing its feathers, the owl shifts back and forth and lets out a hiss. You giggle, covering your mouth as the bird settles, looking at you in a way that certainly feels haughty and bothered. “Alright. What about… Dream?” Another hiss and a bob no. “Okay, well you’re making this quite difficult. What about…”

A dozen names run through your mind. You think of the owl as Yoongi’s way to watch over you at night. It makes you feel warm and far less alone than you were before. It’s nice knowing that you have a protector, someone to warn Yoongi if you’re ever in danger. Or to steer you away from your bad thoughts.

“How about Guardian?” you offer. It blinks two large eyes before chirping and bobbing its head in a circle, pleased at the name. You grin and slowly reach your hand forward. “I like it. Guardian, then.” 

Gently, the owl leans forward and lets you brush its feathers. They are silky under your touch, each plume delicate and wonderful. You can’t help but smile, stroking the owl's chest until it shuffles back and forth and gives a short hoot.

“Go on,” you urge. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ll leave the window open?”

Guardian hoots in affirmation before shuffling its wings and flying off into the night. 

Laying in your back, you stare up through the open window, watching the stars go past. Slowly, you feel sleep pull at your edges, beckoning you to give in. You finally do, drifting asleep under the silver light of the moon and a blanket of stars. 

-

Yoongi sits in front of the fireplace in the library. You blink a few times, a little dazed. You don’t remember how you got here, but you know the smell of this library and you know that shadowy frame better than anything. It suddenly makes you ache to realize how much you miss it already. 

As if sensing your presence, Yoongi turns to look at you. He smirks, showing no sign of surprise at seeing you standing behind him. He gestures to the armchair next to him and you grin, quick to join him. 

Warmth leaps from the fireplace, the logs popping and crackling under the hungry, orange flames. Yoongi is dressed in a simple linen shirt and pants, his necklaces reflecting the burning light. He watches you sit down and fold your feet onto the chair. 

“Am I here? Or am I dreaming?” you ask. 

“Are both not possible?”

You think about it. “Well yes, I suppose they are. I’m dreaming but I can come here because I’m dreaming.”

“Clever girl.” Yoongi’s eyes dance as he looks you up and down. “How was your first day back?”

��Strange. I…” You chew on your lip, wrapping your arms around your legs. Suddenly, you feel more at home than you did earlier that day in the place you were raised. You think about the woods out behind your house, the alien way you felt among trees that should be familiar. “It feels as though the world doesn’t hold as much magic anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like here. It is so vibrant and beyond imagining that now that I’ve gone back… nothing compares.”

Yoongi hums. “I promise you that there is so much magic in your world. There is real magic in living that cannot be found among the imaginary.” 

You rest your chin on your knees and sigh heavily. “If only I could find it.” 

“You will.” 

Silence passes between you. It’s comfortable. You watch the dancing fire, the world fading away. Though you are acutely aware that Yoongi is staring at your side profile, you don’t squirm or feel anxiety. You simply feel peace, happy to be here. Happy to be with him.

That makes your stomach flutter. At least you’re not dreaming of him in ways you shouldn’t tonight. As soon as you think about it, you feel your cheeks heat up hotter than the flames from the fireplace. 

After a little while Yoongi sighs, drawing your attention back to him. “You should sleep.” 

“I thought I was.”

“Sort of. You’re more… dreamwalking right now. You’re not really resting.” 

“Do I have to stay here?” The question is small. You don’t meet his eyes when you ask, suddenly filled with shame that you can’t even last a day in the world you’ve known for over twenty years. “There’s nothing for me here.”

“There is. You just have to find it again.”

“I don’t know how.” 

Yoongi stands up. You look up at him and see that his expression is soft. Kind. Your heart speeds up, tongue heavy in your mouth as he slowly reaches out to you. His hand hesitates for a second, pauses in mid-air like he’s unsure, and then he touches your cheek lightly. “Trust me.” 

Before you can respond, Yoongi is walking away. The skin on your cheek tingles where his fingers were a moment before, a shiver racing up your spine. You lift your hands to touch your cheek where his fingers were moments ago. You can’t help but smile, fondness for him growing. Blooming. 

Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and settle into real sleep. 

-

Tap tap tap. 

You twitch your nose and roll your head to the side, sniffing. For a moment, it felt like something had been tapping your nose, almost waking you from sleep. You start to sink back into it, pulling your covers tighter as your thoughts drift… further…

Tap tap tap. 

You frown. Now you’re awake, your thoughts clawing their way to break the surface of sleep. When you finally collect yourself and register that you’re waking up, you open your eyes to reveal a face hovering inches from yours, so close that you cannot make out the features. 

A shriek rips through your room as you scramble away from the face, clutching your blanket. You slam into the wall near the window, heart hammering as you press yourself flat, trying to make yourself small. 

Taehyung falls backwards on his ass, covering his ears and giving you a ghastly expression, as though horrified to be screamed at in such a manner. Your hand clutches your chest as you realize it’s him sitting on your floor and him who had been inches from your face - tapping your nose. 

“What are you doing?” you holler at him, fisting your blankets. You suddenly feel sick, the adrenaline making your stomach turn and your head spin. Groaning, you lay on your side, squeezing your eyes shut. Colors coalesce behind your eyelids as you take deep breaths, hoping it will pass. “Are you insane?”

“Well, that is up for debate.” 

You open your eyes and glare at him. 

Taehyung sits with his long legs out in front of him, leaning back on his palms. His dark hair hangs in his eyes as he grins at you, giddy. He’s dressed in a flowing white shirt with laces at the front that he’s kept open, revealing a tanned chest. His shirt is tucked into brown trousers and you spot a small chain with a charm tied through one of his belt loops.

You think you recognize the charm from one of Yoongi’s necklaces. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Visiting, obviously.”

“You can just… visit?” 

“I do what I want.” 

As the adrenaline rush fades, you slowly sit up, glaring at the man on your floor. “I doubt that. How did you get in here, anyway?” 

“Your window is open.” 

The window in question is still wide open from last night, only now, morning light streams through. The air is cool and smells of rain, the wind rushing through the trees and making them bend and dance under its guidance. A robin flits from bough to bough, singing. 

“So you came through the window?” 

“No, I came through the front door. No one else is home.” 

“Then why did you say you came through the window?”

“I didn’t. I said the window was open.” Taehyung gives you a white, square grin. You clench your teeth and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. Though you’re pleased to see him, you’re equally as vexed by his teasing. “Anyway, I want you to show me around.”

“Show you around what?” 

He gets up from the floor, clapping his hands together to get rid of the dirt and dust before doing the same to his pants. He shrugs, giving you a cheery smile. “I don’t know. Anything. Everything. I want to see what your life here was like.” 

“It wasn’t very good.”

“That’s okay. I want to see it anyway.” 

Slowly, you get out of bed. He makes room for you, walking over toward the desk where your writing practice sheets are. He flips through them, examining your work as you eye him, stretching. Your joints pop and you groan, eyes fluttering at the release of tension. 

“Why?” you ask. He looks up at you, brows raised in a question. “Why do you want to see?”

Taehyung contemplates his answer. He taps one long finger on top of your tracing. “You’re getting better.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms, regarding you steadily. “I’ll make you a deal. Show me about your life here. Teach me about you. And I’ll tell you about me.” 

That sparks your interest. You know so little about Taehyung, even in the two weeks that you’ve lived in the House of Dreams. He is a charming mystery, someone who speaks in riddles and likes to goad you and talk about so much that you realize he talks about nothing at all. At least, not anything substantial. 

For the amount of things you know about Taehyung, like how he enjoys cinnamon in his tea or that his favorite color is green like the bottom of the lake, or how his favorite snacks are honey cakes or that music makes him cry, you also know… nothing about him. Where he comes from. Who he was before he was Yoongi’s companion in a big, lonely castle. 

Sighing, you walk up to him and extend your arm. “Deal.”

Taehyung’s hand is warm and tingles when you shake it. He grins at you, happier than ever before he drops your hand and gestures at your clothes. “Well go on,” he says. “Change out of your nighties. Unless of course, you’d like to stay in them.”

“Get out of my room and I will!”

He raises his brows. “Don’t want me to watch? How boring.” 

You don’t take his teasing to heart. You’ve already adapted to Taehyung’s jesting and prodding, learning that it’s a key part to the way that he shows his affections. For the first few days, you’d thought perhaps he didn’t like you much, but after seeing him rib Yoongi for two hours straight in the library, you realized it was good that he was teasing you.

You open the small trunk of clothes and slide on pants and a loose shirt. When you enter the main house, you find Taehyung standing on the porch with his arms crossed over his chest, looking into the woods with a frown. Tucking in your shirt, you step out onto the porch, the wood creaking underneath your weight. 

“What is it?” you ask when Taehyung doesn’t turn to greet you. His eyes are dark and there’s an expression on his face that makes you nervous. “Is there something out there?”

Instead of answering directly, he asks, “Is that where Yoongi found you?” 

Oh. Oh. Taehyung is looking at the woods where you ran off the night that your parents tried to make you marry Nathaniel. You nod and hum, trying not to think much about it as you finish tucking in the shirt and adjusting the material. 

“There’s a bad energy there,” Taehyung observes. He turns away from the woods finally and drops his hands at his side. “You should stay away from that place moving forward.”

“I didn’t exactly go in there on purpose.”

“I know.” Something flashes in his eyes. “Best not to do it again, if you can help it. You can go into the woods, just not there.” 

“Okay…” 

You wait for Taehyung to elaborate, but he doesn’t. A chill settles over your skin, the wind picking up to rustle the trees. He shrugs and grins, the dark expression gone in a flash as he gestures for you to enter back through the house and leave by way of the front door. 

Taheyung follows you, a bounce to his step as he hurries to walk next to you. You say nothing as you lead him out of the yard and toward the main road by your home that leads into town, your stomach fluttering with nervousness as you go. 

If Taehyung is confused as to why you’re not starting the story of your life at home, he doesn’t let on. He tucks his hands into his pockets and walks next to you, his feet crunching the gravel beneath his boots and the wind lifting his hair.

Studying Taehyung’s side profile, you think he looks like something from a dream. He has the kind of beauty that seems purposeful and handcrafted, each one of his features carefully designed to be the wonderful, glowing being that he is. 

You don’t know what he is, really. But you’ve made a deal and you have to deliver on your end first. 

“We live a bit away from town,” you say eventually. “My father inherited the house after his father, who was a very talented wood carver. He used to cut the trees here himself and decide which tree was perfect for what project, which is why we live almost thirty minutes from town.” 

“A wood carver is a nice talent to have.”

You nod. “He was very good. It made a good income. My father had no talent for it, though, and opened up a store instead. He sold my grandfather’s wares and then eventually added items from other folks in town, including my mother's clothes. She’s a seamstress.” 

“You were wearing a dress the night Yoongi brought you home.”

Home. Taehyung says it so easily, like he’s already accepted that the House of Dreams is yours as much as it’s his. A warm feeling blooms through you, and you look up at Taehyung and smile at him despite the looming subject of the doomed wedding dress. He returns your smile just as broadly, even if he doesn’t know the reason for your sudden turn of happiness. 

“Yeah. That was one she made,” you sigh, turning back to the road. “A wedding dress.” 

“It was beautiful, but I did burn it in the fire.” You look at him with your brows raised and he gives you a sheepish shrug. “You were assaulted in that dress. We wanted nothing to do with it.”

“I’m glad that you did. I never want to remember that night again.”

“Good. Memories have a way of haunting us, even when we don’t know it.” 

Taehyung’s tone is ominous. Instead of asking him what he means, you let his weighted silence fall around you, propelling the both of you toward the town. 

As you get closer, houses and other roads begin to pop up. You see the pathways leading up to the homes of your neighbors, pointing out each one to Taehyung along with filling him in on summaries of their family histories and gossip. He listens with a conspiratorial smirk, gasping and asking you scandalous questions as you whisper rumors you’ve long heard from eavesdropping on your parents. 

Gossiping with Taehyung is nice. You feel lighter than you had the day before, nearly skipping as you near the town proper. You start passing people on the road. Normally, you’d greet the ones you know. Now, you hear gasps as people flinch when they see you, making signs with their hands to ward off evil. 

You blink in surprise, glancing at Taehyung for his reaction. He frowns when he sees the second group of people do it. By the third, he pulls a snarling face at them, making a child cry. You jam your finger in his ribs and he hisses in pain, shoving lightly back.

“What?” he demands. “You’re not evil. That sign doesn’t do anything, either. If one of the more malevolent deities wanted to snatch them, they would.”

“Really?”

Taehyung rubs his ribs where you poked him. You pass the bakery owned by the Yen family, heavenly smells wafting out the door. “Of course they would,” he huffs. “Most deities aren’t bound by the rules and logic the mortals try to make to create a sense of safety from them. Many can simply do what they want.”

“Then why don’t they?”

“Because of Eternals, like Yoongi. The gods who are always here, never changing. That’s why they’re called Eternals.” 

“I see. There’s seven of them, right?” Taehyung hums the affirmative. As you pass a music shop, Taehyung slows. His hands are linked behind his back as he eyes the instruments through the window and gestures at them. You nod and follow him indoors, the bell on the door above chiming. “So other deities are afraid of them?”

“Of course they are,” Taehyung muses. He stops to admire a mandolin. “Yoongi, for example, is a being that creates dreams themselves. He manipulates reality. He can create things on a whim. He’s almost as powerful as life.”

“Really?”

“What are dreams if not creation? The difference isn’t all that big, though it drives Seokjin mad to admit it.”

“Who?”

Taehyung plucks the string of another instrument. You don’t know what it is, but the note is sharp, making you cringe. “Life, of course.”

“You know Life? What are you?”

He glances at you sidelong. “We’re supposed to learn about you first. I’m doing a lot of talking.”

“Not like it’s hard to get you going,” you mutter. 

Taeyung shoots you a scowl, but is interrupted by the shop owner coming around the corner. He’s a man in his late thirties, greeting Taehyung politely and wiping his hands on his trousers. He asks Taehyung if he’s looking for anything and just as Taehyung leans out of the way to reveal you standing behind him, the shop owner’s eyes go to you and he gasps, stumbling backward. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispers, his back bumping into a shelf of items. You feel a shiver slip down your spine as you stare at him, arms tingling. He makes the symbol to ward off evil, the whites of his eyes wild. “Evil. Evil creature, you are a demon. You do not-”

“Another word,” Taehyung cuts in, his voice dark in a tone you’ve never heard. “And I’ll show you what evil is, sir.” 

“G-god of Light spare me.”

“Your God of Light won’t answer.” Taehyung spins on his heel, facing you. His expression is thunder, his gaze dark and eyes wild as he hisses, “Speak their name all you wish. It's not daytime in here, sir.” 

For the two weeks you’ve known Taehyung, you’ve never seen him like this. The room feels oppressive and dark, and you swear the lights have dimmed, shadows pressing up against the wall as Taehyung strides forward and passes you, taking your arm firmly in his hand.

Taehyung escorts you out of the store, walking swiftly. When you hit daylight, the oppressive dark sheds itself immediately. Taehyung’s presence dims with the sun beating down on him and turning his skin copper, black hair shining almost blue in the light.

He lets go of your arm and shoots you a troubled gaze. “Don’t listen to him,” he grunts. “You’re not a demon, nor are you evil.”

“My parents called me the same thing.” He scowls and begins pacing. To keep him moving, you start walking toward the other side of town where the old cemetery and abandoned church is. You don’t know why you go there, but you’re drawn to it. “They called me a demon.” 

“Demons are much nastier. You might be annoying, but certainly not a demon.”

You scowl and he shrugs. “I didn’t realize everyone here thought I died. I thought I would come back and it would be…”

“Normal?” You shrug a shoulder. 

The houses on the edge of town are shabbier than the rest. People hesitate in their doorways, staring at you and the tall, handsome man next to you. You see them do the warding sign as you go, and you squeeze your hands into fists as they do. 

Weeds crawl up the side of the old church. The structure leans heavily to the left, the stairs unusable and the ceiling fallen in. Instead of walking up the hazardous steps and inside the dilapidated building, you lead Taehyung around it, where the grass grows higher than your knees and the sound of grasshoppers buzzing by you follows. 

A dry-rotted fence surrounds what was once a graveyard. You walk toward it, leading Taehyung until he starts slowing down a few paces behind you. You stop and turn over your shoulder to look at him, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. 

Taehyung looks thoughtful, dark eyes scanning the area. He’s stopped walking entirely, head cocked to the side. “Why’d you bring me here?” 

“I don’t know. I just… walked in this direction. I used to come here for the silence, sometimes.”

Taehyung has a strange look on his face. “Is that so?” 

“Why do you look like that?” 

“How long has this place been here?” 

“The church closed before I could remember. Honestly, they said it was haunted by this graveyard, which has been here a lot longer than the church. Even the oldest families in town don’t have their dead buried here. Rumor has it that it was built long before the town was.” 

Taehyung starts walking normally again. Side by side, you begin to navigate around the graveyard. “And you come here? Why?” 

“It’s quiet. When I was too young to stay at the house alone, my mom would bring me to town while she ran errands. I was allowed to explore, but I liked to come here.”

“Most kids are afraid of places of the dead.” 

You shrug. “It was quiet, and it gave me time to imagine things. I liked to make up fantasies about the old gods here or… what I imagined they might be. Of heroes descended from them, maybe.” 

“And you felt drawn here?” 

You startle when a grasshopper shoots across the grass in front of you. You laugh as it vanishes into the foliage. “Yeah, it just felt… safe.” 

“Strange.” 

“Am I allowed to ask why or are you going to complain you’re talking too much again?”  He snorts and gestures for you to continue. “Why is that strange? Beyond the fact that it’s, you know, a graveyard.” 

Sighing, Taehyung squints up at the line of trees nearby. His hand hovers along the tops of the grass as he runs it over each blade, letting the tips tickle his hands. You’re almost waist high in grass, glancing down to make sure you don’t step into any holes. 

“This place is old. The people of the church felt haunted because they were. Death owns this land.” 

You frown. “Well, the dead are here. The other graveyard doesn’t feel the same.”

“You misunderstand me. Death - the Eternal. His presence is all over. Someone important to him must be buried here.” 

“Oh.” 

You stop and think about that. Turning to look at the unmarked and lime washed tombstones, you scan for any sign of Death. You have no idea what you’re looking for. Ivy and time have taken over most of the concrete slabs, and none of the names or dates are legible by now. They’re just hewn stone, buried in green and grime. 

But you feel something here, a tingling on the back of your neck like the one you felt in the woods by your house. A chill wind blows over the land, sweeping the grass and rattling the trees. You feel the breeze against your neck, cool as fingers trailing down your spine. 

Suddenly, you feel a buzz on your skin. It’s not so different from Yoongi’s presence, and it chills you. 

You look up at Taehyung with wide, fearful eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to be afraid of Death. Death is neither good nor bad, he just is. He only takes those who are ready.” 

“Have you met - um - Death?” 

Taehyung nods. “He is a man of few words, but Namjoon is unwaveringly kind and wise.”

“Strange that I was drawn to coming here.” You head back toward the town. The sun passes its zenith and makes its way into the early afternoon. “Is this whole place filled with Eternals or what?”

“No, it’s actually a rather unremarkable location. Namjoon lingers in many places. Yoongi was simply drawn here.” 

“By what?” 

Instead of answering the question, Taehyung sticks his hands in his pockets. “Show me more of your town.” 

So you do. Taehyung is a good companion. Where Yoongi would quietly observe and make sounds to indicate that he’s listening and admires the things you’re talking about, Taehyung asks questions. You realize he’s a tactile person as well. He touches things as he walks by them, brushing his fingers on fabric, touching jewelry at vendor stands.

Everywhere you go is a similar reaction to the instrument store. People seem happy to see Taehyung at first before they see you, fear making them lean away and ward you off. You realize you don’t know how much time has passed since you vanished from the woods and returned. 

When you ask Taehyung, he shrugs and explains that time moves differently and inconsistently. It could have been a day, it could have been a week, it could have been five months. By the looks on the faces of those you pass, you think perhaps it’s been a little longer than you anticipated.

Part of you wonders what lie your parents must have told them about your death. You almost want to ask, but you don’t, anxiety stilling your tongue. You probably wouldn’t be able to get close enough to anyone to ask anyway. 

By the time the sun has sunk beyond the horizon and the moon has begun its climb, you and Taehyung stop at the tavern to eat. Your stomach rumbles as you step into the warmth of the room behind Taehyung, and you notice that the place goes quiet.

It’s subtle at first, something you don’t notice as you kick dirt off your shoes, but the hush becomes so intense that you can’t help but look up, gaze sweeping the room as everyone turns to stare at you. 

Behind the counter, the barkeep straightens. His name is Sloan - you’ve known him since you were a little girl - and he looks less than happy at your arrival.

“I know I’m pretty,” Taehyung announces loudly, tossing the hair out his eyes. “But you don’t need to stare.”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Sloan says, voice wavering like he’s unsure if he means it. “Begone, demon. We are men and women of life and light!”

You swallow thickly and look around, feeling prickly heat crawl up your neck. 

Like at the music shop, something happens to Taehyung, except this time, it’s stronger than before. The candles in the chandelier and on the tables flicker in a phantom wind and darkness pulses in the room. You feel energy rolling off of him and you swear Taehyung gets darker as he steps forward, his presence oppressive and threatening. 

There is crying and gasping in the room as he seethes. “We are not demons, and you will not disallow this woman to enter your shops, your homes, or anywhere else she wishes.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper, throat dry. 

He doesn’t seem to hear you. You swear there is thunder in the distance. Whatever power belonging to Taehyung is tenfold now that the night sky stretches over the tavern. “Refuse her service, and there will be consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you hiss, snatching his sleeve. You pull his attention to you. His eyes are like two obsidian coins. There is something sharp and lupine about his face, sending your heart hammering. “Stop. This is making it worse.” 

“They should not insult you.”

“It’s fine.”

He softens a touch. “It isn’t. You are not… they do not understand you.”

“They never have. Come on, let’s just go.”

For a second, you think he might not. You don’t know what Taehyung is or what he can do. It doesn’t frighten you, though. Because whatever Taehyung is and whatever his intentions are, he’s linked to Yoongi. Yoongi would never put you in harm's way or let Taehyung near you if he was a threat.

Even after such a short period of time, you know this in your heart of hearts.

Taehyung relents and the light returns to the room. No one makes a sound, all eyes on Taehyung as he lets you pull him out of the door and into the night. You immediately feel better outside, the moon washing your skin in light and the stars watching you march into the street. 

“You can’t just threaten everyone who insults me,” you snap, though you’re not really mad at him. “They’re only going to hate me more. And they will think you’re a demon when you do that.”

“I’m far more powerful than a demon,” he sniffs primly. “And they should not insult you. You have the favor of Dream. You are -” he cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Well, you’re far above their station. They know nothing.”

“Far above their station,” you snort, crushing a rock under the toe of your boot. “I’m a girl who was strange when they knew me before they thought I was dead, and now they think I’m a demon walking around with her scary demon husband. Or perhaps they think you are an evil entity.” 

“Don’t make that joke around Yoongi,” Taehyung mutters, putting his hands on his hips. Before you can ask what that means, he says, “What if I took you somewhere instead, then?”

You raise your brows and look around. “Where?”

“Well not here. Somewhere familiar to me, where they won’t ostracize you.”

“We’re going to travel in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung gives you a square grin that lights up the world. “Time to learn about how we travel.”

-

You almost vomit on Taehyung’s shoes. He squeals and steps out of the way as you bend over, holding your middle as bile burns its way up your throat and splatters onto the gravel beneath you. It feels like your world is spinning and you’ve lost your center of gravity, having been pulled by something sharp in your stomach into a vortex of what felt like twisting and spinning.

It could only have lasted a second, but Taehyung has to hold you up for a moment as you gasp for air, the taste in your mouth sour and gross. You crane your face to look at him, glaring as he winces. He had given you no warning of what his travel was like or how it would feel.

You’re not looking forward to it again.

“What,” you pant, “was that?”

“Teleportation, mostly. I kind of forgot what it feels like when you’re… human. You get a little scrambled.”

The nausea makes your throat clench and unclench again. You dig your fingers into his arm as you dry heave but nothing comes up. “A little?” you rasp. The world slows its spinning and the watering feeling in your mouth that preludes puking fades. “That was awful.”

“Sorry, it’s different than portaling. That’s more stepping through the door while teleportation is like... Jumping.”

“Don’t jump me again any time soon.”

Taehyung pats your back heartily as you stand up straight. The stars swim above you in a spiraling cosmos. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, waiting as the nausea fades away and the world around you bleeds into the forefront of your attention span. 

Noise hums from in front of you. You’re standing in an alleyway, looking up at the side of a building. It looks a bit like an inn, but you can hear the clamor of a crowd and loud voices coming from inside. Each window is curtained, keeping wandering eyes and the moonlight outside. 

Taehyung leads you around to the front of the building. It’s two stories and on the first floor there’s a porch filled with chairs and gambling tables. There are men and women draped over the furniture, smoking sweet-smelling cigars and laughing loudly as they throw dice on the table. 

Women and men in various states of undress sit on the laps of the others. You feel heat crawl up your neck as you avert your eyes, looking up at the sign hanging over the building that says Desert Rose. Nervousness tingles at the back of your neck as Taehyung strolls up the steps to what you’re sure is a brothel and a gambling den, greeting people as he goes.

You’re shocked that Taehyung knows people here. You’re sure that you’re still in… your dimension, as Yoongi calls it. The people here talk with an accent that is different from what you’re used to, but you still understand the language, even while struggling to keep up with the lilt.

Eyes follow you as Taehyung leads you inside. The air is thick with perfume, smoke, and loud voices. Tables are pressed closely together, filled with people. There’s a bar at the back of the room and a small bard and band in a corner, singing a raucous song with the crowd about Lady Trown who gets around and will go down. 

“Where did you bring me?” you ask Taehyung as he guides you through the rowdy room. A woman falls over a card game laughing, her breasts spilling out of her shirt while another woman plants a kiss right on her mouth. “This place is - is -”

There are no words for it. You’ve never been somewhere that is so openly indecent and carnal in your life and yet… the colors and the sounds and the overflowing joy hit you like an arrow to the chest. You can’t help but be drawn to look at the exposed bodies before darting your gaze away, only to be drawn somewhere else out of insatiable curiosity. 

“A haven!” Taehyung offers as he leans on the bar. “Two pints of whatever!” 

You press close against him, hands shooting to his shirt as someone pushes by you. It’s a little overwhelming and you feel hot all over. Taehyung shoves a wooden tankard of amber liquid into your hands and grins, raising another to his lips before taking several swigs, liquid running down his chin and neck. 

He comes away and smacks his lips, giving you a delighted grin. “It’s awful, just the way I like it!”

You take a sip and make a face. The watered-down ale is certainly nothing like the sweet wine Yoongi likes to treat you to over dinner. Taehyung seems to know this, laughing loudly as he leads you through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner. 

Back against the wall, you take a moment to look around the room. There are card and dice games being held at multiple tables, alongside other games with rune-marked stones, cups and trinkets that you don’t recognize.

It’s wildly different from anything back home. You’ve never been to a brothel - at least, you think this place qualifies for one, based on the various states of undress and a few couples doing something that makes you avert your eyes - but this is nice. In its own loud and carnal way.

Taehyung people-watches with you. He feeds you information on the faces that he recognizes, lips curling as he gossips. He looks alive and happy, his golden skin glowing with a radiance that seems a little magical. 

“So is it my turn to ask questions?” you ask, sipping the awful beer as you look over at Taehyung. His gaze reluctantly strays away from watching a card game where you’re pretty sure the woman who is winning is cheating. “Or do I still have to talk about myself?” 

He smirks. “You can ask questions, a deal is a deal.”

“What is this place?” 

“The Desert Rose.” 

You glare. “What is this place to you?” 

Taehyung takes a sip of his ale and grins, winking at you. “A better question. This place is somewhere I used to visit when I wanted to feel alive. When I wanted to feel humanity for its raw intensity.”

“So you’re not human.” He shakes his head. His face grows a little hesitant, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. “What are you?” 

“I’m a dream.” 

You blink once. Twice. You expect Taehyung to start laughing and indicate that he was teasing you, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his chair, watching you evenly with his dark eyes. 

“What?” you finally ask.

“I’m a dream. The second ever, actually.”

You think about what you’ve observed of Taehyung. The way that he seems to draw people in, the animated manner in which he speaks. He seems to contain so many multitudes of the things you know that Yoongi enjoys, and yet so many things that press Yoongi’s buttons and rattle him. 

Taehyung is… beautiful. Enchanting. Both to look at, and to talk to. He has a carefree personality and you know he’s magical, having witnessed it in the House of Dreams in snippets but also today, when he became angry and the darkness seemed to swell around him. Not to mention his awful teleportation to wherever you are in the world now.

He is exactly the kind of person you always imagined being the lead in your fantasies. Brave and charming, handsome and adventurous. He looks like he belongs here, melding to the energy around him, fitting in perfectly.

Suddenly, the thought of Taehyung being a dream makes more sense than anything else. A being of infinite possibilities, one who can shape themselves to anyone and anything, who can sense what people want and become that very thing.

You’re not sure what the complexities of dreams are, but you understand the very basics from Yoongi: most dreams are flexible and full of infinite possibilities. It’s what makes them so real, so strong. 

“That makes a lot of sense,” you murmur. “So you’re old.”

“Very.”

“If you’re the second dream…” you trail off, thinking about how Yoongi explained how he came to existence. How life dreamed and so he was born. “Yoongi is the first. That’s why you say he is Dream - he is the first and the essence of dreams.”

“Very clever.”

“When you said you came here to feel alive, what did you mean by that?”

He sighs heavily. “Yoongi was born because Life dreamed of - well, making life. And when Yoongi was born, he was the very concept of dreaming itself. Imagination, creation, wonder, hope. It’s why creation and dreaming are so close in their nature. But still, there is a difference between lifeforms and dreams.” 

“You wanted to know what it was like to feel life?”

He nods. “Yoongi made me as his first companion. He couldn’t help it, really. He didn’t make me on purpose so much as he thought of someone to spend time with, someone to offset him. To balance him. And then there I was.” 

You chew on your lip. There is a distant look in Taehyung’s gaze. He stares at his ale, not drinking anymore. He picks at splinters in the tankard handle, the noise around the two of you a dull roar. 

“But?” you offer, sensing his hesitance. 

“But,” he agrees, nodding. “When Life created humans, I wondered what the difference was between us. I sort of looked like them and I talked like them, but I wanted to know what it was like to be them. And dreams… They are wonderful. Beautiful. But I was afraid they weren’t real, so I started to visit here. To go places. To see if life was the same as dreams.” 

“Is it?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not better, it’s not worse. It’s just different. But I did learn that dreams are as real as life. Perhaps you cannot always see them and feel them depending on where you are, but anything someone dreams here is real there.” 

“That’s sort of comforting.” 

Taehyung smiles. “It is. Plus, I really enjoy people. They have an edge to them that dreams don’t.” 

Someone catches Taehyung’s attention. He turns in his seat, head craning as though he senses something. You follow his line of sight to where a young man descends the stairs leading up to the second floor. He is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, with dark, silky hair tucked behind his ears, full lips that pull into a smile as someone greets him, and sharp, dark eyes that crinkle when he laughs.

He’s beautiful. Suddenly you think that this might be what a dream truly looks like. Taehyung is all dark and shadows, but the man Taehyung watches is lightness and magic, his face so perfect that you cannot help but imagine it must be the result of someone carefully painting every feature. 

Your eyes flicker back to Taehyung when the man leans on the bar, talking to the barmaid behind the counter. Taehyung doesn’t move. You don’t even think he’s breathing. He sits in his chair, knuckles paling under the grip he has on the back of his seat, his eyes filled with such sudden longing that you have to look away. 

“Who is that?” you ask gently. Taehyung doesn’t seem to hear you. He watches and watches, wanting to look nowhere else but at the bar. “Taehyung?”

“His name is Jimin.” 

“That’s a pretty name.”

Taehyung nods. “He’s like you.”

“Like me?”

“He dreams loud enough for us to hear it. For me to hear it. I’ve been coming to this place long before he existed. A silly coincidence that he exists here, too.” 

“Fate, perhaps?” 

That makes Taehyung turn around. His expression is dark and he’s frowning. “Don’t start talking about Hoseok,” Taehyung mutters. “Lest he show up.”

You didn’t mean Yoongi’s sibling Fate, but you realize that’s who Taehyung is talking about. Your eyes drift back to where Jimin is at the bar, sipping a glass of amber liquid. As though he senses eyes on him, his gaze sweeps the bar until it lands on Taehyung, who straightens immediately. 

Jimin smiles and it’s like watching the first ray of sun break over the horizon. You can’t help but blink at his radiant beauty, completely taken aback by it as Jimin pushes off of the bar and begins heading your direction. 

Taehyung swivels in his chair, taking in a few calming breaths. You giggle and he looks up at you, giving you a pitiful smile. You reach across the table and squeeze his hand quickly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“You definitely are.”

Before Taehyung can hiss a rebuttal at you, Jimin sidesteps a woman and grins at Taehyung. He drags his gaze to you and startles, as though he had not realized you were there, eyes going round and mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with anyone,” Jimin says. His voice is soft and smooth, immediately comforting. “I wanted to come say hello.”

“Hi,” Taehyung breathes, blinking up at Jimin as though he is lost in starlight. Perhaps he is, you think. “Your hair is longer than the last time I saw you.”

Jimin flushes, a hand coming up to touch the ends of his hair gently. “Yeah, I thought I would grow it out.”

“It looks great.” 

For a moment, they stare at one another, Taehyung grinning with his eyes gleaming, and Jimin soft with his eyes scrunched. You look at the table, trying not to disrupt whatever spell they’re under as they peer at one another, but it seems Jimin senses your presence still. His eyes flicker to you and he raises a brow, questioning.

Taehyung fumbles to introduce you, turning and giving you a sheepish grin. You smile and stretch your hand over to shake Jimin’s. His hands are small and delicate but his grip is firm. “It’s nice to meet you. Taehyung wanted to show me this place because he enjoys the people so much - I believe that includes you.” 

Jimin smirks and shrugs a shoulder while Taehyung looks for a chair, yanking it away from someone to give Jimin a place to sit. He does, throwing Taehyung a grateful smile. “Hmm, is that so? Has he said nice things about me?”

“The nicest. In fact, the whole reason we came here is because he wanted to introduce me to the amazing Jimin.” 

Taehyung shoots you a look that tells you to shut up, but you hide your grin in your tankard as Jimin raises a brow, glancing at Taehyung. 

Watching Taehyung and Jimin is comedic and sweet. Taehyung isn’t an entirely different person around Jimin, but he becomes softer at the edges, his smiles gentler and his laughs louder. The longing in Taehyung’s gaze when he thinks Jimin isn’t looking is palpable, and even as a bystander and a friend, you feel a pang watching the two of them dance around one another. 

For his part, Jimin seems equally enthralled. He watches Taehyung with rapt attention, asking questions and touching Taehyung gently everywhere he can - the tops of Taehyung’s hands, his arm, his elbow. When Taehyung turns around to watch the table next to you topple over, you realize he’s unaware that Jimin is looking at him as though begging for Taehyung to see. 

You see. And you want. 

Never before had your parents inspired much desire for love in you. While they worked well together, you still can’t call what they had happy or loving. Functional, sure. Successful, even. But they did not look at one another the way Taehyung and Jimin seem to, and you can’t help but suddenly feel like that is something you want.

Someone to look at you when they think you’re not looking in a way that implies you are their sun and moon. Someone who smiles with such mirth at something you do or say that you can feel the heat of it. 

Jimin gets up to refill the drinks, scooping yours with a grin before vanishing in the crowd. Taehyung watches him go, craning his neck to ensure he has eyes on Jimin as he makes his way to the bar.

“Have you told him you’re in love with him?” 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes never leaving where Jimin is leaning over the bar to order. “There’s no point.” 

“What? Why not?”

“I’m a dream. He’s a human. We could never be something.” 

“Oh. Surely there’s a way?” 

Taehyung turns to look at you, the joy on his face slipping to be replaced with a soft sadness. He shakes his head again, picking at the splinters on the table. “I would be no good for him. We live in two different worlds… I come and go… He deserves a normal, human life. We could never be something.”

Jimin starts to head back toward the table. Taehyung shakes off the melancholy and smiles just as bright when Jimin returns, as though he wasn’t sad only a moment ago. You accept the refilled drink from Jimin with a weak smile.

Taehyung’s words cycle through your mind as the two men fall into giggling conversation, and all you can think about is a pair of dark cat eyes, a soft raspy voice, and a man who is made of dreams.

We could never be something. 

-

“I was starting to worry, you know?” 

Yoongi’s voice makes you blink. You realize you’re standing among the wisteria, the breeze carrying their sweet scent over your warm skin. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He’s leaning against a tree, his long hair down and dancing in the breeze. The thin white shirt he wears does little to hide the lines of his stomach and chest today, making you avert your eyes. 

“Why?” you ask, voice steadier than you feel. 

You walk toward a low-hanging vine, bringing your hands up to brush along the purple petals. You feel the tree shiver under your touch. You sense it, like it purrs, a response that is hard to explain but you innately know. 

“It took you longer than usual to fall asleep.”

“Can you not see me when I’m not asleep?”

“I could, but prying is rude. I only see you when you come to me.”

You turn to look at him sharply. He seems a little smug at that, the corners of his full lips twitching like he’s fighting a smirk. Your heart skips a beat for a moment before Taehyung’s words from that night play in your mind. We could never be something. 

And yet Yoongi is implying it’s you who visits him. 

You scowl and turn away from him suddenly. Yoongi makes a sound like a sigh and pushes off of the tree, his footsteps quiet as a whisper. “Have I upset you?” 

“I want to go to sleep.”

He hesitates. You cannot see his expression, but you can picture it perfectly: brows drawn together, mouth pouted slightly, head cocked.  His confusion is evident when he says, “You are asleep.”

“You know what I mean.” 

Silence, for a moment. Then, in that soft, rasping voice that you know so well, he murmurs, “Goodnight, then.” 

-

Silence greets you when you wake up the next morning. Your home is still empty - you have not seen either of your parents since you arrived the night before. Either you’re coming and going at hours they’re not around or they’re avoiding you. The latter is most likely, and you certainly don’t mind. 

Your day goes similarly to the day before. This time, when you walk through the woods, you feel a little more of a spark. You’re sure it has to do with your conversation with Taehyung, his words about dreams and reality being different but equally powerful pouring a little bit of magic back into the woods you loved so dearly.

Still, you miss the other realm and the House of Dreams, even if you’re a little embarrassed by your dream last night, recalling the way you dismissed Yoongi. 

Sitting on the ground with your back pressed against a cypress tree, you let out a heavy sigh and close your eyes, your arms hugging around your middle. You try not to think too hard about the way Yoongi looked leaning against the tree, dark eyes drinking you in. 

Yoongi occupies more than his fair share of thoughts. You hate it, the way your mind strays to him, thinking this is something Yoongi would like or Yoongi would find this funny. Only two weeks and he and Taehyung are suddenly all you know, your experiences with them painting most of your thoughts. 

Thoughts of Taehyung don’t plague you, though. 

The fluttering feeling every time you think of Yoongi has not faded with time or distance. It might be easier if he didn’t visit your dreams every night - or if you didn’t visit him in your dreams, which you don’t know how to do. 

But Taehyung’s forlorn words come drifting back to you, reminding you that there is some distinction between humans and dreams. That even for Taehyung, it cannot work. 

When you return home, your parents still aren’t there. You busy yourself with lunch and then begin practicing your letters, tracing them until your hand is cramping and your head is starting to hurt. You manage to take up most of the afternoon that way, focused solely on your studies and trying to read through your work.

Just as evening falls, Taehyung appears in the yard, hands on his hips as he looks up at your window, whistling to catch your attention. You grin when you see him, happy to have a friend, even if it’s just Taehyung. You don’t ask why Yoongi doesn’t come with him - the Eternal is busy, you’re sure - but you’re pleased to just have Taehyung. 

It becomes a routine. It’s not as thrilling as your life in the House of Dreams, but it isn’t as terrible as you thought it would be. The few times that you do see your parents, they glare at you as though you have become something evil in their house, lurking and stealing their joy. 

You say nothing to them and they stay away from you. 

It’s the same in town. You only visit with Taehyung, otherwise you are too afraid to go on your own. The villagers say nothing when they see the two of you walking around and visiting the old church, but they glare and you catch them doing the signs to ward off evil as you pass by. 

Still, Taehyung makes it worth it. He visits you nightly, whisking you away to the Desert Rose, which has become a refuge for you. You’re no better at teleporting, but you manage not to vomit on his shoes each time you do it. 

Tonight, the energy is thrumming at the Desert Rose. Your gaze lingers longer on those around you and you even introduce yourself to the people that Taehyung is familiar with. Though Taehyung opts to play a game of dice, you do not. You’re content to watch, standing over his shoulder with your arms crossed over your chest.

You feel… alive. Just like Taehyung described when he started coming here. It’s so different from your life before, and after over a week of being around people who seem to spill over with joy without restraint, you feel yourself loosening up. Becoming something a little different. Someone who wants. Someone who wants openly. 

You think about Yoongi. Once he’d told you that he wasn’t just Eternal of dreams. He also has power over desire, and he believes in indulgence. He wants to teach you to indulge more. It suddenly makes all the more sense that Taehyung likes it here. He’s someone who dives in head first to things, taking any bet someone throws his way and snatching drinks off of passing trays. 

Even his desire for Jimin is open and obvious, though you’re sure Taehyung doesn’t know that. 

It’s a lovely night. You feel warm all over, the drink getting to you as you guzzle down the remainder of your cider, which you favor far more than the ale. Jimin clambors onto the table, a cup in hand as he starts yelling the words to the song the band is playing in the corner. 

Taehyung begins to slam his wooden cup on the table in time with the beat, yelling the words and standing up as the room joins in, stamping their feet and slamming on tables. You don’t know the words but you laugh loudly, slamming your palms against the top of the table. They sting with the force of your slap, but it feels good. 

You feel good. Happy. Drunk. A little dizzy as the table wobbles and you dive out of the way as Jimin comes tumbling down. It doesn’t stop you from taking a shower of beer from Jimin’s cup, dousing you in warm liquid as you shriek and laugh. 

Taehyung catches Jimin, of course. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and wet with beer all the same, pointing at you and laughing as you blink through the drink dripping down your face. You flick beer at them with the liquid on your hands, making them howl. 

“Gross! Jimin!”

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps through the laughter, his arms slung tight around Taehyung’s neck as Jimin leans into him. “I slipped!”

“You owe me a new shirt!” 

Jimin nods, grinning so broadly his eyes are crescents as he stands properly and beckons you. “Come on, both of you. I’ll get you new shirts that aren’t soaked. 

Upstairs is a series of private rooms. The hall is lit with flickering sconces and the plush carpet mutes your footsteps. Jimin leads you and Taehyung, giggling, to a door. He thrusts it open and the three of you tip inside, stopping short at the scene in front of you.

Your hands fly to your mouth to mute your gasp, but Taehyung and Jimin collapse into another fit of laughter. If the two people in the bed are bothered by the interruption, they don’t show it. They are a tableau of pleasure, a woman laying back on the bed, arching upward as she lets out a moan. Her skin is slick with sweat, nipples hard as she teases them with one hand, another hand slipping between her legs to cradle the head of someone there.

The shock roots you to the spot. You can’t look away, completely hypnotized by the way the person between the woman’s legs moans, pressing their mouth further into her, the wet smack of their mouth loud over the woman’s trembling moans. 

You’ve never seen such a raw, carnal exchange. As Taehyung apologizes and grabs you and Jimin, pulling you back out into the hallway, you know you’ll never forget that momentary vision. Even as Jimin directs you to the right room to change your shirt in, you replay the scene over and over in your head, thinking of a different detail every single time: the pleasure on the woman’s face, the delicate bow of her back, the soft swells of her breasts, the wet sounds of the mouth between her legs. 

It haunts you. You swallow thickly when you’re done changing, skin still smelling like beer. Your mind wanders to Yoongi, wondering if this is what he was talking about when he spoke of desire. If he also meant physical desire, the indulgence of the erotic variety. 

The thought shames you so thoroughly you’re silent the rest of the night. You’re embarrassed by your immediate curiosity - angry that you even entertained the thought of being in that position with Yoongi, no matter how fleeting the idea was. 

Yoongi certainly did not mean he was going to teach you that - did he?

You shake the thoughts from your head and focus on reality. Of course he didn’t mean that. Taehyung was right when he spoke about the relationships between humans and dreams - it could never be something. 

-

Sweat trickles down your neck slowly. You feel every inch of it, your skin sensitive and over-warm. Your stomach clenches and your hands twist in your sheets as a hot mouth presses against your throat, teeth scraping, tongue licking. 

An inferno grows inside of you as the mouth sinks lower. You hear your heaving breaths, loud and ragged. Your heart beats in your ears, the staccato almost louder than the whimper that leaves your mouth when a wet, messy kiss is placed on your collarbone. 

It’s madness. It’s tortuous. It’s glorious, this feeling thrumming through you, making you twist your head to the side, muscles clenching and letting loose over and over again, your body completely at war with itself.

But it feels so good. 

One of your hands shoots to the silky, dark hair of the person kissing your chest. You card your fingers through soft strands, tugging a little. A deep, throaty moan escapes the lips pressed to your skin, breath hot and warm. 

Dark eyes meet yours, lips parted and swollen, Yoongi’s pupils blown and -

Panic explodes. You realize it’s Yoongi kissing you this way. Yoongi’s hands skimming up your sides, Yoongi’s mouth pressing searing kisses to your flesh, Yoongi’s moan that is falling from his lips, honey sweet. 

“We can’t,” you whisper, though dream-Yoongi just stares at you, eyes fathomless. “We could never be something.”

“Of course we can,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. “You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” 

The weight of his gaze is blazing. You feel your skin burn under the heat of it, you feel like it’s harder to breathe, you feel the sweat run down your spine, your arms, you feel like you’re overheating, it’s hot it’s too-

-

You wake up to something screeching. For a moment, daylight blinds you. You hold your hands in front of your face, shielding your eyes from the light. But the light is an inferno of heat against your hand, making you gasp and choke on thick air as you blink sleep away, trying to make sense of where you are. 

Fire. It isn’t daylight you’ve woken up to, it’s fire. 

Leaping up from bed, you throw your sheets off, scrambling to push yourself against the wall. The flames are already high, licking toward the ceiling and filling your room with thick, grey smoke as the fire eats at the old wood of your house. 

The screech comes again, the shutters on your window rattling. Heart pounding, you slide your hand along the wall, fingers trembling as you press them into the wood, trying to find the metal latch to open them. You cover the lower half of your face with your opposite arm, coughing into it. 

Your fingers slip on the latch, sweaty and shaking. You inch closer to the window, getting a solid grip on the metal and flipping it upward. The latch clacks and the windows swing open, a gust of wind entering the room. It makes matters worse, the oxygen fueling the fire into a rage as it climbs higher and jumps towards your bed. 

You look frantically around your room, realizing you can’t take anything. The writing desk in the corner is aflame, all of the sheets of paper and your hard-earned practice curling into smoke as they’re consumed, your letters from Yoongi turning to ash. 

“No!” you sob, realizing those things are lost forever.

Again, there’s a wild screech. You turn to look out the window to see a large, brown owl - Guardian, you realize - screeching, flapping its great wings, gold eyes fixated on the fire. It yells at you again, as though imploring you to move. 

You take a breath and dive out the window. For a moment as you fall toward the ground, you’re reminded that this is the second time you’re having to use it to escape danger. That thought sinks like a stone in your stomach, going down, down, down until it rests weighty in your gut.

The smack of the ground rattles you. Every part of you hurts, bones jolting as you roll until you’re flat on your back, gasping as the air leaves your lungs momentarily, knocked out of you. Scrambling up despite your limbs protesting in pain, you look up at the fire crawling over your house. 

That’s when you notice it - the noise and the yelling of voices. Inside your home, with the roaring and crackling of the fire, you couldn’t hear the crowd outside. Now, you see them in full. They carry torches and farm tools, some of them with axes and hoes, others with scythes. 

They don’t see you yet, giving you a long moment to stare open-mouthed as the pieces of the puzzle slide together. They’ve set your home on fire because of you - they’ve tried to kill you. Because they think you’re a demon and because they think you’re an evil creature. 

Heart in your throat, you scan the lines of the faces. Toward the edge, you see your parents. A group of women consoles your mother, holding her by the shoulders gently as she stares into the orange flame. Your father stands a few feet away, almost by himself, watching and watching and watching. 

They knew you were asleep. And your window had not been closed before bed - you’d been leaving it open at night so Guardian could come and go as he pleased. 

You sit there on the ground, staring in shock, for too long. Someone notices you and points, screaming something that you cannot hear over the blood rushing in your ears. Panic seizes you and you scramble to your feet, sliding a few times as the crowd runs at you.

There’s no time to see what your parents do. The image of them watching their home burn with the thought of you inside is fresh in your memory, a razor-sharp cut that flays you open as you turn and run. Run toward the woods where Nathaniel chased you on that fateful night. 

Run to the woods you almost died in. Run to the woods where Yoongi swooped in and made a promise to protect you. 

Darkness descends. You think for a moment as you enter the woods that you won’t get lucky a second time, that your luck has run out. It’s the panic that scrambles your thoughts, and the memories of Nathaniel chasing you through these woods make you stumble and fall. 

You don’t make it far. You trip over a tree root and tumble into strong arms. The smell of clove and cinnamon is overpowering as you look up at Yoongi, who pulls you into his chest. You let him, sliding your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his neck as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I’ve got you, little lamb.” His voice is dark as the shadows that wrap around you, cool and soothing to the touch. “They cannot hurt you.” 

As Yoongi whisks you away like that fateful night, you hear the echoing voice scream behind you. Devil! Demon King! The Dark God!

-

“It’s my fault,” Yoongi murmurs, cradling your face to inspect it for the tenth time. He’s crouching in front of you, dark eyes wild as he inspects your face for any damage. You pull your jaw from his grasp - even if his touch tingles pleasantly - and look in the other direction. “I should have known.”

“Yes,” Taehyung snaps behind Yoongi, arms crossed and presence thundering. “You should have.” 

There is no fire going in the library tonight. You have a feeling Yoongi has extinguished it for obvious reasons, but you say nothing. You look over Yoongi’s dark head to where Taehyung is raging, his face pinched with anger. You give him a look and he tosses his hands in the air. 

“What?” he demands. “It’s true.”

“Taehyung.”

“I’m not going to lie to him. He should have known sending you back was an idiotic idea. Thinking anyone would have accepted you was an oversight.”

Yoongi grits his teeth and stands. You watch as he visibly tries to control his frustration, taking a step back from you. Tonight, he’s dressed in all black. His cloak is still on and his necklaces pool at his throat, the silver cold in the dark of the library. His hair is pulled back out of his face and you think he looks like the real Eternal, tonight. 

He turns to Taehyung. “You know why I sent her back.”

“Yes, your fucked up sense of morality and-”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here,” you snap. You ball your fists in your lap. You’re still dressed in night clothes and the scent of ash and sweat is heavy on your skin. You stare at your hands. “I want to go to bed.” 

“Alright.” Yoongi’s extended hand appears in front of you. You drag your eyes up to meet his. Gone is the anger and severity, replaced only with a soft, almost fond expression. “I’ll walk you.”

Putting your hand in Yoongi's, you let him pull you out of the chair. 

You could be mad at him if you tried. Perhaps it would be easy to blame Yoongi for sending you back to keep some semblance of normalcy in your life. Maybe you would feel lighter if you got angry with him for promising to protect you, but only being able to physically do so, unable to shield you from the hatred of your community. 

If you tried, perhaps you could blame him for not letting you drown in the first place. For bringing you here with the fantasy that you could exist with one foot in each world. 

You’re not mad at him, though. Unlike Taehyung, you don’t need to wonder why Yoongi wanted you to spend two weeks in the real world. The real world is yours. It’s where you belong. To want some sort of normalcy for you or hope that you’d be able to pick up your life there anew was perhaps shortsighted, but rooted in the desire to do good for you.

So you’re not angry with Yoongi, though you’re not sure you’re pleased either. 

The walk to your room is silent. Yoongi has let go of your hand but he walks close enough that your arms brush, sending shivers down your spine. You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing, and he seems content to let you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

This isn’t how you wanted to see him for the first time since your two weeks spent in your realm.

The inside of your room is warm, but there’s no fire. You almost ask if he’s doused every flame in the house, and protest that you’re not afraid, but you don’t. He follows you into your room and shuts the door behind him. You walk toward the chaise and sit on it, looking up at where he hovers by the door. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. The emotions there are deep, but unreadable. “It was foolish of me to think they’d accept you as you were. Foolish to think that maybe the relationship with your parents might mend.” 

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I am thousands of years old. Humankind has not changed so much in their ability to fear the unknown and react violently. I do know better, but I…”  You wait for him to explain further, but he doesn’t. Yoongi lets the sentence drift off into the night. Instead of finishing it, he ventures, “Are you sure you’re unharmed?” 

“Yeah, Guardian was screeching at the window.” 

“Guardian?”

“Yeah, the owl. I assumed you sent it to watch over me.” 

Yoongi frowns. “No, that’s what Taehyung was for. I did not…”

“What?” You see the look on his face change, shifting from confused to steel calm. “What is it?” 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi mutters, turning to exit your room. “Try to get some sleep. I have a meddling owl to deal with.” 

As he moves to close the door, you lean forward. “Yoongi?” He looks up, eyes wide, expression soft. He looks like a dark star, just then. The light from the window makes him glow from within, his eyes endless pools, his power ebbing in the room, a constant energy. “Thank you.”

His mouth turns downward. “For what?”

“Saving me. Again.”

His eyes darken. “Your safety will always be paramount to me. I’ll do better.” 

“I think you’re doing the best you are able.” 

“Thank you for saying so.”

Silence hangs between the two of you. It’s heavy, filled with friction that wasn’t there before. You squirm where you sit, suddenly unable to meet the set of eyes pinned to you. You’d  forgotten what his gaze could do to you in person, and now the full force of it is dizzying. 

“Goodnight, little lamb.”

-

A gentle scratch sounds on the other side of the window. You look up from your writing desk to the windows facing the mountains. Beyond the first sprawling peaks, you see the tallest of them all, the dark mountain wreathed in shadow and lightning. 

The thunder rolls, vibrating your bones. You stare at the mountain, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stand on end. You grip the quill tight. 

Beneath the hum of thunder, you hear a scratching on the glass again. You squint, but you see nothing there. Just open air and those ominous mountains in the back, watching you as you scrawl your letters. 

Carefully, you set the quill down and get up. The floor is cold as you walk toward the window, which is strange. The floor is always warm in your room, as are the walls and most of the House of Dreams, fueled by whatever magic lives through Yoongi. 

Near the glass, you almost feel how cold the window is. You frown and lift a hand, pressing a single finger against a pane. It’s freezing to the touch and you yank your hand back, perplexed as you stare at the single fingerprint left by your warm skin. 

The fingerprint fades but the scratching sound does not. A gentle scritch scritch scritch, like a nail on the window. 

“My betrothed,” someone whispers. Your blood runs cold and you whirl around, expecting to find someone standing in your bathroom. “Won’t you open the window for me? It’s so cold outside.” 

Fear turns your stomach into acid. Your hands begin to shake as you stare into the emptiness of your room, suddenly feeling like it’s darker. Did the ceilings get taller? Is your room blurry at the edges? The scratching on the window intensifies, and with trembling lips, you turn to look over your shoulder.

There’s nothing outside, but there’s a shadowy reflection on the glass. A little taller than you. A little wider. 

“Betrothed,” Nathaniel whispers again. “Won’t you let me in to reunite?” 

For a moment, there is silence. The shadow doesn’t move. You don’t dare breathe. The shadow leaps at you and a scream tears through you -

Hands press you into something soft. You kick and scream, lashing out. Sheets tangle your legs and stick to your sweaty skin. Suddenly it feels like you can’t breathe and you thrash wildly, screaming at the top of your lungs as you claw at whatever’s holding you down.

Panic like never before seizes you. Your head smacks into something hard and it knocks you backward, suddenly dizzy as a hand comes up to your head automatically. It hurts where your fingers press into the skin, and you’re momentarily subdued by the way the room spins; the pain morphs your panic into confusion.

Breathing heavily, you blink your eyes rapidly, tears streaming down your face and vision a little blurry as you try and put the pieces together. Finally, you realize Taehyung is sitting on the floor next to your bed with his hand pressed against his forehead, in a similar fashion to your current state. Yoongi stands next to him, hands held up tentatively, as though he is about to grab you or has just let you go. 

Silence hangs in the air, your breathing ragged. Your head - which you can surmise you’ve smacked against Taehyung’s - throbs wildly. As though sensing your discomfort and sticky thoughts, Yoongi’s eyes flicker away from your gaze to your head.

“May I fix that?” he asks slowly, voice gentle. “You smacked heads quite hard. I’m concerned you may be concussed.” 

“Concussed,” you repeat back slowly. The word feels heavy on your tongue. “Right.”

Yoongi’s face colors with concern and he gestures toward you, asking permission again. It takes you another minute to put it together, but you nod dumbly, watching as he steps forward very slowly, dark eyes looking for any sign of protest or panic from you.

When you don’t bolt or swing at him, he takes another step toward you, hands reaching up toward your skull. You flinch when he reaches near and he stops, hands hovering. You can feel the heat of his skin a hair's breadth away, feel the magic skimming along him where he hesitates. 

You look up at Yoongi. His eyes are wide and full of concern, his brows pulled up. His tongue darts out to lick his lips nervously as his eyes shift from your head to your eyes, trying to assess what to do. You smell cinnamon and clove and it calms you a little. 

This is Yoongi. Not Nathaniel. Yoongi, who saved you from the grips of that hateful man and who brought you here. Somewhere that made you happy.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. You feel tired suddenly, like your adrenaline is waning and the aftereffects are bleeding you out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, pressing his hands gently to your head. You wince, the lump there giving a painful throb as he does. 

“Maybe apologize,” Taehyung mutters from his spot on the floor. “Are you going to give me magic hand, too?”

“Silence, Taehyung.” Yoongi’s voice is cutting. It’s a voice you’ve never heard him use with Taehyung, your eyes shooting up to his in shock. He pays you no mind, focused on his hands. 

Warmth emanates from his palms. Immediately you feel the tingle of magic. It’s soothing, making your eyes flutter as you become dizzy again. You let the warmth wash over you, accompanied by a peculiar array of senses: dark spicy smells; the feeling of velvet against your skin; the taste of cherry wine; a warm breath against your lips.

You shiver, head rolling back a little as it grows heavy and you grow drowsy suddenly, limbs weighted, mind fading. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know that was a dream.” Yoongi grimaces and says nothing. “Why didn’t that feel like a dream, Yoongi?”

“Sleep,” Yoongi murmurs, and his voice feels very far away. “You’ll be fine, now. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Thank you.”

“An easy fix.” 

Yoongi removes his hand and you catch his wrist gently, eyes opening for a moment. “No,” you slur, speech heavy as the exhaustion pulls at you. “Thank you for saving me.”

You don’t know if you mean before, or when your neighbors came for you, or now. Maybe you mean all of it. Maybe you mean saving you from a life that you hated and bringing you here. You mean it nonetheless, though you’re unsure from where the bravery came to say it.

Dropping Yoongi’s wrist, you fall backward unceremoniously onto your bed. There is no fear of Nathaniel scratching at the glass anymore, your mind mostly empty, save for the smell of cinnamon and clove. 

Yoongi and Taehyung gather to leave your room, and as you fade, you catch the tiniest bit of conversation from Taehyung. “... need to teach her. It’s only going to get worse… spinner.” 

Sleep takes you. 

-

Being back in the House of Dreams feels like home. Though the lingering feeling of hot flame and the look on your parents’ faces as they watch their home burn still haunts you, you feel safer than you have in the last week. 

In the House of Dreams, there's no one to mutter prayers and sign wards against evil as you pass by. There’s no one glaring at you - except Taehyung, who pouts when you steal the last of the honey for your toast at breakfast. It’s just Yoongi and Taehyung, who talk more chipper than usual at breakfast. 

You eye Yoongi carefully. He sits at the head of the table, dressed in a beautiful, jade-colored silk shirt. His hair is pulled back in a bun, earrings dangling as he leads forward and plucks melon from the bowl in front of him. 

Yoongi lifts the fruit to his mouth. You pause chewing your toast, eyes focused on the way he bites into the fruit, lips plush around it, a bead of juice running down his chin. Suddenly you’re thinking about the night at The Desert Rose, a head between legs, a back that’s arched, skin sweaty-

Taehyung clears his throat from across the table and draws your attention. He’s staring at you with thinly veiled amusement, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. You scowl and take a large bite of your toast before swallowing what's in your mouth, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks and neck. 

Yoongi is none the wiser, chewing happily on his fruit as he scratches Tiara under her chin. She chirps like a bird and purrs like a cat, letting out small curls of smoke everytime she puffs happily. 

Your mouth twitches in a smile as you look at your plate, happy to be back with them. 

“I want you to come to the Dream Tower with me today,” Yoongi ventures lightly. You snap your gaze up in surprise. He looks casual, as though he’s not offering you to come to the place he works, filled with magic and dreams. “I think you could help me.”

“Me?”

His mouth quirks. “Is there another human prone to trouble around here that I’m not aware of?” 

“I thought you blamed yourself?”

“So I do. But yes - you.” 

“How do you want me to help?”

Yoongi grins as he pops another piece of fruit into his sinful mouth. “You’ll see.” 

Despite your excitement and the promise of a look inside  Yoongi’s lair, even him asking for your help doesn’t earn you a break from daily reading and writing lessons. When Yoongi gestures to the assigned work on your desk, you throw him a severe look followed by a pout. As endeared as he seems, he is unwavering, patting your desk chair as he walks by. 

You’re not really mad. You fall into an easy calm as you sit down and scoot up toward the desk. The fire is low and crackling in the fireplace today and the library smells faintly of cardamom as you work. Tiara flights around the second story of the room, chittering and following Yoongi - who seems to be organizing the shelves. 

Taehyung vanishes to do whatever it is he does during the day. You’re not even sure if it’s day in your world. You hope he will take you to The Desert Rose again to see Jimin and to drink cider. You love the warmth of the crowd and the loud bustle. 

The House of Dreams is quiet. 

Time slips as you work. You lose yourself in swirling letters and short reading passages, so much so that when there is a tingling presence near your shoulder, you flinch, ripping your quill across the page and splattering ink. 

Yoongi tsks and apologizes, grabbing an ink stained cloth to wipe the spilled liquid from the desk. His proximity makes your head spin, the edge of his hips grazing your shoulder as he leans over you to clean the mess you’ve made. 

Mouth drying, you drop the quill and flex your hand, coughing out an apology as you try to organize your thoughts that spill like the ink on the desk at his nearness. 

Being away from him almost made you forget how dizzying his presence could be. Yoongi regards your work in silence, but all you can focus on is the measured sound of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him, the curve of his mouth, the juice running down his-

“Ready?”

“What?” you ask, blinking and looking up at him owlishly. He gazes down at you, cocking a brow. It’s obvious he had asked you a question. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening?” 

“What were you doing?”

“... Staring.”

“At?”

“The wall?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he questions, his voice laced with teasing. 

You scowl and shove your chair backward into his stomach, knocking him back. He lets out a loud oof and a bit of laughter as you stand and stretch, hyperaware that he’s been in a rather cheeky mood since breakfast. 

Together, you begin your walk to the tower. Tiara comes along, jumping up on Yoongi’s shoulder and curling herself around him like a scarf, her tail wrapped gently around his neck. She regards you with distaste and her tongue flickers out to taste the air, a curl of smoke escaping her nose as she huffs.

Fighting the urge to stick your tongue out at a dragon, you opt to walk in comfortable silence. 

As you do, your thoughts inevitably drift to the night before and the dream that didn’t feel like a dream. For the most part, you feel like you can tell when you’re dreaming. There’s always an opaque feeling to your dreams, something a little off. 

Now, you’re worried that perhaps you can’t tell the difference. You think that maybe you should ask Yoongi if he can help you tell the difference between being awake and dreaming, but your desire to ask is stopped as you reach the foot of stairs you’ve never climbed before. 

Yoongi looks down at you as he begins ascending, giving you a gummy smile that sends your pulse galloping after him. You curse your traitor heart, trying to remember what Taehyung said to you about the relationship between dreams and humans. It could never work. But… you’re here. In Yoongi’s home, and you don’t know how long you’re allowed to stay - if you’re ever supposed to go back again.

Both of you seem to completely ignore that you were brought back to the dream realm ahead of schedule, that maybe going back is no longer an option. 

There are doors leading to rooms as you ascend the stairs. Yoongi ignores all of them in favor of climbing up, up, and up. Your calves burn by the time you make it to the top, pausing to catch your breath and sweep your eyes across the large, circular room. 

It’s stunning. Glancing up, your mouth falls open in surprise when you see that there is no ceiling, but a mass of writhing cosmos and something like a night sky. The nebulous display casts a lavender and blue glow on the room below, the two-tone light shifting and moving. 

There are all manner of things in the room. Tables covered in papers, rich rugs with different designs, chairs and bookshelves and curiosity cabinets and glass cases full of glowing things that you cannot identify. Tiara hops off of Yoongi’s shoulder and floats on small wings toward a pile of blankets, twigs, and leaves that looks like a nest.

What demands your attention most, though, is the massive stone dais in the room, with a stone column about waist high with something that looks like a bowl carved into the top. From where you stand, you can see there’s liquid in the bowl that moves and shimmers with its own glow. Occasionally, a sparkle or wisp of color drifts from the cool surface.

Energy vibrates in the air. You can feel it like a static on your skin and taste it like a buzz on your tongue. You’re drawn to the dais, taking a step forward and halting. It feels like a hum shivers through you. You look at Yoongi, questioning. 

“The dream pool,” he answers, as though you have any idea what that is. 

He walks toward it and looks back at you, hesitating before he offers a hand. Excitement shoots through you as you take his hand and he pulls you toward it. Your hand tingles where you hold his. Even when you reach the dais and he lets go, there’s pins and needles left behind. 

“This is where I help create dreams for those who can’t do it on their own.” 

The liquid in the basin brightens as Yoongi steps up close. You watch as a watercolor of lights splashes across his face. He looks down into the bowl lovingly, a soft smile on his face, and so much adoration in his eyes that you find yourself watching him instead of the magical water in the bowl. 

“This room is full of things that help inspire dreams. I make everything myself but Taehyung likes to help - he likes to decorate and fill the room with items that inspire creativity.”

“Somehow I think dream personified doesn’t need it.”

He shoots you a grin. “You’d be surprised. Come look.”

Tentatively, you step up next to him. You’re aware of how close you stand, his sleeves brushing yours as he places a hand on the basin. It comes up to your stomach and is two feet in diameter. The water looks so much deeper than you thought. You’re unable to see the bottom, an illusion that makes you dizzy.

Like the sky above, the water shimmers and moves with its own set of stars and colors. It feels alive, like whatever power is in the dream pool recognizes you and wakes up, spinning as you look into the glittering surface. 

“I can feel and hear people dream,” Yoongi explains. “It’s like a frequency that I can tap into. I can turn it on and off at a whim. Those who don’t struggle to dream are so much quieter than those who cannot dream. I listen for those who cannot, and I come here and focus on them in my mind’s eye before creating them a dream. I pour in thoughts, feelings, scents, sounds, memories and the like into this bowl. I think it, and so it appears.” 

“How?”

“What you’d call magic. Really it’s just divine power. This is a part of me,” he says, tapping the rim of the basin. “Just like dreams are.”

“How can I help you do… this?” you ask, gesturing wildly to the water.

Yoongi’s smile is angelic. “You have the raw capability of a dreamer. Someone who dreams so powerfully and loudly that it can’t help but catch my attention.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your imagination and your ability to come up with things is more innate than most people. You’re an innovator, a great conjurer of stories and fantasies. It’s a rare gift in humans. Some call you Spinners - you can spin dreams up just as easily as I can, with practice, but you cannot do so without a tool like this basin.” 

“A spinner.” You remember the night before, hearing the word on Taehyung’s lips. “Are there others?” 

He nods. “Under fifty in the entire world. I believe you’ve met another one. He’s the one Taehyung visits.”

“Jimin?” 

“Mhmm. He’s like you. You have no power though, not in your world. Just raw ability.”

“So if I were to use this… pool of dreams, I could give people dreams.”

He nods, smiling. You smile back at him, his happiness infectious. You like the way his eyes crinkle when he grins broadly at you, the way his cheeks tint pink. It is strange to think that this soft man in front of you is also the same dark, powerful god who has swept in to save you, whose voice haunts your dreams and whose phantom touch lingers in all of the places that it shouldn’t. 

Licking his lips and rolling his shoulders, Yoongi takes his stance at the basin. You watch, fascinated as he sweeps a hand over the surface, not touching the water. It ripples an entire rainbow of colors, casting shadows on his face when he peers down into the water as the surface smoothes out like a mirror. 

An opaque image materializes on the surface. You watch as Yoongi concentrates. Slowly, things begin appearing. A cerulean ocean, waves rolling gently against a sandy beach. Foam clings to the sand. Starfish of every color - blue, green, red - begin to dot the beach. A gull cries above, so clear it feels like you’re there. Then you smell it - the salt, the brine. The subtle scent of driftwood. A breeze blows against your face, carrying the cool ocean mist. 

You let out a laugh as Yoongi smiles, his eyes never leaving the images unfolding in the basin. You watch as a dolphin crests a wave, earning a gasp from you. You’ve never seen a dolphin, only heard about them in passing from fishermen from the coast. They spray water high into the air as they break the waves, moving smoothly through glittering waters. 

It feels so real and warm, the dream bright and full of hope. Happiness. Excitement. You feel what Yoongi pours into the basin, your toes curling as though you can feel hot sand beneath your feet. 

“The trick,” Yoongi explains carefully, “Is imagining everything that would make it feel real. It can’t be just what you see. It has to be what you hear, what you feel, what you smell, what emotions you evoke. You have to do all of these things at once - you have to believe in them all at once. Dreams about real things are the easiest. More complex dreams can include anything you can imagine that humans believe to be fake: dragons, brownies, griffons.” 

“How do you know what to give?” 

“You feel it. Place your hand on the side.” 

Carefully, you lift your hand to the side of the dream pool. You hesitate and look up at Yoongi, eyes wide. He gives you an encouraging nod. You place your hand on the bowl, feeling the warm stone. 

A pulse of energy flows through you. You gasp, flinching a little as you feel the basin come alive under your touch. You close your eyes as sensations flood you: hopelessness, stress, exhaustion. Suddenly, Yoongi’s dream makes sense. He instills a sense of peace and serenity at the beach, of hope and wonder with the dolphins, of rest with the cool wind and warm sand. 

“Amazing,” you breathe, eyes still closed. “This is wonderful.” 

“I’ll do some more. Keep your hand where it is. You’ll feel what it is they feel. Try not to think too hard about anything while you’re connected - let me do the work.” 

Watching Yoongi work can happen with your eyes closed, you realize. You lose yourself in time and space. No longer are you in the Dream Tower. Now, Yoongi walks you through the world.

You enter through dreams, feeling sudden sadness or loss, even heartache. Every dream you encounter, there is profound suffering at the beginning. Yoongi gently sends the pain on its way, observes what each dreamer needs, and begins spinning up images. Sounds. Feelings. 

Rain falls on your face as you stand over the tops of a misty forest. It’s gentle and cool to the touch, soothing. You smell pine and damp earth, giving you energy. Your toes feel the wet grass beneath you, grounding you and making you feel more centered than you ever have.

Wheat brushes the tips of your fingers. You look out into a sea of gold, healthy crops bending with the wind. An azure sky stretches mile after mile, not a cloud in sight as the sun heats your skin. You smell fresh air and hear the grasshoppers buzz among the fresh stalks of wheat, feeling the reward of growing healthy grain. 

A dog runs after a ball. The hills are the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen, the dog dashing up the hill and barking loudly. You feel laughter bubble up your throat and unfettered joy as thick clouds float by. The dog grabs the ball and runs back, its tail wagging and coat shiny. You feel nostalgic and happy to be reunited with a friend. 

Fireflies flicker to life in a forest at night. They alight on the tree branches and your arms, casting gold luminescence on your skin. You marvel at them, spinning in a circle as you look at the dark trees. You smell the maple sap and the bark, you hear the crickets.

It’s just like the woods near your house -

Your house. 

A slice of fear goes through you. You remember the darkness of the woods as Nathaniel tried to drown you, the press of his fingers into your skull. The roaring of the flooding water and the burning of your lungs. The fireflies flicker out one by one and the darkness begins to grow. You’re suddenly terrified. Curiosity vanishes and is replaced with deep fear. 

You taste stale water in your mouth. You smell the smoke of your burning house. You feel water rushing up to your ankles and inching higher, you hear the screams of Nathaniel’s vitriol, you feel your lungs start to fill, the air stars to leave, the roots of the trees grab at your feet-

A sharp yank pulls you out of the forest. You gasp for air, falling backward off of the dais and onto the floor. Gentle hands cradle your face and you hear a deep voice calling out to you, speaking your name through the dull roar in your ears. 

Blinking, you look upward to see Yoongi inches away from your face. His eyes are round and gentle, his hands steady. Warm. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your lips as he leans over you. A strand of dark hair escapes his bun, falling across his forehead and eye. You don’t know why, but you think it looks dashing. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, searching your face. “Are you with me?” 

“Yeah,” you rasp, lungs heaving. “What happened?” 

His thumb brushes back and forth across your cheek as he sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your face. “You thought of the night that I saved you. Your fear was powerful. Raw. As you started to remember things you grew more afraid and you took over the dream.”

You blink once. Twice. Remember the way that the fireflies suddenly flickered out and how the water started to rush in from nowhere. “I did that?” 

“I didn’t expect you to be such a natural. I had a feeling but… you caught me by surprise and shoved me out.”

“I can do that?”

“When I’m caught off guard, yes. You took control of creating the dream and turned it into…”

“A nightmare.”

He nods. “It’s my fault. I didn’t think you would think that forest looked the same, but I was wrong. I keep… having oversights. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Being human.” 

Silence suspends between you. You’re sprawled on the floor of the Dream Tower with Yoongi hovering over you. His knees are pressed against your hips and his shirt collar is hanging low as he leans, revealing more skin than you’ve ever seen from him. You don’t dare drop your eyes from his, staring at their dark depths.

The space between you is minimal and neither of you move. You hope he cannot hear the way your heart hammers in your chest or sense the way your body crackles like lightning, sparking at his proximity. The nightmare you made is long forgotten, replaced with his touch, his smell, his closeness. 

Yoongi holds your face delicately, like a treasured item. You cannot imagine that he means to hold you so, but the sudden want that licks through you is powerful, your desire for him to hold you like you’re something precious surprising you in its strength. 

“You make me want to get better at it.” His voice is soft, barely even a whisper. 

“At what?”

A gentle laugh. “Being human. It is unfamiliar, but I wish to know more of what it's like. To have more of the instinct.”

“Why?”

He pauses. “Because I’ve lived for thousands of years, and never really had the chance to try.” 

It is a similar sentiment that Taehyung had shared. The thought of Taehyung makes you smile, sitting up suddenly. Yoongi leans back on his haunches quickly, careful not to knock heads. “What?” he asks, noting your sudden excitement. 

“Has Taehyung ever taken you to the Desert Rose?”

“No, I can’t say I’ve been interested. Why?”

You grab his hand. You notice the way he seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull away as you scramble to your feet. “You want to see what it’s like to be human. I know a place.” 

-

Yoongi makes a face as he sips the beer Taehyung has thrust into his hands. You and Taehyung laugh, tossing your heads back with it. Yoongi looks unimpressed but continues to drink nonetheless, his dark eyes scanning the crowded bar. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb. Eyes are immediately drawn to Yoongi wherever he goes. You think everyone must feel the divinity as he walks by them, his power a magnet for attention. Even sitting at the table with you and Taehyung, tucked near the door, people turn in their seats to get a good look at him or pause when they enter the Desert Rose. 

It doesn’t help that he looks beautiful. Air had gotten stuck in your throat when he arrived at the library at the appointed time to meet you and Taehyung to come here. His hair hangs in soft waves around his face, earrings peaking between inky strands when he moves his head. His dark shirt is long-sleeved but unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a strip of pale, smooth skin and his layered necklaces. His eyes are glittering tonight, almost like constellations are held within. 

Yoongi is the night. The black pants and black boots paired with the shirt make him look like a dark prince. Perhaps the son of the moon, even. You notice the way the stares turn from curious to hungry, Yoongi lighting a fire among those around him. 

Jealousy sours your stomach. You hate that it does, but it’s like a second instinct, some sort of possessive monster rearing its head as you avert your gaze when a beautiful man asks Yoongi if he wants to dance. Yoongi shakes his head, giving a polite smile in return before turning away and chugging more of his drink.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. 

“Thousands of years old and a room full of people scares you,” Taehyung teases, confirming your suspicions. Yoongi’s gaze is thin as a razor. “You should get out more. I’ve been telling you that.”

“Eternals don’t make a habit of walking around the human realm. Our presence disturbs the natural chemistry of the world.”

“Then why did you spend so many days in the wood-”

Yoongi kicks Taehyung under the table. He hollers in pain as Yoongi glowers, making you giggle. Though he’s no natural among the crowd, you can see that he’s trying to fit in. He watches the way people slouch in their chair and he imitates it. Drinks more of his beer, not because of the taste but because it's what people do here. 

Music thrums in the room. There is a crowd of people clapping their hands and dancing, stomping their feet along to the music. You nervously look at Yoongi throughout the night, trying to see if he’s enjoying himself, wondering what he thinks of the place. 

A couple near your table knocks over a pitcher of mead as the man presses the woman into the table in an arduous kiss. You can’t help but watch for a moment, entranced by the way he kisses her as though he’ll die if he doesn’t, as if her lips are the last thing he wants to remember. 

Sensing Yoongi’s gaze on you, you glance at him. He stares at you, drinking you in before his eyes drift to the couple you’d been studying. Embarrassment heats your face as you bring your cup to your lips, hiding behind the tankard as you take large gulps of cider. 

The cider takes the edge off. It makes you feel warm and loose, though you’re still a little nervous with Yoongi’s quiet countenance sitting beside you. 

“Jimin’s here!” you announce excitedly, clapping your hands together when he appears downstairs. Taehyung’s knee bumps into the bottom of the table as he jerks to turn around. “Jimin should meet Yoongi!”

“I would love to.” 

Taehyung groans. “No, please.”

“Why not?” Yoongi demands. “Should I not meet the human that brings my friend here most evenings? Should I not meet the friend of my -” Yoongi looks at you and stumbles over his words. “- my friend?” 

Friend. You’re not sure if the word fits, exactly. But you don’t know what else it is that Yoongi would call you. Friend implies something beyond acquaintances, which you are sure you are. But it fits like an ill-sized dress, hanging crooked on your frame.

“I don’t want you to scare him off!” Taehyung protests. 

Yoongi looks dubious. “Why would I do that?”

“Shut up,” you hiss as Jimin notices you. You lift your hand in an eager wave, beckoning him over. “Yoongi, be nice.”

“I am nice. Do you think I’m not nice?” 

Instead of answering him, you get up to greet Jimin warmly with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. When you step back, you see Yoongi’s burning gaze, a tick in his jaw as he stares Jimin down, tonguing his cheek. You hiss at Yoongi and snap your finger to signal for him to drop the severe expression. 

He looks at you and his features smooth out as he rises to his feet lithely, reaching an arm around you. Yoongi startles you when he places his hand on your mid-back as he leans forward to shake Jimin’s, introducing himself. 

The contact is so brief that you wonder if he had done it at all as he sits down. For a moment, you’re the only one standing, staring at Yoongi in confusion as the three men sit. They all look at you expectantly and you plop down suddenly. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin asks, mirth evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, still recovering. It felt like a deliberate touch. Firm, but gentle. Polite, but… something. “How are you?” 

To your pleasure - and Taehyung’s evident relief - Yoongi and Jimin get along fine. If Jimin is put off by Yoongi’s peculiarity, he doesn’t show it. You wonder if he’s used to being around Taehyung, who has his own strange charm and inhuman energy vibrating around him. 

Yoongi says little, but seems comfortable. You watch him as he watches Taehyung, who has stars in his eyes every time he looks at Jimin. He leans closer to Jimin as they mutter about something conspiratorially, giggling behind their hands. Jimin brushes a strand of hair out of Taehyung’s face and the love that blooms in Taehyung’s expression is so evident that you wonder if Jimin knows. He has to know. And he looks like he feels the same. 

When Jimin drags Taehyung up to dance, you encourage them, shooing them off toward the growing crowd of people spinning around the room. Tables are shoved out of the way, chairs scraping to make room for the revelers. You move your chair some as your table is pushed, making the beers tilt dangerously. 

Yoongi grabs the leg of your chair and pulls it roughly toward him. Before you can say something, someone stumbles where your chair just was, toppling into the table next to you. You look at Yoongi with shock and he winks before returning to lounging in his seat, watching the crowd. 

Now that you’re sitting much closer to him, you can smell him. Still, you try to relax, watching as Jimin teaches Taehyung the steps to the dance the crowd is doing. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Yoongi says over the loud voices. “This is nice. I see why Taehyung likes it.”

“You don’t hate it?” He makes a face and you laugh. “Yoongi, you hate it.”

“It’s a bit loud, but I don’t hate it. I like the quiet. I like… solitude. But not always. This is a good break.” 

“So you never just… stroll among the people sometimes?”

“Never had a reason to.”

“But how can you make dreams if you don’t know people?”

“Dreams are inherent to me. They are an instinct. They aren’t born from people. They’re born from something rawer than that. People just happen to dream.” 

You hum, not sure that you follow. Silence lulls between you as the song changes. “This place is so different from anywhere I’ve been,” you tell him. “My mother and father would have hated a place like this where people want so freely and people are so… provocative.”

“Life is provocative. So is nature, and magic. And dreams.” 

“Is that why you’re a god of desire, too?” He nods once, his eyes on you. “Can you… sense what people innately desire? All the time?” 

You don’t ask the real question, which is: Can you tell what I desire when I’m with you? Still, Yoongi shrugs a shoulder. “Snippets. LIke I said, I try not to pry. I don’t think that anyone here needs to be inspired by me to delve into what they want here, that’s for sure.” His eyes darken. “Though perhaps there is one.”

It is not your imagination when he says it. You know that he means you. This you are sure of. You stare at Yoongi, the rest of the room fading away. He stares right back at you, as though willing you to agree, or to deny his claim. Your heart speeds up and you feel the sweat on your neck, the slick on your palms. 

“You said you’d help me indulge.” Your voice shakes when you say it. “How… do I do that?”

Yoongi’s mouth kicks up at the side. He leans forward and offers you a hand. When you just stare at it, he laughs. “Dance with me.”

“Dancing? That is indulging?” 

“You might be surprised.” 

Tension goes taught between you. You feel it sizzling in the air as you stare one another down. Yoongi’s hand remains outstretched, beckoning. Slowly, you put the cup of cider down and slide your hand into his. You’ve done this so many times, letting him lead you somewhere or help you up. 

When Yoongi grips your hand and pulls you to your feet, it feels different than all the times before. The soft, gentle Eternal of dreams has melted away and left something sharper. Darker. Edgier. Your heart flutters butterfly-fast as he leads you to where there are people spinning in tight circles on the floor. 

Yoongi yanks you toward him, pulling you into his chest. One hand loops over his shoulder, your palm cradling the back of his neck, while the other grips his. His hand goes snuggling around your waist, pulling you firmly to him as he ducks his head toward your ear, voice deep and soft as he whispers, “Follow me.” 

You would follow him anywhere, you think. Anywhere at all. 

Dancing is not something you ever recall doing. It wasn’t necessary where you grew up. Most of your festivals in town were a reserved affair and you’d never been to any parties or celebrations. Most weddings were stiff and formal, and not for merriment as much as respect. 

Now, your world turns into a kaleidoscope of color and laughter. Yoongi spins you around the room, his feet smooth and fast. You stumble to keep up at first, but Yoongi is a confident lead, his steps instructing yours, his hands pulling and guiding you as you go. 

Laughter rushes out of you. You cannot help the glee that glitters in your veins. Yoongi’s laughter is like spilled moonlight. You look up at him with a grin, seeing his gummy smile as he dips you suddenly, making you squeal. Your fingers tangle in his shirt. You know he won’t drop you but the exhilaration is in your veins as he lifts you back up, crushing you to him. 

Your arms and legs burn with effort as you continue. The song changes and Yoongi lets go and spins you. You go crashing into Taehyung’s arms. He’s a far worse dancer than Yoongi, and the two of you are a mess of tripped feet, trilling laughter and elbows into ribs. He pushes you back to Yoongi’s waiting arms. 

It terrifies you how much it feels like home, like a key sliding into a lock. Your arms go around him as his hands squeeze your waist. You come alive where you touch, looking up at him. He watches you, the shadow of his lashes framing delicate eyes. His mouth is red and soft. 

Yoongi’s eyes dart down to your mouth. Your breath catches and he moves a little closer, pressing his head to yours, noses brushing. The entire world vanishes and it’s just Yoongi, his lips so close you can almost taste them, his fingers digging into your hips. 

Your eyes flutter shut just as someone crashes into you. You scream as you’re knocked hard into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling as he catches you from falling over completely. The crowd goes wild with laughter as a man is sprawled on the ground, laughing and drunk, having lost his balance. 

A breathless laugh escapes you as you and Yoongi straighten, separating a little. The moment between you is shattered, clattering away like pieces of broken glass as you catch your breath and gather your wits. You look around, searching for Taehyung only to see him alone at your table, eyes heavy and gaze lingering across the room. You turn to see Jimin leaning on the bar, smiling at something a woman is whispering in his ear. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, you see him shove away from the table and storm out the door. Yoongi notices this too, but he’s slow on the uptake, his hand still on your hip. You shake off his hold on you and go after Taehyung, shouting his name.

Taehyung is just outside the Desert Rose, head tilted down and shoulders pulled up tight around his ears. When you touch the small of his back, he flinches, gazing at you with tear-stained eyes and a look so crestfallen you feel your heart crack.

He sniffs. “This is why,” he whispers. “This is why I told you we can never be. Humans and dreams - we aren’t. We don’t match.” 

“Taehyung,” you whisper. You don’t know what else to say. You open your arms and he leans into you, folding in half as he sobs, breaking down into your shoulder. You hush him gently, holding him tight and squeezing him, trying to pour your love into him. 

Over Taehyung’s shoulder, your gaze settles on Yoongi. He watches the two of you in silence, face impassive. And your heart breaks a little more, realizing the truth of Taehyung’s words. 

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[themuselesswriter]

Alastor Headcanons

Early years

Alastor was an awkward kid who had hard time making friends, he was a center of school bullying

His father worked in the military line, he was extremely strict and abusive towards him and his mother, he disliked Alastor's behavior so he made him his daily target

Alastor was a mama's boy, she taught him to be creative and imaginative, she taught him to be kind and showed him how to have good manners

He often got hit by his father because he was trying to protect his mother

When Alastor was 17, his father got into a heated argument with his mother, he was almost going to kill her but Alastor stepped in, protected his mother and killed his father in the process

He had a mental breakdown and it broke him completely, his mother packed him a bag and told him to leave their little town and never come back

He used the funds and what his father left him to get himself into a good college, he originally planned on studying biology but he always found interest in multimedia, theater, journalism and such

He met his very first girlfriend, Jenny, on his second year at the university ( Jenny headcanons here) and he fell in love so hard, to the point that he poured his heart out for her and let his guards down, she knew everything there's to know about him, she helped him and supported him, made him move on from everything he's been through, she encouraged him to pursue a career as a radio host

After her murder, he tracked down her murderer and made sure to avenge her death in the most gruesome way by killing everyone they loved and leaving them to be the last

He moved on to another city and started a fresh

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

Marriage

He met his wife at a book store, they were both reaching out for the same book so he decided to let her have it on the condition that she gives it to him once she's done

She was beautiful, had some characteristics that reminded him of both of his mother and his beautiful, spontaneous, carefree Jenny, which made her the perfect partner for him

He fell in love with what she represented more than her at the beginning, afterwards, he proposed, and their marriage went by smoothly

He never told her of his past, although she knew he loved his mother and that he used to be close with her, hearing about her death devastated him, especially since his mother requested he doesn't visit her on her death bed to protect him

He never told her of his sexuality, that he was asexual, but she noticed something was wrong, that's why she never insisted on any sexual advances

Alastor always sheltered his wife and only showed her his good side, in his head, if he showed her how much of a monster he was, she would get hurt, just like his mother, just like his Jenny

She learned about his murders when one day, he returned home very late, she was crying because she thought he was killed but he was exhausted and he just burst that he was the murderer

She tired to live a normal life but then, they gave up and decided to move to a secluded area in the woods, he was taking a walk after a fight with his wife in the woods to calm down and that's where he was shot, mistaken for a deer

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

Hell Days

Vox was his very personal fanboy, he was swooning over him, but Alastor was clueless, he barely navigated women, let alone men, so when Vox asked him to join him, he thought he meant in the Vees tower, he declined respectfully, not knowing that Vox was really asking him out

He first met Rosie when he arrived at hell and everyone was dismissing him, he bumped into him and he was still processing everything, hating his looks, missing his mother, Jenny and his wife, she felt bad for him and she helped him navigate hell, and ever since, they've been best friends, she noticed him as a nervous, awkward guy who can easily feel uncomfortable so she did her best to understand his ticks and make him feel as comfortable as possible

He hates feeling inferior and dismissed as it was something people usually did back when he was alive, that's why he had to be the star of every show, the most powerful, the smartest, the funniest, the most helpful, he had to have everyone's attention and admiration or else he feels threatened and unseen

He fought against Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb a few times but he never killed them because they validated him and didn't disregard him, he saw them as worthy opponents, therefore, their battles were built on mutual respect even if they wouldn't say the exact words to each other

He thinks of Nifty as a friendly companion rather than a soul he owns because she doesn't judge his crazy but indulges it, he respects Husk as a soul that he owns but Husk questions him, so their dynamic is complicated

(more to be added)

[muiitoloko]

Hello! Are your requests open? If so, can I request an Alan x child actress reader? Like they're staring in a tv show or something as father daughter. I kinda want some fluff goodness 🥺. Since Alan never had children but I know he's great with kids and he's a method actor if I remember correctly. Not sure about the plot tho so you could have creative freedom with it :)).

Title: Lights, Camera, Fatherhood.

Summary: Alan Rickman reflects on the emotional power of acting as he auditions with a young girl to play his on-screen daughter, forming a bond that promises to shine in their upcoming series.

Pairing: Alan Rickman & Fem! Reader

Warning: none.

Author's Notes: Hello! Yes, my requests are open 😄, and I have to say, this idea is absolutely adorable! 🥺 I can already imagine Alan being all fatherly and sweet on set while staying in character. Thanks for trusting me with the creative freedom—this one’s going to be fun! 😄✨

Also read on Ao3

You sat on the edge of a worn leather bench in the waiting room, your small legs swinging back and forth nervously. Your hands gripped the sides of the bench as you glanced around at the other children and their parents, all of them looking just as anxious as you. Your mom sat beside you, offering a reassuring smile every now and then, but you could still feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

This was the final audition. You’d already been pre-selected, and now you were here, just one more step away from possibly landing the role of the daughter in a TV series—a role that had the entire cast and crew abuzz. But what made your heart race even more was the fact that the character who would play your father was none other than Alan Rickman, Professor Snape himself.

You’d been dreaming about meeting him for weeks. In fact, you’d secretly practiced your lines in front of your Harry Potter books, imagining Snape’s voice responding to you. It was funny, really, that you would be auditioning with someone so famous, someone you’d seen in movies—and now you had a chance to be his on-screen daughter. But that also made it ten times more nerve-wracking.

“Mama, what if I mess up?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the other families in the room.

Your mother squeezed your hand gently. “You won’t, sweetheart. You’ve worked so hard for this. Just be yourself, and everything will be okay.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you glanced at the closed door across the room. Every few minutes, it would open, and another child actress would come out, either smiling brightly or looking close to tears. Your heart raced every time the door moved, knowing your turn was getting closer.

And then it opened again.

A little girl walked out, her face a mix of relief and excitement. Behind her, you caught a glimpse of the tall figure of Alan Rickman, standing with the director, his hooked nose and sharp features unmistakable even from a distance. He looked just like he did in the movies, only without the long black robes. He was dressed in a simple, dark suit, but it was the same serious expression you’d seen as Professor Snape.

Your stomach flipped.

“Next, please!” the casting assistant called, her voice crisp as she glanced down at her clipboard.

Your mother gave you an encouraging nudge. “It’s your turn, darling.”

You swallowed hard and slid off the bench, your legs feeling a little wobbly as you walked toward the door. Your hands were clammy, and you had to remind yourself to breathe as the assistant led you into the audition room.

The space was larger than you expected, with cameras set up around the edges and a few people sitting at a long table in the back, watching intently. But it was Alan Rickman who caught your attention. He was standing near the center of the room, his hazel eyes sharp but kind, and he gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile as you walked in.

"Hello there," he said in that deep, unmistakable voice of his. It was softer than Snape’s, less stern, but still had that same gravitas that made your heart skip a beat. “You must be the next potential daughter of mine, hmm?”

You blinked, unsure if you were supposed to laugh, but your mom had always told you that a joke deserved a smile, so you grinned nervously.

Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he took a step closer. “No need to be nervous. I don’t bite—unless the director insists upon it, of course.” He winked playfully, and that little gesture somehow made you feel a bit more at ease.

The director, who had been flipping through some notes, looked up and smiled warmly at you. “Okay, sweetie, we’re just going to run through a scene with Alan here to see how you two work together. Nothing to worry about, just have fun.”

Alan gave you an encouraging nod and gestured toward a couple of chairs that had been set up to mimic a living room. “Shall we, then?” he asked, his voice kind as he waited for you to join him.

You took a deep breath and nodded, moving to sit across from him. Your hands still trembled a little, but Alan seemed to sense that. He leaned in slightly and whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s just pretend. We’ll make it up as we go along.”

You nodded, and the director called, “Action!”

Alan’s whole demeanor changed in an instant. His posture stiffened slightly, and his expression became serious, though not in the intimidating way Snape might have been. He was now a concerned father, his eyes soft as he looked at you.

“Darling,” he began, his voice deep and measured, “why didn’t you tell me what was bothering you earlier? I thought we had agreed to talk about these things.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you remembered your lines. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me,” you said softly, doing your best to look down at your lap as if you were sad.

Alan’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, his voice full of warmth. “Disappointed? In you? Never. You’re my daughter, the most important person in my life.”

The words were simple, but the way he said them—so sincere, so full of emotion—made you feel like they were real, like you really were his daughter, and he was trying to make everything better. You glanced up at him, and for a moment, you forgot you were in an audition room.

“Really?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, a bit of your real nervousness slipping into the scene.

Alan smiled softly, leaning closer. “Really,” he said. “You could never disappoint me. Not in a million years.”

Alan was a method actor, and you could feel him fully becoming the father character, his voice deep and filled with quiet emotion. He made you believe in the world of the story, and soon, your nervousness was forgotten.

But then, in the middle of one of his lines, Alan suddenly made a subtle, funny face—something that was out of character but just small enough for only you to catch it. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you almost giggled. He was playing with you, testing to see if you could keep your composure. You bit your lip and kept going, fighting the smile threatening to break across your face.

When the scene ended, the director nodded approvingly. “Very nice, both of you. The chemistry is really strong.”

Alan grinned and leaned down slightly, so only you could hear. “You didn’t laugh. Impressive. I might need to raise the stakes next time.”

You giggled softly, feeling lighter than you had before. "I can handle it."

As you left the room, Alan called out behind you, “Good luck, young lady. I think we’ll make a good team.”

You turned back, beaming, and gave him a little wave. “Thank you, Professor Snape!” you blurted out, and instantly regretted it, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

But Alan just chuckled, his smile warm and kind. “I think you’ll find I’m a bit nicer than that particular professor.”

As you walked back to your mother, you couldn’t stop smiling. She pulled you into a hug, her eyes twinkling with pride. “How did it go?”

“I think it went well,” you said, still beaming. “Alan Rickman’s really nice. And funny! I almost laughed during the scene, but I didn’t.”

Your mother smiled, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you.”

As you sat back down on the bench, the nerves from before had completely disappeared, replaced by a warm glow of excitement. Whether or not you got the part, you knew you had just shared something special—a moment with a legendary actor who made you feel seen, comfortable, and brave.

And maybe, just maybe, you would get to spend more time working with him. After all, who wouldn’t want Alan Rickman as their TV dad?

Inside the audition room, Alan Rickman sat down with a sigh, running a hand through his silvering hair as the director approached him with a clipboard. His expression had shifted now that the young actress had left the room—no longer the warm, fatherly figure, but the methodical, critical professional that Alan embodied when it came to his craft.

The director, a man in his late forties with wire-rimmed glasses, flipped through a few pages of notes before looking up at Alan. “Well, Alan,” he began, “we’ve narrowed it down to three final candidates for the role of your on-screen daughter. All of them are talented in their own ways, but I wanted your take on them. You’re excellent with children, and frankly, I trust your judgment.”

Alan crossed one leg over the other, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. He had always approached his roles with meticulous care, and that extended to casting decisions. As much as he enjoyed the charm of working with child actors, he knew that the right choice here could make or break the emotional core of the show.

The director handed him a sheet with notes on each of the three candidates. Alan adjusted his glasses and skimmed through them before glancing back up. “Let’s start with the first one,” he said, his voice as smooth as ever but now tinged with a more professional edge.

“Emma, age 8. Strong presence, very polished. She’s already done a few commercials, so she knows her way around a camera,” the director explained, leaning back against the table.

Alan nodded, recalling the audition. “Yes, she has a natural confidence,” he agreed. “But I worry she might be too polished. Her delivery felt rehearsed, as if she was performing a routine rather than reacting naturally. With children, especially in this kind of intimate father-daughter dynamic, you need someone who can live in the moment. Emma’s a talented girl, but I didn’t feel that raw connection.”

The director pursed his lips, jotting down a note. “Fair point. And the second one, Sophie, she’s 9.”

Alan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought. “Sophie,” he repeated, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly. “Sophie has presence, no doubt about that. But I sensed some hesitation. She’s got potential, but there was something... withheld in her performance. I’m not sure if it’s nerves or something deeper. It might come out with the right direction, but she’ll need more work to access her emotions fully.

He paused, looking directly at the director. “And in this role, the father-daughter relationship is crucial. If she’s holding back, it’ll create a distance that the audience will feel.”

The director nodded thoughtfully, flipping to the last candidate. “And then there’s the girl who just left, our youngest at 7 years old. Her name is—”

Alan cut in with a slight smile, “Yes, I remember her. The girl who almost called me ‘Professor Snape’.” His tone was laced with a dry humor, the kind that always softened the edge of his critiques.

The director chuckled. “Yes, that’s the one. What did you think?”

Alan took a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on the arm of the chair. “She’s got something,” he said after a pause. “She was nervous—understandable, of course, given the situation—but she didn’t let it control her. There’s a natural vulnerability there, and that’s what we need for this role. It’s not about delivering a perfect line or knowing how to hit your mark, not with a child this age. It’s about honesty.”

He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “She made me believe she was genuinely afraid of disappointing her father. That’s the kind of performance you can’t teach. It’s instinctive.”

The director raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You think she could carry the emotional weight of the role, then?”

Alan nodded firmly. “Yes. She’s not as polished as the others, but that’s exactly why she works. She’s real. She reacts, she listens, and she’s willing to be open. With a little guidance, she’ll give us the authenticity we need. The audience won’t just see a performance; they’ll feel it.”

He paused, his eyes flickering with a warmth that belied the seriousness of the conversation. “Besides,” he added, his tone lightening, “I’m rather fond of her resilience. I tried to throw her off with a bit of improvisation, and she didn’t crack. That tells me she’s quick on her feet.”

The director smiled, clearly valuing Alan’s opinion. “That’s a good sign.”

Alan leaned back, his features softening as he reflected on the process. “One thing I’ve learned over the years, especially with children, is that you have to give them space to be themselves. If you try to shape them into what you think they should be, you lose what’s unique about them. She’s got that spark, and we’d be foolish not to let her run with it.”

The director nodded slowly, absorbing Alan’s words. “So, you think she’s the one?”

Alan smiled, his eyes twinkling with the kind of affection he reserved for special moments. “I think she’s more than capable. She’ll need encouragement, of course, but she’s got what the others don’t—a raw, emotional honesty. That’s something you can’t teach. And frankly,” he added with a wink, “I quite like the idea of having a daughter who’s not afraid to stand her ground against me.”

The director laughed. “Alright, I’ll make some notes. I trust your instincts, Alan. If you’re on board, I think we’ve found our girl.”

Alan nodded, his smile fading into a more serious expression as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes. I think we have. And I’m looking forward to working with her.”

As the director scribbled down his thoughts, Alan glanced back at the closed door where the little girl had exited moments before. A part of him, deep down, had always longed to experience fatherhood, to guide and nurture a child. And while that part of his life had never materialized, acting—particularly in roles like this—allowed him to explore that side of himself in a way he never could in real life.

It was a bittersweet feeling, but as he prepared for what was to come, he knew one thing for certain: this was going to be a rewarding experience, for both him and the young actress.

"Let's make this happen," Alan said quietly, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

And with that, the director nodded in agreement, sealing the fate of the young girl who would soon share the screen—and many memorable moments—with Alan Rickman.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 87)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (67) / Alexia Putellas x Character (43) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (22)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((4.2k))

YFN POV

“Luce…”

Lucy responded with a grunt almost, her hair in a messy bun with strands stuck to her forehead as she sweat. God, she was a sight. YFN couldn’t help but admire her from her position on her back as her body jerked up the bed. Lucy was standing at the foot of it with YFN’s braced leg resting against her collarbone as she rocked in and out of her with obsession. One hand was holding her knee safe, the other holding her hip as she fucked, the sweat dripping down those pronounced abs of hers.

The room was humid, filled with the smell of sex and sweat, Lucy needing to control her before the game. She needed to be in charge, and YFN understood it. Lucy hadn’t felt in control of anything since the night of the attack, and she knew that. They’d always been surrounded by too many people to really do anything about it, but tonight, she needed to be her best against the Netherlands. The Lionesses needed to beat them for a chance at the Olympics, and so she needed her power back.

YFN had absolutely nothing to complain about. Lucy had been finding her control with her for the past 3 hours, and she was so spent that she worried how the footballer was still going and not even that, but how she’d be able to play for 90 minutes after it.

“Last one, little one, you can do it.” She encouraged as if she hadn’t been doing most of the work.

God, she wanted to reach out and stroke her abs. Squeeze her bicep. Grab her tit. But she couldn’t, not in this state. Instead she settled with her hand gripping the sheet tightly above her head, trying to stop her body from jerking so much as the footballer fucked her.

She could feel her excitement dripping down her ass and the angry sound it made as Lucy’s strap pounded in and out relentlessly. Her body was simultaneously tired and wanting more of her. She was hurting, but in the best possible way. And she’d never tell Lucy. She’d already been so gentle with her, and so creative in the ways she’d made her come already. So the only thing she could so was to hold on and take what she was given. Like a good girl. Like Lucy’s good girl, as the Englishwoman had kept reminding her throughout.

“AH! Fuck! Luce… Luce I’m.. argh I’m… coming-”

“Not yet.” Was the commanding response, though one look at Lucy and she could tell she was barely hanging on. “I’m almost there. Wait.”

YFN held on until she thought she’d break. She held on until she was so worked up, so on the edge that she’d fucking explode from it. And when she was there, thankfully, Lucy was ready.

“O…kay…” she grunted her permission as they both shook so aggressively that the bed felt it.

Lucy couldn’t stand after that.

It was the first time she’d ever seen her like that. She withdrew herself, removing the strap and tossing it, and then kissed YFN’s leg on her collarbone before sliding down onto her knees in front of her. YFN saw her wince as she hit her knee, and prayed it was just an awkward landing.

Lucy rested her head on the inside of YFN’s thigh and closed her eyes, catching her breath.

“Jesus christ.”

“What…. What the fuck was that f..for? Where did that come from?”

She felt a lingering kiss on her thigh. “Because I love and adore you, little one.”

She gave a happy hum in response and only spoke again when she could feel her body getting cold and needy for Lucy’s touch. “Can I have you up here when you’re ready?”

“In… a minute.. little one. Just.. give me a second.”

Truthfully, it didn’t take her long to recover. When she was ready, she kissed the inside of her thigh in multiple places, followed by her core, and then moved up the bed to lay next to her.

“There’s no way you c..can play a full game after that..” YFN stressed.

“Watch me,” she replied with a lazy grin forming. Her eyes were hooded and she held a kind of calm that only came post-orgasm. YFN loved seeing her fuck-drunk. “How are you, little one?”

“Very happy,” she murmured, enjoying Lucy’s fingertips tracing her naked torso like she owned it. “Very well satisfied.”

“You’re mine.”

“Oh, I think you’ve proven that.”

A happy hum. “I’ll prove it more when you’re all better.”

YFN chuckled as she stared into her favourite green eyes. She reached out to wipe those sweaty baby hairs from her forehead. God, she was beautiful. “I think you more than make up for it with your creative ways, Luce.”

Lucy admired her a little longer before pressing up onto her elbow and kissing her slow and loving. Much different to their pace the last few hours.

“I’m going to win tonight, little one. I promise.”

“I know, love. I’ll be right there watching.”

LEAH POV

“Just tell me when it’s over.” YFN said with a blush as she tried to cover her face.

Leah couldn’t help but chuckle as she pushed her wheelchair through the crowd, using her as an excuse to not stop for photographs and autographs. It was smart, really. Usually she gave her time to fans, but today wasn’t about that. Today was make or break for the Lionesses in their Paris Olympics journey.

She looked at Jordan who was encouraging her as she strode next to YFN. “We’re almost there, chicken. Promise.”

It warmed her to see Jordan so encouraging with her.

As they were led into the family and friends section, the fans disappeared, instead replaced with faces she knew. Relatives of players. Friends who she’d met on numerous occasions and tried to remember their names. The arrived at their spot and Jordan locked the wheel, kneeling down to comfort her as she looked around. Wembley stadium was always so impressive. They were in a private section where regardless if people stood, they’d still be able to see the field. Not too high, but not too low, and close to the tunnel.

“Hey girls!”

Leah spun to see Alex and Jill arrive, greeting them. Lucy had arranged the section and wanted YFN to be surrounded by as many people she knew as possible. She couldn’t help but appreciate being able to see that side of her. She never saw that when she was with Keira, though her best friend was notoriously private.

The Bronze’s arrived not too long after, filling out their section nicely, and keeping YFN amused enough to stop worrying.

Finally, Jordan was less busy and could sit next to Leah, their thighs happily pressed together, though her attention on the people around them. She was an introvert until it came to the people she knew well. Leah was just happy that she was leaning back into her, as if to reassure herself that she was still there.

“God why don’t we just start the party now?”

Leah’s head whipped around to Jill and she shot her a look. Jill looked to YFN and gulped, though her attention was very much on Lucy’s niece and nephew as they showed her their Bronze shirts.

It was her birthday, and if she was upset that no one had said happy birthday to her yet, she seemed to be hiding the fact very well. Lord knows just how eager Jordan was to celebrate her friend, and Leah had needed to keep her relaxed and her mouth zipped during the day.

The group chatted while the girls warmed on the field, Lucy looking up to Leah to make sure all was okay which she gave a nod and a wink that it was. That woman couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off YFN but Leah was too distracted with Jordan. With having her back next to her. They both should have been on the field but this was the reality now, and she felt warm inside knowing that Jordan would be here to watch her when she was ready to play again. She just wished that they could play together again. At England, or another club. She placed her arm across the back of her chair and Jordan automatically moved back and against her as she chatted to Alex, as if she hadn’t even thought about it, just did it.

The Lionesses took to the ground and after the anthem, the game started, with their attention shifting to that.

Within 12 minutes, the Netherlands scored and Leah groaned. She looked up on the screen and saw the camera doing a close up of her reaction and pretended not to see it. When it disappeared, back to the game, she leant forwards to whisper in her girlfriend’s ear. “Jord?”

“Mmn?” She asked, turning towards her with her eyes still on the game as she sipped her drink. She was so pretty that Leah wanted to kiss her then and there. “They’re going to put us on the big screen at some point…”

Jordan turned to her with wide, misunderstanding eyes. “O..oh. I’ll move-”

She began to move away, but Leah caught her. “No, Jord. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with people knowing we’re together.”

Her face brightened, though she tried to downplay it. It ended up being a simple, shy smile. “I’m more than okay with it.”

“Good.”

The Lionesses were agitated in the first half with Lucy fouling and Alex getting a yellow card 31 minutes in. Shortly after, the Netherlands scored their second goal, putting it 0-2. Leah swore. The camera found her again, though this time, she made sure her attention was on Jordan while her arm was around her, so they had to zoom out to see the pair together. Leah’s arm draped casually over her shoulder, as Jordan interlaced her fingers with Leah’s dangling hand made quite the statement.

She’s mine, she thought. And now everyone knows.

The thought of social media going wild made her internally groan, but she’d already warned her publicist about it. It was a non-negotiable for her, and she’d made him aware before their night, because she had a statement to make.

LUCY POV

Lucy was pissed. This was supposed to their game. Their comeback. The Lionesses had something to prove. And worst of all, she’d told YFN she would win. Never had she ever imagined that her first thought would be that. It’s the game she grew up with.. her first love. First obsession. And now she wasn’t even thinking about anything but her little Australian up in the stands. She hadn’t even looked up at her as she’d left the field. And what’s worse, is that she knew that YFN wouldn’t be disappointed at her at all. She’d only be supportive. She took a deep breath and thought about that as she waited for the second half.

They were 2 down at half-time and without Leah there, the team looked to players like Millie and Keira. Both were not good at encouraging the girls like Lucy was. And so, she stepped in and provided all of the motivation she needed to get them back out there and into the right headspace.

The second half was better. They’d regained control again, and after their first sub, Georgia scored, assisted by LJ. They didn’t celebrate, but she crowd sure did. She looked up at the big screen to see it panning to Leah, her arm around Jordan as they clapped. They were public again, then. She would have smiled if she weren’t so focused.

Immediately after that, Hempo scored, assisted by Georgia. The team celebrated then, and Lucy let and a cry of joy with them. As they scrambled back to their spots, she yelled at them to keep their focus.

“It’s not over, girls! Do what you need to do!” She yelled, and they listened.

Both teams slowed the game down with multiple substitutions just after that, needing fresh legs for the final part of the game. There were chances on both sides, Lucy becoming more aggressive and almost earning herself a yellow. She did just enough to frustrate the Netherlands, and by the time they were into overtime, everyone was on the edge of their seats.

It can’t fucking end like this, she thought. Everyone else might have been happy with a draw but she was not.

“Come on girls!” She yelled, urging them up the field.

1 minute into overtime, Ella scored, assisted by LJ. Lucy yelled and jumped, worn out but running on adrenaline. They were winning. They just needed to hold on.

4 excruciating minutes went by, and the final whistle blew. It was over. They’d beaten the Netherlands. She’d won at Wembley on her girlfriends’ birthday.

Lucy celebrated down with her teammates quickly before climbing up into the stands. Her family was there, but she had one target, and when she found her, the world went quiet. She wrapped her arms around her and picked her up onto her one good leg, holding her tightly. It had been her intention all day to finally kiss her in public at a game, like they’d discussed several times. Lucy wanted this. It was important to her for some strange reason that she didn’t even realise herself, though from over her shoulder, she caught sight of her family and friends section on the big screen and right next to her and YFN holding each other, Leah kissed Jordan for the world to see. Lucy couldn’t even be mad. She smiled to herself and buried her head deeper into her without hurting her. Tonight was their night. She’d kiss her in Scotland instead.

“I knew you’d win.” YFN stated confidently against her cheek.

“Oh?” Lucy queried, pulling back and smiling. “How?”

She looked so proud as she smiled up at her, exposing those dimples she adored so much. “Because you promised me you would.”

Lucy showered and changed as quickly as possible, needing to get to their late dinner. 10pm wasn’t particularly late for her as she was so used to having dinner at that time in Spain, but in London it was a rarity. Luckily, it was a Friday night.

She picked up YFN, as Leah gave an excuse that she needed to take the Bronze’s. YFN didn’t even question it. She was so excited for their win, that it’s all she was thinking and talking about.

She made sure she was all comfortable in the car and clipped her seatbelt across her, taking a kiss on the lips as payment.

Lucy drove them towards the restaurant with her hand held between YFN’s as she spoke about the match and how incredible Lucy had apparently been during it. She looked over at her every chance she got.

It was her birthday, and she hadn’t mentioned it once. She turned twenty-nine today, though no one would have known if Lucy hadn’t organised the surprise dinner. To be fair, she knew she’d done quite well. She’d managed it all with the help of Leah, and had distracted her girlfriend from thinking it was anything but the Lionesses celebrating with their families.

They headed into the restaurant, where they’d had their kiss together, and Lucy stopped just outside of the reserved section. She pushed the wheelchair to the side and picked her up as if it were their wedding day.

Her eyes widened as Lucy stood in front of the door, holding her like that.

“Luce.. what…?”

“I know you don’t want to be seen entering like that, little one.” YFN clutched onto Lucy’s collar with her free hand as her grateful, emotional little smile came out with tears pricking her eyes. “I’ve got you.”

Lucy kicked the doors open and felt YFN jolt in her arms as the group yelled in unison.

“SURPRISE!”

Her eyes widened in complete shock. She truly had no idea, and they’d all got to witness it first hand. Her mouth dropped open as she looked around at the group, the balloons, the confetti, the sign on the wall saying, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY YFN AND JORDAN.’

Lucy allowed herself to look away for a second to where she gave Leah a grateful smile and she returned a wink as she clapped.

Their night was perfect. The drinking, the laughing, the presents, YFN getting to celebrate with her friend. It was a perfect joint party, the mood heightened by the Lioness win. Most of the girls from the club were there with close family and friends, as well as some of the older club members like Alex and Jill, along with footballers Lucy had spoken to at the Lumos event. Mainly Arsenal as although Katie and Caitlin were off at their national teams, they had still managed to round up their team.

YFN made sure she made time for everyone, including her original group of Lumos co-workers who seemed overwhelmed by the squad Lucy had managed to assemble.

At one point in the night, when she was helping her to the bathroom, Lucy made sure to kiss her exactly where they’d shared their first kiss. If only they’d known then where they’d be now. YFN took that moment to thank Lucy again and again as she kissed her. She wasn’t used to birthdays around friends.

Later on, she facetimed with her nan and brother, before blowing out the candles on the cake with Jordan and cutting it up for everyone to enjoy.

At the very end of the night, when everyone was just about to start to leave, Lucy received the phone call she’d been waiting for and answered it, holding the phone up for them both to see a very tanned, very happy looking Alexia and Ridley on the other end.

RIDLEY POV

“Alexia…” she murmured against her forehead.

Alexia made a small, disgruntled noise and shifted slightly from her position laying half on top of Ridley. She liked to know she was close, always.

“We need to go…”

Another mildly annoyed, half-asleep noise. Amongst her mumbles, she heard the word “time.”

“It’s 6am…”

“Why…?”

She stroked her fingers along her side, feeling her shiver and seeing the goosebumps rise, knowing it would help to wake her. “It’s 11pm in London. We need to call Blue in an hour for her birthday.”

She took a deep breath and raised her head, looking absolutely stunning. She was without makeup, her face freshly naked from her sleep, and this is when Ridley was the most attracted to her. The person no one else got to see. The real, unfiltered Alexia.

“Give me 10.”

Alexia was a lot more awake when they arrived on the mainland of Thailand, though Ridley was on edge. She tied the aircraft up down at jetty and was again greeted by a ‘taxi’ driver who took them into the local town. Alexia was dressed in flip flops, jean shorts, a tight white shirt which showed off her figure, a simple black bag slung across her body, her hair was up in a messy bun with a dark floral bandana and yellow tinted metal framed sunglasses. She was gorgeous, and Ridley just wanted to touch her. To hold her close. To even just put her hand on her back and show everybody who she was with.

She led her to a café and sat down, ordering breakfast. Ridley immediately spotted the Pa Wai special forces acting as civilians around them. They acknowledged her in their own ways, and she returned it.

After they ate, Ridley slipped the battery into her phone to make their call. She spotted a suspicious looking man watching them and her first reaction was to hand her phone to Alexia and ask her to call Lucy as pretended to dig around in her bag, but really, she signalled below the table at the Pa Wai. She saw their heads spin to the man watching them. He seemed oblivious to everything else. They waited for him to make a move first.

“What's this?” Alexia asked.

Ridley looked briefly at what she was looking at. It was the two photos she’d taken on Alexia at the festival. She’d sent them to Blue.

“You looked beautiful,” she explained, and was rewarded with a soft expression. “I wanted to preserve that.”

Alexia leant over and kissed her softly on the cheek. Half of Ridley softened, and the other half tensed, knowing he was watching. Now he knew they were together.

Alexia called Lucy and suddenly they were talking to the pair. Ridley painted a smile onto her face, with Alexia naturally smiling still from the photos. They wished her a happy birthday, and Lucy handed her the present she’d left for her.

“What is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just open it, Blue.”

She saw the man watching them move around the back of the building and one of the Pa Wai operatives follow. She hoped he didn’t have weapons stored back there. She put her arm around the back of Alexia’s chair, ready to rip it backwards if they needed to duck.

Blue opened her present and her eyes teared up as she looked down at it. Ridley had to look away to stop her own emotions.

“It’s… but how….”

“It’s from Lex and I.” She felt Alexia look at her, not having known anything about it. “I found him when I visited London again this year.”

Blue looked down at her old teddy, the one that had provided her with so much comfort throughout her younger life. She’d lost him when they’d moved around so suddenly, and Ridley had found him in a box in her London apartment.

“We,” she looked at Alexia, “know that Lucy will be back and forth to Spain with Barca, and I know you sleep better with him.”

Lucy was silent, but she smiled at Ridley through the phone while Blue hugged him to her chest. She felt Alexia’s hand rest on her thigh below the table and knew she’d done something right.

“Thanks, Riddles. It’s perfect, as always.”

“I love you, Blue.”

“I love you, Riddles.”

They ended the call and Ridley removed the battery from it, putting it back in her bag. At that point, the operative hadn’t returned and another went to check the situation. Ridley turned to Alexia. “I’m going to get us some patongos. They’re a typical sweet Thai breakfast that I’d like you to try. Would you like anything else?”

She shook her head and held that look of adoration on her face. “You’re a good friend, Lee.”

Ridley smiled in acknowledgement and stood, walking away and gesturing to her to the Pa Wai. Eyes on Alexia.

She rounded the back of the building and spotted the trail of blood immediately. She followed it into the tall grass reeds and heard the knife swing before she saw it. She ducked backwards and shoved at the hand, grabbing it and punching him in the throat. He stumbled backwards. Only then as she took another step forward did she see the two Pa Wai operatives. One was dead. The other was injured and on the ground, gripping at the severed artery in his thigh as he tried to fashion a tourniquet.

The knife swung again, and she swore she could see money in the mans eyes. He looked like he was Thai, himself. The hit on her truly was bringing everyone out of the woodworks, though the knowledge that he was Thai eased her a bit. Perhaps she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and he recognised her face.

Regardless of how little she knew of him, he was a killer. A contract killer. She needed to make quick work of him. She managed to get the knife from his hand and after knocking him off balance, she whipped her extended arm across in front of her, slicing his throat swiftly, and ducking to avoid the blood spray. She felt her stitches rip as she ducked into a crouch and inhaled sharply, watching as he clutched at his throat, stumbling backwards. As expected, he was dead within the next minute.

She cleaned the knife and helped the operative tie his tourniquet. She offered to help but he shook his head and called his back up. When they arrived, they ushered her away, and she left.

She entered the back of the restaurant, collecting some patongos and came back to the table. As soon as she saw Alexia safe, she breathed a sigh of relief.

She pasted a smile onto her face moved towards her, putting the donut-like food in front of the footballer. She sat and turned to Alexia who was staring into her eyes like she knew what just happened. Ridley’s jaw hardened. Alexia looked down at Ridley’s thigh which was dripping blood down her leg. She could explain that. It was okay.

But then she looked at her face and reached out, wiping her thumb across her cheek and showing her.

“Whose blood is this?”

[happy-beeeps]

Day 3: Gloves

Summary: Din offers the reader his gloves, and their first look at his skin.

Warnings: none, language, briefest mention of past abuse

WC: 1k!

It’s easy to forget how cold space is. In the past few months you’ve been on the Crest, between the baby and the roaring, industrial sized heater, it’s been toasty, almost warm. You’d almost forgotten it could be cold. Until, of course, the ancient industrial sized heater broke.

It wasn’t too bad at first. Mando was quick to find any spare blankets he had on the ship and pass them between you and the baby, hoping to create any semblance of warmth. Then the baby himself helped, as you attempted to rock him to sleep for hours, the green little guy getting fussy from the cold. Now, with the kid settled into his pram and the lack of body heat on your hands, you’ve done it. You’ve remembered how cold space is.

You’re doing ok. You’ve seated yourself on the co-pilot’s chair, knees pulled up to your chest and your hands wrapped underneath your clothes, tucked under your armpits. Your face is half obscured under the neck of your sweater, and you’re attempting to creative some kind of insulation by just continuously blowing your breath against your skin. You haven’t decided if you can die from carbon monoxide poison this way but, fuck it, you’re too cold to care.

Your hands, that’s the issue right now. You hesitate to say agony but—let’s be real, it’s agony. You’ve been frostbitten before, so now your fingers and joints of your hands are aching under the pain of the chill in the ship, and no matter how hard you press your hands to your skin, there’s no relief.

“What are you doing?”

It’s Mando’s—Din’s, as you’ve just recently learned, voice that breaks you from your disassociation, offering the briefest respite from the pain. He’s asking you in a tone that’s equal parts concern, confusion, and jest. Over the past few months you’ve learned it’s his feeble attempt at teasing.

“Trying to warm up, not all of us come with an insulation system,” you poke back, and he settles beside you in his chair, his helmet sending that searing gaze towards you. You shrink into yourself even more beneath it, somehow feeling both intimated and bewitched by it.

Ok, bewitched is just a better word for saying you’ve got a massive-fucking-crush on the guy, but that’s beside the point.

“What’s wrong with your hands?”

“Nothing, what gave you that impression?”

He cocks his head to the side in a way you’ve begub to translate as “really?”

“Just something from when I was younger, it’s nothing.”

He pauses for a moment, then extends his own hand in one of the rare few moments of touch he’s offered. “Let me see.”

You’re in hell. If there is a maker, they’re being cruel. Do you remove your hands from the tiny bit of warmth you have, or reject Din in a rare moment of vulnerability?

The choice is immediate, and you rip your hands from their confine and tentatively place them in his.

They don’t look bad, an angry red at the joints and the cold has made you curl them inwards, but they aren’t blackened or cracked like some of the frostbite you’ve seen. He must notice the difference, and moves to gently trace the joint of one of your fingers. His words are slow, deliberate, “How did this happen to you?”

You melt into his touch, “locked out of my house during a snowstorm a while back, he was an asshole.”

Din tenses at that, just barely noticeable, and pauses his trace. You worry you’ve offended him, and he removes his hands, only to slowly, carefully remove the leather gloves you’ve always seen on his hands. “Here, you take ‘em.”

“Din, please, I can’t, I’ll be fine.”

“I want you to wear them.”

It’s the only encouragement you need, and you pulll them on quickly. You try to conceal how rapidly your heart is beating as you peak at the newly exposed skin of his hands.

He’s tan, tanner than you’d thought, with skin that looks warm and inviting. Calluses dot the underside of his palms, and he brings his fingers together, wringing them slowly. It dawns on you that you’re not sure if anyone has ever even seen his hands.

“How are your hands not always sweating?”

Nice. Real smooth. He’s gonna love that.

“Maybe that’s why I always keep them on.”

“Are we doing humor now?”

“Depends, how am I doing at it?”

You laugh, and so does he, and you decide you’d quite like to hear that sound forever. You stretch your fingers, warming nicely in the suede of Din’s giant gloves.

“Thank you, for these, I needed it.”

“Don’t mention it.” He unwinds his hands, laying them on his knees as he turns his attention back to you.

You’re not sure if you’re high on knowing that you’re wearing Din’s clothes, or the ecstasy of finally having feeling in your fingers, but your hand is quickly going to poke at his, your fingers dotting the smooth contours of his own.

You half expect him to pull back, but he doesn’t, letting you play with his fingers and trace his skin. It seems easy with the barrier of fabric between you. You ignore the fact that your stomach is churning and your brain is going ohshitohshitohshit.

He’s got a scar along the inside of his wrist, you can only see a bit of it, white and gnarled. You reach out to trace it, careful not to go beyond the skin that’s already exposed.

“When I was just learning to use my flamethrower, things got a little…dicey.”

The image of a young Din accidentally torching himself makes you smile, but it’s quickly dimmed by the realization that the man beside is literally wearing clothes that kill people. You flex your hand in his glove and realize, I guess you are too.

“Do you feel better?”

You’re rocketed back to reality by his voice and you nod, “yes, thank you.”

He stands, but not before tapping the bottom of your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, the skin on skin contact rocketing through you. “Keep em’ till we land, they suit you mesh’la.”

He leaves quietly, leaving you sitting in the cold and silent space, thinking of foreign words with pretty sounds and warm suede around your fingers.

[littlemissmanga]

The Bad Batch Finale - Thoughts and Thanks

Before I get into spoiler territory, I want to say the most sincere "thank you" I've ever mustered to this fandom.

I've been in fan spaces before, going back almost 15 years - most of that on Tumblr, to boot. I've been in inactive fandoms, small fandoms, big fandoms and "we're watching new episodes together in real time" fandoms ...

And none of them have ever given this sense of community and support. Ever.

There really is something special about The Clone Wars/Bad Batch fans, even within the Prequel lovers or Star Wars fans in general that breeds this kind of sentiment. It's truly unique and I found it at a time in my life when I was the most isolated physically from my support network and struggling to make new friends and connections IRL.

I cannot express in words just how much you all saved me with your validation and support.

The Shades of Blue series was the first fanfic I actually felt comfortable leaving a comment for on Tumblr, and the amazing @the-rain-on-kamino's kind and loving reaction gave me the courage to start writing fanfiction again. Not only that, but actually sharing it for the first time in years.

And after that, everyone else came in one at a time. From @deejadabbles and @sev-on-kamino's delightful, rabid and enabling reactions to my unhinged thots, to @wings-and-beskar supporting my unhealthy Wrecker obsession, to @l-lend being an absolute example of how to engage and interact in fan spaces to make room for everyone, to @wild-karrde, our bastion of supportive engagement and creative celebration (and a kickass writer in her own right) ... you all helped me come out of my shell in ways I can't express in words besides thank you.

@dystopicjumpsuit, @freesia-writes. @anxiouspineapple99, @dickarchivist, @wizardofrozz @523rdrebel

@starrylothcat @starqueensthings @the-bad-batch-baroness @multi-fan-dom-madnessand @moonlightwarriorqueen

You all have listened to my rambles, thoughts, and vent sessions - whether about fandom stuff or not - and I hope I've been able to return a fraction of that support.

@daimyosprincess, girl you get a whole special shoutout for the levels of depravity you encourage my thots to get to :D

And there are so many more!! People I may not talk to frequently (cause sending DMs gives me anxiety), but I see you commenting, liking, reblogging when I post and posting your own amazing writing or art for me to moon over.

@cyarbika, @madameminor, @spacemagicandlaserswords @merkitty49 @vodika-vibes

@kimiheartblade @nika6q @arcsimper5

@soaringthroughthegalaxy @sunshinesdaydream @sinfulsalutations and so so many more.

THANK YOU ALL FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART

I'll still be around simping after our favorite clones. I hope you'll keep joining me.

Now, on to the spoilers!

I have to say overall, I like this conclusion. It's the happy ending we wanted, but if feels earned. I love that the boys got to grow old in peace with Omega. I love that their dedication to one another is reaffirmed and upheld as the strength it is, rather than - as Hemlock saw it - a weakness to exploit. And I loved that last little scene. It felt like a fanfic and I say that lovingly. It felt like the writers and animators put together the fic we all know would have happened if they left the ending on that fadeout of the Batch next to the tree on Pabu. And that felt like a kiss on the forehead as a fan.

Now here's what I didn't like.

I didn't like that they clearly rushed the end. Pacing wise, there were so many moments that were slowed down so you can feel the emotional impact ... but the editing of the scenes around them made this slower pace a mistake to me.

Like when Echo and Omega are sending Emerie and the kids away ... they all hug and take time to talk about their plan. BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TIME. We know Hemlock has the others. We know Tarkin is on his way. YOU DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THIS SCENE TO HAPPEN HERE and Echo of all people would be on that, moving everyone along as he is trained to do. It feels artificial because we go from high intensity and fast paced to slow and dragging when nothing from the fast paced scene had been resolved. I think this could have been different if the scene with the kids in the hanger came before the Batch gets in to the hanger and knocked out. It would be a break from the fast pace of the Zillo escape, but without the immediate urgency of a rescue weighing over them (and us! I was having heart palpitations!). It also would then match the tone and sentiment of the scene between Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair in the woods ("Omega needs all of us.").

These pacing issues are editing issues, and I think we're really seeing how post-production was truncated to get this out on time (or possible pre-production and storyboarding was truncated). I hate that production studios are making this practice more common to cut costs. We will wait longer for better quality storytelling.

My final example of this is Crosshair's story resolution. It doesn't happen. He still thinks he deserves to die on Tantiss (the sentiment from S3 Ep1) and even though Hunter and Wrecker tell him otherwise, we don't know if he internalizes that. And his climax is about trusting Omega to know what to do to take the shot. But Crosshair has (in this season) shown he always trusts Omega. It would have been better if his hand was still shaking and Hunter said "Omega trusts you. You'll make this shot." so that the external conflict for Crosshair is resolved by resolving his internal conflict and trusting himself as his family does. And it would leave Hunter's climax the same - trusting Omega as an competent member of the team.

It just feels rushed. Or like an abstract painting that almost looks like a real object, but just a little blurry. They almost stuck a perfect landing, but just missed the mark a bit.

I also hate how this means Wrecker gets fuck all resolution. The entire last episode was a really intriguing challenge for him. He knows Cross is off his game and Hunter is getting desperate and reckless again ... just as he is almost entirely knocked out of the fight from an injury. Him, the strong one. That should have been a great moment of growth for him. That he doesn't keep going because he always can -- which is very much how he comes across in TCW S7 and TBB S1 -- but that he actively makes himself the strong one, the supportive one, because that's what his family needs.

But no, we didn't get that. We didn't get any insight into Wrecker at all, despite him being the one to free his brothers enough for them to save Omega (and he saved Echo, too!). And then he doesn't speak again, though we see how banged up he is. I get it was less of a focus throughout the series, but man they didn't need to sideline my husband like that.

And finally, Tech.

Look, I may be delulu, but contextually, there was plenty of evidence that CX-2 was Tech. From speech and mannerisms to his blatant disregard for orders, to the seemingly personal level he took his missions.

But it's more than that - why show us this big tense moment of him breaking onto Phee's ship, which the focus being on Phee sensing him near? Why not just have that in the dialog with Hemlock the way Cid's confession was? That would have saved so much time that could have been put elsewhere. Why have such a focus on him in the marketing?

I'm not mad that Tech is dead. Let me make that clear. The showrunners said from the start they killed Tech to prove there are real, lasting consequences to characters' decisions. And I can respect that. And I can understand and appreciate the interpretation that CX-2 wasn't meant to rep Tech, but rather what the Empire can turn clones into, a threat to them all not just in the danger CX-2 poses, but the danger if they get caught.

And that's fair ... but then it could (and should have) been any and every CX trooper to fit that bill. There was no need to waste time and attention on one in particular.

And to be, that also ignores the clear wall of contextual and subtextual evidence that a reveal was planned. The posters are a great example.

Here is the Batch in the final poster:

And here is CX-2

He's standing at Crosshair's right, just out of frame. The lighting matches and he's even looking up to the right just like the rest of his brothers. The line of light cutting his left side even matches the one cutting above Crosshair's right side.

All the other posters showing Bad Batch adversaries has them lit more darkly or in shadow and has unique posing and positioning that do not reflect our heroes.

Why are we styling a brainwashed clone like one of the Batchers artistically? That's a weird choice.

I think the some big wigs wanted him back and others didn't want to water down the impact of his death and we're seeing that confusion and conflict on screen, when we really shouldn't. IDK if Disney was pushing it or the showrunners but either way, going halfsies and changing your mind (and impacting the resolutions we got because of it) is not a good look, especially from a studio like Disney/Lucasfilm. I'm not blaming Dave or Jen wholly, but we the audience should never be able to see the writer's room when we watch, and that's all I was able to see with this.

(My own husband was like "we are supposed to think that's Tech, right?" and he's not really a Bad Batch fan, he just indulges me.)

Alright, that's all I got. I'm happy with how my comfort show ended, I'll write fanfic to cover the pieces I don't agree with personally, and I'll remain ever grateful and supportive of the community who gave me this most precious gift.

I love you all.

And may the force be with you.

[aclowntiny]

How Enhypen Act Around Their Crush (Gender Neutral Reader)

To usher in 7 more wonderful bois to this blog, the classic scenario I started the others with 😌 hope you enjoy, Engenes 💁🏻‍♀️➖

Jungwon

♡ Can be sort of obvious, depends on how you perceive his shyness 🤔 he may just come across as quiet, on the reserved side before he gets more comfortable.

♡ He always has a big smile just for you & he listens so intently, like his eyes will be on you the whole time. Will be so expressive, reacting to everything you say.

♡ Wants you to be his partner for everrrryyyy game you guys play. Sorry, I don’t make the rules, Jungwon does apparently 💁🏻‍♀️ but yeah, he comes up with a creative reason to recruit you every time, even if it doesn’t make much sense.

♡ He stumbles on his words quite a bit around you, especially when you catch him off guard. Things that catch him off guard include (but are not limited to): you calling his name all of a sudden, Jungwon looking over to see you smiling/laughing, you just being beautiful (all the time if your name is Yang Jungwon).

♡ Another potential tell is how giggly he can get around you 🫢 man acts like everything you say is funny plS. & tell him something he did was cute he’ll straight up MALFUNCTION

♡ Pretty much UNO reverse cards almost any compliment you give him. Tell him how kind he is no you. Tell him he looks nice today??? DHCVSSGCHSBFDWS no you

♡ If the other members tease you, he’ll pull the leader card so fast to get them to stop, sheepishly (hahaha 양 pun haha) apologizing for them & steering you a bit away (oh darn…that results in more time with you…oh noooo….😉) from the chaos. Unless you really like it/give it back to them, then he’ll just cheer you on like get em!!! (੭ˊ꒳ ˋ)੭

♡ You accidentally kicked him lightly under the table once & felt so bad, but Jungwon lightened the mood immediately & turned it into your little thing instead :3 so you guys pretty much always play footsie at dinner that’s just how you cutiepies flirt 😌

Heeseung

♡ He’s so sure he’s being super duper smooth with it, but it kinda shows tbh

♡ Literally trips over his own feet trying to help you once but it’s ok, it was cute ☺️ how could you not resist his eagerness??

♡ His goal one hundred percent is to make you feel valued, so your opinion is always taken into account. Suddenly, whatever you want to do is what Heeseung is voting for, too, especially if you’d have been the only one otherwise.

♡ Basically becomes your personal delivery boy. You want a drink? What kind? Heeseung’s already out of his seat, he’ll bring you one. You left your shoes? Oh, just stay there, Heeseung’s got it.

♡ When you talk to him, get ready to see Maximal Big Bambi Eyes™. Like, those things are going to be shining full of stars whenever they get to look at your wonderful face 🩷

♡ “What’s your favorite song? …Oh, no reason.” Heeseung then proceeds to make it his life mission to learn that song & sing it for you. May even…write you a song 👀 if he gets brave one day, maybe he’ll show it to you!

♡ Probably invites you to go get ramen with him because of course he does 😆 anything to have some one-on-one time though! He actually has an easier time that way, no pressure from other sets of eyes on him.

♡ May not initiate touch too much, but if you do he’ll look some of the happiest you’ve ever seen him 🥺🥰 that’ll probably encourage him to do a bit more with you as well!

Jay

♡ Thinks he’s super smooth but it kinda shows part 2

♡ He tries to show off more around you, taking on more challenges & trying to do things that make him look cool. “Oh, yeah, I can do that. Check this out!” If he fails, at least he can amuse you & laugh it off, getting more motivated for next time 💪🏻

♡ 5000% the guy who gives you his jacket when it’s cold (& revels in the way you look in his clothes 👀)

♡ If you laugh at his puns, A. Jay.exe will stop working, B. he’ll make that many more just to make you laugh, his chest swelling a little every time it works 😌

♡ Finds out you like something then does a ton of research on it so he can casually bring it up & be like ‘oh, you’re into that too? nice, had no idea 😎’

♡ Tries to make sure he’s standing next to you in pictures so he can see how you two look together 👀 probably also tried wearing your favorite color more too, just subliminal messages for when you see him & look back on those pictures 😌

♡ Probably the most obvious thing he does is how fiercely he defends you. If anyone teases or even slightly inconveniences them Jay’s ready to fight them for you. Even harder than he is when they tease him for his crush CGDVSCDSFCHVX

♡ Really casually breaks the touch barrier by sitting really close to you, your arms & sides brushing, but is dying on the inside especially when you scooch a bit & somehow end up even closer 💗

Jake

♡ Highkey really good at handling it, not making it obvious in an embarrassing way but dropping just the right amount of hints 😌

♡ He approaches you right away & asks questions to get to know you better, finding a way to relate to as many of your answers as he can.

♡ Definitely asks if you like animals & shows you pictures of Layla because the two of them are a package deal 😤 but of course you love her & gush over the pictures & Jake’s heart goes 💗

♡ Jake is always the first to congratulate you on a job well done, telling you did great even if it’s something as simple as completing a task on the game you’re playing together.

♡ Jake’s the kind of guy to send you songs he thinks you’ll like, please listen to them 🥺 & give them nice reviews especially if they’re love songs because that’s a hint!!!

♡ He will always open doors for you & pull out your chair for you because our Jake is a gentleman 😌

♡ Also the one who buys you random surprises, just cute things in your favorite color or themed like your interests that made him think of you (as if he isn’t always thinking of you)!

♡ The first time he really initiates contact, it’s sort of on accident 😅 you have something in your hair & he gently reaches over to take it out, then realizes what he does & apologies, a blush spreading across his face. His smile returns, though, when you tell him it was quite all right & thank him!

Sunghoon

♡ Doesn’t want to be embarrassingly obvious but, like, what’s the point if you don’t know, you know? 👀

♡ Strategically positions himself at gatherings so he can always have a good look at you if he isn’t talking to you.

♡ Lets you win whenever you guys are playing games because he loves seeing how happy you get, especially if you playfully rub it in his face. It builds a little joke between you two & gives him an excuse to play with you again for ‘revenge’!

♡ Enjoys being able to teach you things, partially for showing-off factor but mostly because it forges a connection between you two & shows that you can learn from each other.

♡ On the flip side of that, Sunghoon wants to try out your hobbies, too. Even if they don’t end up being his favorite, it’s a new experience for him to have under his belt & one more way to show his interest in you.

♡ Smirks a little if your eyes meet his from a distance, but the moment you look away he’s probably crashing into a wall or completely turned around so no one sees how red he is.

♡ If you wear a hat or glasses, he’ll probably steal them from you just to flirt. Coin flip if he just puts them on or if he takes something & runs so you chase him down for it. If he puts it on, he’ll say it looks better on you 😏

♡ He’s not super touchy-feely, so he’ll go with the flow on your signs there. If you’re a hugger, though, oh boy will he lean into that fact. Every greeting between you & Sunghoon will be a hug just because he can 😌

Sunoo

♡ Definitely could be more obvious, but internally he feels like with everything he does there’s a big flashing Las Vegas sign above his head that says ‘SUNOO LIKES YOU’.

♡ However his hints aren’t always that glaring like he feels like he laughs at everything you say, but also laughs quite a bit naturally so it can easily be seen as part of his naturally joyous personality.

♡ Lowkey his love language is food, like he’ll find out what your favorite candy is & then somehow alwaaaaayssss have some when he’s with you ☺️

♡ MUST be sitting next to you whenever possible. Once stole Heeseung’s seat next to you when he got up on the grounds of the couch being more comfortable than the chair he’d had to be in before.

♡ He really wants to know your favorite things, like your favorite movies, songs, ice cream flavor, etc. because then he can try them too & feel like he’s experiencing a little part of you through them 🥰

♡ Wants to take selfies with you every time you hang out!!! 🥺 what can he say, pictures capture good memories!

♡ Never more will you desire having a personal cheerleader, Sunoo has that covered. Everything you do is amazing in his eyes & he will tell you it’s impressive all the time.

♡ A little shy with initiating touch, but eventually when he feels more comfortable he’ll do little things like resting a hand on your arm as he asks if you’re ok or grabbing your hand to lead you places!

Ni-Ki

♡ Honestly one of the better ones at hiding it if he wants to, which he definitely does at first! Later on, though? Different story. He has to win you in the end right? 😤

♡ Definitely the type to try showing off a bit, like he’ll be the one that always wants to show you the choreographies they’re working on, giving his all even into his little demonstrations & immediately glancing for your reaction.

♡ Really loves it if you dance with him, whether it’s letting him teach you or just joining in on what he’s doing. He’ll get so smiley please dance with him lots!

♡ This boy lives for teasing you!!! He loves to imitate you playfully & fake-bicker with you, but it’s just because he wants to play around 🥺 if you ever seem upset he’ll stop & apologize right away.

♡ If you don’t speak Japanese, he’ll teach you some phrases, but only either super weird random ones or cutesy stuff he just wants to see you say.

♡ You’ll probably catch the others (read: Jake, Jay) teasing him for it at one point; even if the context escapes you you’ll just walk in & see Riki getting ready to throw hands 😂

♡ He brings it on himself a little bit because even if he’s pretty good at being nonchalant, he’s always near you, whether it’s following you around to chat or just taking a seat near you, any spot that gets him in your orbit.

♡ Probably tries the ol yawn-&-stretch the arm thing at least twice (fails once) on you 😭😂 if you look surprised, he’ll totally act like he didn’t know that was what he was doing 😅

[thesupreme316]

hi i don’t request stuff so bare with me how would aew boys react to you having a big return like Kris Statlander ex: you lost your title and left and you come back and win the title again sorry if this makes no sense i’m not good at requesting 🫶🏼😢

yall gotta stop apologizing for being CREATIVE CUTIES

AEW Stars React to: You Returning and Winning Your Title Back (Fem!Reader)

Pairings: Hook x Fem!Reader, Ricky Starks X Fem!Reader, Dante Martin X Fem!Reader, Darius Martin X Fem!Reader, Eddie Kingston X Fem!Reader, MJF X Fem!Reader, Christian Cage X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Supreme Speaks: thank you to anon for requesting (yall keep em coming), sorry that this took me so long (shit happening). But please enjoy this and p.s you are loved and appreciated

Warnings: not proofread, my regular react wrestlers, GIFS AINT MINE

Taglist: @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @sheinthatfandom @hookerforhook @triscillal @cassiesworldsworld @eddie-kingstons-wifey

Backstory:

Either you were injured and surrendered your title (you never lost it technically) or you lost it in a fluke to your opponent (just do whatcha want)

For months you spent away from the company, trying to gain your strength and feeling back

But now, you were back and better than ever

And you were owed a rematch

Right when the so-called champion called out for an open challenge, you were the first to answer that call that night

To your surprise, the whole arena rose to their feet and loudly cheered you on when hearing your theme (ex. Kris Statlander and or AJ Lee)

And after the match was over, you stood tall with your title high above your head again as the crowd again screamed loudly

(Or you can skip this and have a great segment like Trent with Sue’s van)

The entire moment/match went viral

However, they weren’t the only ones happy to see you tho

Hook

Mans had no idea that you were here

Was stunned into silence; with a big ass smile on his face

You were picked up into a hug by him; would definitely whisper sweet things into your ear or skin

“I’m so happy to see you back”

I think this will encourage him to try to win back his title quicker

Hook is the type of person (whether you're his best friend or girlfriend) to take this return personally as it is a start of a new era for you

Wants to celebrate with you in private ;)

HE WOULD ALSO WEAR YOUR MERCH TO SHOW HIS SUPPORT

Ricky Starks

OOOOOO THIS MAN IS SO COCKY RIGHT NOW

I also think he would be that person who would almost spoil your return out of excitement

You thought he was arrogant after he won the Owen Hart tournament? PUH-LA-ESE

Would reference you in his promos

“I’m a part of the winning team. I mean have you seen my hot ass champion of a girlfriend (or best friend; whatever you prefer)?”

Would book a photoshoot just for you to show off your championships

Defs would make you guys match in outfits and would get you in a storyline with him

I def see you as his manager/valet (IMAGINE THE (eventual) HEEL HEAT)

You two would take over AEW as the new IT couple or duo

Darius Martin

Tbh, it gives him kind of a nostalgic feeling when he returned during the tag team battle royal

He would be so incredibly happy for you

Would keep up with all your appearances and matches afterward

“I am the president of the Y/N protection squad *poses with lads*”

Genuinely hopes that everything goes well for you

Will do your signature move to show his support for you

Also, expect a celebratory dinner or movie night

But don’t get it twisted this man is mad at you for not telling him about your return

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? I was just joking when I was gonna carry the cutout of you to the ring”

He was in fact not kidding (he was just a lil goofy)

Dante Martin

THE BABY

With him on the shelf, he is emotional for you

“That was amazing! The crowd really went wild for you!”

Has multiple emotions tbh; happy, anxious, a little sad

Wishes he could really celebrate with you

I also think because of the fact he has been out of action for a while, he’s dreaming of a return like yours; especially with a championship in his mind

I think he would be a little sad because you’re gonna be busy as hell

“I’m gonna miss the off days with just us two.”

To which you promised to drag him all around to wherever you were wrestling

He didn’t have a choice

Eddie Kingston

“THATS RIGHT DAWG!! YALL SEE THIS SHIT?”

Makes a post about you on Instagram

He’s genuinely happy about the two of you being champions at the same time

Will brag to everyone backstage

“YOU SEE THAT BRYAN? I HAVE FRIENDS THAT ARE CHAMPIONS, SORRY YOU CAN’T SAY THE SAME!”

Eddie, just like how I always say, is a very emotional person (even though he doesn’t wanna show it)

But he will make sure that you know how proud he is; even if he gives you a shoulder tackle

I also think Eddie sees every win as a win for the whole crew

Like Darius, he is upset that you didn’t tell him about your return but it made him excited about wrestling again

MJF

THIS MOTHERFUCKER PART 496792466

Would make a backhanded compliment about you

“Although it wasn’t as epic or spontaneous or memorable as my return last year, congrats to Y/N Y/L/N for making her return to the ring! BAY BAY”

After some choice words, he updates his Twitter again

“I reviewed my tweet after Y/N confronted me (with dice, a wooden spoon, and a lighter) I realize that I made some errors. I meant CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WONDERFUL AND ABOVE AVERAGE GENERATIONAL TALENT Y/N Y/L/N!”

Will ask you to shout him out occasionally (imagine having a friendship like him and Adam Cole)

No but for real, he’s happy for you

I think this man would shower you with gifts in private so you can fully get the MJF experience

Will bring you up in interviews; especially about people he can kind of give props to (his words not mine)

Christian Cage

THIS MAN IS MY SUGAR DADDY AND-

I feel like this man would be very proud of you

Would not dare hold your championship as you threaten him about that

But he would announce himself with your title in the same sentence (ex below)

“I AM THE TNT CHAMPION AND I am the significant other/best friend of the AEW Women’s Champion! Therefore, you all should respect me!”

Definitely would tell Luchasaurus to protect you as well

Loves how confident you became since winning

Also remember how I said he’s a sugar daddy?

Mans would buy you anything just for holding the championship at one point it almost becomes an accessory

Even if you didn’t have a championship, Christian would splurge on you just because

YOU DESERVE IT BIATCH

[askstevella]

—Another addition to the family ☕️

Steve and Stella were not planning on having another after all the kids within The Tower already but when a certain lovely girl showed up in their lives, well, they couldn't say no...

Marianna Strange-Rogers 🎳🩰🎧🪄

Faceclaims: Luna Blaise/(younger) Julia Butters 

Full Name - Marianna Theodosia S. Rogers

Nicknames: Mari, Mar, Anna, Ani, Theo, Sia

Age: 4-21 (depending on the story) 

 Appearance:

Hair: Dark, chestnut brown—long with soft waves, maybe just a bit of a messy, "I didn’t try too hard but look how cool I am" vibe.

Eyes: Warm brown, almost amber in the light, with a hint of mystery. There's a sharpness to her gaze that hints at intelligence but also a bit of guardedness.

Build: Slim but athletic; she’s not necessarily super muscular, but she has the body type that suggests she’s always on the go, maybe active in a variety of ways—running, dancing, etc.

Style: A mix of laid-back, sporty, and edgy. She likes wearing leather jackets, vintage tees, and sneakers, but occasionally wears something a bit fancier when she wants to throw people off or to fit in with her brothers' circles. A bit of a “don’t care but still care” vibe.

~~~~

Personality:

* Quiet, Charismatic: She’s the type of person you notice without realizing why. When she speaks, people listen. Her charisma isn’t loud or obvious—it’s the kind that creeps up on you. She can make an entire room feel like it’s focused on her with just a subtle look or a well-timed comment.

* Bravado & Insecurity: Marianna’s been through enough to have built up walls. She has this strong exterior—she’s witty, bold, and has this "I can do anything" attitude. But deep down, she’s dealing with insecurities that she keeps hidden. She masks it all with humor and confidence, so no one really knows what she’s struggling with.

* Introverted Yet Outgoing: This is such a great paradox for her. She’s the kind of person who can walk into a room full of strangers and quickly become the center of attention—but she’ll only let certain people really in. She values her alone time, and sometimes, all that attention drains her. She has an inner world that she keeps mostly private, but her moments of connection are intense and deep when she opens up.

* Adrenaline Junkie: She thrives on pushing her limits. Whether it's something physical, mental, or emotional, she seeks out challenges—sometimes in risky ways. She probably has a love for extreme sports, fast cars, or sneaking out late at night to do something a little dangerous. It’s a way for her to feel alive and to prove to herself that she can handle whatever comes her way.

* Kind-Hearted: Despite all the bravado, Marianna is genuinely kind. She’s the type to defend the underdog, help out when no one’s looking, and do small acts of kindness that make a big impact. Her kindness doesn’t always come across immediately, because she hides it under layers of humor and toughness, but it’s there.

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

Parent Dynamics 🫂

Father: Steven Grant Rogers🧢 (FC: Chris Evans – Warm, supportive, and creative)

Profession: While Steve Rogers is obviously known as Captain America, he doesn’t want that life to define his children. Before everything that happened, Steve was an art student, and he actually has a deep love for creative expression—whether through painting, sketching, or sculpture. He believes in the power of creativity and wants his kids to have the freedom to pursue their passions without the weight of his own superhero career hanging over them.

Personality: Steve is still the moral center of the family—he’s strong, reliable, and a protector by nature. However, in his family life, he’s much more relaxed and encouraging. He values freedom and individuality above all else and has always worked hard to give his children a sense of normalcy, despite the chaotic world they live in. He’s warm and patient, and while he might not always understand every choice his kids make, he supports them no matter what. He’s not pushy about following in his footsteps, and he’s not trying to recreate his own “greatness” through them.

Relationship with Marianna:

Encouragement of Freedom: Steve doesn’t expect Marianna to be a hero or to follow in his artistic footsteps. What matters to him is that she is true to herself and follows whatever path she feels passionate about. He encourages her to explore—whether it’s through art, sports, academics, or other creative ventures. However, because of his own complex past, Steve might worry that Marianna won’t have the space to fully explore who she is in a world full of expectations. He wants her to feel free to make mistakes, take risks, and grow, just as he wishes he had had the chance to do before becoming a soldier.

Emotional Support: Steve is a father who’s there for his children when they need him, offering guidance in the form of “real talk” about life, love, and finding one’s true purpose. He never pushes them to be heroes, but he doeswant them to be good, kind, and authentic people. Marianna, in particular, might have a strong emotional connection to Steve because he’s always been the one to let her figure out who she wants to be, even if it frustrates her at times.

Mother: Estella Sophia R. Strange 🎲 (FC: Anne Hathaway – grounded, nurturing, practical)

Profession: Estella is a nurse—practical, nurturing, and deeply empathetic. She’s the type of person who genuinely loves helping others, and while she’s not involved in any mystical arts, she’s deeply rooted in the real world and the tangible. As a nurse, she’s seen her fair share of suffering, and her career is one of service, but she is not a perfectionist. Instead, she’s a figure of stability, providing a calming and loving influence on the family.

Personality: Estella, is darling, emotionally intelligent, and multi-faceted. She can be warm and kind-hearted one moment, but her fierce protectiveness can cause her to snap when she feels out of control or when her family is threatened. Her temper is quick to flare, and her insecurities sometimes get the better of her, leading to moments of irrationality however her heart is always in the right place.

Relationship with Marianna:

Gentle and Supportive: Estella is one of the more emotionally available of the adults. She’s the one who will sit with Marianna when she’s feeling down or confused, offering advice with a gentle touch. Estella never tries to push Marianna in any one direction but instead listens and lets her figure things out in her own time. While she is more grounded and less likely to encourage risks the way Steve might, she still respects Marianna’s need for freedom and individuality.

Practicality vs. Spontaneity: Estella might, at times, be a bit worried about Marianna’s more reckless or spontaneous side—she’s seen the dangers of the world and might be protective. However, she knows that her daughter needs space to explore and make mistakes. Her approach is often to teach Marianna the practical aspects of life, like responsibility and taking care of oneself, while allowing Marianna the freedom to choose her own way.

—————————

The Brothers 🚲

Bradley James Rogers🎼 (Older Brother – FC: Darren Criss / Younger FC: Asher Angel)

Role: The oldest sibling, a musical theater enthusiast with a tough exterior and a soft, sensitive heart.

Dynamic with Marianna:

Emotional Anchor: Bradley is protective of Marianna, though he gives her space to make her own decisions. His playful, theatrical side often draws Marianna in, making him the brother she can turn to for advice about love, relationships, and personal growth.

Creative Support: As someone who is deep into the arts, Bradley encourages Marianna to explore her creative side. He’s always there to help her feel validated in her expression, whether it’s through writing, acting, or any other artistic outlet she gravitates toward.

Connection: Though he can be tough on the outside, Bradley’s real strength lies in his ability to see through Marianna’s walls. He gives her the emotional support she needs, even when she’s struggling with self-doubt or insecurity. Whether they’re goofing off together or having deep heart-to-heart talks, Bradley helps Marianna feel like she can conquer anything.

Kendall Perseus Rogers 🏒 (Older Brother #2 – FC: Austin Butler / Younger FC: Walker Scobell)

Role: The ambitious and driven younger brother who’s into hockey and always striving for excellence, whether it’s in sports or personal growth.

Dynamic with Marianna:

Motivator: Kendall pushes Marianna to challenge herself, often encouraging her to take life more seriously. He’s all about hard work, discipline, and going after what she wants, but he does so with a tough love approach that Marianna sometimes finds a bit intense.

Adrenaline Partner: While his focus on hockey might seem worlds apart from Marianna’s creative endeavors, they both share a love for pushing their limits. Whether it’s taking risks or indulging in something wild, Kendall encourages her to embrace her fearless side.

Supportive with a Twist: While Kendall isn’t always the most emotional, his support is unwavering. He might not always know how to express it, but Marianna can count on him to back her up when it matters most. His ambition and drive push her to challenge herself and overcome obstacles.

————————

The Aunties & Uncles 🎯

Uncle Thiago Strange 🩺 (– FC: Hugh Dancy)

Role: Thiago is the calm, intellectual uncle (tio) who offers Marianna a sense of grounded support. Very much the opposite to Leo. As a doctor, he’s logical and thoughtful, teaching Marianna the importance of balance and perspective in difficult situations—he loves her to death!

Dynamic with Marianna:

Guidance with Practical Wisdom: Thiago is the one Marianna goes to when she needs clear, reasoned advice. He helps her think through her decisions calmly and rationally.

Steadying Influence: In moments of emotional chaos, Thiago is a quiet, stabilizing presence. He encourages Marianna to trust her own instincts while staying grounded in reality.

Unspoken Bond: Their relationship is built on quiet moments—sharing coffee, discussing plans for the future, or even just spending time together in peaceful silence. His support is calm but always present.

Aunt Natasha Romanoff 💋(– FC: Scarlett Johansson)

Role: Natasha is the tough-love aunt, direct and no-nonsense. She challenges Marianna to face difficulties head-on, teaching her resilience and independence.

Dynamic with Marianna:

Tough Love: Natasha doesn’t sugarcoat things. She’s blunt but always with the goal of pushing Marianna to be stronger and braver.

Adventurous Mentor: Their bond is built on shared physical activities—whether sparring or adventuring. Natasha encourages Marianna to embrace risk and not shy away from challenges.

Empathy in Action: While tough, Natasha also has a deep understanding of Marianna’s emotional struggles. She shows her strength not just in action but in her unwavering belief in Marianna’s potential.

Uncle Bruce Banner🧬 (FC: Mark Ruffalo)

Role: Bruce is Jen Walters’ (She-Hulk) cousin, and she is Leo Strange's partner, making Bruce to be Estella’s brother-in-law. His relationship with Marianna is a bit more distant, but he’s still a significant figure in the family. Bruce's connection with Marianna is more through his bond with Jen and Leo than direct blood relations, but he’s still a beloved member of the family.

Dynamic with Marianna:

Intellectual Connection: Bruce would offer Marianna a space to discuss her inner world, especially as it relates to understanding herself and her place in the family. While he’s less likely to push her to take responsibility for her actions like Maria Hill or Natasha, he would help her see her own emotional struggles with clarity and might encourage her to think more deeply about how her actions affect those around her.

Compassionate Advice: Bruce has likely dealt with plenty of personal demons (especially his Hulk side) and might help Marianna understand that it’s okay to feel conflicted, but it’s how you manage those feelings that matter. His empathetic side can help Marianna open up about her insecurities, making him a safe, calm uncle to confide in.

Subtle Mentor: Bruce would likely try not to give unsolicited advice, instead waiting until Marianna asks for guidance. But when he does step in, his advice is thoughtful and meaningful. He would encourage Marianna to accept and embrace all parts of herself, including the darker or more conflicted parts of her personality, rather than suppress them.

Aunt Maria Hill🔏 (FC: Cobie Smulders)

Role: Maria is Natasha Romanoff’s wife, and thus a direct aunt to Marianna. As a high-ranking SHIELD agent, Maria provides a grounded, strategic, and disciplined influence in Marianna's life. Maria and Natasha have built a life together, and as a result, Maria is a steady, reliable figure who complements Natasha’s more intense, hands-on approach.

Dynamic with Marianna:

Tough, Tactical Mentor: Maria is the one who teaches Marianna how to control her impulses and think strategically. When Marianna gets caught up in the thrill-seeking side of things, Maria helps her step back and assess the situation logically. She’ll teach Marianna to stay focused on the end goal, even when distractions arise.

Supportive in Silence: Maria’s love is often shown through her actions rather than words. She doesn’t always say "I love you" or express her feelings openly, but she’ll back up Marianna in any way she can—whether it’s taking care of logistics, offering advice on personal growth, or stepping in when Marianna needs a steady hand in an emergency.

Mentorship Through Structure: Where Natasha might focus more on physical endurance and emotional resilience, Maria provides structure. She’ll give Marianna guidance on how to stay organized, how to be disciplined in her pursuits, and how to approach challenges with a calm, measured mindset.

-----

Bonus: When Marianna was still very young, Thiago decided to mess around with her and make Stella annoyed soo...

Stella sat in front of toddler Mari and smiled, "Ma-ma, or Ma-mi. Can you please say one of the two, baby?"

Marianna nods as she giggles in response, "Pe-pa!"

"No! It's mami...wait, who told you 'Pepa'?"

"Tio!"

"Ugh, Thiago.."

Meanwhile Thiago is snickering in the living room to himself with Liane and Natasha.

-----

Of course we got a long list of family members but we will be here ALL day! So feel free to add onto this post with your own thoughts and additions. 😉

Pls let me know what u think 💭

Tags: @ask-starrk @missstrawbs2001 1 @purpleprincessonfyre @wizzzardofoz z @thechoooooosenone @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh h h @marvelsfavoriteuncle @elzabeth-stark @sci-fi-lexcon @jackiequick @blueboirick @gcthvile @aidanxsophxoxo @meiramel l l @trulysummersprivate

[pumpkinmetaphor]

um hello !!! i've never written an ask thingy before (chronic lurker) or seen much of tumblr(chronic following page lurker), so apologies in advance if i break some scary invisible asking rule. i just wanted to tell you how much i loved (am loving??) okay cupid. it's on the level of those pieces of media where the author is so skilled they are basically an enigma; made by the kinds of authors you can only learn information about through hard-to-access (and usually poorly translated) interviews. the idea that i could fanmail(???) someone of this caliber in the flesh(???) forced me to type this out (thank you parasites). i just wanted to say thank you for single-handedly inspiring me to get back into reading + writing after years of literary abstinence! genuinely, i'm shell-shocked by both your masterful use of language and how well you captured the essence of both canons in almost every single facet of the story. it really reads like something that could come from the mind of hatori herself, so all hats off to you! however, please take my "this is canon" yappings with a grain of salt because i lost my pirated pdf of the entire manga a year or so ago (and have not had the time to hunt down a new one, scrimp and save for the box set, or even read it if i had it). consequently, my handle on the canon is not what it once was and i could not remember the new year's party moment that's characterized as the kyokao inciter (kyoya gets a second pair of glasses) for the life of me. the kyokao focus seemed distinctly not-canon to me, but it could have been pulled out of an actual moment in the canon (the overall moment being very plausible). tldr (getting to the point woohoo!), was that inciting new years sequence real? was it a moment i somehow snubbed from my brain or a comment made in passing? i don't want to end an ask with a downright creepy interrogation, so i want to thank you again for putting such an incredible display of creativity on this earth. i'm telling you, hatori would be super flattered if she ever read this!!!

No worries at all! You're not breaking any sort of rule, thank you for sending me an ask! I'm glad you've been enjoying my fic so far and I'm so happy to have encouraged you to write and read again. Writing is so rewarding for me, and I hope it's rewarding for you too.

If you're looking for the manga if you do have time to reread at any point, this is all (to the best of my knowledge) scans from the official Viz Media translation: https://mangatoto.com/title/82197-ouran-koukou-host-bu-official/1583428-ch_1

(I have the box set, and anything I've cross checked is identical at least!)

The inciting NYE sequence is not canon though, that's from my brain! I wish it was, if even just for the kyokaoness of it all, but alas. That's me I'm afraid. There's such a big time gap from the last chapter of the manga (November 2007~) to Okay, Cupid! (2012) so I'm always falling for the urge to include a load of flashbacks haha.

Thank you so much for your praise though, I'm really glad you're enjoying the fic and finding it ic. My main intent with this fic was to grasp something as close to a continuation of canon as I could, within the limitations of it being a much shorter arc with no visuals. I'm glad that I'm apparently doing it justice. Thanks for reading! Feel free to send asks whenever you like!

[sharkneto]

hi!!!! I was rereading the shifting mirrors and holding it together since you finished joining together recently (it’s SO good, it’s so so SO good, your writing is always so well done and flows so well) and I had a couple questions. Sorry if this is weird - if you don’t want to answer them feel free to ignore this ask, I’m just curious!

1.) did you start writing joining together while you were still posting holding it together? a lot of the details I noticed in HIT were referenced in JT, and I was just kind of like ‘that’s a LOT of details to remember’ so I was wondering if you were working backwards !!

2.) have you ever thought about what happens at the end of HIT? do you think they would actually end up stopping the apocalypse, or would the commission try to come and correct them? I thought that was interesting - that the commission said they were done with five, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re done with the offshoot timeline ; if they hadn’t interfered prior, that would mean they were still on track for an apocalypse, right ? I like to speculate about this. with sheer strength of will I think that five would probably end up stopping it, mostly because he knows how to work through his rage rather than act on impulse again - and now he has the knowledge to try and connect the others so that viktor doesn’t feel so isolated.

3.) what was your favorite part of writing the story / what kept you motivated to keep it going ? I’ve started a couple chaptered fics, and then I get three or four chapters in and lose it completely.

I love, love, love the world youve created - I love the characters youve built and the personalities behind them. the dedication youve held on to to keep the series going is admirable; I can barely write 20k, much less hundreds of thousands of words. I was actually thinking of asking your permission to maybe write an offshoot of your offshoot (it might be the thing that gets me back into writing for tua) but idk if I’d have the imagination or creativity to make it nearly as compelling and fun as yours. Congratulations and great work on finishing it !! <333

this got long - feel free to ignore it if it’s overstepping or weird, lol !! I hope you’re doing well - have a great night, shark :)

Hey Toby! Glad you enjoyed it all so much and thanks for the kind words! It's a little surreal to have it done, JT has been a WIP almost as long as I've been into TUA.

I started writing JT before HIT. This whole series was supposed to be a Just For Me Fun Project while I rotted alone during the pandemic that I ended up sharing with permission from orsumfenix and encouragement from friends. I was a bit into JT, I think, when I started thinking about how fun it would be to get more siblings in here, and those musing became HIT. HIT got posted first because it had a lower barrier for entry, with more focus on the Hargreeves we know instead of OCs. So, because the stories were written more-or-less simultaneously, it was easy to reference one or set up something for the other. Working forwards and backwards, with the end of JT already written (in a rough draft) when I was writing HIT, so I knew where Rob, Sarah, and Number were coming off of at that point. (The tiny detail I'm most fond of is Allison in HIT noting that Number broke his nose at some point, and then in JT we get to see the stupid scenario in which he broke his nose.)

(rest under a readmore because I ramble)

I do have thoughts on what happens after HIT! More of a time jump, to Number's Apocalypse Week, and I've got words in a WIP started about that (and a few snips shared in my snip tag, although some I think I've changed some of the details, now). It goes... less smoothly than it should, for a guy who has (almost) all the details he needs. If motivation continues, I'll share that eventually. If it doesn't, I'll word-vomit an outline so at least people who are interested can know how it goes down. I don't see the Commission coming back - the people obsessed with Five are dead, and the organization is done with him. They don't have the resources to spare to keep going after him, so at least in Five and Number's timelines, they're out of the Commission's scope.

What kept me going was a combo of things. 2020-2022ish, I had a fuckton of time. I only worked three days a week because of covid protocols, I couldn't go anywhere because of covid, and I couldn't see anyone because of covid. I had four days a week to fill, and a lot of that time got filled with writing - all of HIT and the first draft of JT happened during this time, plus all the other fics I published throughout that time. What kept me going is that I was having a ton of fun writing and fun interacting with other people about my fics. Love, love, love talking about them (so never apologize for an ask like this, every fic writer is begging for an excuse to ramble like this). I liked thinking about the characters, thinking about Number doing mundane things I was doing made them more interesting, I liked thinking about Rob and Sarah's little romcom life, and I'm fascinated by Five's whole deal. My favorite part of writing these is Five (both versions of him) - thinking about him and how he'd react to x or y, how others react to him. I love that, at his core, he's kind of a loser. I love what an incredible vehicle for grief he is. He's a character of all time for me.

How to keep going, I don't have an easy answer for it. Some people outline, so they have the skeleton of what they're doing and where they're going. I'm not one of those people, I have an idea of the general shape and trajectory of the story and go from there, splitting up chapters as needed. I think it's important to not force it, or the writer's block gets worse and then you're stressed about writing instead of having fun with it, and that's no good - the point is to have fun. If you run out of steam, you run out of steam and you have to take a six-month hiatus until life calms down and you have words again (as a hypothetical example). Don't be afraid to poke at other ideas even if you have a giant fic unfinished. For having 25 fics on AO3, I have 35 other WIP files on my computer. Some of them have a couple hundred words, some have tens of thousands of words, some of them I'll come back to finish, some of them I won't. Such is life - some ideas have legs, others don't. I don't set out thinking "Oh this fic is going to be 50k words with 10 chapters". I just write until it feels done; sometimes that's 2k words, sometimes it's almost 200k words. The point I'm trying to make, here, is that we're all just fucking around having fun, and words flow easier when I'm remembering that and not stressing about being done or trying to finish for a self-imposed deadline. You've got it :)

Feel free to write in my little world! Would love to see what others are thinking about, what stuck with them. Just give me (and orsumfenix, if you use Number) a shoutout if you share it! And don't sell yourself short - I'm sure you've got great ideas and the chops to write them out. Don't compare yourself to me; you might write in a world I helped shape, but you've got your own voice and style to give it. I, for one (if you end up writing and sharing it), would love to hear your version of it all :)

[darkcircles4lyfe]

labor of love

Thinking back on the books and shows that have captivated me most over the years, I’ve noticed that a significant part of my enjoyment comes through glimpses of the creator themselves. The human, fallible, subjective, personal, and unique perspective that bleeds through. I'm forever trying to see things from the other way around instead of as the audience. As I become more familiar with a person’s work, I almost imagine myself as the close friend who can see bits and pieces of their loved one in everything the write. 

When I deal with fandoms or read and listen to media criticism, I inevitably get slapped in the face by the absence of this habit in other people. Maybe it’s because of concepts like “entertainment” and “consumption” making art into a product we spend our money on, and therefore we feel it owes us something. Maybe it’s the trend of pretending arbitrary differences in taste are actually somehow a basis for objective criticism. Regardless, even though I see plenty of reminders all over fandom spaces encouraging people to just enjoy things without worrying about whether they have some sort of intellectual merit, I don't see much acknowledgement of the creator’s point of view here. 

So let’s talk about creative work as what it is: somebody’s dream, which brewed in the dark and solitary chambers of their mind, real but invisible to the outside world. By some miracle of good fortune and incredibly hard work, that dream is made accessible to us, the audience. It’s difficult to express how surreal that really is. Not all media is like this, of course. But sometimes you can see when a story is made with love, that the creator is so in awe of this miracle that they bring all of themselves into it. When that happens, I too fall in love, and preference no longer seems to matter. It’s not, “I enjoy this thing because it’s so ME,” it’s more, “I enjoy it because it’s so THEM.”  

I worry sometimes that I have rose-tinted glasses on, but here’s the thing. We seem to over-associate criticism with logic, and praise with delusion, when in reality they are both limited. What I’m talking about here is neither. Sorry if this sounds cheesy, but I think “to love,” means “to know.” It’s where flaws and strengths blend together into a whole that is understood as it is cherished. 

All these various observations have been tumbling around in my head more and more since I’ve gotten into this funny little thing called Boku no Hero Academia. It’s so popular, so polarizing, it draws in such a wide range of opinions from so many different kinds of people. I find it fascinating to watch, but, like I just said, it also tends to slap me in the face. Not out of personal offense, mind you. More than anything I’m stunned by how disconnected a lot of people are from this human element, whether they are being negative or positive. Even if they know enough to invoke the name of Horikoshi, they treat him like more of a figure than a real person. 

It’s true none of us can actually truly know him. However, I think that while the author/audience relationship is a somewhat parasocial one, it’s worth acknowledging the mutuality of it as well. Let me take you all on a little journey to bring “the creator” down to Earth. 

First, a few plain facts: Before bnha, Horikoshi was able to get two other manga into serialization: Oumagadoki Zoo and Barrage. The former lasted 37 chapters from 2010 to 2011. Barrage lasted 16 chapters, in 2012. Juxtapose this with Boku no Hero Academia, which as of writing this, has been running for over 370 chapters spanning 8+ years since 2014. Horikoshi is currently 36 years old (born in 1986). 

Now let’s go back even further. His first one-shot was published in 2007, when he was 21. It’s called Tenko, and you can read it in English here. Most obviously, we can see that this Tenko character was later adapted to the Tenko we know in bnha, with a similar power, backstory, and appearance. But I actually think there are a few other ways we can draw comparisons from this genesis of Horikoshi’s career, all the way to the present. 

Here is the intro that prefaces the 2007 one-shot:

^I get chills looking at this, and it makes me grin, no joke. Please take a moment to read all the little tidbits. It sounds like the intentionally foreshadowing first scene of a famous person’s biopic, but no one had a clue back then. I just find that so hilarious and moving at the same time.

So think of the Tenko one-shot as a window into who Horikoshi was as an artist and a storyteller pre- pro industry, with the assumption that certain aspects of his work are probably simultaneously a bit more upfront but also underdeveloped. You know, like a kid. There’s both honesty and naivety there. I can also think back to being around 21 myself (only a few years ago lol), about the stories I was writing in school, the workshop classes I was in with other people my age, what they were writing, the things that were important to us that we discussed informing our work. It’s a formative time, right?

One of the primary things I notice about the Tenko one-shot is that it centers themes of power, heroism, and trauma, and has a resolution which involves bridging misunderstandings. 

It’s all very ideological, but also full of raw emotion. I read somewhere (sorry can’t remember where) Horikoshi saying that in formulating his idea for the ending of bnha, he has kept asking himself, what does it truly mean to be a hero? It seems he started asking that question way back in 2007, through this little story about swords and their wielders. The Tenko one-shot acknowledges that people and power are morally complicated, as is the idolization of heroes. The ending is hopeful, and looks ahead to times changing for the better by the will of progressively-minded and determined people. 

This reminds me of the current arc of the bnha manga, and how the whole story might eventually end. Horikoshi has shown us that the villains are worthy of sympathy, that they are a product of society’s willful ignorance, that “heroes” have also done abhorrent things. But he has also embraced the pure optimism of youth. He seems eager to ask the big questions about right and wrong, and present us with both ambiguity AND certainty. The final fights are not at all a contest of strength, and there are no winners and losers. I’m very curious to see how far he takes this. I’m sure it will ruffle some feathers, and leave some people unsatisfied, but that’s probably a good thing.

The other major thing I notice in the one-shot is the character Hana. Now, as she shares her name with one of the main characters in Oumagadoki Zoo, and they are also similar in personality, that could be where the comparison ends. However, that’s nothing to say Horikoshi didn’t continue her themes elsewhere. The Hana in the Tenko one-shot is primarily preoccupied with her goal of becoming a warrior, and she was inspired some time ago by a warrior who saved her. This other warrior, conicidentally, turns out to be a brutal, a-moral, self-proclaimed demon, and he actually doesn’t take Hana seriously. In some ways, this reminds me of Hawks with his own idols, Endeavor and Lady Nagant, and more generally the idea in bnha that someone you look up to might not be all you imagine them to be. Like All Might and his hidden suffering. Or like Ochako looking up to Izuku up until his solo arc, after which she proclaimed, “special powers are one thing, but there’s no such thing as a special person.” 

Speaking of Ochako. Hana’s primary source of angst in the story is that since she is a woman, her “masculine” ambition is laughed at and dismissed. Her dialogue with other characters is very direct about this, which I find pretty interesting. 

You can really feel her frustration and see the blatant misogyny in how she’s treated. Even though things are stated kinda bluntly, it feels genuine, ya know? Note that she also wears men’s clothes, and nothing about her appearance is catered to the “male gaze.” I mention all this because to me it contextualizes Horikoshi’s more recent female characters. We can infer that he carried this perspective on, but in subtler and more nuanced ways that might not be immediately noticed. They may sometimes look like shonen stereotypes and be influenced by a misogynistic world, but this is likely an act of parody and/or criticism on Horikoshi’s part. For example Ochako’s fight in the sports festival illustrates a similar point to Hana’s struggle as Katsuki is the only one who takes Ochako seriously while other male classmates see her and other female opponents as inherently weak or potential love interests. 

Hana remains ambitious, fostering her own motivation beyond her previous idol, and her ultimate goal is to help people. She reminds me so much of Ochako’s recent convictions. Ochako is fully herself now, and I’m confident her fight with Toga will show this even more, in a way that is much more direct. Since ch 374, I anticipate we may be getting confirmation of things pretty soon, so I wanted to restate that ASAP. 

I’ve said this before, but it really does trouble me how a lot of people assume so much about bnha based on other shonen, disregarding the fact that Horikoshi is his own person. This either leads to undo criticisms or expectations that will likely not be delivered on. It makes me sad because I want people to enjoy this story for what it is. I hope this is a reminder that although it may seem on the surface like Horikoshi is rehashing the same old thing, his work really is a labor of love, of knowing. It is an homage, which both celebrates and deconstructs. Please remember that for the day when folks will be scrambling trying to figure out how we got here. Ironically, the signs were there all along, from the start of Horikoshi’s career, if you only care to look. 

[redrobin-detective]

Cloudmates

Zuko had felt alone most of his life.

He didn’t have many friends growing up in the palace, mostly leeching off the ones Azula brought home from school. Azula was a nightmare to talk to, you never knew what she was thinking and every word was a potential weapon in her arsenal. Father certainly didn’t make him feel like he belonged. Even Uncle, for all his patience and kindness, sometimes seemed to look past Zuko, to the man he could be rather than the scared kid he was. Mother had been the only one who seemed to truly see Zuko. The best parts of his childhood were spent describing whatever interest of the moment he had while his mother combed his hair and encouraged him to continue. He’d never felt more comfortable, happy and free as he had in those small, simple moments. Once she left, there really wasn't anyone Zuko felt comfortable being himself with. 

Even when his father made him the most recognizable person in the world, Zuko had never felt more invisible. He dug into the hurt of his wounds, both physical and emotional, and put up the front everyone was expecting of the banished prince on an impossible mission. He felt like an actor in a play, playing a part he hadn’t rehearsed and wasn’t prepared for. The more he tried to mold himself into the kind of prince his father wanted of him, the more he wanted to claw out of his own skin. 

Leaving the Fire Nation and joining the Avatar wasn’t supposed to change anything. He felt more settled, more sure that he was finally on the right path but he still felt like a puppet in someone else’s story. Zuko was prepared to do his duty to the world by training the Avatar before retreating back to solitude. He wasn’t prepared for Sokka.

It started with swords. Sokka had been incredibly unsubtle in his admiration of them from the moment Zuko had joined the group. He’d probably thought the blades had just been for show and thought it would be funny to see an ashmaker clumsily try to use them. Zuko will admit to a bit of cruel satisfaction when he thoroughly trounced Sokka in their spar. The feeling didn’t last, it made him feel too much like Azula. Luckily, Sokka didn’t take the loss badly. In fact, he looked downright ecstatic. 

From that point on, it wasn’t unusual to see Sokka eagerly bouncing on the sidelines as he waited for Aang’s firebending lessons to conclude. Zuko thought he would be annoyed at the intrusion on his time but instead he found himself almost looking forward to it. And if he ended Aang’s training early a few times, well, he doubted the young monk was bothered by it.

Working together and almost dying at the Boiling Rock was what really cemented their relationship. Now it wasn’t just swords, Sokka seemed to come to him for everything. They talked constantly, about anything and everything. Zuko thinks he spoke more over a few days in that temple than he ever did in his weeks back at the palace. Just when he’d thought he’d run out of words or opinions, Sokka would ask another question and more would pour out. 

The water tribe boy was creative and filled with ideas from the bombastic to the mundane. Zuko was a living furnace, stubborn and was pretty decent at physics and calculations. It didn’t take long for them to start supplementing their discussions with tools and inventions. He’d always done things for grand purposes, the idea of just fiddling with pieces of junk while talking seemed an insane waste of time. Zuko loved it.

When he was with Sokka, Zuko felt both smarter and more stupid than he’d ever been. The best part was he didn’t even care which was which.

“We’re - I’m so, so sorry,” Zuko apologized, shaking and fully prepared to beg for mercy on his hands and knees. Sokka was still partially stuck to the wall as Aang and Toph tried to free him, leaving Zuko the unenviable task of preventing Katara from killing them. Katara had gotten more lenient of him since he’d first joined but he didn’t want to test his luck. She was frowning, her lips pressed tightly together as she tried using her bending to pull at the sticky tangle of goop he and Sokka had made out of her hair. To be honest, in the later half of the experiment, he’d plain forgotten what it had been for in the first place.

“You-” she snapped before taking a deep breath and calming herself. “It’s fine,” she said through gritted teeth that said nothing about the situation was fine. “I know this is mostly Sokka’s handiwork. I’ve had to deal with his nonsense my whole life, you’re just helping make the explosions bigger.”

Zuko winced as Katara turned herself away from him. “You know, Sokka has been the oldest boy in our tribe for years since our men went to war. Plus Sokka has always been a bit, well, you know how he is. Until we left the South Pole, he’d never really had any other guys his age to do his weird things with.”

“What about Aang?” Zuko blinked, confused by the non sequitur. Was he going to be made into an ice kabob or not? He needed to ask Sokka what they’d been making before he could die.

“Oh Sokka loves Aang but Aang isn’t going to help him use my best cooking pot to make some sort of spirit blasted nightmare goo,” Katara sighed roughly. “You're off the hook today, just keep my idiot brother safe and please try to tone down, whatever it is you two are always getting up to.”

Zuko didn’t understand the interaction. He asked Sokka about it who also didn’t seem to understand it. They talked at length, again, about crazy prodigy younger sisters. Then Sokka started questioning where they went wrong with their concoction. They sat and worked through the problem until Angi’s blessing could be seen cresting over the horizon.

All too soon, the comet was upon them and the war was over. Zuko knows it was incredibly, horribly selfish of him to say that he wished it could have gone on just a little bit longer. For the first time he had friends; he felt safe and seen in their company. There had never been someone like Sokka in his life - not since his mother - but he wouldn’t dream of talking to mom about some of the things he’d told Sokka. 

Zuko had whispered to the other boy his deepest fears, his regrets, the sources of his shame and pain. He’d told stories he’d never spoken aloud and it was like purging his body of poison, painful but necessary. Zuko had presented all of his weaknesses on a platter for Sokka to abuse and instead got understanding, some very angry tears on his behalf and trust to hold Sokka’s own secrets. It felt so freeing to place so much of himself in another person’s hands and to have it be protected instead of broken. 

The first week after the comet was filled with joy and anxiety as they celebrated a world without war while also struggling to actually end the war. He worked tirelessly during the day, sending out letters and pulling back troops and letting Katara heal him at night. Throughout everything, his friends were always close at hand. It was the most peace Zuko had ever felt in his entire life. He could have lived in those small moments forever. If he’d known it could be like this, he’d have defected the first moment he’d landed at the South Pole. 

Of course, nothing good ever stayed for long with Zuko. Aang had Avatar duties, Toph was obligated to see her parents and the Water Tribe siblings needed to get back to their slowly rebuilding tribe. Zuko’s heart ached at the thought of seeing them leave, of being alone again. He loved them all in their own way but Zuko could admit that he would miss Sokka most of all. Besides Uncle, he was probably Zuko’s most treasured person. 

On the morning they were planning to leave, Zuko was walking down the long hallways of his empty palace. He was bracing himself for the pain and loneliness that was to come. He should have known better than to get attached but he had always been a slow learner. His main goal was to avoid crying until after they were airborne. 

“Hey Fire Lord Jerkbender,” Sokka grinned, flinging an arm around Zuko’s shoulder. He still wasn’t all that used to friendly touch but Sokka always seemed to be the exception. He leaned into it, savoring it before the long goodbye he didn’t know when he’d see the end to. “I hope you’re ready for some tears because Aang is absolutely gonna start crying which will set Katara off and they’ll just become a big puddle. Toph will get punchy and Suki will make the whole thing way more intense than it needs to be. It’s gonna take forever, might even be pushed back to lunch and we’ll have to do it all over again.”

“And what about you?” Zuko asked casually, like he didn’t care. Not at all.

“I want to say I’ll be big and tough and act like it doesn’t affect me,” Sokka shrugged with the arm wrapped around Zuko’s shoulder. “But Katara and I have never been separated for more than a few days since we were born and Aang and Toph have basically become my younger siblings who I would literally die to protect and I know Suki is coming back but-”

“Sokka, what are you talking about?” Zuko asked, shooting him a look. “You’re going with.”

“Oh uh no, I was actually planning on staying with you, here in the Fire Nation.” Zuko gaped at him and Sokka scratched at his hair sheepishly. “The others know which is why this is gonna drag out and I’m only now realizing I forgot to talk to you about it so uh, hey, can I crash at your stupidly big palace for a while? If, uh, that’s okay with you?”

Zuko ought to scream for joy, sequester Sokka deep in the palace before he could change his mind. If he wasn’t already in the process of returning all the lands his family had conquered, he’d offer them to Sokka right now just to keep him here. 

“Don’t you want to go home? See your family?” He asked instead because more than anything, he just wanted his friend to be happy.

“I mean yeah and I will but Zuko, I can’t leave you here to run a country all by yourself. You’re a fancy dancy firebender but you missed out on the fine art of politics-bending,” Sokka said with a little smirk. “I miss things about home but it seems, I don’t know, kinda small now after all I’ve seen. I can’t just go back to making ice forts and penguin sledding like none of this ever happened. Besides, it would feel wrong being there without my sword bending partner, inventing buddy, human heat pack and best friend?”

“I’m your best friend?” Zuko asked quietly.

“Well yeah,” Sokka blushed. “Like the world leader stuff is cool and important but I’m really just staying for you. Don’t tell Toph this but you’re kind of my favorite member of Team Avatar.”

Zuko’s goal is thoroughly on fire. He didn’t even get to the goodbyes before he started crying.

They celebrate the one year anniversary of Ozai’s defeat in Ba Sing Se. It had been hard to make arrangements for everyone to be here but it had been worth it. In the back of the Jasmine Dragon was a small, well maintained garden for outdoor seating on nice days. They’ve moved all the tables aside and were sprawled on the grass, sitting around a fire pit. Just like the good old days, only better.

Sokka had been telling an overly exaggerated story about Fire Sage Reijiro’s reaction to catching Sokka trying to steal scrolls from the Dragon Bone Catacombs. He was lounging in Zuko’s lap; he expertly dodged Sokka’s flailing hands as he told his story, coaxing bigger laughs out of his audience.

“I still have no idea how you smooth talked your way out of that,” Zuko sighed at the end. “I thought I was gonna have to send you back to the South Pole extra crispy.” Everyone laughed at that. Sokka had taught him how to tell jokes now, one of the many things he’d learned over the past year. 

“You know, Zuko,” Aang said with a thoughtful smile, “I think you and Sokka are cloudmates.”

“Huh?” Zuko and Sokka asked at the same time. He gently brushed aside some loose strands of hair from Sokka’s face so it didn’t get in his eye.

“Is this a romance thing because I know I’m rather impressive but I don’t know if I have what it takes to make an honest man of the Fire Lord,” Sokka said with an eye roll. Zuko flicked his ear.

“I mean it can be,” Aang said, leaning back to look at the pink clouds floating above them. “It’s… How do I explain? Sometimes when you look up at the clouds, you can’t tell one from the other. They become so blended that it eventually becomes just one big cloud. Cloudmates are people who are made of the same stuff, who get along so easily, so naturally it’s like one person in two bodies.” The rest of them blinked and also started looking at the heap of clouds.

“I’m intrigued,” Sokka nodded, stroking at his chin. “State your evidence for the court, Avatar.”

“I don’t know if you can have evidence for this sort of thing, you just feel it,” Aang shrugged. “I guess I first thought you guys might be as far back as the Western Air Temple. I mean, you did kinda try and steal away my firebending teacher, Sokka. After all this time, seeing you two more, I think I’m certain now. You’re your own person, with unique ideas and experiences but you’re also something else, something better, together. You’re not just Sokka or Zuko but you’re also Zuko&Sokka.” Aang continued.

“I mean we all are made up of the same bits, bone and blood and squishy organs,” Sokka frowned thoughtfully, his eyes flicking up to Zuko’s. “What do you think, Your Royal Fieriness? Is my cloud all mixed up with your cloud?”

Zuko wasn’t sure he was a cloud. He’d been a victim, a prince, a traitor, a teacher and the biggest idiot the world had ever seen. He’d felt like he’d been so many things in so little time, too much of him and his shame piling up to fit into one person. But to think he was something like Sokka, by far one of the cleverest, bravest, kindest people he’d known, maybe there was hope for him yet. 

“I suppose,” Zuko said flippantly, “that your cloud and my cloud may intermingle but only if you promise when you get back to the South Pole that you will prepare a room for me. As Fire Lord, I need to see for myself that diplomatic matters with my fellow nations are being handled correctly.” He grinned down at his friend. “I will need to speak to someone important about reparations and moving forward. Know someone who can work with me?”

“Oh, I think I know a guy,” Sokka laughed back. Overhead, the pink dusted clouds gently moved past in a big pile, separate but intrinsically linked.

[bizlybebo]

oh my god im not your girlfriend but i NEED your normal album analysis omg (im normal about will wood btw)

HI OH MY GOD I TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS I AM. S ORRY

AUGHH this is definitely an excuse to ramble and i am TAKING it thank you so much for this

im fucking obsessed with the normal album. like sosoos much. it's such a subversive and creative and just. sort of album that you've never seen before, i think it seriously doesn't get the credit it deserves augh

first off here's a link to a 3-hour long analysis of the normal album that i haven't actually watched yet

here's where im cutting the post off before i start incoherently rambling about every song so that i don't curse people's dashes with having to Scroll for a million miles

THIS IS. A LONG ASS POST. LIKE 2.3K WORDS. SO IF YOU CLICK ON THIS BE WARNED LMAO.

i don't expect this to get more than like 2-3 notes this is literally just an open ramble about the normal album cause i got an excuse to.

Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary-Bell Township / Vampire Culture is SUCHH a good intro to the album. like. not even going into the lyricism it's fucking so insanely well-composed in a musical sense, I LOVE the samples and the immediate, like, doorbell sound at the very beginning because it just. introduces the ENTIRE album so well.

and the way it introduces will wood's motif of "Everybody's all up in my goddamn business" is SOSOO good.

The first half or so of the song is very illustrative of the typical, like, nuclear family, with these sounds inspired by a very upbeat, like... almost 60s-70s kind of music? It's a very creative song but it's tune and melody are also somewhat restrictive for a decent part of it, expressing perfectly what will wood's saying about this kind of lifestyle. If that makes sense?

and THEN the sudden switch into vampire culture is INSANE. im fucking AUGHGHGH over it.

It draws back on this stereotypical, happy lifestyle where something just seems a bit off and leans ENTIRELY into the uncanny-ness of it all. it's a sudden jump into random tempo switches, fucking just making all the noise he wants, and screaming "fuck your culture".

like the symbolism is so clear yet so subtle. I fucking love it.

and I am

OBSESSED. with this outro.

and THEN the little 'love me, normally' melody at the end is fucking INSANEEE augh. there was literally no better way to start this album off.

2econd 2ight 2eer (that was fun, goodbye) is EASILY one of my fucking favorites on this album. like. god.

IMMEDIATELY starting off with "take it with a pillar of salt, H.A.L.T., it's not my fault", illustrates the point of this song so well.

HALT is the acronym Hungry Angry Lonely Tired. It encourages you to "halt" and think before making an important decision and evaluate-- are you any of these four things?

And it's often been suggested by psychiatrists to a lot of people dealing with mental health issues.

The reason why I'm so obsessed with this lyric is because this entire song is basically accepting, "hey. i'm mentally ill. like i am. FUCKED in the head. this isn't something i can't escape, not really. i'm learning to be okay with this instead of searching my whole life for a cure. i'm never going to be able to assimilate fully into normal society."

and it's mixed with this very, like. Rudimentary view of how society views mentally ill people / those struggling with more severe psychological conditions. The chorus is literally "I'm just a psycho babe; come and go out my mind"

It's almost like this expression of mania, what with the upbeat tempo and the dark lyrics.

"I didn't lose it, I set it free" is another lyric in this song i just. augh. love. love love lvoe vloevleo this whole album. this is DEFINITELY the song i could say the MOST about. but i feel like i'd almost have to save that for another, more organized post.

Laplace's Angel / Hurt People? (Hurt People!)

AUGGGHHHHH.

god.

The title Laplace's Angel comes from the idea of Laplace's Demon, which concerns the whole idea of determinism, etc. It's essentially the idea that if a demon knew the position of everything, everywhere, the laws of physics would allow it to predict and understand the future.

it. doesn't make a lot of sense to me tbh.

BUT.

i understand determinism in a sense, and it's basically the idea that free will doesn't exist and that we and our actions are. products of the things that have already happened to us.

That's the best way I can explain it.

And I think that all of this, tied together with how the song is discussing important topics of morality, etc. is just. So cool and artistic and. God.

It references this guttural, primal sort of fear and this sort of "predictability" of the human psyche with the lyric that throws the entire song into it's first chorus-- said lyric being:

"Run your diagnostic tests, it's posited; nobody dies agnostic, though we still dial 9-1-1."

AND THEEENNNN. the chorus itself. augh.

You could go on all day about the main voice, "Could you take a look at me?" but i'm more in love with the backing chorus--

"It's the norm for animals, it's the norm for chemicals -- It's the norm for particles, eye for eye, for tooth"

and you can see a lot of references to other philosophies such as "an eye for an eye".

AND THEN the bridge being "wash your hands of where you been until you flood the second floor - neatly fold your skeletons but still can't shut the closet door"

essentially just being this greater commentary on morals as a whole, and how, in a sense, morality is just. subjective. Like I don't think I have the skill to illustrate just how insightful this song is on the topic of morality. god.

I / Me / Myself !

so obviously i / me / myself is a remaster of sorts of i / me / myself by Will Wood and the Tapeworms (versus just solo Will Wood)

BUT I LVOE THIS SONG. SO MUCH.

Will Wood wrote this song, essentially, about wishing he could express his femininity properly, right? how he felt like people refused to accept his identity as cisgender and heterosexual because he was a crossdresser, and very proud of it?

i fucking love that. he just puts absolutely everyone on blast for that. he's a cis dude who's also fucking with gender and fashion and art and he's letting people understand that.

but here's where i get personal because i ADORE the song as a lesbian who doesn't consider himself cisgender in the slightest.

I've spent my whole life wishing I could "be a girl" despite being born and raised female-- I simply just didn't fit into the mold of traditional femininity and, growing up in a religious background, that just made it even more difficult to fit in.

So I LOVE the lyric "i wish i were a girl".

AND THE BRIDGE IM JUST OBSESSED WITH TOO

"Eating your prosthetic, meet your anesthetic criteria, pathetic seeing you become acetic -- Say my name like a slur, but I've been called worse; I've heard it all before, no this isn't a first -- Let me be the void you fill with taxidermy fingerprints, taxonomize our differences -- I am quantum physics, my witness brings me to existence"

I think I just. need to leave that there. Cause it says more than I ever could. rahgaghag

and then closing out with the repeated line "all identities are equally invalid; don't you think that there's a chance that you could live without it?" is such cool like. food for thought yk?

idk i love the view Will Wood gave here, honestly. Especially knowing that he's very accepting of the lgbt+ community.

...well, better than the alternative

HOLY SHIT I AM. AUGH. UNWELL OVER THIS SONG.

see, the way I view it, is this attempt to just. Play into a normal, quiet life, despite EVERYTHING mentioned previously in the album. It's about trying to shove beside everything else for a normal existence.

It ties into suburbia overture, i / me / myself, and 2econd 2ight 2eer soso well. it's the perfect "halfway point of the entire album".

another lyric that i just HAVE to throw in here "This isn't my first kiss, it's better to be lost than loved, now isn't it?"

i'm mainly just. obsessed with that because of how aromantic it sounds. even though i know that's not how it was intended.

but i LOVE. THIS SONG. AUGH i love them all obviously but this one has such a special place in my heart.

It's asking somebody to "play along with" you (referring to the normal life thing) and THEN the whole "I just wanna do what's right by you"

it's just. tying together all the previous songs and like. expressing, essentially. "I'm fucked up. Are you willing to put up with me?"

or maybe im just yapping about absolutely nothing on this one idk

--

I don't know much more about the second half of this album, but I feel like diving into the lyrics of Outliars and Hyppocrates : a fun fact about apples is something i definitely need to do soon. i love this song's musical composition and.

"Don't wanna be human, anyways -- who pilots all these crude machines" ?? BANGER FUCKING LYRIC.

It's essentially just-- "the things that make you special are the things that make you strange"

meaning. get weirder with it. get fucking weirder with your art.

BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA is probably my favorite song on this album in terms of, musical composition and noise. I've pored over these lyrics soosososo many times and a lot of it goes over my head but over time I've started to understand a LOT of it and i just. augh.

also this song has such strong animatic vibes?? this is the one that makes me think SO much about my current writing project and i adore it for that.

I wish i was like. able to coherently express my thoughts on the lyrics of this song but they're just so complicated and. wow. it's. I think Will Wood totally outdid himself with this one because this is the most. Perfectly tied-together song on this entire album.

HOLY SHITTT

MARSHA, THANKK YOU FOR THE DIALETICS, BUT I NEED YOU TO LEAVE

OKAY I LIED I CAN TALK ABOUT THIS ONE ALL FUCKING DAY.

GOD.

I'M AUTISTIC. IN THE DIAGNOSIS PROCESS. AND LET ME TELL YOU I AM FUCKING OBSESED WITH THIS ONE SO MUCH.

Essentially, under our current system, any inability to perfectly execute a grueling 9-5, 5 days a week, on top of the mental labor of schooling and debt etc. is considered a disability. "Actual" diagnosed people are just the canaries in the coal mines, we're struggling soso much daily and it's just.

It's expanding upon this idea of microlabels and how Will Wood feels about them, and i honestly do think that, even though it's not the intent of this song, it can open up a conversation about how autism is not a "silly" thing. yk how the jokes have essentially become "I have (normal personality trait), is this... 'the tism'?" or the obsession with the fucking. god. "Neurospicy" thing.

^and how this improper culture/misunderstanding of neurodivergency and the need to make it more sanitized/palatable feeds into consumerism. but i can. go on a rant about that some other day.

But basically, with the lyric that "Dr., what's my prognosis if the study shows that: disease is in the eye of the beholder?" it expresses this sort of disdain, almost, with greater society's view on psychiatric abnormalities. if that. makes sense.

and then it's this constant repetition of "Back in my day ; ; ; we just drank ourselves to death. And we fucking liked it". It's also jabbing at this idea of how, in previous generations, you were generally just told to suck it up or you were left behind/ostracized entirely. It's about older generations not understanding the surge of mental health issues as of late. Closing with "We just bled out in the bed".

I love this song. So much. But I feel like this is all I'm gonna say about it because honestly this sort of discourse. Tires me out so much.

AAA OKAY

MY FUCKING LOVE MY DEARIE MY SHINING STAR I LOVE THIS NEXT SONG MORE THAN I LOVE ANYTHING ELSE ON THIS FUCKING PLANET

Love, me Normally

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THIS IS THE ONE. THIS IS THETHE THE THE THEHT EH *THE* ONE.

THIS IS THE SONG THAT I UNDERSTAND THE MOST. THIS SONG IS LITERALLY ME. ME ME EM EM ME EAUGGHGH

HOLY SHIT.

I feel like so much has already been said on this song. I want to highlight, specifically, the bridge.

This is. my favorite piece of lyricism Will Wood has EVER put out and i fucking mean that.

---

"Now this is the part of the song where I like to talk to my audience

I like to tell 'em there's something I want from you hep cats tonight

I want you to look to your left, look to your right

Your 12 o'clock, three o'clock, six o'clock, nine o'clock, rock around the clock tonight

And I want you to find those points of no return, those singularities

Those burning rings of fire in the beautiful pupils of the beautiful eyes of the beautiful

Boy, girl, neither, both, or in-between that you brought with you tonight

And I want you to tell 'em how you really feel

I want you to tell 'em that you love the way they so seamlessly, like-a-dream-fully

So beautifully, oh so dutifully

Jam that square peg in the round hole in their heart

I want you to tell 'em that you love the way

That they don't stick out like sore middle fingers

That they crawl their way up the side of the bell curve

Stick their flag in the peak, and slide their way back down

I want you to tell them that you love the way that they're not maladaptive

Not malcontent, not malignant or maleficent, but rather that you love them

Exactly the way that everybody else is!"

---

now is it. unnecessary. to paste it all in here? certainly. but i just. love this so much.

the constant motif of mentioning the bell curve is amazing, too. I love this album because of it's essential... just. Being so outside of the normal bounds of society that all you can do is sit back and observe it all like "huh".

this is another ramble that i'd have to save for another post because this is the one that i understand the most.

I personally like to view this one through the lens of aromanticism. cause i can.

Now I'm not gonna go too much into detail on Memento Mori: the most important thing in the world cause BOY is it existential.

but i do think it's a beautiful way of tying this entire album together.

this entire album is almost like a note to humanity in general, this whole "you may not listen to me ever again, but give me these 45 minutes of your life to change your outlook on all of it".

Despite this album being subjective and subversive? Deviating so strongly from the norm that the average person, hell, even most avid fans, could never begin to relate to most of it?

It has this sort of... span of the human existence, in a sense. It understands it on such a small level, and it speaks bast the barriers that we usually don't try to cross. It just says shit that nobody else has said before.

I <3 this album. So insanely much.

I think that it's honestly one of the better pieces of music period that have been put out in these last few years. nothing else is as lyrically, linguistically, or musically different. aughgg

thank you for the ask if you read to the end youre fucking insane.