#its also the step right before me getting back into writing everyone please manifest

[loverofallthingssmart]

i'd LOVE to hear your thoughts about the song twins.

anon ur everything thank u for fueling my song twins obsession mwah <3 here u go

sidenote: these are mostly about hair, friendship, and piercings....something that says a lot about me right now

okay first OFF idc tams shorter than linh!! they're both like decently tall but everyone thinks tam is short because linh is just like that type of tall where youre all limbs..like zendaya so everyone looks incredibly short compared to her

idk if he's the younger twin which drives him mad or if he's older AND still shorter but either way he gets made fun of <3

re my last post (that was supposed to go here but sleeby eesha cannot press buttons properly and apparently queue and draft are too close)

linh does NOT have her ears pierced but has an insane amount of piercings like she has a septum, both nostrils, AND a nose bridge piercing, she does NOT have snakebites (lip piercings) bc there's a LINE but she is considering eyebrow piercings to match her bridge one

tam has double lobe piercings on both sides, a helix on his right, a tragus on both sides, a daith on his left ear and he's planning to get an industrial whenever linh gets her eyebrow ones. he does NOT have guages bc like linh said, there's a LINE that shouldn't be crossed

like tam and linh have the same amount of piercings except linh has it everywhere but her ears and tam has it only on his ears

tam: how do u BREATHE linh: how do u HEAR (they're sooo 🤝)

both of them have dimples-linh's are incredibly easy to spot because she smiles all the time but tam only has one on his left side and he purposefully makes it so that when he's not scowling or anything his smirks go to the right so no one can tell (sophie is the first to discover it but no one believes that tam has a dimple so she purposefully tries to make him smile properly in front of everyone so they believe her!! she is only believed when at a sleepover keefe trips and falls flat on his face after boasting abt his balance and tam can't help but grin incredibly wide)

enough bangs tam let's talk about bangs linh, both song twins are diy hairdressers to each other, look me in the eye and tell me the two ppl who melted their registry pendants and decided to dye their hair with it are not...u cant!

so they decided to get bangs together, except tam went HARD and thankfully linh can make it so that it doesn't look so out of place. i can't describe his hair but know it looks good <3

linh in support of tam, decided to want lowkey with simply face framing "bangs" but unfortunately..instead of to the bottom of your nose/your chin which is where they're supposed to be cut, tam cuts them near the TOP of her nose, so linh has the world's tiniest face frame ever with parts of her hair that are just incredibly short. sometimes she can take them and spread them across her forehead into wispy bangs which are cute on some people! unfortunately for her, only tam can rock bangs so she has to wait MONTHS for them to grow out into true face frame bangs (source: me except i went to a hairdresser and when she asked me nose or chin, i said nose and she cut them like that...i loved them though <3 always missing them)

linh always has the urge to bleach her hair to dye it blonde but is talked down by tam every time, because in his words "there are too many blondes in our friend group do not leave me in black-haired superiority to be like every other bitch we know. including our significant others" (tam is dating keefe bc it's me and linh is dating whichever blonde makes you feel better) (sophie or marella bc i fully believe marella is naturally blonde but it's like a DARKK reddish strawberry blonde which counts !)

isn't it canon that it's hard for them to sleep without each other? if not WELL too bad it is now literally when they were little one of them could not sleep without the other next to them like literally impossible which was EVEN more amplified after they were away from home and it's gotten better now but they do find comfort in each other's presence and touch

little geniuses the both of them got their abilities YEARS before they're supposed to (im pretty sure i wrote in one of my fics that they got it when they were like 5?6? around there) ik it doesn't make sense bc oh but its weird that sophie got hers when she was five that's bc she's a telepath. telepaths are weird <3

tam's a NERDDDD i fully believe he's so interested in how everything works just like in general the nitty-gritty details of like lightleaping! and history of the animals and history of elves and astronomy all the things considered like boring or mundane and he bonds with sophie over wanting to know how everything works and they have hangouts with dex and fitz who explain to them what they want to know and sophie in turn tells them about how she learned it's supposed to happen with her human schooling (its me! you thought you wouldn't escape me making everyone friends? you're wrong!)

but like most nerds, he keeps his curiosity under lock and key hidden underneath his prickly attitude (something he and marella bond over because while marella loves to call him a nerd marella is literally THEE inner softie in the friend group like her and dex have a secret handshake tam is sworn to secrecy by the both of them not to say)

yes tam and linh are the first to know of each other's secrets but while tam can hide stuff from linh for YEARSS (his shove his feelings into a bottle mentality is showing) linh cannot keep anything a secret from tam and has ruined many surprise bday parties/gifts by this. the funny part is that it is ONLY with tam like u tell linh a secret involving pranking keefe and the only way you find out she knew is years after the prank happens

this is getting super long so i'll end it with this: they don't actually have a twin thing but they will say they have twin telepathy and have pre-rehearsed bits in their back pockets to freak people out

okay that's it im done i have more but ill save that for another day hope yall enjoyed this montrosity !!

[granulesofsand]

hello! im a system, and have been wondering if we may be a ramcoa survivor. id just like to preface this by saying this will likely be long as well as probably confusing, and to feel free to delete this or not respond if it's not something you're comfortable with. take care of yourselves above all else. ^^

also, apologies if i get anything wrong or say anything stupid, its not my intention to do so, and by no means am i an expert on this!

we're an osdd system, or at least think it's osdd. ive been researching ramcoa and programming and i think we may have gone through some of that. its quite hard to explain right now, especially since i don't want to overshare on anything or make anyone uncomfortable. but a decent amount of our experiences do align with those of programmed systems. im worried that i might just be convincing myself we can identify with the descriptions of certain programs or something. (i know that's confusing, my apologies)

it's hard to explain this and i know i was vague (i kept dissociating writing this and kept forgetting what i was getting at), but i hope that it makes at least some sense. if for any reason you wanna talk to me about this more, i don't mind sending a private message or another ask to you.

nevertheless, i hope you have a good day or night, and thank you for reading this!

Hello! The first part of this is your answer, the rest is boundaries for similar contact.

Answer

High levels of dissociation can present as lower level manifestations. I believe that any programmed system can call themselves Highly Complex.

I can’t say with this alone if your experiences are a result of programming, but they well might be. Please do reach out again, but also read the full post so we can communicate better.

Boundaries for asks:

I/we don’t live in your head like you do, and we will never be an authority on your internal workings. It’s okay if it’s not clear yet, or if you realize you came to the wrong conclusion.

It matters less what happened than how it affected you, and sometimes we can support you through that.

We are also traumatized. I’m still learning how to hold healthy interactions, and I don’t want to set a precedent that any of my system can always do so.

I like to talk to others with similar experiences. Not everyone in my system agrees, and we can’t respond well all the time. It may be a long while before we get back to you, and we cannot serve as emergency care.

We do try to say if something is too much or if we have to step away. We might not ever return a message, or only say that we cannot proceed.

If we do answer, we may be wrong. Maybe something true to one of us isn’t for you, and that’s fine. We appreciate others bringing up our mistakes, even if some of us are defensive.

With this information in mind, please do reach out to us. We only know how to answer asks publicly, so either use direct messaging or mark that you mean to speak in private. We can answer asks in separate posts if you don’t want your message widely available.

In short,

• Our opinions are not law

• Your experience takes priority

• We are far from perfect

• Responses may take time, no emergencies

• We might never respond

• We are fallible, mention our errors

• Use DMs or mention in asks for privacy

[gukyi]

the art of the rom-com | jjk

summary: FILM395, the art of the rom-com, was supposed to be an easy a with one of your favorite professors, but it’s not. it’s actually a sisyphean torture that comes in the form of fellow film student jeon jungkook, who has no problem responding to every one of your discussion posts about the consumerist ideals underlying every romance movie with his own paragraphs on the beauty of love like the hopeless romantic he is. and when the two of you find yourselves partnered up for your final project, which is to create a short film on rom-coms, jungkook decides to take it upon himself to show you what love is really like.

{enemies to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: film major!jungkook x film major!reader (female) genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, this is literally a rom-com in fic form word count: 33k warnings: college alcohol consumption, discussion board posts, emotionally constipated characters, film major shenanigans, blonde jungkook who’s also in a hip hop dance troupe, miscommunication, if you hate rom-coms do not read this fic

a/n: i am so so so excited to share this monster of a jungkook fic (tho let’s be real, 30k is pretty standard for me now ;-;) with you all! this is basically rom-com trash, but it’s my rom-com trash, and i hope you all enjoy!

on a sadder, less exciting note: after this fic i will be taking an extended writing hiatus until at least the beginning of may. my semester is picking up and i unfortunately just don’t currently have any upcoming fics planned for you guys. i hope you understand!! maybe i’ll do a couple of ask games here and there to see if anything piques my interest, but other than that please do not expect major works of writing for a while. love you all!

500 Days of Summer is a movie you all have probably seen before. That being said, I encourage you to respond to this discussion board from a film perspective as opposed to a viewer’s perspective. How did 500 Days of Summer alter the classic narrative of boy-meets-girl? Do you think it was a smart move, on the parts of Webb, Neustadter, and Weber, to do so? Why or why not?

Jeon Jungkook on February 12th at 9:53PM

I thought that the change in the boy-meets-girl narrative that had been popularized by rom-coms of the 1990s definitely contributed to his popularity and its attractiveness towards viewers in general. The film makes it clear that the story does not have a so-called happy ending, but despite that, it still brings into discussion the idea of love and soulmates and true connection. And that’s important, because despite the film’s not-so-happy ending, it makes it a point to emphasize that those things are real. That love is real. I thought it was an excellent move on the parts of the writers and director, because they both broke standards in terms of happy endings in rom-coms and they stayed true to the message at hand. 

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

When you walk into class, Jeon Jungkook is already there. 

He sits in the front row, the seat closest to the door in your puny little classroom, much too small for twenty-students to fit comfortably, let alone watch movies on the pull-down projector screen above the chalkboard. You’re convinced he’s chosen that seat just so he can grin at you whenever you walk in the room, always later than him because apparently, he has nothing better to do with his time than show up to class early and smirk at you when you arrive. 

As you shuffle past his seat towards your own—second row, middle of the room, centered with the lecturer’s podium—with your usual scowl drawn neatly across your face, Jungkook says, overly bright and cheery, “Good morning, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to make your nose scrunch up in further disgust. “Shut up,” you grumble back, stuffing yourself into your chair and pulling out your laptop. One row in front of you and five seats to the right, you see Jungkook chuckle. 

Glowering, you open up your Notes document for the class and try to avoid staring at Jungkook’s side profile, the way he’s slouching lazily in his seat, and what looks to be a lengthy paragraph on his computer screen, a task that proves to be particularly difficult because he happens to sit in the exact spot you have to look in order to see your professor enter the room. What the hell is he even writing, anyway?

He straightens up the moment she does, cheerful as always as she smiles at everyone. “Good morning, everyone.”

The lot of you respond with halfhearted smiles and waves. 

“I can just feel the enthusiasm radiating throughout the room,” she jokes, clenching her fists together in success. At least that gets a couple of you to laugh. “Which is great, because before we get to anything today, we’re gonna talk about the final project.”

You smile to yourself, immediately pulling up the copy of the syllabus you had downloaded to your desktop, scrolling right down to where she had outlined information about the final project in big, bolded letters. There are a lot of reasons you’ve taken this class, not the least of which is the fact that you have had Professor Pollack three times prior to this and she’s loved you in every class, but the final project was definitely one of the major selling points. 

Pollack pulls up a more detailed final project document on the projector as she steps out from behind the podium. “As you guys know, your final project is a thirty-to-forty minute short film involving rom-coms. You guys have a lot of freedom, it can be a rom-com, it could be a documentary about rom-coms, anything. It just needs to involve the topic of rom-coms somehow. I know a lot of you have actor friends who would be more than happy to have a star-crossed lovers fling or whatever. Go wild. Just keep it PG-13, because I can’t in good faith have nude bodies of your fellow college students on my screen.”

You snort to yourself. Makes you wonder how many times Pollack has seen sex scenes of college students on her screen before. Too many, probably. 

Unintentionally, your eyes drift over to Jungkook. He seems to be working on that hefty paragraph of his, typing something you assume is completely unrelated to the topic at hand and is further proof that Jungkook just doesn’t give a shit about anything involving this class. Whatever. You turn back to Pollack. 

“Good projects not only capture the essence of what a rom-com is, but also put their own twist on the story and bring into question the topics we discuss in class, like truthfulness, realistic portrayals of love, and viewer interpretation,” she continues, and with every word you feel heart beat faster in excitement. “I know you’re all excellent filmmakers. That’s why you’ve taken this class. But what I want you to do is get into the nitty-gritty of the makeup of a rom-com and distill it as much as possible. We’ll be watching them all in class during the last week. Yes, Celia?”

You all turn to look at Celia, who sits in the third row, second seat from the left. “This is a partner project, right?” 

Well. That’s the one downside. As much as you know that cooperation is an important life skill, you would much rather prefer to produce the entire movie yourself. But you love Pollack and you already know you’re on track to get a good grade in this class, so whatever. You’ll deal. 

As long as you can pick your teammate. 

“Yes,” Pollack affirms, “and with that excellent segue, I will now announce your partners.”

Shit. 

Pollack pulls out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket, like she had just come up with the arrangements on the morning train ride to campus, and begins reading. Slowly, as she ticks off names one by one, everyone begins to turn around, locking eyes with their partners and exchanging guess-it’s-us-two-huh? smiles. Everyone except—

“And lastly, Jungkook and Y/N.”

You freeze in place. You look up at your professor, eyes wide and shocked, because nobody knows better than her how much the two of you have been butting heads this entire semester. But when you meet her eyes and she smiles knowingly, shrugging her shoulders, you know you’re doomed. Hesitantly, almost like you’re scared to find out what happens when you do, you shift your gaze towards where Jungkook sits in the front right corner of the room. Only he’s not just sitting. He’s turned a full one hundred-and-eighty degrees just so he can smirk at you from across the room, a glint in his eye. 

Jungkook laughs at your cold-stone, shellshocked reaction. Like he knows how much you’ll hate this, and you know how much he’ll enjoy it. 

From here, you actually have a pretty good view of his laptop screen, brightness turned all the way up because he apparently doesn’t care who reads his screen. Or maybe he just likes showing off how much he writes so he can establish dominance over everyone else. Except you, of course. But when you look a little closer, you notice he’s got the class discussion board for the week up on his Chrome window, two paragraphs typed into the text box. 

Right above is your response to his comment. 

Is that what he was working on? His reply to your reply? Right now? He has the audacity to draft it right here, in front of you, where he knows you can see? He doesn’t even care that you’re blatantly staring at it. In fact, he actually seems to be relishing in it.

You’re so caught off guard by the contents of his computer screen that when you look back up at him on instinct, you catch a wink in your direction. 

Your fists tighten by your side. 

Class is rather uneventful after the whole partner fiasco, as Pollack transitions into your usual dose of a short lecture on the film and then a class discussion that goes absolutely nowhere because everyone is too concerned with the final project to care. Whatever you talk about, you will be hard pressed to know, because you spend the entire rest of the period scowling at the blank page of your Notes document as you try to formulate a way to convince Pollack to change your partner. Would she accept a dozen doughnuts as a bribe? A box is only ten dollars from Dunkin’.

When Pollack finally shuts her laptop screen and begins her weekly goodbye spiel, you are the first one out of the room. Hastily, you stuff your laptop into your bag, zip it up as best as you can (which means that the tops of your water bottle and umbrella are sticking out, but who cares), and shuffle out the room right as Pollack is bidding you all farewell, just so you don’t have to look at Jungkook’s stupid, smug little grin on the way out. 

Faintly, you remember Pollack saying something about getting your partner’s contact information so you can start working, but fuck that. Jungkook knows your name. He can find you. If you must spend the entire semester communicating through Instagram DMs, then so be it. You’ve communicated with men in worse ways. Like through LinkedIn.

There’s a small seating area half a flight down from where your puny little classroom is, a few tables and a bench that wraps around the wall, posters splayed out on the corkboard to the right, staples littering both the board and the floor it rests above. Nobody ever seems to use this, despite the innumerable posters advertising everything from dance troupe shows to financial literacy talks, which makes it the perfect place for you to brood and gather your thoughts. It’s also in the direct opposite direction of the exit. So that’s good.

Taking your anger out on your personal belongings (as opposed to that bitchass smirk on Jungkook’s face), you begin to shove your umbrella and water bottle into the pocket of your backpack, fighting to nestle them amongst your other worldly possessions, like your pencil case and what looks to be a small nest of receipts at the bottom of the back. No wonder it’s so clogged up down there. 

If anything gives you a sense of control, it’s cleaning. One by one, you pluck out the receipts from your bag, nose scrunching up as you try to remember every purchase you’ve made in the past three months. Plus, one of these receipts is from when you bought some dryer sheets from CVS, so that means the five inches of actual information are also accompanied by three feet of coupons that expired two weeks ago. Ugh, what a waste. 

“Don’t look so angry, you’ll have to get used to seeing this face a lot.”

You look up from where you’ve been inspecting an old receipt from a midnight McDonald’s trip to find Jungkook standing in front of you, backpack hanging loosely on his bomber jacket-clad shoulder and that same stupid grin written all over his same stupid face. 

“Can I help you?” You drawl. Great. Now Jungkook can add “saw all her receipts” to the list of embarrassing things he’s caught you doing. 

“Can I help you?” Jungkook fires back with a scoff, blonde hair bouncing as he jerks his head flippantly. “Looks like someone needs to take an Accounting class or something.”

“I’m just doing some spring cleaning,” you sneer. It’s February. “What do you want?”

“What, no ‘Hello, partner’? ‘So excited to be working with you this semester’? I’m hurt,” Jungkook says, placing a hand to his heart as he shakes his head disapprovingly. “I thought we had something good, Y/N. Isn’t that why Pollack paired us up?”

You’re pretty sure she just likes watching the world burn. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you chide, knowing that Jungkook already must get enough of a kick out of just seeing the annoyed look on your face. 

“Please, like I even need to. You think I don’t notice the way you stare at me during class? I know you must like what you see,” Jungkook flirts, just to be extra irritating. 

While he’s stroking his own ego, you tear off a piece of that CVS receipt, one of the expired coupons for Three Dollars Off Any Shampoo or Conditioner, and scribble your number on the back. The rest of the receipts you scoop up and dump in the trash can to your right before you zip up your backpack and hike it over your shoulder. 

“Here,” you say gruffly, shoving the paper against his chest as you head towards the stairwell. 

“How forward of you, Y/N, you know you could have just asked—”

Pausing right before you turn the corner and head out the door, you turn back to look at Jungkook, already exhausted from having to interact with him for five minutes. “And when you’re done jerking yourself off,” you say pointedly, “text me.”

You storm out the door.

[February 13th, 1:24PM]

Unknown Number: guess who ;)

You: Wow I have NO idea You: Keanu Reeves?

Unknown Number: haha very funny Unknown Number: it’s jungkook

You: Damn shame You: You done jerking off yet

Maybe: Jungkook: what makes you think i’m not doing that right now ;)))

You: You don’t have the coordination to text me and masturbate at the same time You: What do you want

Jungkook: ouch, harsh Jungkook: can’t i just want to talk to my final project partner? :D

[February 13th, 2:17PM]

Jungkook: alright fine Jungkook: just wanna see when you wanna meet up

You: Guess I don’t have a choice do I

Jungkook: unless you wanna facetime

You: Is that an option?

Jungkook: how about friday at 3 Jungkook: in one of the greene gsrs

You: You think you can manage to reserve one of those?

Jungkook: watch me

[February 13th, 2:21PM]

Jungkook: [screenshot sent] Jungkook: done

You: Do you want a gold star for all that hard work you just did? All that manual labor? You: Fine. See you then.

Jungkook: miss you already <3

Y/N Y/L/N on February 12th at 10:29PM

I have to disagree with Jungkook. It’s obvious the movie is not going to have a happy ending because Tom is so obsessed with the version of Summer he has created in his head that he doesn’t even see who the real girl is anymore. It doesn’t have a happy ending not because they weren’t soulmates, or because their love wasn’t right. They break up because what Tom wants and what Summer wants are fundamentally different, and Tom just can’t accept the fact that Summer doesn’t love him the way he wants her to. In a desperate quest to keep her, though, he manifests this version of her and replaces the actual Summer with it, ultimately destroying their relationship. How could viewers ever have faith that Tom would eventually get his happy ending if the only proof of his commitment to relationships they have is him manufacturing a different girl to fall in love with?

Jeon Jungkook on February 13th at 7:35PM.

You make a good point, Y/N, but I think you missed the whole point of the movie. It’s not about their breakup or the not-so-happy ending or even Tom’s problems. It’s about the journey they go on and what Tom learns in the process. If you watch the trailer then you’d go into the movie knowing they weren’t gonna last. The results of whatever Tom and Summer do to contribute to their eventual breakup should not come as a surprise to the viewer. The whole point of the movie is that they spent five hundred days together and Tom is now recounting those days to anyone who will watch. And you know who’s watching? People who want to hear a story. About love. And loss. And everything in between. Isn’t that the whole reason we watch romance movies anyway?

Sometimes, you wonder if the garishness of Professor Pollack’s shoebox-sized office is the reason not very many students attend her office hours. The walls are lined with movie posters taken from a theater going out of business, the shelves stuffed to the brim with Disney World trinkets and old film memorabilia. She’s installed these thick red velvet curtains along her single window, making the whole room look like some sort of 1950s movie lair. 

In a way, you suppose it kind of is. 

You hear the taps of her Converse shoes as they come down the hallway and round the corner into the office.

“You know, Y/N, I was surprised to see you signed up for my office hours when I logged in this morning,” Pollack says as she enters the room, handing you the coffee in her right hand as she takes a sip out of the one from her left. Last year, the film department bought a Breville coffee maker with the leftover funds from a movie showing fundraiser and it is, in your humble opinion, the best investment the department has ever made.

“Why? I see you all the time,” you ask, eyebrows raised. You and Professor Pollack are not lacking in social connection. She’s written you a letter of recommendation and she knows your coffee order. 

“The very first time we ever spoke outside of class, you sat down at my Starbucks table while I was eating lunch just so you could introduce yourself and ask me about my opinion on the Mamma Mia remake,” she deadpans. “We don’t exactly speak through official forums.”

Well, she’s got you there. 

“I know…” you begin, trailing off awkwardly as you take a sip of your coffee. It’s burning hot and scalds your tongue a little, but it’s nice. It’s been cold recently. “But I just thought we could talk… privately.”

Pollack rolls her eyes as she reclines in her chair, back hitting the padding of the chair with a thud. “Goodness, I wonder what you’re here to talk to me about.”

“Okay, please pardon my French, but what the freak, Professor?” You say, because the words have been sitting hot on your tongue ever since you walked into your office and you didn’t think sending an email that looked like:

To: tpollack@university.edu From: y/n@university.edu Subject: what the freak

Dear Professor Pollack,

What the freak?????????

Cheers, Y/N

would be very professional on your part. 

Pollack lets out this honk of a laugh, loud and sudden, shaking her head fondly. “Come on, Y/N. You must have known I would have partnered the two of you up.”

“I was hoping you’d let us choose?” You emphasize. 

“And miss out on what very well may be one of the best final projects of the class, produced by my two best students of the semester? Absolutely not,” she says, smiling knowingly at you. 

Even her sudden reveal that you happen to be one her best students this semester isn’t enough to soothe your worries and calm your anger. You’re honored, but you have bigger problems. Problems that start with ‘Jeon’ and end with ‘Jungkook’. 

Pollack looks at your beaten-down expression and leans forward, placing her coffee cup on the wooden desk in front of her. “Listen, Y/N. You’re an excellent student and one of the most talented filmmakers I’ve seen in a long time. Your discussion posts are detailed, well-written, and thought-provoking. I know that the two of you will make a great project.”

You scoff. “We can’t agree on a single thing.”

“Sometimes that happens in life, and you just have to deal with it,” Pollack says sagely. 

“So I can’t change partners?”

“Not unless you’d like to fail the final,” Pollack comments, shrugging. How rude of her to say such a thing, not taking the option to change partners off the table entirely but making it so that if you do, you’ll pretty much be shooting yourself in the foot. Or worse. 

You narrow your eyes at her. “That’s low.”

“That’s life,” she corrects. 

“Ugh.” You get up out of your seat, taking angry sips of your coffee as you desperately try to think of another way to get out of it. Are doughnuts still an option?

“I have full faith that the both of you will come up with an excellent project,” Pollack says like it’s some sort of consolation as she walks you to the door to her office. Yeah, right. You and Jungkook spend your free time making snide responses to each other’s discussion posts like it’s nobody’s business. You’re probably the only two people at your entire university that care enough to make replies to each other’s replies. Like Tinder from hell. “You shouldn’t be worried, Y/N.”

“I’m not worried,” you say, completely worried. “I just—I don’t know how Jungkook and I will get along.”

Pollack grins to herself. Does she know something you don’t? Is she up to something? She looks at you as you linger in the doorway, feeling utterly helpless after a meeting that accomplished absolutely nothing, and she smiles. 

“You’ll find a way.” 

Reserving a group study room in the Greene Library and Collection should not be some gymnastics act that involves a warm-up, practice, a routine, and song and dance. In theory, all you have to do is log onto the library’s homepage, navigate to the reservations tab, enter your name and ID number, pick a date and time, and profit. 

Of course, the demand for the study rooms does tend to outweigh the supply. There are over ten thousand students at your university. And only twenty rooms. 

And still, you have the unfortunate luck of being stuck in one of them for an hour and a half with none other than Jeon Jungkook. 

You see him coming into the library at 3PM sharp through the opposite entrance, a little surprised he didn’t show up ten minutes early like he does in class, just so he would have an excuse to complain about having to wait for you. Feeling a little threatened, you pick up the pace so that you can meet his lengthy stride, keeping an eye on his direction so you know which room he’s aiming for.

You arrive at Greene GSR #18 at the exact same time.

“So nice to see you,” Jungkook says, too cheerful, as you reach out to open the door. 

“Mmm,” you mumble in response as you enter the room, flinging your backpack onto the floor by your chair with a thud as you take a seat. The faster you start, the faster you can get this over with.

Jungkook, not at all outwardly discouraged by your clear disdain for him, rallies on happily. “So, what were you thinking for the project?” But he doesn’t even let you open your mouth to answer before he says, “Oh, wait, let me guess: a social commentary on the consumerist ideals that underline every modern movie and encourage the pursuit of an empty dream by abandoning concrete career and personal goals in favor of romantic fulfillment.”

You scowl at him, even though that’s exactly what you were thinking of doing. You’re almost positive Pollack’s had enough of seeing college students try to engineer the craziest fake dating scenarios they can imagine just for a class project. Why not do something outside of the box? 

“Well, then what do you want to do?” You challenge, already bristling. Like Jungkook has a better idea. 

“Maybe something that doesn’t scream ‘killjoy’ as much as you do,” Jungkook retorts easily. He opens his mouth to spit out something else but then rolls his eyes and shrugs, shaking his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have even asked.”

“Don’t pin this on me,” you immediately rebuke, pointing at him. “You’re the one who wants to make some sort of generic rom-com for our final project. Besides, I’m pretty sure every idea you even think of will have been done already.”

“Just because something is cliche doesn’t make it bad,” Jungkook says. “I swear, I don’t think you understand what the word cliche even means. A cliche thing, by default, is something that lots of people like. Therefore, it is largely well-received by the general public.”

“Oh, then that must mean that all rom-coms are deserving of a People’s Choice Award then, right?”

Jungkook frowns, getting exasperated. You aren’t much farther off. “I don’t know why you’re being so—so resistant! You know that romantic comedies are supposed to be fun, right?” 

“They’re not that fun to me,” you comment snidely. 

“That’s because you’re a stick in the mud who takes everything way too seriously,” Jungkook replies like it’s some sort of known fact. “Have you ever even been in a relationship?”

“That’s none of your business,” you tell him firmly. Who does he think he is, going around asking that sort of thing? Especially to you! Like you could care any less about what Jungkook thinks of your love life. Intrusive, much? “Besides, you asking that is exactly my point. Not everything has to be about finding love and searching for your soulmate or whatever bullshit like that. Some people don’t really care that much.”

“You act like wanting to find love and wanting to be successful are mutually exclusive,” Jungkook points out. “You don’t have to abandon all of your life goals just to find love, you know. It doesn’t have to be the most important thing in your life for you to even care about it a little. It’s natural for people to want love.”

“Then I guess I’m just a robot.”

“You sure are acting like one,” Jungkook comments easily. “What, are you about to ask me to pick out all of the pictures with traffic lights?”

“I’m allowed to have my own views on love, just like you,” you say. Isn’t that the whole point of your discussion boards? A forum where you can discuss these sorts of things through an academic lens? A barrier that keeps the two of you from going at each other’s throats when you’re engaging in the class material? It doesn’t take a genius, or even half of one, to know that you and Jungkook can’t seem to agree on anything in your FILM395 class. 

Jungkook scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘your own views on love’? As far as I’m aware, your view on love is that you don’t have one! What do you even think love really is?”

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says like it’s obvious. “This project is about filming a short romantic comedy, about people falling in love with each other. How do you expect me to do that if we don’t reach a mutual agreement on what love is?”

You scoff. “There is no way in hell I am going to agree with you on anything concerning love.” Jeon Jungkook still thinks love is all rainbows and sunshine. Cries at the end of Love, Actually even though he’s seen it five times already. Believes in soulmates. Believes there are people out there that were built for each other. He flutters from one person to the next like a butterfly, even though he’s more like a moth drawn to any open flame within a five-mile radius. He’s convinced he’ll find his true love here, in college, just like his parents found each other. 

Yeah, right.

“Then what are we supposed to do, huh?” He says with an eyebrow raised. “We have a month to make a movie that’s fifty percent of our grade.”

“The social commentary is still on the table,” you point out. Sure, it’s not at all a romantic comedy, but it’s about them, which Pollack said was totally fine. Besides, she has been teaching you the entire semester, hasn’t she? She should know by now not to expect some cushy lovey-dovey story about two people who were destined to be with each other and can overcome all obstacles with their love. 

Deep down, a part of you wonders if that’s why she paired you up with Jungkook. If she’s had enough of the sappy love stories that Jungkook probably wanted to do, didn’t want to see another cynical commentary on capitalism in Hollywood.

“Wow, what a thrilling idea,” Jungkook deadpans. “Please, tell me more.” His voice is lifeless. 

“Oh, shut up. It’s not like your idea would be any better. Who would we even get to star in a rom-com we filmed? It’s not like the two of us could do it.”

You regret the words the instant they come out of your mouth. In horror, you watch as they sink into Jungkook’s brain, etching themselves into his mind as a lightbulb turns on, a bright idea popping into his thoughts. 

He opens his mouth, but you get there first. “No. Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not. I am not starring in a rom-com with you.”

That is something you can say with one-hundred percent confidence. Something that you know will never change. 

“Just hear me out,” Jungkook pleads, looking a little desperate as he wrings his hands together, aching to spill the bubbling plan that’s been stewing in his head. 

You narrow your eyes in suspicion but lean back into your chair, a silent signal for him to continue. It’s not as if you have any better idea.s 

“Okay. It’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary,” he says, something that (and you can’t believe you’re saying this) actually piques your interest. Moreso than anything else he’s ever said to you. “You think love is totally manufactured, right? That Hollywood creates the illusion of it to sell to people paying twenty dollars for a movie ticket?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that. Let’s prove it’s manufactured.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” It’s not like you can walk into a factory and ask them to make the “love” emotion for you. 

“We’ll be the stars.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s your best idea by a long shot, the home run of all home runs, your golden ticket to an A.

You scrunch up your nose, hesitant. “Wait, I don’t know—”

“It’s perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, eyes wide with excitement. “Think about it. It’ll be a mockumentary of a stereotypical rom-com. Except it won’t be this big Hollywood production, it’ll be real life. And it won’t be between two paid actors with years of experience under their belt, it’ll be us.” His eyes are practically bulging out of his head, big brown eyes glinting with excitement.

“So what are we gonna do? Act out our own rom-com in an attempt to see if either one of us will fall in love with the other?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not necessarily. It’s a mockumentary, right? So it’s grounded in real life even if it is based upon the stereotypical boy-meets-girl rom-com. It won’t be super scripted or anything. Think of it more like… a chronicle.”

You scoff. “Of what?”

“Of us,” Jungkook says easily. “Of the time we have to spend together to film this damn project anyway. I say that rom-coms are emblematic of the natural human desire for love, and that deep down love is the thing that makes us happy. You say that rom-coms are consumerist propaganda, or whatever it is you think they are—”

“They are, and you can’t change my mind about that,” you interrupt, just for clarity. Can’t have Jungkook thinking he’s going to somehow convince you otherwise.

“—so, with this project, let’s see which one of us is right. If the time we have to spend together, making this mockumentary rom-com, will really change how we feel about each other, or if it won’t.”

How you feel about each other? You almost laugh when Jungkook says it out loud. There’s no room for questioning in your mind when it comes to how you two feel about each other. Two desperate-to-please students with opposite views on the entire structure of a class and three years of experience arguing your points in essays under your belts. 

Jungkook believes in destiny, right? Then he must know that the two of you are destined to never get along.

“You should be a car salesman,” you joke. Jungkook’s certainly excellent at pitches.

“So, you in?”

You narrow your eyes, still a little wary of whatever it is Jungkook’s putting down. But it’s not like you have any better ideas. And the sooner you agree on something, the sooner you can get this goddamn project over with and never have to sit in class with Jeon Jungkook ever again. 

“Only because this’ll finally prove to you that not everything can be solved by finding love,” you say. It’s about as good of a ‘yes’ as he’s going to get out of you. 

Jungkook grins, mischievous as always. There’s certainly something else he’s plotting, you just aren’t sure what. Maybe he’s in cahoots with Pollack. “Or,” he begins, lips curling upwards, “you’ll just fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” He holds out his hand, palm facing up as he waits for your response, that devilish glint that you hate twinkling in his eyes. 

As if you’re going to fall in love with Jungkook. For this stupid project? No way. Just because it’s a filmmaking project doesn’t make it any more bearable than your other assignments. It’s a partner project. They are, by their very nature, excruciating. You’ll be surprised if you end this project and you aren’t even more irritated with Jungkook. Does he really think you’ll actually develop some sort of affection for him?

You take his hand on your own, palm pressed against his, and you eye him carefully. Just because Jungkook’s got something up his sleeve doesn’t mean you don’t. Finally, finally, Jungkook will see why love is stupid and manufactured and fake. Why it doesn’t bring people together but instead tears them apart. 

Maybe then he’ll leave you and your discussion posts in peace.

You smile up at him. 

“I guess we will.”

When Ruby Rhodes is not six feet deep in The Princeton Review’s MCAT test prep book, she can usually be found at the small bakery five blocks west and two blocks north of your little campus, a family-owned place passed down through three generations. It’s her favorite place, and yours, too, because the coffee is delicious and the pastries are even better. 

Plus, hardly anyone from your school ever comes here, which means the wifi speed is eons better than the Starbucks inside the main food court. 

She’s halfway through a tiramisu and a rerun of The Bachelor from two seasons ago when you sit down across from her. 

“Any good?” You ask, pulling out your laptop and squeezing it onto the tiny marble table in between the two of you. 

“The food or the show?” Ruby asks over a mouthful of cake. 

“Either.” 

Ruby swallows down the piece sitting on her tongue before responding. “The tiramisu is delicious, and The Bachelor is eh. I’ve seen this episode three times already.”

“Then why are you watching it again?” You ask, laughing. Does Ruby think something different is going to happen?

“Because we’re in between weeks right now and honestly, The Bachelor is kind of dry this season,” Ruby says with a frown. 

“You’ve got some tiramisu on your cheek,” you tell her, pointing to the left side of her face where the bright mascarpone cream sticks out like a sore thumb against her dark skin. 

“It’s just so yummy, I can’t help but stick my whole face in it,” Ruby jokes as she wipes her face with the napkin on her lap. The Bachelor rerun plays on in the background, and you can hear the gasps of the women through Ruby’s discarded headphones. 

You roll your eyes. “Why do you even watch that show still? You know it’s all crap.”

“Just because you think it’s crap doesn’t mean I do,” Ruby insists, playing out an argument the two of you have had plenty of times over the course of your friendship. “Watching it makes me happy. So I do it.”

“But it’s all fake,” you say, frowning in disapproval. “The couples don’t even stay together in the end anyway.”

“It’s a totally pre-constructed show, but it’s not fake in the moment. And I don’t expect the final couple to stay together.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Believe me, I’ve seen enough Bachelor seasons to know those odds. I just like watching the ride. It’s cute.”

“You say that about everything.”

“That’s because everything is cute,” Ruby says pointedly. “I like seeing the good in people.”

Ruby’s always been the exact opposite of you in terms of worldviews. The embodiment of a real-life fairy. She puts butterfly clips in her hair and buys herself bouquets of daisies and lilies. She sits in cafes with her headphones in and sketches the people she sees outside the window. She’s studying to be a doctor so she can spend the rest of her life helping others. 

And you? 

Well, the Oscars have always been a bit of a long shot. 

The curiosity eating at you, you pose a question to her. “Hypothetically, if there were to exist a mockumentary on rom-coms and love, would you watch it?”

Ruby pauses for a second as she furrows her brows. Then she shrugs and says, “Only if the two leads fell in love at the end. Why?”

“No reason,” you say, looking away. 

There’s no fooling Ruby and her eagle eyes. 

“What is it?” She asks, a grin playing at her lips as she looks at you. “Come on, you don’t just ask me shit like that without a reason.”

“It’s for a final project,” you explain succinctly. No need to go into details. 

“You’re making a rom-com for a final project?” Ruby sounds about as skeptical as you did when you spoke to Jungkook. 

“It’s a mockumentary about rom-coms.”

“But… it’s a rom-com, right? Like, you’re going to be making a rom-com? Where people fall in love?”

Hopefully not. 

“Sort of?”

Ruby squints her eyes, trying to process all the information. You’re not surprised that she has to take a moment to think—you are certainly the last person on earth to ever admit to filming a rom-com. But, as you’ve stated, it’s not a rom-com. It’s a mockumentary about them. That distinction is vital.

“Wait, is this for that class with Pollack?” Ruby asks. “I remember you telling me you were taking it. You said this was a partner project, though, right? So who are you working with?”

Curse Ruby and her knack for remembering things. She’ll make a great doctor, that’s for sure, but right now you wish she would just forget things like everybody else. 

You sigh. “Jungkook.”

Ruby doesn’t need to think twice about who that is. “Wait, seriously? You’re working with him? Isn’t he the guy that responds to all your discussion posts?”

“Yes,” you say, rubbing your temples with your fingertips. You don’t even like thinking about him, let alone saying his name. The fact that he has to occupy any part of your brain at all gives you a headache.

“Damn, that sucks,” Ruby says, not feeling very sorry for you at all. “So you’re filming a rom-com with him?”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you specify, feeling yourself getting irritated. “It is fake.”

“Just like my shows, huh?” Ruby muses to herself, too analytical for her own good. 

“Listen, you don’t need to fall in love to make a mockumentary about it,” you say, refusing to consider any sort of alternative. 

“Don’t you?”

You sneer. “Just shut up and eat your tiramisu.”

Ruby lets out a laugh at that, this wonderful mix between a wheeze and a honk that makes you smile every time you hear it, even if it’s at your own expense. Ruby decides she’s had enough of mentally torturing you with the thought of feeling anything but extreme distaste towards Jungkook and goes back to her show, letting you brood in peace. 

You don’t need to fall in love to make a film about it. Just like you don’t need to be a masterchef to film Gordon Ramsey screaming at someone who undercooked chicken. You’re a filmmaker. You can make a film out of anything. Including love. Even if it is with someone like Jungkook. 

Can’t you?

Jeon Jungkook may be a disillusioned college student in love with the idea of love itself, but at least he’s not too shabby of a filmmaker. 

Funnily enough, it actually sort of surprises you that you’ve never encountered each other before. Especially considering you’re in the same major program at your school, a program that only accepts about fifty students per year at most. You suppose that in whatever general program classes you had to take in freshman and sophomore year you just never crossed paths. Plus, he’s a filmmaking concentration and you’re doing screenwriting, so it’s very possible that you would have just never spoken had the two of you not registered for the same semester of FILM395.

Huh. Imagine that. A life without him. 

Sort of makes you wish you had put this class off for one more semester. 

As the two of you kickstart your project, you both immediately agree that you need a third person’s help. You and Jungkook can do plenty, but you are only two people. And there’s nothing in the final project guidelines that says you can’t enlist other people to partake in the production. But you don’t need help with the filming and editing. You need help with the interviews. 

“Is this bedsheet good enough?” Kim Taehyung, a senior in the film program, asks as he’s Command-stripping a queen-sized black bedsheet to an empty wall in the living room of his tiny one-bedroom apartment. 

“As long as it fits into the frame,” Jungkook responds from where he’s standing behind the camera, set up on a tripod to capture a specific angle. “You’re not going to be in the shot anyway. You’ll just be asking the questions.”

“Good, because I look really ugly right now,” Taehyung says with a grin. You roll your eyes. Taehyung must know he always looks good. Even you can’t deny him of that. 

“This is ridiculous,” you say, seated on the singular couch in his apartment. You’re leaning on your elbow as you watch Taehyung fiddle with the bedsheet and Jungkook futz with the camera, the two of them repositioning themselves over and over again until everything’s perfect. “What are you even gonna ask us?”

“I came up with some… preliminary questions,” Taehyung says suggestively. “But I haven’t told either of you what they are so that your reactions can be more genuine.”

“Great,” you deadpan. 

“Wow, someone’s excited,” Jungkook comments snidely. 

“I know we agreed on periodic interviews for the sake of the mockumentary but I don’t know why we have to be so… so serious about them,” you say with a frown. 

“We have to promise to be honest with what we say, alright? Like, actually honest. This sets a guideline for the rest of our relationship,” Jungkook says like it’s no big deal. Like the foundation of your relationship isn’t the fact that the two of you have been engaged in discussion-board war ever since the semester began. 

“Our ‘relationship’?” You say with a scoff. 

“Do you promise?” Jungkook says. 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I promise.” Whatever. “What do you even think is going to happen between us in the next few weeks?”

Jungkook smirks. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

You don’t like the sound of that. 

Over the next ten minutes, Taehyung gets the sheet attached to his wall and pulls over two stools from his kitchen counters, old-timey wooden ones he got from a thrift store for five dollars a pop, one for him and one for the poor soul who has to be interviewed. You’ve agreed to do them separately but Taehyung’s apartment is only so big and you are only three people, which means that whoever isn’t being interviewed still has to be behind the camera, listening to the other person. 

Makes you sort of nervous about whatever’s stewing up inside Jungkook’s mind. Wonder what the hell it is he’s plotting up there. 

Once everything is settled, Taehyung looks at the two of you as he asks who’s going first. 

You turn to Jungkook, who’s already grinning. “Ladies first.”

For someone who has spent their whole life watching and making movies, being in front of the camera feels weirdly uncomfortable to you. You’re so used to being behind it instead, directing others as they move around the frame, telling them how to feel and how to act and what to say, that having the spotlight shone on you is like picking through your thoughts with a fine-toothed comb. 

You adjust awkwardly in the bar stool seat as Jungkook stands behind the camera, twisting the lens until he gives you the thumbs-up. Quite frankly, it doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“You ready?” Taehyung asks as he takes a seat opposite you, just out of frame. 

“Well, we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Alright, Jungkook, start whenever you’re good.”

“Okay,” Jungkook chirps up. “Three, two, one—” He points to the both of you. 

“So, Y/N,” Taehyung begins, his voice suddenly much clearer. He sounds sort of like a news anchor. It’s oddly fitting. “Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You muse. 

“That didn’t answer my question,” Taehyung points out. Good thing the camera can’t see the way his eyebrows raise. 

“I suppose that there are worse things I could be doing,” you reason, which is about as good of an answer as Taehyung’s going to get. What was he expecting you to say? That you were thrilled to be filming this not-a-rom-com with your class nemesis? That you couldn’t wait to see what would happen?

“Loving the enthusiasm,” Taehyung jokes. You wonder what your classmates will think when they watch this back, hearing this unidentified deep male voice ask you and Jungkook questions about your relationship. “Let me ask you this: what’s your current relationship with Jungkook?”

“Uh…” you begin, nervous. Behind the camera, Jungkook has that same stupid, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. You sneer. “It’s… it’s professional.”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?” 

“I mean we’re classmates. That’s the relationship.”

“That’s it?” You can hear the skepticism in Taehyung’s voice, almost like he’s egging you on to say something more. 

“We’ve had some personal disagreements on topics discussed in class. But yes, we’re just classmates,” you elaborate slightly. It’s not as if anyone needs reminding of that, anyway. They all see your discussion board posts. 

“And how do you expect that relationship to change over the course of this project?”

“I don’t think it’ll change at all.” It’s the easiest answer so far. Requires no energy nor brain power for you to think about it. 

Taehyung nods his head in intrigue. “And why’s that?”

“Because this is a project for a class, not a life lesson.”

“Who says it can’t be both?”

You frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Five feet away, Jungkook laughs. 

Taehyung chuckles. “Alright, moving on. What do you expect from Jungkook over the next few weeks as you start working on building your relationship?”

“I hope he becomes less unbearable,” you say, though you suppose that’s more of a general life goal than one that’s project-specific. But it would be nice if he became a little more… palatable. Just so you don’t have to feel the urge to sock him in the face every time you speak to each other. 

“‘Less unbearable’, excellent,” Taehyung repeats. “Anything else?”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, not sure what else to say. What do you want from Jungkook? Obviously the two of you are about to embark on your own rom-com adventure, no doubt most of it his doing, but it’s hard to imagine that he himself (or you, for that matter) will change. If anything, the rom-com setting will just exacerbate the worst parts of both your personalities. Like some sort of curse. “I guess I just hope that the project goes smoothly.”

“I hope that it does, too,” Taehyung says with a smile. “Okay, last question.” Thank God. This interview couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it feels like an eternity to you. “Do you think you and Jungkook will fall in love at the end of this?”

“No.” You don’t leave any room for hesitation. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“We’re very different people with very different interests,” you explain succinctly. You’re sure Taehyung will grasp that once Jungkook has his turn and answers all the same questions. “He can try his hardest, but some things are just meant to stay the way they are.”

“Okay, thank you, Y/N, that’s all. I hope you found our conversation illuminating,” Taehyung says, his cue for the camera to stop rolling. You and Taehyung both turn to Jungkook, waiting for his signal, letting out a sigh when Jungkook gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Thank fuck,” you say, hopping off of the barstool happily. You head towards the camera, ready to kick Jungkook off of it, because it’s your turn to stand behind it with an annoying look on your face as you react to every stupid thing Jungkook says. You find that you’re actually sort of looking forward to it. Being behind the camera is where you feel most at home. Making faces at Jungkook is just a bonus. 

Jungkook’s still grinning that same goddamn grin when you approach him, making you narrow your eyes. 

“‘He can try his hardest’?” Jungkook teases, voice all high-pitched to mimic yours. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Ah yes, my mission in life,” you retort easily. Maybe goading him on isn’t the best course of action, but you’re so confident that you won’t change your mind you find yourself actually anticipating his efforts. “Think you have what it takes?”

“Believe me, I do,” Jungkook says with a devilish glint in his eyes. 

You roll your eyes and kick him off the camera with a shove, pushing him towards Taehyung as he waits diligently on that chair of his. 

“So, Jungkook, same questions,” Taehyung says as Jungkook gets ready in his seat, fixing the blonde strands of hair that curl around the side of his face, framing his cheeks. 

“What? That’s no fair, he got to think about all his answers,” you exclaim, positively indignant. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, voice sickly smooth, honey falling off his lips. “I’ve actually been thinking about the two of us for a long time.”

You pretend to throw up on Taehyung’s hardwood floor. 

As Taehyung promised, he asks Jungkook the same questions. And, as predicted, his answers about as far away from yours as the sun is from Pluto:

“Are you excited to begin the filming for this?”

Jungkook grins. “Yes, definitely. I actually took this class after hearing from a friend that the final project was a lot of fun.”

Taehyung beams. That friend was him. No wonder he was so happy to sign onto helping the two of you. 

“And how would you describe your current relationship with Y/N?”

“We’re soon-to-be-lovers.” 

“How forward of you.”

“Isn’t that my job?”

You have to stop yourself from bursting out into laughter behind the camera and ruining the interview. At least he’s not hiding anything. You’ll give him that. 

“So I suppose you expect the two of you to fall in love over the course of the project?”

“Yes, that’s going to happen.”

“And you seem pretty confident when you say that.”

Jungkook smirks as he turns to the camera. Or, more accurately, you. “Confidence is attractive.” 

You shake your head back at him. 

The rest of the interview falls pretty much into the same vein as the first few questions. Jungkook is so brazenly determined and hopeful and optimistic it actually pains you in a way, watching him make all of these promises both to you and himself that this project is going to turn out the way he hopes it does. His answers remind you of his discussion board posts, always looking on the bright side of every movie you watch, always finding the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel. A movie could be total Hollywood crap, filled with cheating scandals and misunderstandings and betrayals, and Jungkook could still find beauty in it. 

It’s strange. 

For the sake of you not actually throwing up in Taehyung’s lovely apartment, you tune out the majority of the middle of the conversation, having zero desire to listen to Jungkook wax poetic about your non-existent relationship like he’s saying his wedding vows. Only when Taehyung finally remarks that they’re on the last question do you finally come to again, ready to turn the camera off as soon as Jungkook finishes his answer. 

“Jungkook, do you think you and Y/N will fall in love at the end of this?”

“I do.” Wow, what a shocker. “I do, because I hope that by the end of this Y/N will have opened her eyes to the beauty of love, and will find joy in the feeling as something that makes her feel happy and warm. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the things we do together are meaningful. And even if we don’t last, I hope that her memories of us together will be ones she can look back upon fondly and be grateful for.”

You purse your lips together. If only it were that easy. 

“Alright, cut,” you say, voice distant as Jungkook thanks Taehyung for his time and hops off the bar stool. “Thanks, Tae.”

“Anytime, you guys,” Taehyung says with a grin. 

Jungkook comes over to where you’re standing, possibly to grab his camera and tripod but most definitely to rub his obnoxious personality all up in your face. 

“You really think you’re gonna get me to fall in love with you, huh?” You muse, an eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Just so you can prove a point?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N, but I actually think that all people deserve the chance to experience love and that happens to include you, as well,” Jungkook responds easily. 

The words put a sour taste in your mouth. “You think I deserve it, huh?”

Jungkook nods, face solemn as he looks at you, gazing into your eyes with those big brown ones of his own. It makes you feel something unfamiliar. Like he’s reading right through your chest, into your heart. You don’t like it. “Everyone deserves love.”

“You guys are coming back, right? So I can leave the sheet up?” Taehyung interrupts after he’s moved both of his bar stools back to his kitchen counter. 

“Yeah, we’ll be back,” Jungkook answers quickly. “Thanks for setting everything up, by the way.”

“Of course. Plus, this is a good background for my nudes,” Taehyung says casually, like he’s mentioning what he’s having for dinner. “Looking forward to seeing you guys again.”

“Us, too,” Jungkook says. “Ready to go?”

“Only because it means I don’t have to see you anymore,” you retort pointedly, grabbing your backpack from where it sits on his couch as you head towards the door. 

“Just you wait, Y/N,” Jungkook says as you leave Taehyung’s building, one of those old-timey Victorian houses that was converted into a whole bunch of apartments. “You’re gonna see that I’m right.”

“Really? About what?”

“About us,” Jungkook says. You come to the stoplight, where Jungkook keeps going straight and you turn right. 

“Us?”

Jungkook grins as you turn in the direction of your own apartment. And, just as the light turns green, he says, “Just you wait. We’re gonna fall in love, you and me.”

If he says so. 

“Hey! Y/N!”

You whip your head around at the sound of your name just as you’re opening the door to your local Starbucks, wondering who the hell is calling out to you at nine-thirty in the morning on a Wednesday. 

As it turns out, you don’t have to wonder too much, because the moment your eyes adjust to the blinding sunlight coming from the east side of campus you see Jungkook hurtling towards you, heavy black boots stomping down on the pavement as he rushes to catch up with you. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, thoroughly unimpressed, as you pull open the door, looking at Jungkook heaving beside you as he holds the door open for himself. 

“Just glad I caught you,” Jungkook gasps out between breaths. “Figured this might make a good scene for the movie.”

“It’s a mockumentary,” you remind him easily, getting in the line. 

“Whatever,” Jungkook says. “What do you normally get here? I don’t really go to Starbucks often.”

“Whatever will give me the most caffeine for the least amount of money,” you retort. 

“How efficient,” Jungkook comments. 

“You know that’s how I like to be,” you tell him with a pointed look. 

Jungkook mumbles his acknowledgement as he fumbles around in his backpack, fishing through the large pocket until he whips out his Canon, holding it out in front of him like he’s a dad about to film an embarrassing shot of his child. You look down at the camera just as he pans up to you, a confused frown written across your features. Jungkook laughs. 

“Do you really need to do that here?”

“I’m not even filming,” Jungkook says with a smile, like he just pulled his camera out so he could look at your unimpressed face through a different lens. “Look, you’re up.”

You turn around to find that the woman ahead of you in line has just moved towards the pick-up side of the counter, so you shimmy over towards the barista, ready to get this over with so you can dart out of the Starbucks as soon as possible. 

“Just a grande Americano, please,” you request simply, fingers grasping for the wallet inside your coat pocket. 

“Me too,” Jungkook chirps up from behind you. The closeness of his voice makes you jump, and suddenly you become keenly cognizant of how he’s practically pressed up next to you as he leans over towards the counter. You catch a glimpse of the debit card in his hand. “Here.”

“You don’t have to pay for me, it’s fine,” you quickly say, holding out your own card to the barista. 

“No, it’s okay, I want to. Here.” Jungkook pushes your hand away as he tries to stuff his card into the reader. 

“No, I won’t let you. I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own coffee,” you rebuke, feeling yourself growing oddly defensive. 

Jungkook sighs from behind you. “Oh, come on, you can’t let me do one nice thing for you?”

“Will one of you please pay, you’re holding up the line,” the barista asks in a desperate tone, clearly too overworked and too underpaid to be dealing with two bratty college students like yourselves. 

Jungkook manages to shove his card into the reader before you get the chance to do it yourself, pushing you to the side as he verifies all of his information and takes his receipt. Next to him, you seethe to yourself, feeling a personal loss even though you just got your coffee paid for. It’s not about the money. It’s about your pride. Never in your life have you wanted to so badly pay for an overpriced Starbucks coffee. 

You and Jungkook mosey over to the other side of the counter, waiting for your identical drinks to be made as you try and calculate how much longer you have to stand in the same room and breathe the same air as Jungkook. Seeing him in class, on your discussion board posts, and for your arranged final project meetings apparently isn’t enough, so now he has to invade your personal life, too. 

“What are you doing?” You huff out angrily, turning to Jungkook even as he holds his camera out in front of him, filming the Starbucks. 

“Recording our first meeting, obviously,” Jungkook says like it’s some kind of no-brainer. Like you were in on that from the moment he called your name out on the street. 

“What do you mean, ‘our first meeting’?” You scrunch up your nose in confusion. “We’ve known each other since the semester started.”

“I know, but…” Jungkook trails off unhelpfully, but you pick up what he’s putting down regardless. Right. This is supposed to be a mockumentary rom-com. And rom-coms always start with an introduction. 

The barista behind the counter calls out Jungkook’s name as he places two same-sized cups down at the pick-up station. The cup is burning hot, even with the little cardboard holder wrapped around it like a leg warmer, so you immediately move over to the station up against the wall with all of the sugar packets and napkins and little green splash sticks. Jungkook joins you without question, whether it be due to the fact that he doesn’t come here very often or because he just wants to keep invading your space, you couldn’t say. Grabbing one of the wooden sticks, you tug the plastic lid off of the cup and give the coffee a swirl. Watching you, Jungkook takes the lid off of his as well. 

“Are you just going to copy everything I do?” You deadpan. 

“Not everything…” Jungkook trails off suspiciously, looking down into his coffee like the two of them are conspiring something. 

“What are you talki—”

Without warning, Jungkook slams half of his body into you, and without a lid or one of those little green sticks, the coffee sploshes over the side of his cup and drenches the front of your exposed hoodie, hot liquid burning through the fabric of the hoodie and the t-shirt you have on underneath. You watch in horror as Jungkook plays it off like an accident, feet fumbling around on the hardwood floor like he had just tripped. But he didn’t just trip. He dumped half of his Americano onto the both of your fronts. 

“Jungkook!” You say instantly, resisting the urge to scream because you’re in a public place but feeling your skin go as hot as the coffee against your torso as you look up at him, fuming. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m such a klutz,” Jungkook says, somehow able to regain his balance, hold his coffee cup, and film the whole adventure all at the same time. “That was totally my fault, let me help you with that.” 

The camera is from his perspective, which you suppose is about as real as it gets for something grounded in reality like a mockumentary, but in this position he’s able to make conversation with his eyes, big brown ones wide as he tries to signify what exactly he means when he purposely spills coffee all over the two of you. 

You get it. You’ve seen enough rom-coms to know why he just did what he did, but you still find your mouth agape as you stare up at him, smoldering and angry and a little shocked he would dare be so bold, especially in the middle of a Starbucks coffee shop. 

“For God’s sake,” you say with an exhausted sigh despite it not even being ten in the morning yet. Unable to form any other comprehensible words, you settle for just pulling out napkins from the dispenser and dabbing the front of your hoodie as Jungkook looks at you apologetically. You can’t even tell if he’s truly sorry or just putting on another one of his shows. 

“I feel so bad,” Jungkook says, and you calm yourself down enough to nod. At least he isn’t blatantly laughing. “Can I pay for dry cleaning?”

“You’re really gonna offer to pay for my dry cleaning?” You ask, an eyebrow raised. 

“It was my fault,” Jungkook admits. Now that you can agree on. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s just an old hoodie, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m still sorry,” Jungkook insists, and the more he says it the more you actually find yourself starting to believe him. Even if he did just spill coffee all over you. “Here, let me give you my jacket—”

“That’s not necessary,” you say as he shrugs off his backpack and begins to remove the bulky denim jacket he’s wearing, fabric worn and soft from years of use. “Seriously, it’s okay, it’s just a hoodie.”

“Yeah, but now you have coffee all over your clothes and you probably have class soon, right?” He says, an apologetic smile lacing his lips. He tugs off his jacket and holds it out towards you. 

“Jungkook, I’m fine, alright? I appreciate your concern, though,” you assure him. You throw away the last of the coffee-stained napkins in your hands and reach down for your backpack, which you had taken off your shoulders somewhere in the chaos. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, almost as if he was expecting resistance, and leans over you anyway. His arms extend outwards as he wraps his enormous denim jacket over your shoulders, the fabric draping loosely over your body. The damn thing was big on him, so on you it practically eats you up. You stand there, silent, as Jungkook adjusts the jacket on your torso, pulling underneath the hood of your sweatshirt as he makes sure it’s snug across your figure. 

“There,” Jungkook says. 

“Thanks,” you say, a half grin playing on your lips. The gesture makes you wonder if Jungkook really was planning on giving up his jacket this early in the morning for the sake of your movie. “That’s nice of you.”

“I hope it makes up for the fact that you smell like coffee now,” Jungkook says, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. 

“I appreciate it,” you say. 

“I have class, too, so I have to go,” Jungkook says, hoisting his backpack on his shoulders as he tucks his camera away. “I’m sorry again! See you around?”

Like you even have a choice. 

“Yeah, see you around,” you say as Jungkook darts off just as quickly as he arrived, rushing out the door before you have the chance to change your mind and give him his jacket back. 

When he leaves you, you find yourself at a loss for words. You stand there, lips pursed, coffee cold, as the weight of his jacket rests heavy on your shoulders. 

It smells like him. 

You should have known he would do something like this. Spill coffee all over the two of you, offer you his jacket, dash off like Cinderella at midnight. Like the opening of the world’s worst rom-com. The start of what is no doubt going to be the most unbearable final project you have ever done.

Plus, the other thing it’s ensured is a second meeting. How else is he going to get his jacket back?

And you know what the worst part is?

This is only the beginning.

This time after FILM395 ends lecture for the day, it’s your turn to catch Jungkook lounging around after class. 

He’s lingering around the outside of the building, scrolling through his phone, a heavy leather jacket resting over a flannel that goes down to his knees and a baseball cap sitting firmly on his tuft of blonde hair. He’s obviously not paying attention to any of his surroundings whatsoever, because he doesn’t even notice you exiting out of the door he’s standing by until you say his name. 

“Jungkook,” you say, arriving in front of him. 

“Wha—oh, hi,” Jungkook says, jumping at the suddenness of it all. 

“Here,” you say, holding out his oversized denim jacket in between the two of you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to give it back so soon,” Jungkook says, looking a little surprised and… is he touched? 

“I was going to give it to you a couple days ago but I thought I should give it a wash first,” you admit to him. 

Instinctively, Jungkook brings the jacket up to his nose to sniff it. “Smells like lavender.”

“Yeah, it’s my detergent. Hope you don’t mind. It’s a little wrinkled—I let it air dry since I was worried it might shrink in the dryer.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, a genuine smile lacing itself across his features. It’s not one you see too often, and definitely not the kind of smile he usually flashes in your direction. Those are all so obnoxious, so full of himself. This one’s different. It’s appreciative. Kinder. Softer. In a lot of ways. “I was thinking, if you don’t have class now, do you wanna grab some coffee?”

You narrow your eyes. “Only if you promise not to spill it on me this time.”

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. “Okay, I got it. I won’t spill it on you.”

“Promise?” You prompt. 

“Promise.”

The walk to Starbucks this time is in relative silence, but neither of you seems to mind it very much. You aren’t dashing to catch up with each other and heaving snarky comments as you catch your breath. Jungkook even notices you shiver in the cool March breeze and wraps his jacket around you again anyway, although this time you make a mental note to make sure he doesn’t leave without it. Even though a lavender scent wafts off of the denim, it still smells a little bit like him. That boyish sort of aroma. You don’t think any detergent would ever be able to get rid of that. 

You and Jungkook both get americanos again because you’re predictable and creatures of habit, and Jungkook actually seems to quite like them. He pays and you don’t spend two minutes standing in front of the barista fighting over it. Jungkook seems so determined to pay the extra four dollars for your drink that you aren’t sure if it’s really worth arguing over it for the sake of pride anymore. What you and Jungkook put into making this project a success is what you’re going to get out of it. 

He picks one of the longer tables in the back of the study space, empty because it’s just after the lunchtime rush and most people have classes now, sets up the camera at one end, and you sit down at the other. 

“So,” you begin, not sure where to start because your coffee is too hot to take a sip from it. 

“So,” Jungkook echoes. 

Silence. 

You purse your lips in that awkward, I-don’t-know-what-to-say kind of way. “What do you want to do?”

Jungkook grins. “This is the part where we get to know each other.” 

“We already know each other.” You frown.

“Do we?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah, I guess we aren’t strangers, but I don’t know anything about you. Other than you’re a film major in a rom-com class who hates rom-coms.”

“I don’t hate rom-coms,” you object. “I just think it’s important to look at them from a critical lens.”

“Okay, whatever,” Jungkook says, shrugging you off. “The point is that we don’t know anything else about each other. Like, what’s your favorite color, for example?”

“Purple.” It’s an easy answer. You wore purple princess dresses when you were five, painted your bedroom lilac when you were ten, and still make sure to keep a purple highlighter in your pencil case now. “What’s yours?”

“Red,” Jungkook responds. 

“Cool,” you say, effectively ending the rest of the conversation.

Jungkook, sensing that same awkward silence, suggests something. “How about you ask me something now? We can go back and forth.”

You shrug. It’s not like you have anything better to do. “Alright.” You think for a moment, but then you have the perfect question. “Why film?”

Jungkook was clearly not expecting something so loaded, because his brows furrow, knitting themselves together as he begins to figure out a good enough answer. “Hmm,” he says, lost deep in thought. “I suppose the standard answer would be that I’ve always been interested in it, but I think I chose film because I want to be able to have the gift to tell other people’s stories. Being a filmmaker doesn’t just mean you stand behind a camera. It means you immerse yourself in the lives of other people to create something new. And… I don’t know. I guess I really like doing that.” 

You nod. 

For once, you understand him. Understand why he chose to major in film, why he chose to be in this tiny little program. Because there is so much out there, so much that you will never know, people you will never meet and things you will never see. And it’s a filmmaker’s job to make them turn into things you will see, people you will meet. Who knows the world better than the people who study it? The people who have devoted their lives to learning all its secrets?

“What about you?”

“Same as you,” you tell him. “Film is an art but it’s more than that to me. It’s a new way to look at the world. It’s several new ways to look at the world, depending on what kind of film you want to create and what kind of story you want to tell. I think it’s important to show people that all of the things they see in the media every day are not always reality. And that real people deserve to have their stories told, too. I don’t know. That’s what I think.”

Jungkook grins, a twinkle in his eyes. “Real people like us?”

“This project is different,” you insist. 

“I don’t think it is,” Jungkook says. “You said it yourself, we’re making this because it’s important to show people that the Hollywood entertainment they consume is not reality. This is. This is reality.”

You frown, kicking yourself in the shin because what was supposed to be a harmless conversation has now turned into an opportunity for Jungkook to try and convince you that you will, in fact, fall in love with him. You’ve dug your own grave and Jungkook was the one who handed you the shovel. 

“You’re not giving up, are you?” You say, shaking your head, flabbergasted. “Reality is the fact that this project is not going to make me fall in love with you. Nothing is.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Jungkook warns. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“You mean like spilling burning hot coffee all over me?” You ask, an eyebrow raised, a grudge still held. 

“We had to start somewhere,” Jungkook defends. “And you seemed to understand what I was doing pretty quickly.”

“It’s not the worst thing someone’s done to me,” you concede, only slightly. “Besides, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but throwing hot coffee all over me is not really a good way to start off your plan to get me to fall in love with you.”

Jungkook smiles. “All in due time, Y/N. All in due time.”

“I can’t believe Pollack actually paired us up together,” you say with a sigh. “You know she did it on purpose.”

“Of course she did.” It’s not really a surprise to either of you. 

“I met with her right after she announced our partners,” you tell him, “she said it was because she wanted to see what kind of project we would come up with. How we would address our… differing views on love.” That’s one way of putting it. A rather nice way, if you do say so yourself.

“Speaking of which,” Jungkook says, something suddenly flashing through his mind, “what do you really think about love? You know, other than it’s unrealistic and ruins people’s lives.”

“You make me sound like Ebeneezer Scrooge.” You frown at him. 

“I’m serious,” insists Jungkook. “Why are you so pessimistic about it? Have you ever been in love? Have you had bad experiences? You couldn’t have just developed this worldview over time.”

You scowl, feeling yourself getting defensive. “Well, maybe I did. Maybe that’s just what I think. Why do you care?”

“Because people don’t just hate love for no reason,” Jungkook exclaims. “Come on, there must be something.”

Your body stiffens. Who is he to be asking you this sort of shit? Why does he care so much? It’s not like it will have any effect on the outcome of your project. Not like you explaining yourself will change the way either of you look at the world. 

“What’s it to you?” You challenge. “Why do you love love so much? Have you ever fallen in love? Do you think it’s suddenly going to solve all of your problems?”

“I love it because I think it brings people real joy,” Jungkook answers simply. “It makes people happy and it’s beautiful. I love love and I’m not ashamed to say that out loud. I believe in it. I believe in love, and in destiny, and in soulmates. I want that. I think everyone deserves it.”

 You scoff to yourself. “You believe in soulmates?”

“I think we all have our people out there.” Jungkook nods. “Don’t you?”

You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. This conversation has gone nowhere, and Jungkook looks as equally dissatisfied as you do. 

“I think love can make us do stupid things,” you tell him succinctly, if a little jaded. No need to say anything else. Your explanation is right there. “We’re just different, I guess. You and I.”

Jungkook blinks at you, eyes wide and a little desperate. Your conversation has remained stagnant and there’s almost nothing left to say. 

Almost. 

“Don’t you ever want to fall in love?” He asks, like it’s a last-ditch effort to get you to believe. 

You freeze. Let the words sink in for a moment. Before you push them out the door and toss them into the garbage. Just thinking about it gives you a headache. Puts a sour taste in your mouth. 

Quickly, you push yourself out of your chair and stand up, grabbing your coffee with one hand and your backpack with the other. “I have to go, sorry. I just remembered I’m meeting up with a friend to help her with a photography shoot,” you fumble out quickly, the legs of the chair screeching as you scoot them across the hardwood floor. “Oh, here’s your jacket, too. Thanks for giving it to me again. I’ll see you in class.”

You whip around and head towards the exit, and only when you’re outside of the Starbucks and passing by the window do you dare look back. Do you dare let your gaze drift back to Jungkook, who is sitting there like he still doesn’t understand you. Still can’t. 

You and Jungkook are final project partners and maybe, if you’re pushing it, acquaintances-slash-friends. But there are just some things better kept to yourself. 

We’re reaching the halfway point in this semester and, as you all know, I don’t do midterms. That said, I still want you to reflect on what you’ve learned, discovered, and thought about thus far in this class. What portrayal of love did you find the most realistic? The least? How have they changed the way you think about love, both from a personal and a film perspective?

Y/N Y/N on March 3rd at 6:08PM

Purely from a film perspective, I really did enjoy watching Juno. It was funny and raunchy and just the right amount of vulnerable. It certainly felt the most real. So far, no film in this class has topped it for me. 500 Days of Summer, on the other hand, was in my opinion extremely unsatisfying and left no positive impression. The ending was a bore and Tom had absolutely no spine. It was a shame, because the direction and production was actually quite good. 

I guess I’m starting to realize how real love is not pretty. It can make people just as sad as it can make them happy. Why don’t we show the sad sides of love, too? The sides where your room is covered with a pile of clothes because you can’t bring yourself to do the laundry? Where you cannot cook a meal because it reminds you of a breakup? Rom-coms are, obviously, not the most realistic. But why are there not more films that do cover what’s real? How can we love love if all we know is a lie?

Jeon Jungkook on March 3rd at 11:13PM

Of course, I thought The Big Sick did an excellent job of their portrayal of love, adult life, and the problems that plague us all in the twenty-first century. It was also just as emotional and touched on concepts of race, illness, and being in your twenties and having no idea what direction your life is going in. The Princess Bride, on the other hand, as much as I love it, I do think created a more circumstantial kind of love. Westley and Buttercup mostly fall in love because of their situations. But it remains a classic nonetheless. 

I’m satisfied with the way the film industry has produced rom-coms and handles love. The beauty of it is that love is different for every person who goes through it. It can bring the greatest joy and the most painful sorrow. We do not just figure out what love is by what we see on film. We see it in our real lives, in our parents, in our friends, in couples in coffee shops and cars and on sidewalks. We can love love because we want that joy for ourselves. Because we know that true love will be worth any heartbreak we endure. Is it not impossible for the portrayals of love in these rom-coms to not be real? The way everyone experiences it is different. The only way you can know what real love is, and what it is not, is if you fall in love yourself. 

Early on in your project development, you and Jungkook exchanged class schedules to optimize your productivity and skip over that stupid, terrible part of partner projects where you’re just going back and forth trying to pick a time that works for the both of you until you eventually settle on something ridiculous like eleven o’clock at night outside of the McDonald’s two blocks off of campus. 

It’s been working very well. Neither of you have adventurous-enough friends to invite you out on spontaneous picnics and restaurant dates that fuck with your pre-scheduled meeting times, and Jungkook already seems to have mastered the art of screaming your name when he catches you on the sidewalk so that you can film something. 

In fact, you’re actually beginning to wonder why you haven’t done this with all of your long-term partner projects. Send each other your schedules so that you can settle on a time in advance. No muss, no fuss. 

You and Jungkook are supposed to meet up again tonight, after the two of you are finished with all of your classes, to discuss what scenes you should be filming next. Edited down, you’ve already got about ten minutes worth of footage, but it’s mid-March and the project is due at the end of April. So you need to get this show on the road. 

The door slams shut behind you as you exit the business building, your film industry class having just ended a minute ago. You’ve got an hour to kill before your next class, just enough time to dash to the food court in the center of campus and grab something from the Japanese place in the back corner. You might even have time to browse the shelves in the bookstore if you’re fast enough. 

You round the corner to the main pathway through campus when a voice stops you in your tracks. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

It’s not Jungkook. Instead, in the middle of the walkway are the Eighth Notes, one of the fifteen-thousand (you don’t know for sure, but if you had to estimate) acapella groups on campus. They’ve got mic stands and a table set up and everything. Maybe they’re promoting an upcoming show…? 

You almost breeze right by when one of them, the one in the middle of the group, points right at you, a lopsided grin lacing his features. You aren’t one to normally stop in the middle of a crowded footpath, but when, one after another, all six of the boys start pointing at you, you have no choice. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…” 

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

Their voices are smooth like honey, warm and deep, romancing you through their mics as each one of them suddenly manifests a rose from behind them. Around you, people are starting to stare, gawking at you as they walk by. There’s even a small crowd starting to gather, and you swear you can see some people filming on their phones. The fact that this is happening in the busiest ten minutes of the day, as half the student body is walking from one class to another, isn’t helping. At all. 

The rest of them singing in the background, each one steps out from behind the set of microphones to hand you the rose, smiling their classic, old-timey smiles like those old jazz singers from the 1960s, until you’ve got half a dozen in your hands as they continue to sing. 

“But if you feel like I feel…”

“Please let me know that it’s real…”

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

And then, suddenly, all of them are shutting their traps and turning to the left, looking down the pathway as the song begins again, but from one-hundred feet away. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

Your mouth drops. At the other end of the walkway is Jungkook, one of those wireless microphones in his hand, grinning as he saunters down the path like a prince at a ball, voice sweet and thick as the words dance off of his lips. 

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

Your eyes lock from opposite ends of the path, Jungkook stepping closer with every beat the Eighth Notes gives him. It sort of feels like your impending doom and a wedding proposal, all at once. By now a rather substantial audience has gathered, lining the walkway with their phones out, filming Jungkook as he waltzes past them, occasionally turning to capture your gobsmacked expression. 

Every step that Jungkook takes makes your heart race something fierce, cheeks warming in embarrassment, trapped in your least favorite thing in the entire world: a public serenade. You can’t really do anything except look at him in shock, feeling his steady gaze resting firmly on your figure, looking right at you. Into you. 

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

Jungkook, on the other hand, is clearly relishing in this. In the spotlight. In the music. Or maybe just in the fact that you’re on the receiving end of his over-the-top advances. His grin is wide as he takes those last few steps, microphone gripped neatly in his hand, the lyrics warm and weighty as they tumble from his lips. 

“And let me love you, baby…”

One final step and he’s right in front of you, staring into your eyes, letting himself bask in the look on your face. He produces a rose himself—cherry red, like his favorite color—and holds it out in between the two of you. In the background, the Eighth Notes go quiet, leaving Jungkook on his own for the final line. 

“Let me love you…”

The words drift above your heads, disappearing into the sky as he lingers on them, on that last note, beaming down at you. He looks at you, so hopeful, so happy, so endeared, and what else can you do? What else, besides taking the rose from his hand and smiling back up at him? Who are you to deny him of that?

The crowd around you cheers when you do, applauding both Jungkook and the Eighth Notes, with whom he is apparently in cahoots, before they all decide that they ought to get on with their day and head to class. No doubt you’ll be on several dozen Instagram stories by nightfall. 

Only after everyone has dispersed do you notice Taehyung, who must have been here since the beginning, because he’s just turning off the camera dangling from his neck. Of course Jungkook got him to film. Other than your project, what else would this be for?

“Is that the best you can do, Jungkook?” You smirk up at him, only saying this because you can’t have him knowing that you actually kind of enjoyed it. 

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jungkook responds easily. “Thought I would do something spontaneous.”

“And now you’ve taken up ten minutes of my lunch,” you say, shaking your head to yourself. “How spontaneous, indeed.”

“How was that, Jungkook?”

Behind the two of you, the Eighth Notes are packing up, clearly more than happy to have aided Jungkook on his quest for so-called love and getting to promote their group in the process. 

“Great, thank you so much, Jimin,” Jungkook says to the one in the middle, the very first one to sing when you walked out of the door. 

“Anytime, dude. Glad we could help,” Jimin responds. He waves hi to Taehyung, too, as they store their microphones and go on their way. 

Jungkook bids them goodbye as they head down the path, smiling at all of them before he turns back to you, notices the distant, faraway look in your eyes as you twirl the rose between your fingers, press it to your nose to pick up its scent. 

“You gotta admit, I’m a pretty good singer, eh?” Jungkook says with a nudge to your shoulder. 

“You’re alright.”

Jungkook laughs to himself. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get a big head,” you warn. 

“Think I’ll have to sing for you more, now, hmm? Since you liked it so much?” He suggests, eyebrows wiggling. 

You roll your eyes. “Only if you can get Jimin and the Eighth Notes to back you up, again. Then maybe I’ll allow it.”

Jungkook grins. He’s far past the point of being deterred by your deadpan comments. If anything, they only encourage him more. But you, for obvious reasons, cannot give in. At least, not yet, anyway. 

“Okay, go eat your lunch,” he says, nodding as you begin to part ways. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

You smile. “Okay. See you.”

“See you, too.”

The moment you get back to your apartment you put all seven roses in an old vase filled with water. They brighten up your bedroom instantly, soft scent freshening up the air. And when you go to bed that night, it is to Jungkook’s sweet, delicate voice, like walking on clouds, like satin and silk, that you fall asleep.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Jungkook greets like always, smiling at you as you walk in the door for FILM395. 

“Good morning, Jungkook,” you say in response. 

Then, you take a seat right next to him. 

It’s an act that clearly catches everyone off guard, if the bewildered looks of your fellow classmates and Jungkook’s confused expression are anything to go by. Even Pollack, when she walks through the door, gets a bit of a shock, eyes widening when she sees the two of you seated next to each other. 

You suppose all the fuss is understandable. After all, you both sort of hate each other. 

Other than the sudden change in seating arrangement, however, the rest of the class goes off without much issue. Pollack lectures for an hour before you move into discussion, at which point it becomes a class participation free-for-all, with you and Jungkook almost definitely in the lead. Just because you’re now sitting next to each other doesn’t mean either of you are suddenly going to stop raising your hands to rebuke each other’s points. Some things never change. 

Sitting next to Jungkook is not as bad as you thought it would be. For one, he is, for the most part, a rather diligent student. Other than his occasional flicks to his email, an essay he’s working on, or your discussion board, he mostly sits and takes notes and doesn’t do anything else. That, you can at least give him credit for. And even though your elbows almost always nearly crash into each other’s when you’re raising your hands to respond to a point Pollack’s made, discussion isn’t so bad either. 

One of the perks of sitting directly beside each other is that whenever he says something stupid, or saccharine, or just overly unrealistic, you don’t have to just roll your eyes from the back of the classroom while you wait to be called on. You also get to kick his foot with your own, nudge your elbow into his side. And he does the same to you. You and Jungkook are like those neighbors in sitcoms that spend all their free time shouting at each other from opposite windows. Just because your seats have gotten closer doesn’t mean your viewpoints have. 

A notification pops up on your laptop.

[March 17th, 11:05AM]

Jungkook: wanna meet at the tables outside after class?

You look over at Jungkook with a frown.

You: Why are you texting me? We’re sitting right next to each other

Jungkook: because we’re in class obvs Jungkook: dont wanna be disruptive

You: Since when has that ever stopped you before?

Jungkook: haha very funny Jungkook: tables sound good?

You: Only since you asked so nicely :)

Jungkook: thoughtful as always i see

After class, you and Jungkook both hang around, waiting for each other to pack up your belongings so you can walk to the tables together. Everyone else seems to sense this weird, uncomfortable tension in the room, because they all book it out of the door much faster than either of you do. You’re almost convinced Jungkook purposely takes extra time to zip his backpack, just because. 

The tables are, as per usual, empty. But you don’t have a pile of receipts to spread out, this time. You and Jungkook take a seat at one of them as you pull out your laptops, ready to outline the rest of the project. 

“We should probably meet with Taehyung a couple more times, too,” you suggest as you begin to brainstorm. 

“Sounds good,” Jungkook agrees. “But we can’t meet at night on weekdays anymore. My dance group’s show is coming up and we have practice then.”

You stop typing and turn to him. “I didn’t know you were in a dance group.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I don’t really talk about it that much.”

“You should.”

He looks up at you at that, eyes wide as he faces you. 

“I don’t know, it seems like something you should be passionate about,” you say. In the same way that you promote the Film Club to every freshman you know, force all your friends to mark that they’re Interested in your event pages on Facebook. Jungkook should want to tell everyone about his dance group. Doesn’t he love it? Isn’t he proud to be in it?

Jungkook doesn’t look like he knows what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything at all. 

“We can meet on weekends too,” you say, adjusting to his new change of schedule easily. “This project isn’t as all-consuming as I thought it would be.”

“You mean I’m not as all-consuming as you thought I would be,” Jungkook corrects. 

You shake your head. “No, you are.” He laughs. “But yeah, on weekends is fine. You know my schedule. What else should we do, besides talk to Taehyung?”

It’s like a lightbulb goes off above Jungkook’s head. “Let’s go on a date.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No.”

“What do you mean, “no”? It’s the natural progression of our relationship! It’s the next step in the rom-com! We have to,” Jungkook insists. 

“First of all, it’s a mockumentary, not a rom-com,” you say with a sigh, finding yourself having to correct him rather frequently. “Secondly, we are not in a relationship. I am not dating you and you are not dating me.”

“Okay, but at this point in rom-coms the two leads would definitely go on a date,” Jungkook says, punctuating every word for emphasis. “What’s the harm? It’s not like you’re committing yourself to a future with me.”

“Thank God,” you mutter. 

“Oh, shut up. You probably haven’t been on a date in years, anyway. Why not spend a night out?”

You frown at that. “Who cares if I have or have not been on a date?” Why does Jungkook care so much about the history of your love life? He’s always saying stuff like this, always telling you things as if you’ve never been in a relationship at all, don’t know left from right, black from white. Who is he to be making those assumptions?

“Please, Y/N,” Jungkook begs, looking desperate. “Just one evening. And then if it really goes terribly and you end up hating me again, then we don’t have to do another one.”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. Well, what else are you going to do? You don’t have any other ideas. And you’ve already spent so much time with Jungkook this semester, what’s another evening? Just something else to cross off of your list of things to film. Maybe you can get him to take a cute photo of you to post on social media. 

“Fine,” you concede. “One date. And I still hate you, by the way.”

Jungkook clearly does not believe you. “Really? You still hate me? I’m sure you do.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you. But still,” you relent again. Perhaps you’re just being oddly soft today. Too lenient for your own good. 

Jungkook grins, cheeks little round circles as his lips curve up. “I know you like me. You just can’t admit it to yourself, can you? Can’t take that blow to your dignity.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” you chide. 

“Who knows?” Jungkook tacks on, just to be extra annoying. “Maybe you’re actually starting to fall in love with me.”

You scoff. “You wish.”

“Well, are you?”

Jungkook doesn’t ask the question the same way he’s asked all of the other ones. Doesn’t say it with a shit-eating grin on his face or that glint in his eyes. He’s asking because he’s curious. Curious if what he’s been doing has been working. Curious if this project is really accomplishing anything at all. 

Funnily enough, you find yourself wondering the exact same thing.

Silent, you pausing for a moment to think, chewing on the inside of your lip. Jungkook’s looking back at you, lips curled upwards as he waits for a response. Ugh, you’ll just have to give it up. What else can you say? “I guess…” you begin, hesitating. 

You aren’t sure why you’re so scared to respond. Maybe you’re just worried that things will change if you say something. If you tell him the truth. 

But it’s just Jungkook. He’s sitting in front of you patiently, waiting for your answer. What could happen?

You confess. “I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Even though this is not the first time you’ve ever been out on a “date” (you’re using that word tentatively), picking out what to wear isn’t any easier than the last time. 

“Is black too, you know, sexy?”

Ruby shrugs on the other end of the video call. Her phone is propped up on her desk as she works on something on her laptop, glancing over every now and then whenever you prompt her to respond. “Well, that depends. Do you wanna fuck?”

“No.”

“Then it might be too sexy,” Ruby says easily. “What are you even doing? I thought you didn’t go out on dates.”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, although you’re not exactly sure which of the two of you you’re trying to convince. 

“You’re asking me what kind of sexy dress to wear for a night out with a guy. It’s a date,” Ruby reminds you, economical as always. “Who are you even going out with, anyway? You just called and asked me to pick between two dresses I have literally never seen you wear before.”

“That’s because I don’t go out on dates, which this is not,” you tell her, even expending the energy to stare into the camera to hammer your point home. “And it’s with Jungkook.”

Ruby shuts her laptop at that. You can hear the sound of her keyboard clacking as the lid hits them. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do I need to remind you that this is not a date and therefore, you don’t need to be acting like I just told you I’m getting married.” You frown at her. “It’s just for our movie. Jungkook wants me to dress nicely, though.”

“Wear that nice summer dress you have,” Ruby instructs instead, shooing away the two much sexier options you’re currently holding in your hands. “Just put tights on underneath if you’re cold.”

“This one?” You ask, shuffling through your closet until you produce the gingham dress, plaid a pale yellow that matches gold jewelry rather well. 

“Yes, that one. I like that one,” Ruby says with a nod. “You look good in it.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not appropriate.” You hesitate. It’s a cute dress, sure, but it seems too… casual. Too everyday. Jungkook’s taking you out to dinner, and no doubt he’s got something else planned for the rest of the evening. 

“I mean, you did say you had no plans on fucking him tonight,” Ruby reminds you coarsely. 

“I have no plans on fucking him at all,” you reiterate. “This is not a date. It is for our movie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ruby brushes you off with a wave of her hand. “Wear whatever you want, but I like your yellow dress the most. It looks really nice on you. And if it’s not a date, then neither you nor Jungkook should care.”

“Ruby—”

“I gotta go. Enjoy your not-date!”

She hangs up. 

You end up wearing the yellow dress. Jungkook knocks on your apartment door just as you’re closing the clasp to your necklace, a gold choker your mother had gifted you for a birthday a couple of years ago. It’s nothing much. You grab a jacket on your way to answer the door, wrapping it around your figure as you twist the knob. 

On the other side is Jungkook, all decked out in black jeans and a clean-cut leather jacket, the black ensemble striking against his warm-toned skin and bleached, blonde hair. You hate to admit it, but he actually does look rather good. For Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi—whoa,” Jungkook says, doing a little whistle when he sees you, eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

You chuckle. “‘Whoa’ yourself.”

“You, uh…” Jungkook stammers slightly, a hand coming up to rub at the nape of his neck. The movement lifts his arm up just enough for you to see the line of his waist, the seamlessness of his body. He’s always been rather fit. “You look nice.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you chide, stepping outside and pulling the door shut behind you. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Cleaned up just for you.” He grins. 

You press a hand to your heart dramatically. “I’m touched.” You begin walking down the hallway of your small apartment building, feeling your hands brushing by your sides due to how skinny the corridor is. At least, that’s what you assume. 

“Where are we going?” You ask as Jungkook opens the door to the passenger side of his car for you. 

He winks, that same gleam in his eye. He grins something wicked. “Don’t you remember?” He asks. “It’s a secret.”

The secret turns out to be a small Italian restaurant on an off-road in the center of town, a family joint with those plaid red tablecloths and dark wooden chairs. You’d never heard of the place before tonight, but Jungkook insists that it’s delicious and says it has a four-and-a-half star rating on Yelp, which is obviously gospel when it comes to restaurants. It’s so empty that he even has room to prop up the camera a couple of tables away to get that wide-angle shot of the both of you, two souls in a tiny little restaurant, enjoying a night out on the town. You’re sure that by the time production and post-production rolls around you’ll edit out most of your dialogue, but you like the idea of keeping in snippets of the audio, overlaying the scene with a soft instrumental. 

From a director’s point of view, of course. No other reason to romanticize your night with him. 

It’s nice. Objectively, it’s definitely one of the more exciting things you’ve done in a while, even if it’s just a dinner out in town, away from campus. It’s new. Adventurous. Jungkook convinces you to try his vodka shrimp linguine and you offer up some of your truffle-flavored gnocchi, which he devours happily. One thing you do learn is that no matter how much time passes, no matter how much food is on his plate, Jungkook eats and eats and eats. He never seems to fill up. This is one of those restaurants that pile your bowls high with pasta, give you at least three servings, send you home with to-go packages that will last you for days, and he still somehow manages to eat every last bite. He even has some of your leftovers. 

Jungkook pays because he insists and says that you shouldn’t fight on camera, which you have no choice but to agree to. However, you do look him up on Venmo and send him twenty dollars to cover your half of the bill, because the idea of him paying for you doesn’t sit right with you. It was fine with the coffee, a small token of repayment after spilling it all over you, but dinner just feels like too much. Like he’s carrying most of the weight and you aren’t shouldering enough. Like he’s putting in all of the effort and you are just bandwagoning off of him. 

And partnerships aren’t supposed to be like that. Jungkook isn’t supposed to do all of the work. You aren’t supposed to do nothing. You and Jungkook may not agree on much but you both know that you are equals. That what you put in is what you get out. 

It’s a lesson you think you learned too late, but you won’t make those mistakes again. You’ll get it right this time. 

“That was nice,” Jungkook says after the dinner. You’re walking through the park just across the street now, the sun having set and the streetlamps illuminating your path. The city has strung up lights along the trees, draped them over the branches like stars, like snowflakes. It’s picturesque. 

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for taking me.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How did you discover that place?” You ask, just out of curiosity. It’s not exactly the kind of restaurant that would be front and center on Google. 

“I went out on a date in freshman year there,” Jungkook admits, lips pursed awkwardly. “Yeah.”

“Did it at least go well?” You ask, trying to be hopeful. 

“If it did, do you think I’d still be here doing this with you?” Jungkook poses, an eyebrow raised. 

You chuckle to yourself. “You don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ll find your person.”

“You actually believe in that stuff now?” Jungkook asks you, skeptical. 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “You do. I don’t wanna ruin it for you. Your person’s out there somewhere.”

“How do you know I haven’t already found my person?”

You stop in the middle of the path, feet coming to a halt on the pavement. Jungkook looks at you and you look back at him, letting his question sink into your skin, etch itself into your thoughts. He’s asking you because he wants to know. He looks so genuine, so patient, like he’s trying to find an answer somewhere in your eyes but you can’t give him one. 

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell when you did?”

Jungkook sighs. “I don’t know if it always works like that.”

You smile, soft and small. Musing, you say, “well, when you figure it out, let me know.”

“Do you think you’ve found your person?” Jungkook asks you. 

“You know I don’t think about love like that,” you remind him. 

“Well, how do you think about it?”

You gaze up at him once more, that same soft smile playing on your lips. Who is he to be asking you these questions, you wonder to yourself. What would the point be in answering him? It’s better if you just both moved on. Especially since stuff like this has no relevance to your project. 

“I don’t really think about love at all,” you say curtly. 

“I wish you did,” admits Jungkook. 

The look in your eyes is distant. “Yeah.” You wish you did, too.

“How about we do a couple of quick shots, right here?” Jungkook suggests, pulling out the camera. “Just here, the lighting’s nice.” He jogs back a couple of feet, lining himself up with where you stand, kneeling on the pavement with the camera held up to his eye. 

“What do you want me to do?” You call to him, feeling like a fish out of water in front of the lens, thumbs twiddling. 

“Just smile,” Jungkook requests simply. “Say hi to me.”

Sounds easy enough. Under the twinkling lights of the trees, in the haze of their warm yellow glow, you wave to Jungkook, smiling happily. You aren’t exactly sure what the purpose of these shots are, but you suppose you could always use some artistic frames in your movie. Grinning, you keep your eyes trained on him, on the way you can see him smiling back at you even from behind the camera. His eyes are covered, you can’t see those, but you hope they’re smiling too. 

“Okay, my turn,” you say when a little too much time has passed, when it’s just past the point of filming for the sake of a movie and more for the sake of something else. “Get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You scurry over to Jungkook, taking the camera from his hands and pushing in in the general direction of where you were just standing. Situating yourself, you kneel right where Jungkook was, bringing the camera to your eyes. 

Through the lens, you can see the entire width of the pathway, the grass that borders it, the lights decorating the branches of the trees, and Jungkook, front and center. He looks like he has no idea what he’s doing there, waiting awkwardly as he gazes around, eyes drifting everywhere but exactly where you need them: you. He looks good like this, looks much taller, much more romantic. Like a real movie star. Like a model. His clothes make him blend in with the darkness of the night but his eyes are still shimmering, golden flecks twinkling, even from all the way over here. 

You have to admit it. He’s beautiful.

“Smile,” you say, pressing film. 

Jungkook grins your way. 

Afterwards, you give him his camera back and continue walking, turning the corner as you reach the edge of the park, ready to circle around the perimeter.

“How about we hold hands, too?”

“Excuse you?” You say, an eyebrow raised. 

“Come on, just for a second,” Jungkook pleads. “For the artistry. I’ll film us holding hands like all those Los Angeles boys do in YouTube vlogs.”

You look at him suspiciously. Is he sure it’s just for the artistry? “What a great example.”

“Please? Promise I always put hand cream on,” Jungkook asks, bottom lip turned outwards. 

It’s getting harder and harder to say no to him. 

“Fine,” you cave rather easily this time around. “Just for a minute.”

“Excellent.”

Jungkook lifts the camera up to his eye with his right hand as he holds out his left, palm facing the sky as he waits for you to rest your own in his. You narrow your eyes to the camera before your gaze drifts downwards to his open hand, almost like you’re afraid it’s going to jump out and bite at you if you get any closer. But it won’t, because it’s a hand. And it won’t, because it’s just Jungkook. 

The first thing you realize when your fingers intertwine with his is how big his hands are. They are massive. His left one dwarfs your own, wrapping around it securely, enveloping it like a king-sized comforter. The second thing you realize is how soft they are (he must not have been lying about the hand cream). The third thing you realize is the way they send sparks up and down your body, send tingles through your skin, shocks through your veins. You seize up a little bit at the feeling before your body finds it in itself to relax, letting the sensation wash over you like a wave from the ocean. 

It’s new. 

It’s strange. 

You haven’t felt that way in a long time. Felt those sparks, those jolts of energy. Like lightning has struck. 

Jungkook moves so that your hands are held out in front of you, making sure to adjust the lens just so he can get the exact right angle, but all you can focus on is the way your fingers interlock, the way your hand settles into his. 

You wonder what that means. 

The moment Jungkook lowers the camera you pull your hand away, overwhelmed and scared and shocked all at once. Like you’re afraid that if you reach out to him again, your whole body will freeze in place, shake like the wind. 

Jungkook looks at you, concern lacing his features. “You alright?” He asks, genuine and worried. 

You shake your head, willing those thoughts away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. You get the shot?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jungkook says. 

“And how do they look?” You ask because you can’t help yourself. Because you just have to know. 

Jungkook pauses, not sure how to respond. He chews on his lips like he’s running through all the possible answers, trying to figure out which one is right. You almost think he’s not going to reply at all, but then he smiles, and he says this: 

“Magical.”

It feels weird for you to be arriving at Kim Taehyung’s door without Jungkook by your side. Doesn’t sit right in your stomach. 

Of course, Taehyung is as hospitable as always, welcoming you inside with his signature warm grin as he sets up the bar stools by the bedsheet, which you assume he will just not take down until your project’s over. Hopefully he’s getting use out of it otherwise, shooting nudes or whatever it is he said he would do. 

“Thanks for having me,” you say, resting your backpack against the foot of his couch as you set up the tripod, arranging it in just the right spot. It’s not Jungkook’s fancy camera that you’ve got with you, just your own from a couple years ago, but it’ll get the job done. You couldn’t ask Jungkook to borrow his, anyway. You’d pass away before he found out you did this. 

“We might not use this footage,” you warn in advance. “I just figured it’s safer to film everything just in case.”

“Why wouldn’t you use it?” Taehyung asks, genuinely curious. 

“Because I don’t know if this conversation will really have a point,” you say nervously, fingers fidgeting with the settings until everything’s just right. 

“I’m sure it’ll be important,” Taehyung assures you. You’re not so confident. “Ready to get started?”

“Yes, everything’s all set up,” you say, concentrating on your breathing as you make your way to the stool. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Why are you so worried?

“So, Y/N, how are you feeling right now?” Taehyung begins. 

You sigh. “Confused.”

“And why is that?”

“I… I don’t really know what direction I’m going in anymore for this project,” you say, letting yourself be candid and honest because it’s just Taehyung, and because you may not even use this footage, and because Jungkook’s not here. He doesn’t know you’ve asked Taehyung to do this for you. He doesn’t need to. 

“And is this because of Jungkook?”

“Yes.” Another easy answer. 

“How are you feeling about him?”

“I’m…” you don’t know where to begin. “I’m not sure. I just know that something’s changed.”

“Your feelings have changed?” Taehyung isn’t reacting, just asking questions in response to your answers and pretending that everything is normal, that this is just another interview. 

“I guess they have,” you admit. Even just saying that feels like a weight off your chest. A small one, five pounds out of a thousand. But it’s a difference. “I… don’t really know how I feel about him anymore.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Taehyung told you he would ask tough questions, but you don’t know if you can answer these anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling yourself growing desperate with impatience. “I don’t feel the same things about him that I used to. He’s different to me now.”

“Do you think he’s changed?”

“Something has.”

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe you’ve changed, too?”

You frown, caught off-guard by his question. No, you haven’t. You haven’t thought about that at all. Why would you? Your stance is the same. Your opinions on love haven’t changed. And neither have your convictions about this project, about the way it will end. 

“No,” you say, nose scrunched up. 

“Well, I’m no expert, but I think there might be something between the two of you that wasn’t there before,” Taehyung says, nodding. “I think that the ways the two of you have changed have brought you together.”

“I don’t know about that…” You trail off. You can feel yourself growing hesitant again, pulling back from saying too much because you’ve never been a very good speaker. Because you’ve always preferred being behind the camera to being in front of it. 

“Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?”

You scoff. At least that’s got an easy answer. A no-brainer. “No,” you say matter-of-factly, obvious because it is, stern because telling him was never an option anyway. Why else does Taehyung think you’re here without him? “Jungkook said he would get me to fall in love with him and I told him I would never. How could I ever let him think he was actually winning?”

Taehyung sighs.

You haven’t seen Jungkook since your class on Wednesday. Granted, it’s only Saturday, but it feels like it’s been a weirdly long time. Like you’re so used to him barging into your life on the daily that there’s something off about even going three days without seeing him. Maybe it’s just because you’re nearing the beginning of April and your project is finally picking up steam. Between the two of you, you almost definitely have more than two hour’s worth of footage, but the hard part will be paring it down and turning it into a forty-five minute documentary. No doubt you and Jungkook will be spending a lot of time together the week before it’s due. 

Just out of curiosity, you text him. Because you have no idea what he’s been getting up to. 

[March 28th, 1:05PM]

You: Hey, do you think we need to get together sometime this weekend?

Jungkook: i don’t think i can Jungkook: it’s my dance group’s show this weekend

You: Really? You: You didn’t tell me

Jungkook: been too busy

You: What time is your show tonight?

Jungkook: 7pm

You: Sounds good, I’ll be there

Jungkook: oh Jungkook: you don’t have to

You: I want to You: I’ll see you there!

That night, you drop by the grocery store beforehand to pick up a bouquet of flowers. You haven’t been a performing arts show for years now, especially not one where you actually know the people performing, but flowers are customary. Or so you’ve heard. 

You don’t know a single soul who has plans on seeing Jungkook’s dance group either, but the theater is a ten-minute walk away from campus and you’re happy to make the trek alone, especially because you know you’ll find someone you know soon enough. Sometimes it’s nice to walk by yourself, letting the streetlamps above your head illuminate your path, a faceless figure passing by others. It brings peace. And it gives you time to sift through your thoughts, organize them into neat little piles and brush away all of the dust. 

Admittedly, you are not much of a connoisseur of the performing arts. You aren’t even much of a consumer. In another universe, under different circumstances, you wouldn’t blink twice if you heard that one of the dance groups on campus was having their show. But this is not another universe, and these are not different circumstances. 

Jungkook will be there. He is taking something he’s worked tirelessly on and presenting it to the world. Now that you think about it, it’s actually a lot like film. And if Jungkook has devoted so much time, put so much energy into this performance, what kind of person would you be if you didn’t go and watch his creation?

You pick a seat in the far back corner, the venue so cozy that even despite being the furthest away you’ve still got an excellent view, sit down, and wait for it to begin. 

[March 28th, 6:58PM]

Jungkook: hey are you here?

You: I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

Jungkook: always such a tease

You roll your eyes at that, turning your phone off and stowing it away in your pocket. Two minutes later, the lights dim. 

The moment Jungkook steps out onto the stage, you recognize him instantly. He’s wearing all black again, but it’s not the same skinny jeans and leather jacket he had on when he took you out to dinner. It’s a loose long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, highlighting the blondeness of his hair, the red in his lips. He’s one of at least a dozen people on stage but he’s the only one you focus on, the only one who your eyes follow. Booming throughout the theater is a Drake song, the beat thick and low, but it’s background noise when compared to the way he moves, the way he twists and turns his body on stage, angles sharp and crisp. 

The whole song goes by so quickly that by the time you find it in yourself to blink the stage is already darkening as they move onto the next song, switching out the performers and changing the spotlight colors to a sultry red. Jungkook disappears for this one, vanishing behind the curtains and forcing you to pay attention to the performance as a whole instead of just him. But you have to hand it to his group: they’re excellent. You’ve been missing out. 

Jungkook returns with the next song, having had just enough time to change into an all-white ensemble. He’s easy to spot even with that ridiculous bucket hat on, blonde hair bouncing with every step he takes, every jerk of his body. You can see it all the way from where you sit, see the way he loses himself in the music, lets the rhythm radiate through his blood, lets his heart match the beat that booms through the speakers. This, all of it, the music, the dancing, the energy—it’s all his. It belongs to him. Jungkook may love film but he is passionate about this. It is something that must bring him all the joy in the world. 

The next hour and a half goes by quickly, the songs jumping from one to another to another, Jungkook dashing on and off stage, each time returning in a different getup than the one prior. Makes you wonder just how many clothes he has. But before you know it the final song is playing and every one, every single member is on stage, jumping and cheering and celebrating a job well done. And they should, because they deserve to. 

When the lights in the theater come on, nobody leaves. Instead, everyone rushes towards the stage to say hello to everybody, congratulate them on their performance and take pictures with their friends. That’s why everyone else is here, isn’t it? Because the people they care about performed tonight. 

Isn’t that why you’re here, too?

Jungkook has plenty of other friends already wrapping their arms around him, giving him high-fives and pats on the back, but you’ve got a bouquet of assorted flowers in your hands and you have no plans on bringing them home. So you squeeze your way through the crowd, push yourself in between bodies, and you shout, 

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook looks up instantly at the call of his name, the round shape of his lips curving upwards into a smile when he sees you. 

“Hey, you made it!” He exclaims happily. He’s so pumped on the adrenaline that he pulls you into a hug without either of you even realizing it, wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing you tight for a few moments before the two of you remember just exactly who you both are. Quickly, you pull away, chuckling awkwardly. Jungkook scratches at the back of his head. “Thanks for, uh—thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you say happily. “You were amazing.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” Jungkook schmoozes, annoying as always. 

You scoff slightly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Here, I brought this for you. It’s traditional, right?” You hold out the bouquet in front of you, pink plastic wrapping crunched up from where your fingers gripped the stems. 

“Wow, thank you,” Jungkook says, in awe as he takes the flowers from you, pressing his face into the petals instinctively. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Really?” You say, genuinely surprised at his admission. He’s never been given flowers before? Not even for a performance? You didn’t know that, either. “Then I’m glad to be the first.”

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Jungkook says, though he looks grateful nonetheless. 

You shrug, acting casual. “Aren’t we supposed to be falling in love, or something?”

He grins. 

“Did you guys film this? Maybe we could incorporate it into the movie,” you suggest, thinking it might be interesting to add in glimpses into your normal lives, into the things you do when you aren’t trying to one-up each other. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “We did, but I don’t think we need to add it in.”

“Why not?” It seems like a perfect addition. 

Jungkook pulls out a single flower from the bouquet, a pale yellow daisy, and hands it to you. You smile your thanks, twirling the stem in between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he says, looking oddly soft, cheeks turning cherry red. He looks at you and it makes your heart flutter, quickens the drum of your chest. “I just think I’d like to keep this moment to ourselves.”

You suppose he’s got a point. You don’t think you’ll forget this night, either. 

The bouquet you gave him sits on Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom windowsill, bathing in the afternoon sun. Taehyung gave him some plant food the morning after you came to his performance, a little bottle that he can spritz into the water whenever the flowers look a little droopy. Jungkook adds some every day, determined to keep them alive for as long as possible. He also makes sure he’s got a rather heavy book or two, something he can use to press one of them when they’ve all shriveled up. 

It was really nice of you to come to his show, he thinks to himself. Jungkook can’t remember the last time someone outside of his group of close friends went to see him perform, not any of his past dates or even that one girl he was seeing semi-seriously for a couple months last year until she told him she wasn’t interested in him anymore. You’re the first one who’s made the effort, who’s told him that you would come and kept that promise. The flowers are just a happy reminder. 

As a celebration for completing their last show, Jungkook and some of the other juniors in his dance crew decide to go out the following weekend, determined to waste away their Saturday nights at a bar just off of campus where they can take as many shots of as many different types of alcohols as they want. The place even has soju, which makes Jungkook’s heart happy. 

Despite the temptation to drink until his brain is empty, however, Jungkook holds off. He’s got a lot of work tomorrow, most of it consisting of editing the footage you have for the project, and doesn’t really feel like staring at a computer for eight hours straight with a headache. So he limits himself. For the most part. 

“Who was that girl that came to the show?” One of his friends, Andrew, asks as he downs another shot of what is undoubtedly vodka, if the smell is anything to go by. “With the flowers?”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jesse pipes up, red in the face from the alcohol in his system. He’s always been one to turn into a tomato after drinking. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly, shaking his head when the bartender offers him another shot glass full of soju. “No,” he says, forcing a laugh. “Just a friend.”

“I don’t know, you guys looked pretty close to me,” Andrew points out, like it wasn’t already obvious enough that Jungkook is head over heels for you. 

“She and I are working on a film project together,” Jungkook explains, though that does absolutely nothing to convince his friends of your completely platonic relationship. 

“Sounds fun,” Jesse says, swallowing another shot and wincing. “It was nice of her to bring you flowers. My girlfriend didn’t do that.”

“Shut up, your girlfriend is studying abroad in Paris right now,” Andrew says, giving Jesse a good-natured shove. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“What, please don’t—”

“She’s not my girlfriend, guys,” Jungkook repeats himself, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer the conversation drags on. He chalks it up to the soju in his system and the fact that it feels like a sauna in here. “Seriously, we’re just friends. People can be friends and bring each other flowers.”

Jesse pumps his fist in the air. “Yeah!” He rounds on Andrew. “Where are my flowers, hey Andrew?”

The two of them start bickering as Jungkook laughs, shaking his head fondly. At least he’s not drunk, so he can remember nights like these, ones where he’s drinking with his stupid idiot friends, celebrating a show well done. 

Jungkook stays at the bar until eleven that night before he makes the executive decision to go home and sleep, because as much as he would like to party until three in the morning, he’s got a pile of work that’s telling him to be a real adult. So he bids his friends goodbye and begins to make the trek back to his apartment, passing by the row of frat houses on his way. 

Even though he’s out on the sidewalk, Jungkook can feel the ground rumble from the music, every frat on the block joining together to make some booming, bass monster. From here he can see the flashing blue and purple lights in the windows, see the brothers standing on the steps of each house and turning away whoever they deem unfit to enter. 

In a weird way, it makes Jungkook nostalgic. Reminiscent of when he was a freshman, when he would group up with all of the people in his hall and parade around the frat row on Saturday nights like they owned the place, getting drunk on shitty tequila and jumping until they sweat out their body fluids. He remembers those nights in flashes, bits and pieces that make up his memory of freshman year as a whole. Remembers kissing other girls, other girls kissing him. Remembers the way he would lock lips with them for a second and then forget about it by the next day. 

Jungkook wonders why he ever thought he would meet his soulmate at a frat party. 

He’s just passing the last frat house now, nodding to the guy on the step when they accidentally meet eyes, when he hears you call his name. 

“Jungkook!”

He whips around to see you on the other side of the road, waving at him excitedly while your friends all laugh, sending smiles Jungkook’s way. 

Jungkook isn’t exactly sure what the protocol is for a scenario like this, so he does what he thinks is right and waves back. 

“Come over here!” You shout at him, loosely gesturing for him to join your group. Jungkook is hesitant, not sure if that’s necessarily the best course of action because even from here he can tell that you’re drunk, leaning over to one side and giggling at nothing. But even if he isn’t sure what will happen he can’t help but fall into the way you’re beaming at him, waving excitedly because you saw him on the street and you wanted to say hello.

He’s never been able to resist you. 

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” He says as he jogs over, greeting the rest of your friends with a patient smile. 

“Went out with my friends,” you say. Jungkook can smell the alcohol on your lips. “And then I saw you, which made me happy!”

You stumble over nothing, shoes skipping as they drag along the pavement, and before any of your friends can react Jungkook is reaching his arms out, catching you before you fall flat on your face. Your hands press against his torso as he lifts you back to your feet, and all Jungkook can do is pray that you can’t hear the way his heart races, beat drumming in his ears. You giggle in his hold, disoriented but not at all uneasy, looking up at him as your eyes sparkle in the glow of the streetlamps. 

“Thanks,” you manage to cough out. 

“Sure,” Jungkook says, breathless. He stands you up and tries to let you go, but you keep your hands tight around his wrists. “I think we need to get you home.”

“Can you come with me?” You ask innocently, eyes wide. 

“Y/N…” One of your friends says, voice hesitant. She places a hand on your shoulder, looking concerned. Jungkook doesn’t take any offense to it, he doesn’t know your friends well and imagines that they would much prefer being the ones to drop you back at your place. 

You shrug her off. “No, it’s okay, Ruby,” you assure your friend, hand inching down Jungkook’s wrist until it rests firmly within his palm. “I’ll go with him.”

Ruby eyes Jungkook suspiciously and her gaze is so intense that it actually makes him doubt his ability to walk you home for a moment. But you seem intent on walking with him, and the sooner you go home the better, so Ruby relents and lifts her hand from your shoulder. “Alright, if you want to.” She keeps her eyes trained on Jungkook. “Text me when you’re back.”

“I will, I will,” you say, brushing her off and waving her away. “Let’s go, Jungkook. I’m sleepy.”

“Okay, come on,” he says. You smile happily at your friends as you say goodbye, cheerful and drunk and tired, all at once, and you begin to walk towards your apartment. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, positively filter-less. 

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Jungkook assures you. “What did you have to drink tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit happily. “Just a lot.”

“I can tell.” Jungkook nods. “Were you at a frat party?”

“Several,” you correct him. “They weren’t that fun but at least the drinks were free.”

“Why were you at a frat party if you don’t like them?” Jungkook asks you, nose scrunched up. You certainly aren’t the kind of person to hide your distaste for things. That is something that Jungkook is intimately familiar with. 

You shrug. “It’s the cheapest place to get drunk.”

“Why did you want to get drunk?” This is seeming more and more out-of-character for you. Going to a place you despise, taking shots until you can’t walk straight, meandering around campus with Jungkook. All of these are things Jungkook could never in a million years picture you doing out of free will. 

Well, all of them except maybe the last one. You did come to his dance show, after all. 

You sigh. It’s thick and heavy and Jungkook has a feeling you won’t want to divulge any more. “I just wanted to forget.”

But the curiosity is eating at him. 

“Forget what?”

Your grip on his hand tightens. Jungkook fully expects you to dodge the question like you’ve dodged all of the ones prior, say something else to change the topic so you can sweep this discussion under the rug like all of the other ones you’ve had. But you don’t. 

Instead, you say, “You wanna know why I don’t love love the way you do?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jungkook quickly assures you. 

“I had better options than this place,” you say, voice hollow and empty. “There were better universities that accepted me. Ones with higher-ranked film programs and bigger scholarships. I could have gone to any one of them and been just as happy. Maybe more.”

“But you didn’t,” Jungkook clarifies. 

“My ex-boyfriend goes to school ten minutes away from here,” you say, words that are most certainly news to Jungkook. You had a boyfriend? “He and I dated all throughout high school. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

The words sound so sad. It sounds like they don’t even belong to you. Like you’re recalling the memories of a different person, someone you’ve killed and buried, someone you were certain you would never have to face again. Yourself. Your past self. 

“And then he broke up with me at the beginning of last year and it was too late to transfer out.” Your words are slurred and garbled, like all you want is to get over with saying them in the first place. It’s not a dramatic revelation. It’s not something you’re crying about, sobbing into Jungkook’s chest as you remember, miserable, a time where you were once happy. You just sound lifeless. 

Jungkook blinks at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. It doesn’t feel right for him to speak up. Not when you’ve just revealed to him something so personal, so drunk that you probably won’t even remember saying anything when you wake up tomorrow morning. 

What is he supposed to do with this knowledge? What is he supposed to say? To do? It’s not like Jungkook can change your past. It’s not even as if he can change the near future. Your project is almost finished—the semester is almost over. And then you will return to the time where you never even knew each other. 

“You can say something,” you tell him.

“What do you want me to say?” Jungkook says. 

“Something to make me feel better, because now I’m sad,” you request simply. “Seeing you made me happy.”

“Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and smile, then,” he muses to himself. 

“No, please keep talking,” you plead, leaning into his body with your bottom lip puffed out, eyes big and round and desperate. “Listening to you gets me to stop thinking about this stuff.”

Hearing that, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to mind. And that is, “You don’t have to think about that stuff anymore at all.”

“Hmm?” You murmur into his chest. Jungkook sees your apartment building up ahead. Just another block or so. 

“Well, that was your old love story,” he begins tentatively. Jungkook’s almost fully sober by now but he feels like he won’t ever get another opportunity to say this, and maybe whatever soju is left in his system is enough to get him through this conversation. Enough for him to muster up the confidence to tell you what he’s been wanting to tell you for a while now. 

Even if you forget it by tomorrow. He knows this is his only chance. 

“And it didn’t have a happy ending, but that’s okay. Because ours will.” 

You’re just coming up to your apartment complex, the rusted gold doors of the entrance sticking out against the beige of the building and the sidewalk, shimmering in the light of the streetlamps. You pause right outside, taking cover underneath the red awning above your heads. Looking up at him, you blink expectantly. 

“How do I know you mean that?” You ask. 

He almost does it. 

Jungkook doesn’t really know what washes over him in that moment, what takes his heart and mind prisoner for a split second, grip tight and unforgiving. But he’s staring straight into your watery eyes, glossy and glimmery and glowing, lost in the way you press your lips together, the way you gaze up at him and wait for him to tell you what he’s always wanted to say, and he almost does it. His hands press at your sides, holding you close, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go you’ll vanish without another trace and this night will all have been for naught. 

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t for a lot of reasons. You’re drunk. When you wake up tomorrow, you will not remember this conversation. But Jungkook will. And if he does it, if he kisses you, if he presses his lips to yours it will be burned into his thoughts, carved into his heart, and you will be none the wiser. Jungkook can’t do that to himself. And he can’t do that to you, either. He will never take advantage of your company. He never has.

“Because,” Jungkook says instead, having hesitated for far too long. “I promise you.”

It’s good enough for him. 

He tucks you into bed at 12:17AM that night, feet padding along your hardwood floor so he doesn’t wake up your neighbors, guiding you to your bedroom and reminding you to text Ruby that you made it home safely. Jungkook’s never gotten a very good look at your place, and even now it’s hard to make out most things without the main ceiling lights on, but he doesn’t really want to snoop. Even though you invited him in, he still feels like he’s intruding. You’ve always been so private. There were a lot of things said tonight that Jungkook is going to have to reckon with. 

Once you’re curled up beneath your sheets, eyes drooping, Jungkooks turns off the light on your nightstand and nearly, just about nearly, presses his lips to your forehead. He manages to avoid doing that, too. 

Instead, he pulls up your duvet and heads towards the main room, making a beeline for your front door. But before he can leave the room, he hears you mumble out his name. 

“Jungkook?” You call, voice groggy. 

“Yeah?” He looks back at you from where he stands in your door frame, one hand on the knob, ready to pull it closed. 

You smile, eyes fluttering. “Thank you,” you say. 

Jungkook grins. 

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and three missed calls from Ruby, which undoubtedly means that something positively terrible happened last night. Unfortunately, you have no idea what happened at all last night, good or terrible, so whatever Ruby has to say will be news to you. 

Rubbing your eyes as you wrack your brain in the hopes of figuring out how you even ended up back at your apartment (when you swear you told Ruby you would stay at hers), you press on Ruby’s contact and call her. 

“Y/N? Hello? Are you there?” Ruby answers on the first ring. 

“I’m here,” you mumble out, words jumped and barely intelligible. You wince as your eyes adjust to the harsh blue light of your phone screen, squinting as you look at the time. 

Shit, it’s 11:43AM and you’re meeting Jungkook for coffee at noon. 

“Good, I called you three times last night after you texted,” Ruby wastes no time diving into her interrogation. 

“Why?” You ask, scrambling out of bed with your phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear. Your head throbs so you quickly take some Ibuprofen, splash your face with water, and start looking for something clean you can put on. 

“Because texting me ‘home’ is not enough!” Ruby exclaims. “Jungkook walked you home last night, I wanted to make sure you were tucked in bed and feeling alright.”

You frown. You don’t remember that. Granted, you don’t remember a lot of things, but you can’t recall Jungkook walking you back. You saw him last night? You didn’t even know. Scratching your head, a part of you vaguely pictures him standing in your apartment in the dark, resting against the door frame to your bedroom in the warm yellow light of the lamp on your nightstand. Can just barely see him tucking you into bed, placing the sheets over your figure and making you text Ruby that you’re home. You thought you were just imagining it at the time, but it must have happened anyway. 

“Jungkook walked me home?”

“Yeah, you insisted,” Ruby says. “You probably don’t remember, though.”

“No,” you say dumbly. 

“Well, I appreciate you texting me that you were home but I would have preferred something more explanatory,” scolds Ruby. “I thought maybe Jungkook was gonna do something.”

“Oh my goodness, no,” you immediately interject, pulling on your shoes and stuffing your laptop into your backpack. Just the thought of Jungkook doing something like that sends your stomach for a whirl. “He would never do that. I trust him.”

“I mean, I see that now,” Ruby points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “Everything’s good.”

“Alright, if you say so,” Ruby says, still sounding a bit like an overprotective mother. You love her, though. You know she just wants the best for you. “Take it easy today, okay? You had a lot to drink last night.”

“I will,” you assure her. “I’m just on my way to meet up with Jungkook now. Getting coffee.”

“Make sure to eat, too,” Ruby reminds you. “And tell Jungkook that I said thanks for walking you home.”

“Anything else, Mom?”

You can practically see Ruby frowning on the other end. “Oh, shut up. I’ll see you, okay?”

She bids you goodbye just as you’re dashing out the door, your usual stride quickening so you make it to the cafe in time, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting. You make it there in a record five minutes, pulling open the door frantically just as the clock strikes noon. 

Jungkook’s already there, of course, sitting by a little round table in the corner of the room with two americanos on the table. He waves when he sees you standing by the entrance, and the mere sight of him makes you smile, shoulders relaxing. 

“Hey,” you greet, a little out of breath as you settle into the chair across from him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook says back. “How are you feeling?”

“My head is killing me, but other than that I’m alright,” you admit, taking a sip of the drink. It’s piping hot but just the right amount of scalding, warming your insides after a night of filling them with pure poison. 

“Good.” He grins. “It’s nice to see your face.”

“Oh, yeah, speaking of which,” you say while still on the topic, “did you walk me home last night? I can’t remember.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, I bumped into you and your friends while I was on my way back from a bar.”

You wince. The fact that you don’t even remember that happening tells you enough. “I was super drunk, wasn’t I?”

Jungkook, nice as always, says, “I’ve seen worse.” It only makes you feel the slightest bit better. 

“Hope I didn’t say anything embarrassing,” you say, knowing you have a tendency to lose your filter almost entirely when you get wasted, letting any sort of mental reasoning fly out the door the moment you down another shot. And the thought of having told Jungkook something deeply humiliating or personal, or even him witnessing something stupid, makes you feel weirdly exposed. 

Jungkook freezes for a split second, almost like he’s buffering, like he’s about to say something but it’s just taking him an extra step to get the words out of his mouth. Then he takes a quick sip of his americano and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. You were just very drunk. And clingy.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you apologize. You can’t imagine the hell you must have put Jungkook through last night. 

Jungkook laughs. “It’s okay. I’m glad we got you home safe.”

“Me, too.” You nod. You send a grateful smile his way. “Thanks for walking me, by the way. I really appreciate it. Ruby says thanks, too.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says. It doesn’t sound like something that people say just to say it. The way that people say ‘anytime’ just so they can be friendly and amicable. He says it and he means it, says it genuinely and honestly, like it’s a real promise that he’s making. That he would be happy to walk you home again. No matter the hour. No matter how drunk you are. No matter what he’s doing. 

And that means a lot to you. 

“We should probably wrap up filming soon, huh?” You say, getting onto the topic at hand. Of course, the project is the whole reason you’re even talking to each other in the first place. “It’s due in three weeks.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of another outing? And maybe one more thing with Taehyung?” Jungkook suggests. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “‘Another outing’, Jungkook? What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins. 

This time, Jungkook is the one with the flowers. 

When you open your front door they’re the first thing you see, an enormous bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers in a variety of colors—pinks and purples and oranges and yellows—gripped neatly in Jungkook’s hand. They stick out against his otherwise rather formal attire, a simple black dress shirt and jeans, nice shoes that compliment his figure. Black truly is the world’s most slimming color, and Jungkook is no exception. He looks good. 

“For you, m’lady,” Jungkook says dramatically as he holds out the bouquet in front of him.

“How thoughtful of you,” you muse to yourself, grinning. You take the flowers and press your whole face into them, breathing in the fresh scent. “The one I gave you wasn’t nearly this big.”

“Go big or go home,” Jungkook teases. “You look nice, by the way.”

“You always sound so surprised when you say that,” you comment snidely, shaking your head as you grab your bag from the shelf next to your door. “What are we doing tonight, Jeon? Gonna keep it a secret from me like last time?”

“That depends,” Jungkook says knowingly. “Do you like secrets?”

“You should know what I like by now,” you remark. 

“Then prepare to be wowed.” He grins, taking your hand in his as he pulls you out the door. 

The restaurant you go to this time does not require a ten minute drive to the center of town. Instead, it’s a five minute walk from campus and actually happens to be a place you’ve been to before. It’s a busy little thing on a Friday night, waiters bustling about with trays in their hands, people laughing and smiling under the dim light of the chandeliers. You’ve only been here once, long ago, for a club dinner paid for by the finance chair, and for good reason. It’s not the kind of place cheap college students looking to get the most food for the least amount of money go to. 

“Isn’t this a bit out of budget for our rom-com?” You ask as the host seats you at your table, a little booth in the middle of the restaurant, lanterns resting on the corners of the seats. 

“I thought this was a mockumentary,” Jungkook jokes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, resisting the smile that fights its way across your face. Trust you to make that sort of blunder in front of him. “I mean it, though. This place is expensive.”

“It’s manageable,” Jungkook promises. “I’ve been saving up. Plus, I thought you deserved a nice night out.”

“How generous of you.”

“Oh, come on, I know you’re excited,” he narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t have to act like a stone-cold robot anymore.”

“Well…” you suppose enough is enough. Jungkook can see right through you anyway, so there’s no point in keeping up this indifferent facade of yours. “Only because you’re treating me so nicely.”

“Just please don’t order the steak,” he requests simply. 

You laugh. “No problem. Maybe we could just share a couple of appetizers?”

Jungkook likes the sound of that. 

Luckily, this is not one of those restaurants where the appetizers cost an arm and a leg and are the size of your pinky finger. You and Jungkook split three different ones, happy to scoop out portions for each of you and indulge in them together. 

Dinner dates—of which this is only sort of one—are always awkward because you spend half of the time shoving food into your mouth, but you and Jungkook don’t seem to mind the silence at all. Only, Jungkook does look sort of like he’s holding back.

“Is this enough food for you?” You ask him halfway through, distantly remembering how he absolutely devoured a whole plate of pasta last time and still having enough room in his stomach to finish yours. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of vegetables. 

“You ate so much at the Italian place, I just want to make sure you aren’t still hungry,” you point out. 

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, swallowing down the bite in his mouth. “No, I’m okay. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else. But what the hell, right? It’s Jungkook. It’s Jungkook and he walked you home when you were drunk, he gave you flowers, he let you borrow his jacket. And you feel as though you must return the favor. “Anytime.”

He smiles. 

Despite the pure ecstasy you both experience when eating delicious food, Jungkook makes sure not to waste this time and grabs a few frames of you eating with his camera. He always seems to have that with him whenever he’s with you, hanging around his neck or stuffed into his backpack or crammed into his pants pocket. Sort of makes you wonder just how much footage the two of you have of each other. 

He insists on paying but you send him some money anyway, just because letting him shoulder the burden of a place as expensive (for college students, at least) as this just doesn’t sit right with you. Whenever he receives the Venmo notification on his phone, Jungkook frowns and says that he’ll send that money back to you, but he never does and you can tell that he really does appreciate it. 

You don’t think you have any plans on stopping that for a while. 

The only downside of going to this restaurant is that there is no gorgeous, light-strung park in the vicinity the two of you can wander around. Just your campus, which you have no doubt walked a thousand times over, and the streets surrounding it, which you have memorized like the back of your hand. 

It almost makes you think that Jungkook is just going to drop you back off at your place and the night will end there, but you know better than to expect something like that from Jungkook. Instead, as you’re walking, you point out the cafe that you and Ruby always go to, see that it’s closing in half-an-hour, and Jungkook decides then and there that it’s your next destination. 

“You’ve never been here before?” You ask when you walk inside, eyes immediately drifting to the display of pastries beside the register. 

“I’m not normally on this side of campus,” Jungkook admits. “You’re the only reason I’m ever here.”

“Then hopefully after finding this place, you’ll have two reasons,” you say cheerfully. The baristas behind the counter know you on a first-name basis, are happy to help you out even though they’ve no doubt been working long hours and are ready to close up shop and go home. 

You split a tiramisu and sit at that same corner table you and Ruby always pick, empty now that it’s so late at night. Other than the employees, you and Jungkook are the only ones in here, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, filled to the brim with people, the smell of cooked food wafting through the air. 

 The tiramisu isn't as fresh as it would be bright and early in the morning, but you suppose that that just means you and Jungkook will have to come back. Besides, Jungkook obviously does not seem to mind, scarfing it down ruthlessly. You’re in and out just as they close up shop, the employees bidding you goodbye like old friends, sending you on your way. There’s not really much else either of you have planned for tonight, and Jungkook isn’t coming up with any new ideas as he checks his phone. Instead, you just begin to head back to your apartment, all wrapped up in each other. You place your hand in his own and feel yourself relax when he squeezes, a silent little reminder that he’s still here, and that so are you.

Funnily enough, holding hands feels natural to you at this point. 

“Tonight was fun,” you comment, breaking the quiet.

“Yeah, glad we could do this,” Jungkook agrees. “Makes me kind of sad to know that this thing is almost over.”

“What, the project?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Yeah. And the class. And the semester. It’s kind of scary. We’ll be seniors next year.”

You chuckle. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I still have no idea what I’m going to do after we graduate.”

“You don’t have to know everything,” Jungkook reassures you. “As long as you’re happy with what you have now.”

“Are you?” You inquire, looking up to meet his eyes. 

Jungkook beams down at you. “I am.”

The walk from the cafe to your apartment is short, just under five minutes, but it feels like it takes you an hour, footsteps slow and languid, like neither of you want the night to end. You hit every red light, round every corner, drawing out the evening for as long as you can. Unfortunately, there is only so much you can do on a five-minute walk, and before you know it, you’re home.

“This is me,” you say, stopping outside the gold doors of your apartment complex. “Thanks again for tonight.”

“Anytime,” Jungkook says, a common thread in your conversations. 

“Really?” You ask, skeptical. “Our project’s almost over.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to stop doing this,” Jungkook says. 

You narrow your eyes. “What are you implying, huh, Jungkook?”

“This.”

Before you know it, he’s wrapping one hand around your waist and pulling you in close to him, your palms splayed out against his broad, toned chest, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp a little into the feeling, somewhat shocked he would dare be so bold even after all this time, but find yourself sinking into the touch. He tastes like coffee and cream, like peppermint from his chapstick, like the wine you shared tonight. You cave into the way he holds you, hands wrapped around your body, palms pressed firmly against your figure. He holds you like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to remind himself that you’re real and here and that you are kissing him back, like he’ll forget once the moment ends. 

But he need not worry about that. 

When you part, you don’t even bother wiping off the stupid smile on your face, kiss-drunk and filled with glee. It’s been a long time since you felt this way. And Jungkook makes you feel things you don’t even think you can explain. 

“How bold of you,” you comment, noses touching, barely an inch away from each other. 

“I figured I’d shoot my shot,” Jungkook says. He shrugs, pretending to be casual, but you can see the way he’s grinning, beaming, down at you. 

“You scored,” you remind him.

“How observant of you,” teases Jungkook in return. You pout a little at his playful mockery, heart fond. “Think we can do it again?”

“Hmm, I would tone down the ego first,” you say, already leaning back in to press your lips against his. 

“Never.” He smiles wickedly. 

It’s a quicker kiss this time, a short peck against his cherry red mouth, but it still makes your heart beat something terribly fierce. 

“See you soon?” You ask when you finally pull away, knowing that as much as you’d like to, you can’t just stand out here kissing each other forever. 

Jungkook nods, cheeks pink and warm to the touch. He looks so sleek in his formal black outfit, crisp button-down and slacks, hair all styled, but the way he’s grinning at you makes him look so young, so sublimely happy. It’s nice. 

“Anytime.”

“There’s my favorite couple!” Taehyung greets excitedly when he swings open the door to his apartment to reveal you and Jungkook standing on the other side. 

“What’s it to you?” You comment snidely as he lets you inside, the black sheet still taped up along his wall. It looks a little more wrinkled than when you last saw it. 

“Oh, nothing,” Taehyung singsongs. He definitely knows a lot more than he cares to tell either you or Jungkook, but whatever. The project’s almost over and he’s almost finished with university entirely. “You guys are just cute together, that’s all.”

“Like you even know the half of it.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes. 

Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows. “Ooh, do tell.” He grins that greasy, comic-book-villain grin of his as he starts moving his bar stools back to where the sheet lines his cream-colored wall. 

“Isn’t that the whole point of this?” Jungkook poses, making you laugh from where you’re seated on the couch, watching Jungkook set up his tripod in exactly the place he wants it. You smile at him as you recline against Taehyung’s poor old leather couch, so worn-down from use that the back cushions fold in when you press against them, and Jungkook peers out from behind the camera to blow you a kiss. 

You send him one back without even needing to think. 

Taehyung misses the whole scene, but no doubt he’ll be putting two and two together pretty soon. You and Jungkook agreed that for the last interview you would be questioned together, long before Jungkook actually managed to romance you off your feet, and there’s not a doubt in your mind that the two of you being interviewed side-by-side will make things much more interesting. 

Nevertheless, Jungkook sets up the camera and sends a thumbs-up your way when he’s ready, Taehyung sitting on the bar stool just outside of the frame with a couple of index cards in his hand. 

“Let’s do this,” you say, hauling yourself onto the seat. Jungkook does the same shortly after, scooching onto the one next to you as you stare at Taehyung, waiting for him to start. 

“Looking forward to this one?” Taehyung asks knowingly. 

You shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little.”

“Excellent. Shall we begin?”

You and Jungkook nod. 

“Alright. Well, this is presumably the last thing the two of you will be filming for your project. How are you feeling about it?”

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” you admit. It will come as a shock to no one that you did not have very high hopes for this project when it was first assigned. 

“Of course it did, I’m your partner,” Jungkook teases, poking you in your side. “Would you ever doubt me?”

“Always,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles. “Sounds like it’s been good so far. Did you enjoy filming it?”

You nod. “Yeah, it was actually kind of fun. Except for when Jungkook spilled coffee all over me, that was not cool.” You turn to face Jungkook directly, and all he does when you say his name is wink and point at you. 

“It was for the rom-com, I don’t know what you expected,” Jungkook said. “I gave you my jacket, too.”

“How gentlemanly.”

Taehyung chuckles, warm and low. “I’m sure Jungkook learned his lesson,” he muses. “What was your favorite thing to film?”

Not when I randomly texted you five minutes before I showed up at your door to make you ask me questions about how I feel, you think to yourself. Jungkook still doesn’t know, but you think you’ll put it into the movie just for the hell of it, so he’ll find out then. Find out that you were grappling with your feelings for him long before you ever let on.

“The serenade was a blast, a special shoutout to the Eighth Notes for doing that for me,” Jungkook says immediately. Obviously that is at the top of his list. “Plus, I just like seeing Y/N all flustered.”

“Shut up, you’re so annoying,” you chide. “I guess the serenade was kind of cute. I liked going out together, though. On our not-date.”

Jungkook objects to that instantly. “It was a date, Y/N!”

You look back at him, equally as scandalized as he. “Whose turn is it to talk?”

“Mine, actually,” Taehyung interjects. “Did you like going out together?”

You sigh a little, wondering if you’re really about to turn into a softie in front of a camera for a movie to be shown to your twenty classmates and professor. “Yeah,” you say, real and true because that’s what you agreed on, you and Jungkook. To be candid. To be honest. To say how you felt. Really. “It was really nice. I hadn’t gone out with someone like that in a long time.”

“And were you happy because of the project, or because of Jungkook?”

“Well,” you begin, not exactly sure where to start. “I guess, it’s like… you know, I didn’t even know Jungkook before this project. I mean, I knew who he was, he would always respond to my discussion board posts and object to everything I said in class. But I didn’t know him as a person. But as we worked on this project together, planning and filming and editing, I started to. And we did so many things together. And I guess I just really enjoyed the time we did spend as a pair.”

“Would you say the same, Jungkook?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says easily. “That’s what I wanted. To get to know Y/N, to spend time with her. I was glad we had this project. Otherwise, we might never have done something like this.”

“You both seem very happy.”

“I think we are. This project was actually sort of a blessing in disguise. I know him a lot better, now,” you say. “I’m glad that I do. He makes me smile, and laugh, and I always feel happy when he’s around. I don’t know. He did it, somehow.”

“Jungkook?”

“It wasn’t just me. Y/N and I did this together. We made this. This project. Us. It wasn’t just her, or just me. It’s ours.” Jungkook grins.

“Are you glad you did this project?”

Of course. It was fun, and I liked filming it, and I feel like I got something really important out of it. I know it’s just a short rom-com mockumentary, but it really feels like there was a happy ending, you know? A happily ever after.”

“You seem really certain about that.”

“Well,” Jungkook says with a little scoff, “what else would you call it?”

“As you can see, obviously Y/N fell head over heels in love with me thanks to this wonderful project—”

“Why are you always so full of yourself—?”

“Hey, you’re ruining the voiceover! As I said, as you can see, Y/N fell head over heels in love with me, but that wasn’t just because of my dashing good looks and amazing singing skills.”

“The ends of your hair look like hay—”

“It was because we were honest with each other, and because we spent meaningful moments together, and because we kept our hearts open. And I guess that’s the truth of it all, isn’t it? Love, romance, relationships? If you close yourself off, you’ll never get to experience them. But if you take every opportunity with an open mind, then you never know what might happen. Like falling in love with your discussion board nemesis.”

“Who, me?”

“Just let me finish, come on. There’s like one paragraph left. I know this was a mockumentary, not a scripted rom-com with professional actors and screenwriters and a whole team of editors. But that was the whole point. To make it real. And to make it between two people who aren’t just characters on a screen. We’re real people, and this happened to us. And it makes us happy. And it can happen to you, too. I think we all learn something every time we watch a new movie. Whether it be about loss, or promises, or other people. This time, we learned about love. Real love. How it can be rocky and strange and come straight out of left field. But also how happy endings aren’t just for movies and fairytales. We all deserve them. And Y/N and I found our own.”

“Are you gonna say it?”

“And so… they lived happily ever after.”

You look up at the screen, expecting to see the credits roll, but instead it’s a shot of the two of you kissing outside of your apartment building, a shot of you wrapping your arms around him as you press your lips to his. It lasts for only a few seconds, but you find yourself entranced in the moment, shocked that Jungkook somehow managed to capture it on film. He didn’t even have his camera with him that night. 

Pollack turns on the lights in your classroom as your fellow classmates applaud, all of them looking genuinely pleased that your rom-com had such a wonderful ending. Pollack herself looks rather proud, nodding to herself as she smiles at the two of you. 

“You filmed us kissing?” You hiss to Jungkook as your classmates clap, hoping the sound of it will drown out your conversation. 

“I got Taehyung to,” Jungkook whispers back. “Why?”

“I just… I thought that night was just for us.”

“The rest of it is. But I thought the kiss would be a cute way to end it. You know, happy ending and everything.”

Alright, if Jungkook insists. You nod, tensing up slightly. You hadn’t even noticed Taehyung down the street, standing behind some utility pole with the camera raised to his eye. Had Jungkook texted him in secret? Asked him to meet you outside of your apartment? Was he planning on kissing you from the very beginning?

You shake your head, willing away the thoughts as Pollack commends the two of you for a job well done. Jungkook and you stand at the front of the room for a few more seconds, getting stared down by your fellow classmates while Pollack speaks. The period ends just as she finishes up, the minutes changing the moment she closes her mouth. Within a minute or so, the whole class has emptied out, some of them congratulating you and Jungkook on the way out. 

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” Jungkook says, eyes bright and filled with that same wonder he’s always got. 

“Yeah,” you say distantly, nodding to him as he disappears out the door. 

“You did an excellent job, Y/N,” Pollack praises, and it goes right to your head, if you’re being honest. “It was brilliant.”

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly rather shy. “That means a lot.”

“Don’t tell anyone else this,” she says, voice quiet, “but I was secretly hoping the two of you would fall in love.”

“Pollack!”

She laughs. “What? I thought you’d make a cute couple. And you do, so clearly it all worked out anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the code of conduct,” you say, even though you know you can’t be too mad at her. After all, you wouldn’t have Jungkook if it weren’t for her. 

“Y/N, I’m tenured. I don’t care.”

“Wait…” you pause, eyes narrowing, “how many of your students have you set up with each other?”

Pollack grins. “I never reveal my secrets.”

Your mouth drops open. 

She chuckles, shooing you out the door. “Go on, go be with your boyfriend. You can tell him you both get A pluses for your project. It was excellent. One of the best I’ve seen in a very long time.”

“Thanks, Pollack,” you say, smiling gratefully. “You’re the best.”

She points at you proudly as you head out the door. “So are you.”

Jungkook is waiting by the tables where you always sit, half a flight down from your classroom. He’s leaning against the edge of them as he scrolls mindlessly through his phone, so engrossed in the Instagram explore page that he doesn’t see you walk up. 

“Guess what,” you say, getting all up in his face, just because you can. 

“What,” Jungkook says, an eyebrow raised. 

“We got an A plus on our project!” You exclaim happily, cheering. Jungkook laughs at your exuberant reaction, watches as you jump around, clapping loudly. 

“Hell yeah, we did that!” Jungkook holds his hand up for a high five, one you gladly take. Your palms smack together and the sound reverberates around the hallway. 

“You know, you and I—” you begin, placing your palms on his cheeks as you pull yourself in for a kiss, “we make a pretty good team.”

“Only because you’re so good at editing,” Jungkook says. You’re both not too bad, if you do say so yourself, but since Jungkook did so much of the filming you thought it would be better if you carried more of the weight when it came to post-production. 

“Says you,” you tease, pressing your lips to his button nose. “The happy ending thing was a nice touch, I liked it. Makes me feel like I’m in a fairy tale.”

“I’m glad,” Jungkook says with a chuckle, admiring the way you beam at him. “You know, I was really worried that you might think we didn’t have a happy ending after all, especially after everything.”

“What do you mean?” You look at him curiously. 

“Well, I just really wanted to make sure that we had a happy ending, because you’ve been through so much.”

You pause in place, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. Been through so much? Does Jungkook know something you don’t? Wait, no, did you… did you tell him—?

“You knew?” You ask, the realization piercing you like an arrow. “All this time, and you never said anything?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

“How long have you known?”

He winces. “Since I walked you home when you were drunk. You told me.”

You did?

Shit.

“And you didn’t think that maybe you should have told me that you knew? Especially when I asked you if I had said anything embarrassing?” You cry out, indignant. “What, were you just planning on never telling me?”

“I was going to, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to know that you had admitted all those things to me,” Jungkook admits, growing desperate. “They were really personal things, I thought you might react badly.”

“Oh, so you just decided to keep it a secret instead? Look how well that worked out.”

“What was I supposed to do, Y/N? I know you would have been upset.”

“Tell me!” You exclaim. “I asked you if I had said something embarrassing that night and you said I hadn’t. And I believed you. Better to have known then than now!”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just tell me. Didn’t we say we would be honest with each other? But instead, you just let me assume that all of the nice things you did for me were because you actually cared, and not because you felt bad for me?”

“I don’t feel bad for you!” Jungkook shouts. “I mean, I do, but that’s not why I took you out on dates and gave you flowers and held your hand. I do care about you.”

“Oh, so filming us kissing was just because you actually cared, too, right?”

“I don’t know why you’re so hung up about that,” Jungkook points out. 

“Because I thought it was a private moment,” you remind him. “You hadn’t filmed anything the whole night. I thought we were just going out on a date like two people who cared about each other did. Us kissing was personal. But you texted Taehyung and told him to show up with his camera anyway, right? Because you were planning on kissing me from the very beginning. Because you knew, Jungkook. You knew and you had absolutely no intention of telling me.”

“Y/N, wait, I didn’t do those things just because I pitied you,” Jungkook says, reaching out for your hand. 

You pull away. “You didn’t? Then why did you film us kissing, then?”

“Because…” he flounders. You aren’t at all surprised. “Because—”

“Enough, Jungkook. I get it,” you stop him, shaking your head. “Everything we’ve done since that first date we had, when we went to the Italian place, everything since then—it was all played up. Because you felt bad for me. I had a shitty experience with love and you wanted to make me feel better. Whatever.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook chases after you as you begin to walk down the stairs, towards the exit. “I didn’t pity you. I still don’t. I did those things because I care about you, and I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you got what you wanted,” you say, arms crossed over your shoulders as you push your way out the door. “I was so happy when I was with you.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

“Bye, Jungkook.”

The door slams shut behind you. 

“How many finals do you still have left? You finished your movie, right?”

Ruby is stirring herself a cup of earl grey tea as she sits down on the couch next to you, where you’re very obviously sulking as you scroll through the Feel Good Rom-Coms category on Netflix. 

“I just have a couple essays and a presentation,” you mumble out. “You?”

“Ugh, I still have all of my final exams to take,” Ruby tells you with a thick, heavy sigh. Clearly, she doesn't feel like talking about them now. Or at all. “The life of a biology major.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor, not me,” you remind her crudely. “You better know your shit, or I’m never taking my kids to your practice.”

“Rude,” Ruby says. “There goes my family and friends discount offer.”

You laugh to yourself, a small smile inching its way across your lips. Ruby’s always known how to brighten your day, even when you feel like absolute shit. 

“What are we watching, hmm? I’m cool with anything.”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, flicking through all of the rom-com options and feeling very unhappy with all of them. “I feel like you’ve seen all of these.”

“Yeah,” Ruby says. “Whenever I’m not studying, I’m watching Netflix or The Bachelor.”

You nod. Maybe you’ll just settle on some old NCIS reruns and call it a night. 

“Oh!” Ruby exclaims suddenly, a lightbulb going off above her head. “How about we watch your movie? The rom-com you did with Jungkook! I haven’t seen it yet.”

“I don’t know…” You begin, the mere thought putting a bad taste in your mouth. For obvious reasons. 

“Come on, please? I really want to see it, you were so excited about it,” Ruby begs, getting all antsy as she climbs all over you, literally pulling your arm to get you to cave in. “It’s short, too, isn’t it? Like forty-five minutes long? We can watch whatever you want afterwards. Please.”

You huff out a breath. If it were up to you, you would move that film onto a flash drive and toss it into a dumpster on fire. But it’s not just up to you. Ruby has been asking you about it since the day you told her you were filming it, and now all she wants to do is see the final result. And it’s only forty-five minutes long. What’s that when compared to the rest of your life?

“Fine,” you relent, not wanting to fight about it any longer. “Let me get my computer.”

Ruby cheers. 

You bring your laptop over to your coffee table, turning off the ceiling lights as Ruby tucks herself underneath a blanket, hands warmed by her steaming cup of tea. You pull up the movie file and, taking a deep breath, press play. 

It opens with your first interview with Taehyung, a muted, royalty-free lo-fi hip-hop song playing in the background. You had edited it so that it would jump back and forth between your answer and Jungkook’s, highlighting the contrast between the two of you. It was mostly for comedic purposes, just because seeing you deadpan about how love doesn’t exist and then quickly switching to Jungkook wax poetic about it is amusing, but watching it now just makes you want to curl into yourself. 

You should have known that this would have never worked out. Should have kept that same jaded attitude. You let your guard down for one second and look at what’s happened to you.

The next scene that Jungkook shows is, of course, the moment he spills burning hot coffee all over you in the middle of the Starbucks, comedically panning up to your positively-flabbergasted face just to add to the shock factor. Next to you, Ruby laughs at the mishap, obviously amused by the fact that the two of you are now drenched in coffee and scrambling to clean up the mess. You try to focus your energy on how peeved you were at Jungkook after he did that, but get distracted the moment he films himself wrapping his denim jacket around you, placing it over your shoulders and making sure it’s just right. 

He didn’t have to do that, and the two of you both knew it. But still, he sent you off your class all bundled up in a jacket that smelled like him, smelled of that boyish aroma that you couldn’t get rid of, even when you put it in the wash with your lavender detergent. All of Jungkook’s clothes smelt like that no matter how much cologne he put on, always smelt woody and thick. It would consume you, that scent, a cloud surrounding your figure whenever you were near him. 

The movie keeps playing, and you keep thinking about how much of a fool you must look like in it now, all giggles and smiles as Jungkook sings Frankie Valli to you while he hands you a rose, that same sly little smile dotting his features. Hearing the song again makes you feel like you’re choking, like something’s smothering you, and you’re not sure what it is until you realize that it’s the sound of Jungkook’s voice. 

You haven’t heard him sing since he serenaded you. 

Then it’s your first date, the one Ruby told you to wear the yellow dress to (“Hey, I told you you looked amazing in it! Wow!” Ruby exclaims when she sees you). You remember when you edited this, putting the clips together of you eating at the restaurant, wandering around the park, posing underneath the trees, holding hands. You were smiling so hard your cheeks hurt while you were editing, grinning from ear to ear at all of the things the two of you did together. They were so picturesque, those scenes, so perfectly shot, so romantici—t did a fine job of convincing you that it was all real. 

You even put in the little clip of you and Taehyung talking. A mistake, now that you look back on it, of course. It was so vulnerable, so real, so candid and honest like you said you would be, and now it’s all blown up in your face. You must have looked like such an idiot to Jungkook when he saw this scene for the first time in class. You remember the wide-eyed look on his face when it popped up. Like he couldn’t even believe you had done this in the first place. 

Scoffing, you shake your head. You either. 

The rest of it you can hardly bear to watch. Just a wrap-up of your relationship, a compilation of all of the small moments you shared when you didn’t realize that Jungkook was filming, when you dared whip out your camera to shoot for a second or two. Little clips that jump from scene to scene, shots of you laughing and eating and skipping along campus as you held hands. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s all over. 

You don’t even listen to the final interview, not bothering to pay attention to what you or Jungkook have to say when you were there, when you can recall every word he’s ever spoken to you at the drop of a hat. 

The truth is, you were always a goner for him. 

And look how well that played out. 

By the time the kissing scene comes up once more, you’re ready to set your whole laptop alight. 

The screen turns black as it ends, fading away into nothingness, the instrumental slowly disappearing alongside the image. You shut your laptop when it’s all over, a little too angry for your own good, but you wrestle the scowl off your face as you take a drink of water from the glass sitting on the table. 

“Wow,” Ruby says, speechless. She blinks at your closed laptop. 

“Did you like it?”

“I—I don’t even know what to say,” Ruby says, which is a first. “It was amazing, Y/N. Seriously. Gorgeous. Like, cinematographically? Stunning. The shit on Netflix isn’t even as good as that.”

Even if you did have to sit through your stupid movie one more time, the compliments make you feel a bit better. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

Ruby nods enthusiastically. “It was incredible. I’m just—I’m in awe. You and Jungkook have a gift, dude. It was seriously one of the best things I’ve watched in a really long time. And, like, not even in a cheesy, yucky rom-com kind of way. It was so… so genuine. So real. Wow.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“You’ll have to tell Jungkook, too,” Ruby says. “He did really well.”

“Yeah, he’s a great actor,” you say, a little too bitterly for your own good. 

“What do you mean?” Ruby raises an eyebrow your way. “I didn’t think he was acting at all. It looked pretty real to me.”

You frown. “It did?”

“I mean, yeah,” Ruby says with an honest nod. “I mean, you did tell me it was a mockumentary and not just a run-of-the-mill rom-com. So wasn’t everything supposed to be real, anyway?”

“Yes…” you trail off, unsure of the direction of this conversation.

“Well, if you ask me,” Ruby says, all matter-of-factly, “I’d say he definitely fell in love with you.”

Something rushes through you. Something warm and bright and full of energy. 

Hope. 

Even though you have finished one of your finals early, finals week is still just as much of a slog as it always is. Three essays and two presentations deep, you aren’t finished any of them and the due dates are slowly creeping up on you, ready to pounce the moment the clock strikes twelve. 

Eh, it could be worse. You could be Ruby and have six timed, proctored final exams on biology, anatomy, and chemistry. So you suppose you can’t complain too much. 

Finals week sees you all holed up in your apartment like always, but more so this semester than any previous ones because you don’t feel like going to the library and risking seeing Jungkook there. Or anywhere, really. Since you presented on the last day of classes, you haven’t spoken since, and hopefully you can keep that streak going forever. You had made it until this semester without ever crossing paths despite being in the same major, so hopefully that luck will follow you. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to call it quits for the night, having at least gotten mostly through two of your essays (just have to edit and proofread!) and worked on about half of your two presentations. Sighing, you get up from your couch and stretch, feeling your bones crack from sitting in the same place for hours on end. 

You lean over to the floor lamp by the edge of the couch, ready to flick it off and head to bed, when you hear something outside. 

“You’re just too good to be true…”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you…”

You freeze.

The voice is soft and mellow, a little muted because it’s making its way through your wooden door before it reaches your ears, but it is unrecognizable. Even without the acoustics of the Eighth Notes, you know who’s on the other side. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch…”

“I wanna hold you so much…”

“At long last, love has arrived…”

“And I thank God I’m alive…”

Unable to resist, you wander to your front door, basking in the sound of him, in the way the notes float through the air as if on clouds, dancing along the walls as they sink into your brain. He sounds so sweet, voice warm like tea on a cold night, just singing his song on this empty, lonely night. But it’s not just his song, is it? 

It’s yours, too.

You pull open the door. 

“You’re just too good to be true,” Jungkook sings, a honeyed melody that calms the waves of your stormy heart, “can’t take my eyes off of you…”

But just because he’s here, serenading you once more, doesn’t mean he’s going to get it any easier from you. You fight to keep the smile off your face, pressing your lips together as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I love you, baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night…”

“I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…”

He meets your eyes with his own, and they aren’t glinting in the way they normally do, the way that they do when he knows he’s doing something to grind your gears, when he’s got a trick up his sleep. They gleam like pearls as the dim glow of your apartment lights up his figure, warm yellow mixing with the caramel in his irises.

“Oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, I pray…”

Oh, pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay…”

“And let me love you, baby…”

From behind him, Jungkook brings out a single red rose, twirling it between his fingers as he holds it out to you. 

“Let me love you…” He trails off there, voice delicate as vanishes into the chilly night air, disappearing between the two of you. 

You can’t help but take the flower from his hand. What else are you supposed to do?

“So?” Jungkook asks, hopeful. 

“Don’t think you can just show up at my apartment and woo me back by singing to me,” you chide, even though he definitely can. 

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook says simply, because there really is nothing else to say. “I should have told you.”

“I watched our rom-com again,” you tell him. “I should have believed you when you said you cared about me.”

“I always did,” Jungkook says. “I just wanted you to know that love was real, and that it was there for you.”

“I should have known,” you agree. You look up at Jungkook through lidded eyes, musing to yourself. “You know what I learned?”

Jungkook tilts his head in curiosity. “What?”

“That love isn’t a feeling. It’s a person,” you explain, sighing pleasantly. “Love comes to us through the things we share with other people. That’s what it is.” Your thumbs twiddle in front of you, the pads of your fingers rubbing at the stem of the rose.

He takes a single step forward, reaching out to take your hand in his own. “And are you pleased with who you’ve found?”

You roll your eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me already, you idiot.”

Jungkook obliges without a second thought. 

There is no one to film you this time, no project to work on. There is only you, and there is only him. And there is only a lifetime that the two of you share, a story that you have told together, piece by piece, frame by frame. Your movie didn’t end once you finished editing. Nor did it end the moment the screen went black in Pollack’s class. It wasn’t even over when you watched it a second time with Ruby. 

No, it continues on. Forever and ever, so long as you are with him. There will always be something new to capture, to burn into a disk so you’ll have it for eternity.

He pulls you in for a kiss and it’s not the end of the film. It’s the beginning of a brand new part, a new installment in the series that is your life with him. That is the relationship you have created together. His lips aren’t the fireworks as the credits roll. They are the scene where the two characters meet for the very first time and know that they were meant to be. The scene that sets all of the other ones in motion. That is who Jungkook is. That is what you are sharing, right now. 

A brand new frame. 

When you part, you press your forehead against his, soft blonde locks framing his face as they tickle your face, dancing along the skin of your cheeks.

“You called it a rom-com,” Jungkook points out randomly, just remembering now. 

“Well, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know…” Jungkook says, pretending to think about it as he rocks on the back of his feet. “Did it have a happy ending?”

You bring your lips to his once more, arms wrapped around his neck as you clasp the rose between your fingers. You make a mental note to press it later. Something else to remember him by. Something other than your movie. 

Jungkook pulls you into him once more, hands resting firmly on your waist, letting his body press against yours as you stand there in the muted light of your apartment’s living room, letting the cool spring breeze wash over you. You smile against his lips, feeling your heart race when he grins back. 

“Yes,” you declare proudly. 

And so, they lived happily ever after. 

↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE NINETEEN || BLACK FLASH

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of blood + mention of violence + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 13 april

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 4.6k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : sage

↳ next episode : nonstandard

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, this will probably have terrible grammer issues here and there because i started this at 10:30pm and how it is 4am....ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but also fun fact, when i was writing the fight scene, i legit had to grab a chopstick and try to reenact the scene i needed to write for in the kitchen ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ BUT moving on from that, thank you so much for being so patient with the series and hope you enjoy this special cup of classic black coffee ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

Destructive Curse Spell Number Sixty Three : Raikoho (6:29-6:44)

Destructive Curse Spell Number One : Sho (4:56-5:04)

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

A multitude of running footsteps continuously pounded against the wooden floor below, as everyone was determined to get away from the special-grade curse that was chasing them at this very moment in time, as what followed everyone was a vast wave of wooden branches that was violently destroying the corridor behind them.

“Are you all right, Inumaki-senpai?” Fushiguro asked with concern enveloping his overall tone, as the mentioned upperclassmen seemed to be struggling right now.

“Salmon,” Inumaki replied, in an attempt to reassure his classmate that he was doing and going to be alright, when in fact it looked as if it was the complete opposite currently.

“Here it comes!” Kamo yelled out to warn everyone as he spun around to face his opponent, leading the cursed spirit to launch a few sharp branches towards him as well as you, once you fully turned around to make sure that your classmate from the Kyoto side was going to be safe.

“Stop,” Inumaki commanded leading his curse technique to come to effect as his voice not only echoed through the hallways but forced the curse and its attack to come into a sudden halt, leading Kamo the given opportunity to launch his technique as a rapid long-ranged shot of blood directly attacked towards the curse’s head (which was somewhat covered in burns due to your last technique before everyone started to flee by your command) causing some fragments of it to chip off to which surprised Fushiguro slight as you stood at the top of the stairs just above Inumaki.

“Hurry! He’s just gonna heal right away!” Kamo instructed everyone as he ran up the stairs causing you to give one last look at the curse before rushing up the wooden steps as Kamo has told you. 

From what you could observe, the branches seemed to be the curse’s weakest point since Kamo’s last attack managed to hit its head causing you to come to that conclusion while your curse spell managed to cause some permanent damage to the curse due to the damage that remained after. However, even if you did want to continuously use the same curse technique over and over again, to not only cause the building that everyone was residing in to collapses and burn down but it also put your comrades in danger, something that you ultimately wanted to avoid at all cost.

Hearing a small but noticeable cough, you quickly turned your head back slightly to discover Inumaki’s face glistening with sweat as he took another sip of his medicine leading you to become more concerned about how much longer he could since this plan that suddenly came about wasn’t the most practical of them all, yet...it was the best for now.

Right as you turned back to look forward, you noticed that you were coming to a door leading you to push yourself further as you reached your arm out to slam the door open before jumping over the balcony to the roof that was slightly down below leading the boys to follow after. However, mere seconds later, there was an explosive sound erupting from behind causing you to quickly turn back to find that the curse had already made a wooden pathway with its branches as a way to walk over to everyone.

“Inumaki-senpai will stop it. Don’t worry, just go,” Fushiguro mentioned as he guided Nue towards the curse, leading the shikigami to fly straight towards the opponent with no hesitation.

“No wait!” you shouted, as you reached your whole arm out like you were able to reach the owl-like creature in time. However, the second Fushiguro turned to face you to see what was wrong, the curse’s arm swiftly punctured the shikigami straight through causing Inumaki to collapse to the ground with blood seeping out from his mouth leading you to realise that your upperclassman was at his limit.

On the other hand, before you could even react, you heard someone behind you being thrown causing you to look behind only to discover Kamo’s body being flung to the other side with Fushiguro right behind him to catch his fall leaving you in the middle on the rooftop between your classmate and the curse.

“Are you alive, Kamo-san?” Fushiguro questioned in a panic since he was not only troubled by the fact that one of the students could be in life-critical condition but with you also being in danger due to where you were standing currently and him having no idea why the curse was going after you.

Steadily, your hand slowly moved towards the dark blue metal pole that has been hanging on your belt for some time as you hooked your katana horizontally on your back, so your other hand will be free to freely manoeuvre the weapon of choice that you were choosing to handle the curse.

However, it seemed as if Fushiguro had other ideas as his hands shakily began to hesitantly raise up as if he was going to summon another shikigami into the battlefield. Although, before he was able to completely commit to his plan, there was a sudden pressure laid upon his shoulder catching him by surprise as he turned to look back at Inumaki, who was somewhat struggling to stand.

“Mustard leaf,” Inumaki stated with determination with a hint of tiredness lacing in his tone, leading you to turn your head back to notice him beginning to stagger towards you.

“Inumaki-senpai...That’s enough!” Fushiguro mentioned in a worried tone causing you to grab onto his sleeve once he stood by your side, only for him to present you a small smile once he turned to you - as if to tell you that everything was going to be okay.

“Blast away!” Inumaki suddenly roared leading to curse’s body to instantly flung itself to the other rooftop that was positioned above you just a slight bit before he fell to his knees with blood began to profusely run down his mouth causing you to kneel down by his side as you supported his body with one hand while your other hand gently on his neck to begin the process of reverse cursed energy to ensure that he was going to be stable before someone was able to take him to Shoko - if someone even could at this point.

However, it seemed as if Inumaki’s attempt was futile as the special grade curse sat up with no issue at all leading you to wonder how strong this curse was since it didn’t seem to take any damage whatsoever from Kamo’s and Inumaki’s attempts leaving you to the conclusion that you had to use your curse technique at this point.

“You can’t cut me with that dull blade,” the curse stated before raising its arm to not only block but shatter the weapon Maki was swinging towards it leaving her to look at it with widened eyes before tutting in annoyance leading Fushiguro to jump over you to attack the curse with his weapon once again, only for him to miss slightly as he managed to slice off a piece of the branch that acted as its eyes.

“Now this sword isn’t so bad, but you could just give me the girl as we will call it a day,” the curse commented while healing the tattered branch causing it to grow back, leaving no trace of it ever being cut off by Fushiguro.

Although, it seemed as if Fushiguro and Maki had something else planned as your classmate reached into his shadow that was manifesting below him to replace his sword with another cursed tool before giving it to Maki, who tossed the broken tool she had to the side.

“I have something even better. This one feels disgusting to use, though,” Maki mentioned before quickly unfolding the weapon to reveal a three-sectioned staff before swiftly spinning around to swing the weapon across towards the curse, resulting in the curse to block the attack, only for it to be violently and forcibly pushed forward into the forest.

“Gojo, run towards the edge of the veil and stay there!” Fushiguro yelled out to you before him and Maki sprinted forward towards the direction to where the curse was located, causing you to stare at him in confusion before instantly turning back to check in Kamo was still right behind you to which lead to carefully place Inumaki down on his back as you rush towards the Kyoto student’s side before you proceeded to turn his body to discover that his face was damaged badly causing you to place your hand over his head leading you to heal what you could before transport arrive.

On the other hand, before you could even worry about how you were going to get both Inumaki and Kamo to the end of the veil, you suddenly heard someone calling out your name causing you to peer up to the sky, only to find both Itadori and Todo coming down towards you in a speed that not even Sonic the Hedgehog could even achieve.

“GOJO!” Itadori yelled before powerfully landing right in front of you, leading you swiftly to grab on to the top of the roof to maintain some balance while using your other arm to cling onto Kamo’s body to make sure he didn’t fall as well.

“Itadori!” you replied in relief causing your classmate to smile at you even in the tough situation you were in right now.

“Gojo, Nishimiya is going to get those two out of the veil but according to her, the veil is an anti-Gojo Satoru one,” Todo inform you causing you to look at the first-grade sorcerer with widened eyes before you turned your head to the side to observe the veil that was enveloping all the students right now.

“Anti-Gojo?” you muttered under your breath, before turning your head back towards the muscular student, only to see him smirk confidently at you before Itadori took his hand out as if to help you up.

“Don’t worry about the other two, they will be safe, we all need to head to where the curse is right now!” Itadori mentioned leading you to turn to him as you quickly noticed the amount of cursed energy that was surrounding him right now, causing you to wonder how much he has improved over the past few months he was away.

Placing Kamo gently on his back, you grabbed onto Itadori’s hand causing your friend to pull you up before Todo stretched out his arm behind you, trying to convey for you to sit there so both he could carry you to the destination where you needed to be at this very moment in time.

“Todo...I need you to follow a plan,” you sudden declared, causing him to turn to you with a confused look while you seated yourself on his large arm (which surprisingly managed to keep you still with the help of Itadori, who placed his arm behind your back). “Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about my curse technique at all, not even a single word of it,” you said to him with a threatening tone causing itadori to look at you with a somewhat frightened expression on his face while his friend peered at you with a smile.

“I’m fine with that, but I also need you to help me with one thing,” Todo mentioned as he turned his head to face forward.

“And what would that be?” you asked.

‘Ah...this is going to be a drag…’

                                                ꕥ

"Sprinkled on the bones of the beast! Sharp tower, red crystal, steel ring. Move and become the wind, stop and become the calm. The sound of warring spears fills the empty castle! Destructive Curse Spell number sixty-three: Raikoho!" you chanted, as you placed your hand out like a claw leading to an exciting orb of yellow concentrated cursed energy to manifest itself within your palm, before rapidly striking down towards the targeted special grade curse like a destructive lighting bolt leading Todo to grab Maki within his grasp a second before the cursed spell hit the ground which leads to your opponent being paralysed.

“Keeping to the deal?” Todo asked you with a smile on his face causing you to shift your eye to the side, where he stood before unhooking the metal pool from your belt.

“Yeah, I am,” you answered causing him and Itadori to move to the side for a second - which Itadori was confused about since he didn’t know what show he was in for.

Fushiguro, who was crouching down with a speck of blood trailed down on the corner of his mouth began to argue against the appearance of you and Itadori. However, it seemed as if you weren’t listening to him to or to any of the student behind you at all since you needed to concentrate on both the situation you were in right now but also on the little deal you made with Todo - even though, regardless if you were able to show him the technique or not, you knew that Todo was keeping his word about keeping your technique a secret...that was what you could rely on him as well as his strength.

‘Black Flash huh...now that is a drag…’

“Now that you are here, why don’t you come peacefully?” the curse asked, causing you to mentally sigh as it was causing your concentration to waver, but you really weren’t in the mood to answer.

Stretching out your arm, you held the dark blue metal poll right in front of the curse before letting the weapon extend itself before forming an extremely sharp blade at the top leading the curse to look at it in confusion since it seemed to notice that your katana was missing due to it remembering that it was handing behind your lower back area.

                                                ꕥ 

“This is my gift to you! Think of it as a welcome to the Gojo Clan gift!” Gojo excitedly announced as he presented you a gift box with a bright smile on his face, causing you to look at the gift in surprise since you didn’t expect him to give you anything when you came to his clan estate but also by the fact that the ribbon tied into a bow was the same colour as his eyes.

‘I don’t know if it’s because he is being egotistical or he just like the colour blue’

“Thank you,” you said with much gratitude before taking the box away from his grasp leading him to gleefully chant that you open it in front of him since he was desperate to see your reaction. 

Looking at the box, you couldn’t help but notice a little note saying ‘a gift from a father to a daughter’ leading the corners of your lip to twitch a little since you came to the realisation that it had been a while that someone had ever given you a gift before you processed to tug the tail of the bow before lifting the lip once the ribbon was fully removed.

“A metal...pole?” you said in a confused tone as you tilted your head to the side, before letting your fingertips touch the ice-cold metal as they began to trace the gold detailing that was embroidering the gift.

“No, no dear, it’s a polearm that just needs to be extended with cursed energy! It was made by your ancestor during the Heian era and I’m surprised it managed it stay intact after all that time here in the Gojo Clan since it was a gift from them to us,” Gojo informed you, as he took a sip of the sweetened coffee that you had brought from him before coming to his estate. “I thought that it might be better if it was in your hands from now on, besides it does technically belong to you,” Gojo suggested with a bright smile on his face, once you lifted the weapon out of the box to observe it more.

Turning it around in the light the room provided, you couldn’t help but suddenly notice a small design of what seemed to be a small flower depicting a tsubaki painted in a light pink right in the middle of the metal pole causing you to stare at it in absolute curiosity.

“Thank you so much, Gojo-sensei,” you stated once again in appreciation once you placed it back into the box causing Gojo to pout at you which led you to look at him in complete confusion the second you looked up to face him.

“CALL ME DAD, Y/N!”

                                               ꕥ

“Are you even listening?” the cursed questioned you as if seemed to be getting annoyed at the fact that you were just standing in front of it with no emotion attached to your face, causing the students behind you to look forward since they were beginning to become confused on why you haven’t attacked yet.

Although, it seemed like it didn’t have to wait long since you used your other hand to grab onto the pole before beginning to spin the now extended polearm aggressively leading the curse to now be on its guard since it had no idea what you were planning on now.

‘Black Flash is a distortion in space that occurs when cursed energy is applied with 0.000001 seconds of a physical hit, it can amplify a normal attack’s force by 2.5. It’s such a drag process but since this curse likes to get up close and personal, it seems like the best choice for now’

Suddenly, you quickly grabbed the polearm halting the spinning motion before using the ball of your foot to push yourself swiftly across the lake to appear in front of the curse, catching it by surprise since it seemed like you had just teleported right in front of them, only for you to violently swing your polearm down onto its shoulder leading it to groan in pain causing you to speedily spin around behind it leading the polearm to now swing across before forcibly landing the sharp blade to its side, suddenly causing the formation of a familiar black spark that danced around the area you were in like electricity currents causing Todo (who was observing from the sideline) smile at the scene with confidence, while Itadori looked at the same battle in shock.

However, before Todo could even call you to remove yourself from the battle, you instantly placed your hand above the other in order to rapidly rotate the polearm leading the other end to strike its other shoulder (while the blade was now facing downwards) causing another flash of black to appear once again to which lead the curse to cry out in agony, causing everyone to admire the fight with such astonishment.

“Gojo! Switch!” Todo yelled out, leading your concentration to instantly waver once again which caused you to push the heel of your back foot to quickly retreat to the side where everyone was before the curse could even afflict any attack on you in retaliation on what you had just done to it.

“Told you there is nothing to worry about,” Todo mentioned as he looked down at Fushiguro causing the shikigami user to look at you with his surprise before turning to look at Itadori.

“If you die again, I’ll kill you myself!” Fushiguro declared causing you to look at him with a complete perplexed look on your face since the sentence he just stated didn’t make any sense, leading Panda to extend his arm out to carry his lower classmen to the other side of the veil.

“Pandash!” Panda yelled out before carrying both Fushiguro and Maki to safety.

“Guess I can’t afford to die now,” Itadori muttered before rolling his shoulder to prepare for his turn on the battlefield with determination after witnessing your performance.

“I won’t lift a finger to help, Itadori. Not until you land a Black Flash. If you can’t land a Black Flash, then I’ll just watch you die, no matter what happens to you,” Todo declared with his arms crossed with one of his hands holding on to your katana, leading you to stand up straight with a dumbfounded look on your face after what he had just yelled out before taking your original weapon from his grasp.

‘HUH?! WHAT WAS THE POINT IN MY LITTLE PERFORMANCE THEN?!’

“Got it!” Itadori replied after letting out a breath, causing you to look at your classmate with the same surprised expression, even though his back was facing you right now.

“Don’t you think that is a bit dangerous?” you queried as you turned back to look at the Kyoto student, only for him to give you a serious look on his face as if to say that he believed in Itadori and his threat was just a fluke.

“I guess I can’t stop you then...I already know he’s got this,” you muttered before shrugging your shoulders since you knew there was no way Itadori wanted you to interrupt this lesson.

To be honest, Black Flash was the perfect move for him.

Suddenly, you heard a loud explosion from behind causing you to turn your whole body around to find Itadori punching the ground leading a huge splash of water to arise before noticing two pieces of rock attempting to strike the curse, only for them to be deflected the second it touched its hand.

Once the water dropped down, you witnessed Itadori’s fast reflexes as he managed to dodge the curse’s attack, landing a few kicks towards its stomach before Itadori used his last kick to target its face. However, you could tell then intensity was low meaning he wouldn’t even hit a single Black Flash with an attempt like that, only for the result you had come to happen as he attempted the technique once he landed a punch against the curse’s torso, only for Itadori to force himself back once the curse retaliates by trying to hit him with its branches, only for the effort to be futile.

“My friend,” Todo said causing Itadori to look at him, only to receive a smack across the face leading you to look at the scene with a fed-up expression since the connection on Todo’s hand and Itadori’s cheek was quite loud for a normal slap to sound.

‘What...The...Hell?’

“Anger is an important trigger for sorcerers, sometimes then can be taken down purely because they accidentally angered their foe and the opposite is also true. Sometimes they lose because their own anger disrupts their cursed energy, so they can’t exercise their abilities. Your friend has been wounded, and worse yet, they’ve rained on your honeymoon with me, you best friend, so I can really understand why you’d be boiling with rage,” Todo expressed with understanding, only for you to look at him with an extremely fed-up expression depicted on your face.

‘I don’t think the ‘best friend’ bit is why he is really angry, you drag’

“But that rage is too much for you, put it away for now,” Todo then informed Itadori before slapping his face again leading you to vocally express your confusion about the scene that was happening right in front of you.

“Huh?” you uttered out.

“Are those stray thoughts gone now?” Todo questioned with a small smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, not a single one left. Thank you so much, best friend!” Itadori replied with a confident smile on your face leading you to tilt your head to the side as you witnessed this scene - if you were going to tell this to Kugisaki, you wouldn’t know if she would believe you or not…

Walking back out into the river, Itadori raised his fist up while peering at the curse with an intense stare only for his opponent to quickly push itself forward leading Itadori to follow as branches began to invade his side. However, it seemed as if Itadori hadn’t noticed them at all since he was directing going straight down the middle, leading his fist to make contact with the curse’s torso causing the manifestation of the black spark that you and Todo were waiting for.

“He did...it,” you muttered in amazement as the curse’s branches suddenly disappeared while its body was forcibly pushed back.

“Now you understand the taste of cursed energy,” Todo mentioned as he proceeded to walk into the shallow river with a proud smile on his face. “Up until now, you’ve just been throwing an ingredient you’ve never tasted before into a pot and boiling it without knowing why. But after experiencing Black Flash and understanding the taste of your ingredient, your cursed energy, you stand on a completely different level as a chef than you did three seconds ago. Congratulations, brother, you can become strong,” Todo then expressed with joy leading your classmate to look at him with a concentrated expression on what he was trying to explain.

‘I guess that is a good way to describe it. To be honest, it is kind of similar to Gojo’s teaching but a tiny bit better…’

“It can heal?!” Itadori asked in shock, as it noticed the growth of the curses’ hand.

“A cursed spirit’s body is made up of cursed energy. Unlike us, they don’t need any advanced reversed cursed technique to heal like how Gojo does. An injury like that is nothing to a special-grade, but there’s no doubt that it shaves away their cursed energy and if you crush their head, it’s game set,” Todo explained before turning to look at you with a 

“Now, shall we get cooking?” Todo asked you and Itadori in an assertive tone, leading you to look at him with a surprised expression before sighing as if you had a choice to not fight anyway.

However, before you could even take a single step into the river, you notice something from the corner of your eye causing you to raise your polearm swiftly seconds before you were now suddenly violently pushed back to extreme lengths away from the battle you were going to involve yourself in causing Itadori to yell out your name in complete panic. Although, there was no point in chasing after you, as you were now concealed within the multitude of trees that were surrounding the area with a hooded intruder, who was now keeping you at more than an arm’s length away from the two students you were supposed to keep an eye on.

“Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho!” you chanted, leading a small ball of concentrated cursed energy to form in the middle on your polearm leading to the weapon and the person, who was pushing you, to be blasted back leading a distance to be created between you both giving you the space to press your feet down onto the ground to gradually pause your movements as you placed your hand on the ground to give you more support.

“Who are you?” you asked in anger before standing up straight in a defensive position and you aimed the polearm’s blade downwards to the ground, leading the person to raise up what seemed to be a pair of tonfa’s like the ones Fushiguro had earlier during the event, only for them to be metal rather than wood.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” you queried once again, getting irritated at the fact that the person was just giving you the silent treatment which caused them to giggle slightly as your frustration.

“Isn’t that a warm welcome for someone that took care of you so dearly?” the person spoke with a soft tone, causing you to freeze up in shock after realising how familiar that tone was to you to which lead the instructor right in front of you to slowly remove their hood leading their hair to spill out as well as to slowly reveal their face to you under the light the tree could, causing you to let out a breath of shock as your eyes widen at the sight in front of you.

“Mother?”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[crowfootwrites]

The Boyfriend | Part II [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

Y'all! I did it! I wrote a second part! I actually sort of struggled with the setup of this, but once I started writing the angry, angsty shit I was like, "OH, WE IN BUSINESS." So, please enjoy.

Warnings: language; family drama (arguing); attempted physical violence; pregnancy | Words: 1,734

Part I of The Boyfriend

“What do you mean he wants to come see your motorcycle?” you asked, panic rising in your voice. It had been a few months since the ill-fated family dinner, and aside from a few texts asking about work, you hadn’t heard from your father. So, you assumed his motorcycle chat with Taza had just been polite conversation.

Taza glanced at you across the kitchen table, his full fork of frijoles pausing halfway to his mouth. His eyes softened when he saw the concern in your expression.

“Relájate, mi amor (Relax, my love). He doesn’t have to come here. I can meet him somewhere else,” he said calmly. He watched as your head dropped into one of your palms on the table and the other rested on the top of your very noticeable baby bump. He paused, then put his fork back down on his plate.

“(Y/N), maybe this would be a good opportunity to tell them,” he started, keeping his tone gentle. “I know you don’t want them involved. I understand that, and I will do whatever I can to keep things the way you want them.” He reached across the table to rest his palm against your knuckles. “But the baby will be here in a few months, and hiding it from them is just drawing out the inevitable.”

Emotions rushed over you. You knew that telling them didn’t have to mean anything more than that; Taza would protect his family no matter the cost, and if you didn’t want them involved, they wouldn’t be. But the prospect of having to deal with your mother filled you with a deep-seated dread. You knew she wouldn’t approve. And you didn’t need her approval, but your relationship with her had always been messy and complicated. And some part of you still wanted her to accept and respect you. Angry tears sprang to your eyes, which made you even more frustrated – the pregnancy hormones made you feel like you were losing your mind.

A tear dripped onto the wooden surface of the table and Taza was immediately out of his seat, tugging you out of yours and wrapping you in his arms. He smiled at the feeling of your belly pressed between the two of you.

“Hey, abejita, está bien (little bee, it’s ok). We don’t have to do anything that will make you uncomfortable,” he murmured against your ear, rocking you side to side slowly. He rubbed circles on your back as you regained your composure.

“No, you’re right,” you said with a sniffle. “We need to get this over with.”

Taza’s lips pulled into a wry grin. “That’s a wise choice, I think.”

***

“Ok, I think everything’s pretty much ready,” you told Taza as you flipped the final tortilla on the comal. He came to stand beside you and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“How can I help?” he asked as you pulled the tortilla off with your bare fingers and tossed it into the basket, waving your fingers as the heat sank into your skin. He laughed and gripped your hand, blowing gently on your scorched fingertips.

You couldn’t help the affectionate tears that collected in the corners of your eyes. In an effort to keep you as comfortable as possible, Taza suggested hosting dinner with your parents on the ranch. You would be on your own turf and could call the shots. If anything got ugly, Taza promised that he had no qualms with making your parents leave. To your modest relief, you also felt a little more like yourself today, like you’d happily tell someone where to shove it if they upset you.

“Just being here with me helps,” you mumbled, tucking yourself into his arms.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said quietly. The two of you lingered like that for a moment, enjoying the calm embrace before the storm you knew was about to happen.

And sure enough, a moment later, the doorbell sounded. Your eyes jerked immediately to Taza’s. You struggled to discern if the rolling in your stomach was pregnancy-related or anxiety-induced as perspiration collected on your palms.

He ushered you onto the back patio, helping you to sit in the worn wooden rocking chair before heading back inside to welcome your guests. You listened nervously for the creaking of the front door, which was quickly followed by the drifting voices of your mother and father.

You pulled yourself out of the chair, straightening the soft cotton of your dress over your bump, just as Taza stepped through the door. He came immediately to your side, schooling his features into a calm and neutral mask, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Your father was the next through the door and you bit back a grin at the series of emotions that passed over his face in the span of just a few seconds. Confusion, certainly, and shock, but then pride and excitement and finally, unbridled joy.

Time seemed to slow down as your mother stepped towards your father, her confused gaze traveling from your father’s face to you, eyes widening as they landed on your belly. For the first time in your life, your mother was speechless. She stood on the threshold of the patio door with her mouth open as your father rushed towards you.

“Oh, my baby girl!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a loose hug around your bump, kissing your cheeks delightedly. He turned immediately to Taza, pulling your boyfriend into a strong embrace, clapping him heartily on the back.

“Congratulations, you two! This is wonderful news! Oh, goodness, I’m going to be a grandfather!” he announced in wonderment as he pulled back, turning to his wife, whose eyes were still glued to your stomach.

“Dear?” he asked her, cautiously, but with a hint of something firm in his voice. It was something you had never heard from your father before. You wondered fleetingly what that was about.

His voice seemed to snap her out of her trance. Her eyes met yours and she smiled tightly. “Congratulations,” she forced out and you noted acrimoniously the clenching of her jaw.

Your eyes narrowed. Your heart sank with her false smile and immediately, resentment scrambled into place to protect you. You suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to haul off and smack her, but you quickly chalked that up to hormones. Probably.

Intent on making this a pleasant evening for your completely delighted father, you turned away from your mother with a withering look and plastered on a smile, motioning for everyone to take a seat at the table laden with food you had spent most of the day preparing.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Taza sat beside you, his hand never leaving its reassuring place on your thigh, as the two of you answered your father’s abundance of questions.

Baby Romero is due in November.

We’ve decided to wait to find out the sex.

We don’t really have a preference as long as they’re healthy.

Your mother’s eyes bore holes into you, but she remained silent, except for one question, manifested tersely into the space between the four of you. “Are you going to get married?”

“We haven’t really talked about it,” you replied, surprising even yourself with the strength in your voice. Your mother blinked at you, her expression disappointed, but she said nothing, returning her gaze to her plate.

When everyone had finished eating, your father clapped his hands together and asked Taza if they could take a peek at his Harley.

Taza turned to you, searching your eyes. “¿Estarás bien a solas con ella (Will you be ok alone with her)?”

You nodded at him with a wily smile. “Yo sé dónde están todos los cuchillos en esta casa (I know where all the knives are in this house).”

A loud, deep laugh belted from Taza’s chest as you stood and began collecting plates. You could see him shaking his head out of the corner of his eyes, motioning your father towards the garage.

You were standing in front of the sink, rinsing dishes when you heard the clicking of heels behind you, your mother coming to stop across the counter. You waited with bated breath for the inevitable confrontation, your stomach in knots.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked finally, a bitter edge of hurt creeping into her voice.

You looked down into the sink, realizing you were white-knuckling a spoon. “Why would I?” you demanded. “The last time I saw you, you made it very clear that you don’t approve of Che.”

“I just want what’s best for you!” she insisted, her hands clenching by her sides.

“You don’t know what’s best for me! I’m not you!” You slapped the faucet off and grabbed a kitchen towel to violently dry your hands, coming to face your mother completely. You watched as her eyes flickered quickly to your belly and then back to your face, the sight seemingly fueling her fire.

“I do know that you have no business having children out of wedlock with a man who’s twice your age,” she snapped, stepping closer to you, and your body reacted to the perceived threat, your heart thundering against your ribcage, heat radiating from your face.

“You don’t get to make those decisions for me! Che is the best partner I’ve ever had and he’s going to be an incredible father. Which you would know if you even gave him a chance, but you won’t. You refuse to accept that this is my life, and I’ll live it however the fuck I want!” You could hear your volume rising, but you were beyond controlling it. By the end of your rant, you were screaming, inches from your mother’s furious face, her eyes glinting and her lips set into a scowl. Suddenly, Taza was running into the house and coming to a stop behind you, pulling you gently away from your mother while your father tugged your mother away from you.

“I can’t believe I raised such an ungrateful bitch,” your mother spat, and you swung. Luckily for your mother, Taza had pulled you out of reach, and your fist missed her by several inches.

“Get out of my house!” you hissed, struggling against Taza’s arms, angry tears staining your cheeks.

Your father, looking appropriately mortified, dragged your mother out of the front door and into their car.

Part III of The Boyfriend

[missblissy]

Heyo! Do you think you could write something for demon al finding out his demon s/o also likes to sing? I love singing and it think it would be really cute to do it with Alastor 🤲🏻

((I would love to nonny! Im sorry for the wait :') I hope you like it! I turned it more into a song fic? Like.... A... double song fic xD??? Anyways I hope you enjoy!! Here and Here are the songs used in this fic!!))

He took a deep breath in and held on to it for as long as he could. The one and only joy he really had within the walls of this hotel was this. If it wasn't for these weekend shows, he might have just killed everyone by now out of sheer boredom. Every weekend, the Hazbin Hotel opened its doors to the general public. The lounge was opened up, tables were set, seats were filled. Dinner and a show were to be served to all who came in those doors. Though not free of charge, much to Charlie's protests. But the hotel had to make money somehow, so Alastor was put in charge of that.

The curtains pulled and opened before him and a spotlight flashed upon him. Alastor smiled wide, "Hello~!" He said in a cheerful tone. He was already scanning the crowd of people, looking for you, "How is everyone doing tonight? Horrible I hope!" The audience let out a little laugh at that. Alastor kept looking around, but the seat you normally sat in had someone else in it. No noticed, but there was a twitch of anger in his smile for a second, "Well! Let's get this show started!" He snapped his fingers and the spotlight turned off. Music started to play and soon enough Alastor transformed himself into a more casual outfit. As the music picked up, his spotlight turned back on and Alastor was half tempted to not sing this song especially if you weren't even here. Well, he did only meet you a few weeks ago, and you only did just started some... flirtationship if you would even call it that.

Oh well. Here goes nothing. Some much for trying to impress you with this, "I heard the time just slips from your sugarplum lips. So I go there just to watch it fall and then my jaw just drops when your cherry lollypops! I get nervous when you bounce my ball~" He gave a charming smile to no one in general, unfortunately. Come on, were you late? No... You knew when the hotel opened....

"I get the strangest sense we were lovers, past tense. Like a dog in heat, I just can't be indiscreet and when I see you there I whisper my prayer so sweet~ I'm getting shaky on my feet, I'm incomplete~" Alastor's mind raced while he sang on autopilot. Maybe he just couldn't see you in dark? Maybe you were all the way in the back? "I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear! I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown~"

Alastor paused with the music, letting the song play only enough for him to take a deep breath and wonder where the hell was his favorite little play thing, "I heard your glass hips swayed while the jitterbugs played. Every man was on his bended knee~ And all my hopes got smashed as my nerve just crashed! I was as heavy as a boy can be." He went on to sing the chorus again, while somehow giving up on looking for you in the crowd at the same time. It was almost too ironic that the next lines fit his feelings perfectly, "And if you just can't do me right, then, honey, please do me wrong! I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown!"

He sang on, with a slight hollowness to his voice that no one picked up on. He didn't move as quickly or flash as big of a smile. Alastor finished his little musical number and left the stage with a round of applause, and quickly someone else took the stage. All kinds of people showed up to sing, to even do comedy (Which Alastor did as well, he just didn't feel like it today. Maybe he should have seeing as you weren't even here.)

There was a special place where Alastor got to sit. In the very front, in a booth with Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk. Nifty was never around for these kinds of things, and Angel often made some kind of sexual escapade out of a song later into the night. When Alastor finally sat down with the rest of the group, he found it very odd that Charlie was bouncing with joy.

"Hi, Al!" She said a little too loud. She got "shh"ed by a few people close by, "Sorry-" She whispered out, "Hi!" She said again to Alastor with a little wave of her hand.

His ever-present smile grew only slightly, "Hello, Charlie. Excited for tonight, are we?"

"Yeah!" She blurted out again, with another round of people hushing her up. So this time she whisper-yelled, "You're in for a great show tonight, Al!"

Alastor flickered his gaze to the stage, the same person was still there trying to make music out of whatever horrible sounds they were making. He looked back to Charlie and raised a brow, "I am?" He asked, "What makes you say tha-"

"Shh! Shh!" Charlie held a finger to her mouth and waved her other hand in the air, "It's starting!" Alastor looked to the stage again, now empty with no lights shining on it.

Music started to play once again, but the lights remained low. He could barely make out someone walking in the darkness of the stage, then suddenly, the lights flashed on and it was you, "You call me on the telephone, you feel so far away. You tell me to come over, there's some games you want to play," You stared him down, eyes lock on no one else but Alastor. Finally, the table have turned, and little did Alastor know that he was going to be the one seduced with a song tonight, "I'm walking to your house, nobody's home. Just me and you and you and me alone~"

You quickly take step after step down the front of the stage, matching your movements to the tempo of the song. It was only a few steps before you stood right in front of the table Alastor, and everyone sat at. But somehow you made him feel like he was the only one in the room, "We're just playing hide and seek, it's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you~ I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing- chasing after you~" It was like you a spell on him. Your words were sultry and loose enough for him to read between your lyrics. You even gave him that sneaky little smirk before going on to sing, "I don't give a fuck about you anyways! Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you~"

You spun on your heel quickly giving a wave of your hand. You were playing hard to get and you knew Alastor couldn't resist. As you made your way back up the long stage, Alastor couldn't even stop himself before he realized he was following you up there. At that moment, he knew everyone was watching him... and you. How entertaining.

Just as he got close enough, you turned quickly to face him and quickly point a finger at him, then press it into his chest to push him away, "Wake up in your bedroom and there's nothing left to say. When I try to talk you're always playing board games," You then quickly moved your hand and grabbed him by his chin. You gave a dirty little smirk and made sure to give him look he couldn't resist, "I wish I had monopoly over your mind, I wish I didn't care all the time. We're just playing hide and seek~ It's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you! I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing, chasing after you~"

You walked circles around him, Alastor's eyes hard on you and watching every move. His smile was weak, shaken, and there was a hunger in his eyes you'd never seen but always wanted to, "Ring around the rosy, I never know- I never know what you need~ Ring around the rosy, I want to give you- want to give you what you need~ I don't give a fuck about you anyways. Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you."

Alastor made an attempt to reach out and grab you, but he was slowly and only half attempted. You spun by him quickly, missing him, and making sure to give him a wink as you avoided him. But you stopped just shy of him, standing dead center. You smiled, then tilted your head slightly and held your hand out for him to take, "You know I give a fuck about you everyday, guess it's time that I tell you the truth. If I share my toys, will you let me stay? Don't want to leave this play date with you~"

There was a loud round of applause, cheering, and whistling. To say he was stunned, walking around like a drooling dog, that would be an understatement. You smiled wide, giggling to yourself as Alastor started to remember where he was. He didn't like all these eyes on him, and especially on you. He looked over his shoulder and saw Charlie and Vaggie laughing, in a good way, at least. They seemed to be enjoying watching Alastor fawn over someone.

That drew the line in the sand for him. He quickly grabbed onto your wrist and with his free hand, he snapped his finger. In a little cloud of smoke and dust, the two of you were gone from the hotel's auditorium. You watched as Alastor poofed the two of you away, and manifested out in the hotel hallways. His grip on you was tight as you giggled at his flustered face.

Your little giggles grew as you asked, "So? Did you lik- Mwh!" Alastor cut you off by slamming his lips into yours. He held onto you, hands gripping your arms as he dragged you in closer to him. You were caught off guard as he pushed you backward until your back was pressed against a wall. He deepened the kiss, hungry for more and more of you. You moaned, falling into his embrace and giving in to his demands.

Alastor pulled only inches away but made sure to press you into the wall, hard, trapping you against him, "I loved it." His words were deep and husky, filled with a desire you've never seen him have before. The low growl in his voice sent chills down your spine and caused your skin to heat up, "But don't ever do that kind of shit with me ever. Again. Understood?"

You stared back at him with wide eyes and lips pressed together. You nodded quickly and watched as his sinister smiles curled onto his lips, "Good," He gave you a small kiss, then teased you by licking your lips. He knee was quickly between your legs as he rested an arm on the wall behind you. He went to the crook of your neck, whispering in your ear, "Now, where were we~?"

[starlight-loki]

The Thin Line Between Life and Death (Loki x Mystic!Reader) -- PART 1

Or, That Time You and Loki Saved the World

Request: is it alright if you do a loki x reader fic where reader's got powers like strange and wields one of the infinity stones and almost dies trying to save everyone? -- requested by anon

Warnings: this is darker than other fics i've written so far: descriptions of nausea, mentions of anxiety, and major character deaths (but not Loki, I promise).

Word Count: 4.8k (hooo weeee man, if I didn't split this into 2 parts it would've been like... over 10k omg)

A/N: For context, please read this headcanon first if you'd like to know a bit more about the reader and Loki's relationship as well as to sort of set the scene for this fic -- otherwise, if you're cool with jumping right in, enjoy! This was so much fun to write :)

Also this doesn't follow the events of Infinity War/Endgame at all; this is sort of... my take on it, I guess you could say?

Everything started going downhill when you began getting visions.

They weren't anything concerning at first, in fact they were almost cryptic, really: manifesting themselves in your dreams in subtle -- almost metaphoric -- ways. First it was simply the colour orange, which then progressed to flashes of amber light at random occasions during the events of your dreams, then it became fire. For a while, fire consumed your dreams nearly every night, burning through cities, forests, and even planets.

The Ancient One had told you from the start that dreams carried messages from your subconscious. They weren't something to be dismissed, even the most simplest elements. They were to be respected, listened to, and were meant to encourage you to shift mentally and emotionally in indescribable ways.

You figured the fire was symbolic for the stress and worry you were feeling, with everything moving so quickly over the last few days.

After all, the threat of Thanos was looming more and more. No longer was he a whispered rumour that was occasionally passed around at dinnertime with the rest of the Avengers. He was an actual threat now, and the Avengers were holding meetings twice a day to try and develop a plan of attack.

He had the power stone. It was only a matter of time before he found the others.

Twenty-four hours before everything changed, a vision came to you differently than all the others.

You were in the kitchen preparing lunch for yourself when your ears began ringing. Whispers filled your mind from the inside and spoke to you in a language you didn't understand, yet chilled you to the bone at the same time. There was a blinding flash of light that nearly paralyzed you, and as you strained to focus your eyes, you noticed a small orange stone materialize in front of you.

The soul stone.

It glided closer and closer to you, and as it did so the whispers grew louder. The lives of thousands flashed before your eyes. Their deaths did, as well. It was showing you the cycle of humanity -- birth, life, death, repeat -- almost taunting you that this seemingly inevitable thing could be controlled.

You gasped, dropped the plate in your hands accidentally. It fell to the floor with an earsplitting crash, and as quickly as the soul stone arrived, it disappeared in a swirl of orange smoke.

Your hands were shaking as you knelt down to collect the bigger pieces of the now-shattered plate. A hand on your back made you flinch in surprise and you instinctively curled closer towards the kitchen cabinets in an attempt to protect yourself.

"It's just me." Loki's soft voice seemed foggy and distant as your brain continued to adjust from the voices and the ringing you had just heard. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head and sunk to the floor, half in defeat and half in relief that you weren't alone anymore. These visions were growing far too intense for you to handle.

You looked up at Loki, who exchanged an anxious expression with you. His green eyes searched your face, seemingly looking for an explanation of what had just happened to you.

"I saw something," you whispered, absentmindedly gripping the plate shard in your hand tighter. "Loki, I think I saw the soul stone."

His eyes widened as he knelt down beside you and gently pried the glass out of your grip, setting it down out of your reach. He replaced the broken piece in your hand with his own, and you sighed shakily as his thumb gently stroked the top of your hand.

"Did it show you anything?" He asked quietly, and you nodded quickly in response.

"I saw life, death... everything." You felt far removed from you own voice, almost like it didn't belong to you. "It's been happening in dreams too, but I've never seen the stone itself before."

You gazed at Loki, who almost seemed to disappear into his own thoughts at your mention of the visions you saw. You knew all too well about the Tesseract, and the way it had tormented Loki once before. The infinity stones were not gentle to humans, or gods for that matter.

"Do you think this has something to do with Thanos?" You asked, your voice trembling as you whispered. "Do you think maybe he managed to get the soul stone?"

Loki shook his head slowly, but it wasn't without hesitation.

"The soul stone is far away on Vormir. It's guarded heavily. I doubt-"

"Hey, you two okay?"

You glanced up quickly just as Tony stepped into the room. His eyes swept over the mess of a broken plate on the floor before landing on you and Loki, huddled together in the corner of the kitchen as if your lives depended on it.

Tony looked as exhausted as you felt. No one had really slept well in the last few days, but you couldn't imagine what it was like for Tony: he had been staying up until ungodly hours of the morning with Steve, Vision, and Rhodey, trying to formulate a plan of attack.

"Yeah," you shook your head as you tried to clear the last of the visions out of your mind. "Sorry, that was an accident. I'm just... really tired."

Tony gave a perfectly-timed yawn as he knelt down and began to pick up the broken pieces of the plate you dropped.

"I feel ya, kid."

You watched as him and Loki exchanged resigned nods of acknowledgement, and you grabbed Loki's hand before he could step forward to help Tony clean up the mess.

Should I tell him? You asked telepathically. About the soul stone?

Loki gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Not yet. His voice echoed through your mind like the whispers from the soul stone moments ago, bringing you warmth rather than fear. Until we fully understand why these visions are occurring, I believe it would be best to not burden Stark with any more details. It would only cause more problems.

You nodded in agreement as you pushed yourself up onto your feet shakily. You stepped forward to help Tony clean up the mess, only feel your head spin violently. You lurched forward, grabbing onto the counter as you tried to stop yourself from falling.

"Hey, whoa!" Tony sprang up and grabbed your shoulders just as you felt Loki's arms wrap around your waist in an effort to keep you standing. "Easy there, kid. Jesus, are you okay?"

"I feel sick." You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to keep the room from spinning. Even with two people supporting your weight, you still felt as though you were going to fall over.

"Go sleep, okay?" Tony told you sternly. You made a sound of protest and tried to help him continue cleaning up. Tony shook his head in response.

"Don't worry about this, we'll clean it up." His gaze shifted over to Loki, who still held you tightly. You could feel his hands trembling ever-so-slightly, and you placed your own hand over his weakly as you attempted to silently reassure him that you'd be okay.

"Loki, make sure Y/N gets some rest."

"I will."

Loki scooped you up into his arms in one fluid motion, causing you to wince as spots danced in your vision. You buried your head against his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to hold yourself together.

Has this ever happened to you? You manage to ask Loki telepathically as he set you carefully down on your bed. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face before crawling into bed beside you.

Not to this degree, he replied. You couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips as he gently pulled you close, cradling the back of your head. The infinity stones all have variable levels of energy, but I have never dealt with the soul stone before.

Do you mean their frequencies vary depending on their roles?

Precisely.

You sighed defeatedly, troubled by the fact that -- out of all the infinity stones -- the one that boasted power over life and death itself just had to come find you.

You knew mystics seemed to have some sort of connection to the stones, seeing as Stephen knew the time stone and guarded it with his life. You had hoped, though, that if another stone were to find its way somehow to another mystic, it would be Wong, not you.

Loki nudged your chin up ever so slightly with his fingertips, encouraging you to look up at him. He gave you a warm, gentle smile as he caressed your cheek slowly.

"Rest now," he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead softly. "I will stay with you, I promise."

You nodded halfheartedly in response. Every cell in your being longed for nothing more but rest, yet at the same time you were afraid to close your eyes in case the soul stone was still lurking somewhere in your mind. Waiting for you.

It felt as though you had only just closed your eyes, when the sound of thunder jolted you out of your sleep. You felt weightless as you opened your eyes slowly, taking in the purple hues of clouds above you. As you felt yourself float higher, you realized with a sickening sinking feeling that your body was still in your bed, far away from where you currently were.

Your spirit had separated from your physical body, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to be able to get back.

You glanced upward as you continued your ascent just as two towering structures came into view at the top of a cliff. The whispers that had filled your mind earlier that day resumed, and you cried out in fear, clutching your head in your hands. It only made them grow stronger.

As flashes of orange began filling your vision, your blood ran cold as you realized where you were.

Somehow, your spirit had found its way to Vormir.

Reaching the top of the cliff, you stepped carefully onto the platform just as a hooded figure glided towards you.

Never before has this stone ever summoned a soul into its presence. A chill ran up your spine as the guardian's voice echoed in your mind, crackling like ice.

Many have sought this stone, but it belongs to no one.

"So why did it bring me here?" You demanded, curling your arms around your middle in an attempt control your nerves. You were vulnerable here. You were powerless without your physical body -- incantations and even the mirror realm would be of no use to you in this state.

The soul stone seems to have taken a certain interest in you. It sees potential... for what is yet to come.

"I don't understand." Your own voice seemed to wrap around you in an endless echo. You instinctively took a step back as your head spun from sensory overload.

You walk the line between the living and the dead, mystic.

"But I'm not the only mystic. There's more out there like me, surely they experienced the same thing? I mean, there's Stephen-"

No. Your breath caught in your throat as the hooded figure raised its head to gaze at you, and your eyes met fiery blood red irises. You turned your gaze to the ground in an attempt to divert your fear and calm your racing heart.

Stephen Strange is already in possession of the time stone, the guardian explained slowly. There are no other mystics who possess the strength -- or courage -- to cross over into the land of the dead.

"But I'm not dead." You protested, ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind that drew your attention back to the fact that you were currently a spirit on another planet, far away from your body. "I... I've been training in the mystic arts for a few years now. Never in my life has anything like this happened. Why now am I suddenly getting visions?"

There is another who seeks the soul stone as we speak, the guardian replied. To your relief, it kept its distance from you. He yearns to own it.

"Thanos," you whispered, feeling a cold chill run up your spine as you spoke his name.

Yes, mystic, the guardian nodded solemnly. However, there are elements of the soul stone that the Titan has not tried to understand. Just like how life and death are two sides of the same coin, so too does the soul stone have another aspect.

You gasped as the soul stone materialized in front of you, hovering level with your line of sight just like when you were in the kitchen back at the Compound. You watched as it began to spin, gradually growing faster and faster, until it split neatly into two halves.

The soul stone embodies both the physical and the spiritual, and thus each aspect is acquired through complete mastery of its respective lesson.

The guardian's words echoed in your mind as you gazed at the fragments of the soul stone curiously. The fear you had felt in connection with your earlier visions was gone now. In its place, all you felt was awe.

As one of the pieces of the soul stone began gliding closer to you, you reached out your hand in an attempt to touch it. It looked so warm, so inviting. You longed to know what it would feel like to hold a piece of ancient power in your hands.

No.

You flinched, glancing at the guarding whose voice boomed in your head. As if to reinforce his words, the shards of the soul stone vanished into thin air.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" You asked quietly. "You said there's a connection between myself and the soul stone, I don't understand."

You must earn it. It does not come willingly to anyone.

"Then I don't want it." You shook your head, taking a step back. "I don't know why any of this is happening, but I want it to stop. I want to go home."

Very well.

The guardian raised his hand, and you felt yourself being pulled backwards slowly, back the way you came.

I offer you a piece of advice, mystic, the voice in your mind echoed out louder than ever. In order to gain the physical shard of the stone, you must lose the one you love. To gain the spirit shard, you must know the path that leads you back to them.

There was a sharp tug around your middle, and you felt your heart freeze in your chest as you began plummeting down the cliff. You squeezed your eyes shut as the wind echoed like a jet plane in your ears.

Remember this, the guardian's voice was distant now. You had to strain to register the words in your mind. The spirit shard cannot be found on Vormir. The fate of the physical shard is being decided as we speak. Use this knowledge wisely, mystic.

An image flashed in your mind of a titan ascending the mountain, towards the top of the cliff upon which your spirit had just stood. You caught a glint of purple, blue, and red flash from his hand.

You gasped, bolting upright as the heavy sensation that accompanied falling back into your body ran through you. You were trembling, drenched in a cold sweat, and you yelped as two hands planted themselves firmly on your shoulders.

"Relax!" Your heart sped up in your chest as you tried to fight off whoever was holding onto you. "Y/N, relax, it's me!"

Loki came into focus in front of you, his eyes never straying from yours as you tried to catch your breath. His hands were steady, but you caught a flash of fear in his eyes as he gazed at you.

"What happened?" He whispered, pulling you into a protective and firm embrace. Your breath caught in your throat as your mind wandered back to the visions that flashed behind your eyes moments before you woke up.

"Thanos." Your voice felt far away, almost foreign to you, as you replied softly. Your trembling hands reached up to pull Loki even closer to you. You were afraid you'd lose control and end up separated from your body again. You didn't want to be alone once more.

"What?"

"Thanos." You repeated again, glancing out the window into the now-darkened sky to make sure you were no longer on Vormir. You couldn't trust yourself. "Loki, I saw him. He's got more stones. He found the Tesseract."

Loki pushed you away, only to wrap his hands firmly around your arms. The fear he had hidden so well moments ago was dancing like fire in his eyes.

"That's impossible," he said slowly, and you weren't sure if those words were for you, or if they were an attempt to convince himself. "You hid the Tesseract yourself, you took it from me and-"

"I know what I did." You snapped. You winced as Loki recoiled away from you ever-so-slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm just... Look, you have to believe me Loki. Please. I was on Vormir, or at least my spirit was. The guardian of the soul stone was there, it spoke to me, I-"

"I believe you." Loki's soft whisper stopped the rambling thoughts that were pouring out of your mouth, and you nearly cried in relief at his words. His expression softened as he took in your torn, distressed expression, and he kissed your forehead softly.

"I believe you." He repeated again, pulling you close.

"We don't have much time." Your voice felt tight in your throat as you spoke. "Right before I woke up, I saw Thanos approaching Vormir. The rest of the stones are on Earth, Loki. I think he's coming here next."

"We need to tell the others."

"Will they know what to do?"

Loki's gaze burned into yours determinedly as he took your hand and helped you up off your bed.

"All we can do is hope."

The two of you raced down the hall, pounding on every door you passed as you tried to wake everyone up at once. Tired groans of protest echoed from within a few rooms, only encouraging you to knock even louder on the Avengers' doors.

"Everyone up!" You exclaimed. You couldn't ignore the way your voice and hands trembled as you made your way down the hall. "Emergency meeting, now!"

The Compound slowly came to life once more as you and Loki reached the end of the hall, and the two of you were met with numerous confused and somewhat alarmed looks.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, effortlessly keeping up with your strides as you made your way to the meeting room.

"Y/N had a vision." Loki explained, taking your hand and giving it a small squeeze in an attempt to comfort you. "Thanos is coming."

"What!?" Bruce's shocked exclamation echoed out from behind you as he jogged to keep up. "We were monitoring his whereabouts, just a few hours ago he was still light years away from Earth looking for the other five infinity stones-"

"Yeah, well, he's managed to get two more," You answered as you sat yourself down in a chair in the meeting room. Loki sat close beside you, resting his knee against yours in a silent gesture, as if to communicate he was right by your side through all of this.

"He's on Vormir as we speak," you continued as everyone took their seats around the table. "He's looking for the soul stone. That's infinity stone number four. He'll be coming for us next."

"How do you know that?" Natasha's question sounded out from the other side of the room.

"There's six stones in total, right?"

Your question earned slow nods from the Avengers sitting around you.

"I saw his glove. He's got the power stone -- as we know -- as well as the reality stone, and now the space stone too."

"The Tesseract was destroyed along with Asgard." Thor remarked, frowning as he took in your words. You looked over at Loki quickly, the two of you exchanging anxious glances, before you looked back at Thor and shook your head.

"The Tesseract was... misplaced." You answered slowly.

Everyone flinched as Thor banged his fist against the table, his gaze immediately shifting away from you as realization burned in his eyes.

"Loki!"

"I assure you brother-"

"I knew it was a bad idea bringing Rock of Ages here onto the team." Tony interrupted pointing an accusatory finger at Loki. Several other Avengers nodded in agreement.

"It wasn't his fault!" You exclaimed loudly. The room felt silent as everyone frowned at you in confusion. "It was mine. I should've destroyed it but I didn't. I just opened a portal and... threw it in."

"Do you know where it went?" Steve asked you.

"At the time, I didn't. I had no idea Thanos was out there looking for the stones at the same time. I just wanted that thing far away from us. It's caused enough trouble, and we didn't need any more."

Loki squeezed your hand and gave you a soft smile as he heard your reply.

"There are two stones left," you continued, glancing around the room worriedly as you thought about the threat of Thanos looming over your team like a dark shadow. "Stephen is guarding the time stone downtown. Assuming he's kept his guard up as usual, he'll be one step ahead of Thanos and he'll already be taking precautions to keep it out of his reach."

You paused, glancing nervously over at Vision. His eyes met yours in understanding, and he gave the slightest nod in acknowledgement.

"The other stone," you continued quietly. "Is right here in this room with us."

A strange humming sound caused a hushed silence to fall over the Compound. You frowned, straining your ears as you tried to listen.

"Does anyone else hear that-"

Tony's question was cut off by an explosion that took out the entire side wall of the Compound. The force of the blast knocked you to the ground, and your ears rang violently as you tried to orient yourself once more with your surroundings.

"This is too easy. Everyone in one room together, how... pathetic."

You glanced up to see Thanos looming over everyone, an already victorious grin on his face as he examined the aftermath of the blast he had caused.

"I would've thought you'd make it more difficult for me."

The stones on Thanos' gauntlet began to glow, and you felt an arm yank you backwards and into their grasp before a ray of purple light blasted throughout the room. You glanced behind you to find Loki, his jaw clenched as he stared in fear towards Thanos, before casting a protective spell over the two of you.

You tried to pull away, to gather up the other members of the team and bring them to safety, but Loki's grip was firm and unrelenting.

"They need help!" You exclaimed in protest. "Everyone's vulnerable, all our defense and weapons are two floors down-"

"You go over there, and you'll get killed." Loki muttered through gritted teeth. "I can't lose you. Stay here."

"But-"

"Stay here!"

Loki trembled as he tried to keep his shield up. Pressing yourself closer to him, you cast the strongest protective spell you knew and placed it overtop of his. Green and gold magic intertwined together, forming a tightly-knit dome over the two of you.

"I think I can get Bruce," you whispered, nodding towards the corner of the room. "He's not very far-"

Your idea was suddenly interrupted as Thanos raised his gauntlet, and the soul stone began to glow.

You watched in horror as every member of your team outside of your protective dome was wrapped in an orange aura, and lifted off the ground.

"No!" You yelled, stumbling forward and pushing your protective spell further outwards in an attempt to save those closest to you. A spark of energy backfired, burning your hands and causing you to stumbled back with a cry of pain.

"I can't get to them," you gasped, glancing at Loki in horror. "I can't get past the soul stone."

Thanos heard your words, and he shifted his gaze in your direction with narrowed eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" You demanded, watching as Steve and Tony, among others, struggled to be released from the titan's invisible grasp.

"Those who play hero only bring more war," Thanos stated, glancing behind your shoulder at Loki and smiling coldly. "I'm putting an end to this child's play, once and for all."

"Let them go!" You yelled, reaching forward in a weak attempt to save your teammates. Your gesture only earned a piteous laugh from the titan.

"You're choosing to play a bold game, mystic." Thanos continued. "By keeping that shield of yours up, you're creating more pain. All you are doing is delaying your death."

"It'll give us more time to plot yours." Loki retorted from behind you with gritted teeth.

"Bold as ever, Asgardian." Thanos smirked. "But not strong enough. Neither of you are."

You glanced desperately over at Tony for any sort of help, but all you exchanged were helpless glances.

"There will be no more heroes," Thanos boomed, raising his gauntlet triumphantly. The soul stone began to glow once more. "No more martyrs. No more humans. Only gods."

"I believe in you, kid." Tony gasped out. "You can do this."

"I can't." You cried out, your heart racing as you glanced between your teammates and Thanos. "I don't know how."

You managed to catch a determined nod from Tony, before a loud snap reverberated through the room, knocking you and Loki backwards.

There was a gust of cold air as Thanos opened a portal with the space stone, smirking victoriously down at the two of you.

"We'll meet again, mystic."

Thanos pulled a now-unconscious Vision towards him with his gauntlet and disappeared, the portal closing as soon as it opened. You lowered your shield to run for your teammates, who were still hovering unconscious in mid-air, only to be stopped by Loki.

"Look."

You watched in horror as, one by one, each member of the Avengers dissolved into ash and vanished before your eyes. Crying out in disbelief, you lowered your protection spell and raced forward before Loki could protest.

"Tony!"

You tried to reach for his hand, to pull him out of the orange aura that held him captive. As soon as your fingers brushed his, he turned to ash immediately.

You sunk to your knees, the sudden silence that fell over the Compound feeling like a graveyard. You heard Loki run towards Thor, calling his name over and over again, before he too fell silent.

You caught his gaze from across the room, and a cold chill shook your insides as his eyes mirrored the same terror you felt inside yourself.

Unable to find the strength to stand, you crawled over to where he sat and buried your face in his shoulder. As soon as Loki's arms wrapped around you, you were unable to stop the sobs that wracked your body. You felt him trembling and realized that he, too, was crying.

"They're all gone." You whispered, your voice distorted through your tears. "Everyone's gone."

Loki didn't reply. Instead, he pulled you closer and ran his hands in small circles upon your back, almost as if he were memorizing the feel of you in his arms.

The sound of your cries echoed out through the Compound and reverberated back towards the two of you, piercing your skin like little knives. You squeezed shut your eyes, hoping that this was all a bad dream and -- when you opened your eyes again -- the Avengers would be right back in this room with you and Loki, ready to formulate a plan of attack.

When you opened your eyes, however, nothing changed.

There was only one infinity stone left.

Everyone was gone, leaving only you and Loki.

Thanos had won.

END OF PART ONE.

Taglist: @startrekkingaroundasgard @delightfulheartdream @justasmisunderstoodasloki @marvels-mischief @k8obr @pastyoverlord265 @lowkeytesss @levylovegood

Taglist for this fic only: @littleredstarfish @treblebeth @taylordani03

[readiajin]

To Love Herself

Helloooo acotar fandom. Or just Nessian fandom. 

I have gone back and forth loving and hating acosf, but finally pinpointed the breaking point for me. I hated how the story played out after Nesta told Feyre about the baby. There was so much potential with how that whole situation could be handled. Instead Nesta was blamed for everything, with no one else ever taking responsibility. 

Because of that I have decided to try my hand at writing a fanfic starting from that point in acosf. Below is what I would call the prologue and the beginning of the first chapter. 

I have never posted anything I have written before, so please be kind. I would love feedback on it and if people are curious I will continue it. 

Prologue

Nesta didn’t care. Couldn’t think around the roaring. “Have any of them told you, their respected high lady, that the baby in your womb will kill you?”

It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s painted-smeared face.

She had gone too far. She… Oh gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Nesta ran into the streets, escaping down side alleys, not caring where she went, as long as it was away. Away from Feyre and her pain, the pain Nesta had just so cruelly added to. Away from Amran, the first friend Nesta had once thought she was. Away from the rest of her sister’s new family.

Nesta had thought she was getting better. She had been trying, with Gwyn and Emerie. With Cassian. She had searched for the Dread Trove, to protect Elain. She had initially followed Rhysand’s order not to tell Feyre about the risk of the baby...

But standing in that apartment, Nesta had realized none of it mattered. Not while Feyre cried and Amran looked at her with such hatred and disgust. For all her efforts, Feyre and her Inner Circle would never like Nesta.

As she ran Nesta couldn’t entirely blame them. She didn’t like who she was either. Didn’t like the things she said, or what she did, or how she felt. She didn’t like her powers either, not when they were a manifestation of all the worst things about her. They were all better off without her.

The realization slammed into Nesta. It was not the first time she had thought it. She had lived in her rundown apartment for exactly that reason, to put space between her and her sister’s family. But they had always dragged her back in with parties and dinners, insisting Nesta be there. They only ever resulted in her once again feeling out of place and giving them all more reasons to loathe her. Until finally they had forced her to the House Of Wind

Nesta came to a halt in an ally that opened up to the Sidra and the setting sun. Her red hot anger from earlier was gone, replaced with that numb feeling that she had lived with for so long, the feeling she had been beginning to forget. How quickly it returned.

Feyre’s crumpled face flashed in her mind. Nesta knew they would be coming for her. Feyre deserved to know the truth about her baby, her body. Everyone had the right to the truth. But Rhysand, Amren, and the rest of them didn’t care about that. They only cared how Nesta made Feyre feel, so they would blame her. Including Cassian.

Cassian who she trusted, who she had let in despite knowing better. No one had ever tried as much as he had with her, but in the end he would always choose Feyre and the Inner Circle. He had continued to talk to them about her and keep things from her because of them.

No matter what he was to her, he was also better off without her. She was a burden he had been handling, but today proved it was all pointless. Nothing and nobody could fix her.

Her powers curled in her gut as she stared at the sparking water. She wanted to disappear.

So do it A voice whispered.

Silver flames sparked at the tips of Nesta’s fingers.

Disappear

Nesta hugged her hands to her chest, letting the cold flames sparkle across her body. Amren has been right. Nesta hadn’t had any interest in her powers. But now they were all she had left. They were the only thing that had made her worth anything to the others. But maybe now they were her answer. Nesta closed her eyes and let her leash slip, let the magic decide. Disappear.

“NESTA!” a distant voice shouted.

A voice Nesta knew in her soul.

As the world twisted in flicking silver, Nesta turned and glanced at the sky. Hazel eyes locked onto hers, and Nesta felt his anger and alarm. His horror. All about her. But not anymore. Nesta felt a single tear escape down her cheek as she allowed her magic to consume her, and let go.

•••••

Chapter 1 (1st part)

Do you plan on coming home soon Feyre darling?

Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?

Two somebodies actually. Rhys replied, Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.

Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.

Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by streetlight on the moonless night. She hasn’t realized how late it had become.

I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.

Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spin as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.

She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.

Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.

Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”

The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”

An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back their hood.

Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.

“Hello Feyre.” Was all Nesta said.

Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.

Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.

But stepping in to the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.

Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder, was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestess disappeared from the Library.

•••••

[treksickfic]

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly. 

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever.  I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile.  I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

 “Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

 “If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

 “Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

 “Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

 “Don't fuck with me!”

 “The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

 Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

 “I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

 *****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

 “If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

 “Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

 “Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

 “I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

[ginkgomoon]

Victor’s Mercury Retrograde Call- Analysis

Saw this particular call and was inspired to do an analysis into what Mercury retrograde is and especially on what Victor’s views on these types of concepts are. Mercury retrograde happens tomorrow on the 29th to June 22rd. So I’d thought it would be fitting to post this beforehand. (And maybe foreshadow upcoming content....) Please enjoy! ❤️

Mercury

Mercury is the communication planet. It also talks about short distance travelling, governing your thirst for knowledge, your wit, negotiating skills, logic and rationality. In the Solar System, it’s the smallest planet (rip Pluto, you're still a planet to me) as well as one of the hottest. The name came from the Roman god Mercurius- the god of commerce, mediator for mortals and messenger of the gods. 

Retrograde (Rx) 

By definition, “retrograde” means that a planet is moving backwards in the sky. Really, it’s just an optical illusion. It comes from the Latin word “retogradus” meaning “backward step”. As planets orbit the Sun faster than Earth, they sometimes overtake our planet. This is what causes the retrograde motion to occur, making it looks like the planet is moving backwards from our view on Earth. 

When planets are in retrograde in astrology, this means that we are stalling in the proceedings of the planet and the energies turn into itself, feeling the effects of one another deeply and more intensely. It can be shy, awkward, but can also progress great depth depending where the placement of it is in your chart. 

What is Mercury Retrograde?

Mercury is the most well-known planet that goes into retrograde, normally occurring three to four times a year. Since Mercury rules communication, technology and rationality, people are often fearful when it is in retrograde as it’s known (and blamed) for various disruptions and misunderstandings to occur. But it’s so much more than just that. 

When Mercury in retrograde occurs- just like the start of tomorrow, Mercury stops moving backwards on it’s cosmic path reminding us to do the same. This all relates back to the rule of as above, so below. This means whatever happens within our solar system will ultimately affect us here on Earth. (For example, the moon governs our emotions, and since our body is approximately 70% water, why wouldn’t the moon affect us too? But it’s not just us, it’s the moon’s gravitational pull on the oceans, in the same sense, it’s also the moodiness you may feel during full moons!)

Mercury in retrograde gets us to pause our own endeavours in its jurisdiction and review, reassess and clean up what no longer serves us. People from the past may show up, situations can repeat itself and things that have been lost may turn up again. Repressed issues, emotions or situations will come back and we’re forced to deal with them no matter what, requiring us to come up with new resolutions to old problems. 

Victor’s Call

Victor: What was that message you just cancelled? MC: Oh sorry about that, I just sent it to the wrong person. Victor: I saw my name. It was about me, wasn’t it? MC: What? No, you must be seeing things! Victor: Really? Was I seeing things too when I saw all the incorrect data and typos in your report? MC: Sorry, I’ll revise that and I’ll have it to you first thing in the morning. Victor: As inept as you are, you never made such basic mistakes such as sending the wrong email or messing up data. What’s wrong with you lately? MC: I don’t know... just have been feeling really off, like I can’t do anything right. Victor: What was that? MC: Oh sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this to you. Victor: Didn’t you complain before about me not being a good listener? I’m listening now. MC: That’s okay save you listening for someone else. Victor: You might as well see you to my face if it’s me you’re going to complain about. MC: No, not complaints, more like constructive criticism you don’t mind, do you? Victor: If I minded, you wouldn’t have this chance. MC: Well, I’ve been in a terrible mood lately and with all this pressure from you... Victor: Terrible mood? Why? MC: Probably because Mercury is in retrograde. Victor: Mercury in retrograde? What the heck is that. MC: That’s when the planet Mercury... never mind, you won’t understand anyway. Victor: Don’t try to cover up for your inability to explain things. MC: Simply put that things happen with Mercury is in retrograde, all right? Victor: So you’re saying... Cosmic events have thrown your mood and work quality out of whack? MC: It may sound unbelievable but it’s true. It affects many people. Recently, my bracelet came somehow undone, I dropped my phone in the sink and just now I was tripped. Let’s not mention work. I don’t even know how I made the errors you pointed out. Victor: Are you sure it’s not because... MC: No, not because I was stupid but because... how do I put it... supernatural forces. It’s like an unseen hand leading you down the road of calamity. Victor: That retrograde stuff it’s all in your head. If you’re feeling unlucky that’s exactly what happens. Just like if you don’t think you can do the job. Don’t be late around by negative thoughts. If you’re truly struggling, take some time off if you feel overwhelmed, cut back on your workload. Oh and please feel free to call me to offer criticisms during Mercury’s retrograde.

Analysis

I did birth chart readings for Kiro and Gavin previously so before anything, I did a little check in on Victor’s birth chart and… wow. I was expecting to see some strong Earth/Capricorn placements, but I didn’t expect to see so many. This man has 5 planets in Capricorn! This means the Victor is dominantly Capricorn ruled- in most of his inner (main) planets as well. 

This is relevant because this may influence how he views the concepts of astrology, which enforces the reasons why he doesn’t believe in it and relies on physical/ logic-based evidence, instead. This is compared to Gavin for example, who doesn’t have so many Earth dominant placements and he is all in about astrology and astronomy. But of course, this shouldn’t apply to everyone as other surrounding planets, placements and variables play a huge part in contributing to form their own opinions about these topics. 

However, with Victor's dominant Capricorn placements, this manifests his disinterest and dishonesty for Mercury retrograde (and these types of concepts in general), refusing to believe in an idea or thing existing where there’s no physical evidence supporting it. Because to Earth placements, it’s more so the hard work, dedication and effort you put into something that creates the end result, more over a something that you can’t see. 

In the call, MC is clearly not in the right mood to argue with Victor and knows that he wouldn’t believe her anyway.

Victor: Mercury in retrograde? What the heck is that. MC: That’s when the planet Mercury... never mind, you won’t understand anyway. Victor: Don’t try to cover up for your inability to explain things. MC: It may sound unbelievable but it’s true. It affects many people. Recently, my bracelet came somehow undone, I dropped my phone in the sink and just now I was tripped. Let’s not mention work. I don’t even know how I made the errors you pointed out. Victor: Are you sure it’s not because... MC: No, not because I was stupid but because... how do I put it... supernatural forces. It’s like an unseen hand leading you down the road of calamity. Victor: That retrograde stuff it’s all in your head.

Victor, MC is just understating the effects of Mercury retrograde. In fact, what MC experienced is probably one of the most mundane things that someone could think of when writing about what happens during retrograde- due to of its true complexity, it's rather hard to write about, perhaps. Though, I’m still incredibly appreciative that they included it in the game. Even more than once!

During Mercury retrograde, some good ideas are to double check your emails before sending them, to wait a bit more rather than sign a major contract, and have backups of whatever you need. (I’m literally backing up my drafts as we speak.) Don’t be afraid of Mercury retrograde because it’s here to help our growth, not to delay it. Ironic, but true!

This year, I was contemplating whether I would starting on posting Tumblr and finally started the day the first Mercury retrograde ended. So, always not a bad thing from the results of retrograde!

[writingsbymarie]

Midsummer part 2 JJ Maybank x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst and fluff

Pairing: JJ x reader 

Word count: 1.6k

part 1

A/N: I most likely will be writing a part 3 because I’m really liking this concept, so I might turn tis into a mini series. Also my requests are open and I have a prompt list that you guys can send in numbers for JJ I’m feeling really inspired to write currently. 

You felt free. Your hand in JJs as you fled the midsummer ball with a smile on your face you felt the wind blowing your hair. You ran with your best friends to the van. JJ opened the door for you with a smile and you took a seat on the passenger side. JJ started up the car and you guys headed to a more private location. 

You helped JJ start a fire, and you all sat in a circle. That's when John B. said he had found the gold.

“No fucking way” you gaped.

“Damn haven’t heard you swear like that I think ever” JJ laughed.

“Here we go again” pope sighed

“The golds been here the whole time, on the island” John B claimed and you couldn’t believe and he went on to explain his evidence and the letter and you were least to say convinced, but Kie wasn’t too happy about Sarah Cameron being involved. You decided to not join that fight because you didn’t mind Sarah Cameron and when Kie was mad you did not mess with her. John B. then left to go get the map from Sarah Cameron and the rest of you went back to sit in the van. JJ took a seat right next to you. Your legs were touching and every time his legs or arms bumped you it started a fire on your skin. You were so hyper-aware of his touch it was almost embarrassing. All you wanted to do was be in his arms, but you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

“I can’t believe we actually might find the gold” you exclaimed shaking away your thoughts off JJ

“Not might we will, we have to” JJ restated. “Manifestation. If you really believe you are going to do something you will only positive energy Y/N”

“Since when did you become such an optimist?” Kie laughed.

“Since he found out there is 400 million worth of gold” Pope pointed out and all of you laughed.

“John B. is definitely macking on Sarah Cameron,” JJ laughed. “But I mean she's hot and rich so I guess go for it” You hated that it hurt when he said Sarah was hot. You were jealous. You never got jealous, you hated that feeling. You hated what jealousy makes people do and it scared you that even a statement like that made you angry.

“Ew JJ, shes a bitch! The “kook princess” we don’t associate with them” Kie spat.

“Calm down Kie we wouldn’t have gotten this close without her, yes I don’t like her, but if we need her for the gold then I guess she's with us” Pope debated. 

“I have to say I agree with Pope on this one Kie” you admitted. 

“Same here” JJ said. You were about to say something when you heard screams for help in the distance. You all came running out of the car to see Sarah Cameron sobbing on the ground with an unconscious John B. You felt your heart sink. 

“Please get help. Topper he- he pushed him and he fell” Sarah sobbed and Kie went running to get help. You felt tears escape your eyes as you fell to the ground next to John B. You put your fingers to his wrist to feel a pulse. You felt a small bit of relief but you knew he needed help now.

“He has a pulse” you started taking a deep breath to stop yourself from a full blown panic attack. You grabbed John B's hand and cried with Sarah. The rain started to pour down and all you felt was dread. JJ was by your side, his hand in your free hand. It felt like ages before the Ambulance came. As they carried his body into the Ambulance you began to Sob. John B was like your brother. He was your neighbor for 12 years, and he was your best friend. That's when you felt JJ embrace you in a hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso and cried into his chest. He stroked your hair as he cried with you. After a short period of time you pulled away. Kie and Popes parents had already picked them up. Your mom was most likely asleep because she didn’t answer so you were going to go home with JJ. 

“We should go wash up and go home, we can go see him in the morning. Hes been through so much he will make it through this” you sniffled. Your mascara had to be running down your face from the tears and rain.

“I'm going to kill him” JJ seethed looking down at the ground.

“JJ come on let's go you promised you’d stay with me tonight”

“I can’t just let him get away with this Y/N this is the second time hes almost killed my best friend we can’t keep letting them walk all over us with no consequence”

“I know, trust me I know, but he wouldn’t want you to go on a rampage”

“Y/n i have to do something”

“Please don’t make me go home alone” you pleaded with your eyes glossy. JJs face softened and he wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Okay” he whispered. He grabbed your hand and led you back to the van. The drive was silent, but a comfortable silence. All that mattered was that he was next to you. He was with you. JJ parked the van in your driveway and you both got out. 

“We have to be quiet okay?” you said and JJ nodded. You grabbed his hand as you slowly opened the door and led him up the stairs. You passed your little sister's room as slowly and quietly as you could. Your room was the furthest from everyone and had its own bathroom, so you knew it would be easy to keep your parents from finding out about the boy who would be staying in your room. When you finally entered your room you took a deep breath. Your clothes were soaked and your headache. You white dress was covered in mud and you looked straight out of a horror movie. 

“I have some clothes of yours here from when we had everyone over a couple weeks ago so you can wear that’ you said grabbing the clothes from inside your closet. He nodded, grabbing it. “You take a shower in my bathroom and Ill go take one in the one down the hall okay”and with that he headed to the bathroom and closed the door. You felt tears sting your eyes, but you held them in. You grabbed your Pajamas walking down the hall to your sister's bathroom. You closed the door and began to peel off your soaked white dress that was now more brown than white. You stepped in the shower and began to wash your body under the hot water. You were so sad, and tears began to fal again. You found yourself on the floor of the shower knees pulled to your chest. When you finally got yourself together you turned off the water and dried your body. You slipped on black sweatpants and an orange tank top. You took a deep breath and began to walk back your bedroom. You knocked lightly on the door to make sure you didn’t walk in on him changing.

“Yeah” you heard.

“Are you decent” you asked

“Yep” and with that you opened the door. His hair was messy and damp. His eyes were puffy and so were yours. You took a seat next to him on your bed and he leaned his head on your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” he whispered

“For what” 

“For being a burden, for making you worry”

“JJ you are not a burden and worrying is what I do, don’t ever tell me that your sorry, You’re my best friend and I love you, it's my job to worry about you” The words I love you came out of your mouth without even thinking. You were glad he had his face on your shoulder so he couldn’t see how tomato red your face was. 

“I love you too Y/n, thank you” and with that you wanted to cry, because you loved JJ so much it hurt you, and you knew it would never happen. He may love you but as a best friend and that's it.  JJ lifted his head up to meet your eyes and you immediately looked down and tears began you prickle your eyes. JJs hand met your chin and lifted your head to look at him. He wiped a tear from your cheek and pulled you into his body, You wanted him to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him, but if this was all you were going to get then you were going to be okay with that. You cried in his arms and played with your wet hair. 

“Everything is going to be okay” he whispered, placing a kiss on your head. Your friend was in the hospital after falling five stories and here you were crying over the boy who has you in his arms. You felt selfish, but you couldn’t let go.

“We should sleep” you yawned, pulling from his embrace, and he nodded.

“I can sleep on the couc-”

“No” you interrupted. “Um the bed is big enough for both of us” 

“Okay”  he replied and you climbed up the covers and he followed. You weren't sure how to lay until JJ pulled your body into his. You nuzzled into his chest and in this moment you felt home. You felt complete unconditional love for this boy, and you were so unaware that he was head over heels for you too

[wildmichaelflower]

You’re All I See (Lyric taken from Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat)

Pairings: Ashton x Calum x AFAB Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Oral (Man receiving, man giving), Gentle vaginal sex between man and woman, gentle anal sex between man and man, Protected sex in a newly established relationship, Swearing, Mentions of beverage and food consumption

Word count: 2,622 words

Author’s note: I got @spicycal for this month’s fic event and I’ve had so much fun writing this piece! I hope you enjoy and it lives up to what you were expecting! 💖 And thanks to @h0tsos and @maluminspace for working with everyone and organizing the event!

    It was a tradition the boys had that they had a small get together with their close friends a week or so after coming back from tour, and it was to no one’s surprise that Ashton invited you. You had met him and Calum at your favorite coffeeshop, and the three of you had hit it off since. You were close to Luke and Michael, but it was nothing compared to the connection you had with the other two.

When you arrived at Calum’s house, you left yourself in, greeting Duke as he trotted to you.

“Hey bud!” You grinned and bent down to scratch his head, “Where’s your pops?”

“Here,” Cal grinned as he slid the back door shut, “Everyone’s out by the pool, I came to grab drinks.”

You nodded, standing up again and following him to the kitchen, grabbing the beverages before following him, being mindful of the small dog near your feet.

“Hey, you’re here!” Ashton beamed from his spot on one of the lounge chairs as you passed him his drink.

“Yeah, you think I’d pass up a chance to swim in Cal’s pool?” You teased, smirking at the man in question.

“Ha ha,” Calum rolled his eyes sarcastically but returned your grin, taking a sip of his drink as he relaxed on the chair next to Ash, petting Duke as he laid by his side.

You laughed, waving hello to Luke, Michael, and their partners, before going to set at the edge of the water, dipping your feet in. Michael kissed Crystal on the cheek before jumping into the pool, moving his hair out of his face before swimming closer.

“Hey you,” He grinned, “Glad we could join us.”

“’Course! Had to catch up with my boys after their ventures!” You smiled as Crystal and Sierra got in too, “How was tour, by the way?”

“Incredible, there’s no manifesting the energy of a show anywhere else.” Luke grinned before pulling off his shirt and slid into the water.

Ash nodded, “But it’s nice to be home, in our own beds.” He smiled at you briefly, before sharing a look with Cal, who nodded.

“And with the people we love.” He looked at you before standing up, pulling his shirt off and joining the others in the water.

You looked, respectably of course, but you couldn’t help but admire the work he had been putting into his arms, or the way the water made his chest gleam. You hadn’t noticed you were staring until Michael looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

Ashton came to sit by you shortly after, kicking water in your direction, sparking a lighthearted between the two of you and you declared yourself the winner when reached too far into the pool to scoop water to splash you, falling in instead.

“Laugh now, but I declare a rematch later,” He grinned before swimming to the stairs, getting out to pull of his wet shirt. You bit your lip as you watched, taking in how golden he looked in the sunlight. He caught you staring and sent a winking before sliding back into the pool.

Standing up, you went to find your drink, taking quick gulps to empty the can. You announced you were going to get another one and Michael offered to follow you to get refill for himself and Crystal. You threw the used metal in the recycling bin before the two of you headed inside. You barely stepped foot in the kitchen when Michael asked,

“So when are you making your move?”

You froze and shook your head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” He rolled his eyes, “I saw the way you watched Cal and Ash in the pool.”

You blushed and bit your lip, “We’re just friends.”

“Right, so you stare at me and Luke like that too? We’re flattered babe, but you’re taken,” He winked, teasing you.

You shook your head, laughing lightly, “No, I don’t..” You sighed and leaned back against the counter.

Michael watched you, both of you turning to the door as it slid open.

“Hey,” Luke walked in, “Is this the part where we tell you to talk to Ash and Cal?”

You blushed and whispered, “Is it really that obvious..?”

“To everyone but them, yeah.” Luke chuckled, “But to fair, their affections are obvious to everyone but you too.”

“What are you talking about? They just see me as a friend.” You looked up at him.

“And you just proved his point,” Michael grinned.

Luke nodded, “And let’s not forget the way the guys look at each other,” He turned his gaze to you, “You three clearly have shown there’s sexual attraction to each other, but there’s also a different way you all interact with each other. The three of you could be happy together, you just gotta have that conversation.”

You sighed and nodded, “You’re right..” You bit your lip before asking, “Have you had this kind of conversation with the guys?”

“At least three times a week during tour,” Michael rolled his eyes, annoyed, “And they kept saying ‘maybe when we get back’ and ‘mind your own business’. Luke and I knew we had to talk to you too about it, hoping you’d listen and to let you know that they had a crush on you too.”

“Ok..” You softly smiled, “I’ll talk to them before I leave.”

Luke and Michael, patted you on the back, then headed back out after grabbing their desired drinks and snacks.

The rest of the afternoon slipped by, and you and Ash were helping Calum clean up, Duke watching and yawning from his spot under the lounge chair.

“Thanks for the help,” Calum grinned as he stuffed opened wrappers into a trash bag, “I love having everyone over but the cleanup is always a hassle.”

“’Course mate, you know we love you..” Ash widened his eyes before correcting himself, “Love to help you, I mean, he chuckled nervously.

Calum blushed and smiled sheepishly as he tied up the bag, but you saw this as an opportunity to start the conversation.

“What if the three of us got together?”

Both boys dropped their garbage bags and stared at you.

“Wow, no beating around the bush huh?” Calum chuckled but nodded, “That’s something I thought about to.”

Ashton nodded, “I’ve had feelings for the both of you for the longest time, but was worried about screwing up our friendship, or having to choose between the two of you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “I want you both, always have, and not in just a sexual way.” You blushed, “Although there’s been some thoughts there too.”

Both boys chuckled and smirked at each other, then back at you.

“Before we do anything, romantically or sexually, we need to get all clarification out of the way.” Ashton looked at the both of you, watching as you nodded in agreement.

You three finished cleaning up before heading inside and heading to the living room, Duke following behind before finding one of his toys. You three discussed the relationship and its possibilities, agreeing that it would a poly relationship, with all the benefits, and you would keep it private until you fell into the flow of the relationship.

You bit your lip, nervous, before standing and kissing Ashton gently, grinning as he reciprocated before pulling away to include Calum.

When both boys pulled away, they had a gleam in their eye, and you admired the moment between the three of you before you were scooped up by the younger man. He carried you to his bedroom while Ashton followed.

You smirked and teased, “No beating around the bush huh?”

He chuckled and laid you on his bed, kissing you passionately, “We spent months ignoring our feelings, why hide them any longer?” He gently kissed your neck, rubbing your sides and smirking at the moans escaping from your lips.

Ashton watched, leaning against the doorframe, trying to find the best spot to come in before kneeling beside the both of you on the bed, giving Calum’s curls a light tug.

You both grinned at the groan he emitted, and the older man bit his lip before whispering, “Wanna feel those moans on my cock as you suck me. That ok with you?”

“Oh fuck yeah..” Calum grinned as you watched Ashton stand and slowly, teasingly, pull his trunks down.

The curly haired man let out a groan as Ashton’s cock came into view, getting on his knees and licking his tip.

“Fuck!” The older man locked eyes with Calum, biting his lip as he took more of him in his mouth.

You bit your lip and pulled your bikini bottoms down, getting turned on between watching the two men.

Ashton smirked as he watched you, moaning as his cock hit the back of Calum’s throat, “You wet pretty girl? Give us a show, rub your clit.”

You nodded, quickly following his request and letting out whimpers of pleasure.

“Good girl,” He smirked before gripping Calum’s curls, “And you, pretty boy,” he stopped to let out a moan as the younger man squeezed his balls, “Have me so damn close. Get me to cum and I’m sure pretty girl will return the favor,” He winked at you before throwing his head back in pleasure as Calum bobbed his head faster.

You groaned at sight and began to finger yourself, starting out slow but quickly building up speed as Calum dug his nails into Ashton’s thighs, preparing to swallow his load.

Almost on cue, Ash let out little gasps as he let go, watching as the other man swallowed everything before pulling off.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” Ashton panted, helping Calum to his feet before giving him a passionate kiss. Calum grinned against his lips, before pulling him closer and tilting his head back as the dark haired man nipped and sucked on his neck before pulling away and turning to you, who was on the edge of giving yourself an orgasm.

“Aw, poor pretty girl,” Ashton pouted teasingly, “Having to pleasure yourself.”

You whined, “Please Ash, need you both so bad..”

He chuckled and watched as Cal grab condoms from the bedside drawer, passing one over before ripping the package open carefully and sliding it on.

The blonde man moved closer to you, gently pulling your fingers out of your heat then slipping them into his mouth, letting out a small groan.

“Damn, the two of you together is amazing,” He smirked and licked his lips, “Gonna need to get more than a sample later,” He winked before kissing you and lining himself up at your entrance.

“Are you ready for my length lovely? I’ll go nice and slow,” He whispered, stroking your cheeks.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly, pulling away to moan as he slipped into you.

“Fuck lovely,” He praised, “You feel amazing..” He groaned as he waited for you to get comfortable. You squeezed his biceps to indicate you were ready for him to move, and he started his slow thrusts, holding you close as he made love to you.

Your other lover sat the end of the bed, watching with adoration at the scene in front of him. You looked at him pleadingly, hoping he would join beside you, and as if he could read your mind, he laid beside you, kissing you and rubbing your clit as Calum made his claim on your neck while you two made love. You whimpered in pure bliss, turning your head to watch both men show their adoration and it wasn’t long before you reached your high.

“Calum, Im- I’m gonna..” You groaned, clenching around him and slowly dragging your nails down his back.

“I know baby,” He smiled, listening to how your body moved for him, “Let go whenever you need, I got you.”

You clenched the sheets as your high approached, mumbling Calum’s name like a prayer. He groaned and Ashton kissed you both as he pulled out.

The three of you lay together in a sweaty, close cuddle, before you whispered, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t cum, Cal.”

He blushed, “Well, I was close, but was worried about going to far, and-“

“Make love to me then,” Ashton smiled, looking at him, “Your pretty mouth made me cum, let my ass do the same.”

Calum bit his lip and nodded as he pulled the old condom off carefully, throwing it away before taking the one he offered Ashton earlier back. Opening the package, he slipped the one on and kissed the older man.

“I’ll be gentle, of course,” He smiled, before standing up, letting the other man get into position.

You pulled your bikini top off, smiling as Ashton kissed both nipples before kissing you, “Hey pretty girl,” He whispered, watching as you made your lips down his neck and chest.

Calum watched as he applied lube to his cock, “Help him get relaxed lovely..” He gently rubbed some on Ashton’s hole, watching as he shivered.

After a few minutes of receiving gentle kisses and touches on various parts of his body, Ash nodded, “OK, I’m ready,” He gripped the sheets in preparation, smiling in appreciation as you kissed him.

You felt a gasp between your lips as Calum eased into the older man, biting his lip as he gauged his reaction.

“Holy fuck,” Ashton’s voice was caught in his throat, but he grinned in ecstasy. When he was adjusted to the younger man’s size, he instructed him to move.

Nodding, Calum began to thrust, groaning at how amazing the feeling was and realizing how lucky he was to have known both of you so intimately. Not to feel left out, you left kisses over Ashton’s body, making sure to leave a mark or two to find later. You only pulled away when you heard panting, watching as Calum approached his high.

“Fuck babe,” He groaned and clenched his eyes shut, “I’m so close!”

Ashton gripped the sheets, grinning, “Go ahead and let go pretty boy, make sure you make those noises we love so much.”

Calum’s pants continued before he let out a whine, his thrusts slowing down as he released into his condom. His legs buckled and he slowly sank to the floor, watching Ashton slowly move closer to you, the both of you making out before you went to get wet rags for everybody. Ashton helped his other lover to the bed, letting him discard the condom before pulling him in for cuddles. You came back, passing out the damp cloths and helped your two men get clean before joining in on the cuddles. You closed your eyes, feeling sleep take over but opened them when you heard Calum speak up.

“That was incredible, both of you. I’m glad we did this and had that conversation,” He smiled tiredly, snuggling more into Ashton’s chest.

You nodded, smiling softly and whispered, “I just hope this doesn’t end soon,” you bit your lip, laying your head on the older man’s stomach.

Ashton wrapped his arms around the both of you, “You’re all I see, when I think of the future, both of you are. I see us holding each other close, coming home from tour and being in the same house so we can cook together, shit, maybe even getting another dog,” He chuckled as his lovers looked up excitedly, kissing their foreheads, “But for now, let’s rest. Luke wants to go for a run in the morning and I gotta make sure I’m up in time to cover these marks.”

“Let him see them,” You mumbled, “It could be proof that his and Micahel’s words finally got through.”

Ashton and Calum chuckled, snuggling closer as you all drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

[adorpheus]

on fujoshi and fetishization

Lately, more and more, both here on tumblr and on other sites, I keep seeing people spew unfiltered hatred at fujoshi - that is, women who like mlm content such as gay fanfic and fanart featuring men with other men. And I don’t mean like a specific type of fujoshi, like the ones who are genuinely being weird about it, but just like a general hatred for girls (but especially straight identifying girls) who express love for gay romance.

I hate to break this to you all, but women (including straight women!) actually are allowed to like mlm fanfiction and fanart, even enthusiastically so. A woman simply expressing her love of gay fanfic, even if it is in kind of a cringey way or a way that you personally don’t like, is NOT automatically fetishization.

I’ve been on the receiving end of fetishization for my entire life, from a very young age, as many black and brown folx have, so I consider myself pretty well acquainted with how it works. Fetishization isn’t just like, being really into drawings of boys kissing, or whatever the fuck y’all are trying to imply on this god forsaken site. 

Fetishization is complicated imo, and can encompass a lot of things, such as (but not limited to):

1 - dehumanization, e.g. viewing a group of people as sexual objects who exist purely for entertainment purposes, rather than acknowledging them as actual people who deserve respect and rights

and

2 - projecting certain assumptions onto said people based on their race/sexuality/whatever is being fetishized. These assumptions are often, but not always, sexual in nature (like the idea that black people in general are more sexual than other races, etc etc etc).

I’m going to use myself as an example to illustrate my point. Please note this isn’t the best or most nuanced example, but it is the most simplistic. A white person finding me attractive and respectfully appreciating my black features as part of what makes me beautiful is not, on its own, fetishization. A white person finding me attractive solely or mostly because I’m a PoC is now in fetishization territory. Similarly, assuming I’m dominant because of my blackness (like saying “step on me mommy” and shit like that) is hella fetishistic. 

That being said, theres definitely a difference between how fetishization works in real life with real people, and how it shows up in fandom. 

Fetishization manifests in many different ways in fandom, but most commonly on the mlm side of things, I personally see it appear as conservative (or centrist) women who love the idea of two men together, but don’t actually like gay people, and don’t necessarily think LGBT+ people deserve rights (or “special treatment” as its sometimes dog whistled). These women view queer men as sexual objects for entertainment rather than an actual group of people who deserve to be protected from systemic oppression. I’ve noticed that they often don’t even think of the men they “ship” together as actually being gay, and may even express disgust at the idea of a character in an mlm ship being headcanon’d gay. In case its not obvious, this is pretty much exactly the same way a lot of cishet men fetishize lesbians (they see “lesbian” as a porn category, rather than like, what actual LGBT people think of when we read the word lesbian). There’s a pretty popular viral tweet thread going around where someone explains seeing this trend of conservative women who like mlm stuff, and I have also personally witnessed this phenomenon myself in more than one fandom. 

The funny thing is, maybe its just me buuuut.... The place I see this particular kind of fetishization happen most is not in the anime/BL fandom, from which the term fujoshi originates - I actually see these type of women way way more in western fandom spaces like Supernatural, Harry Potter, and Hannibal. I can’t stress this enough, there’s a shocking amount of people who are like, straight up trump supporters in these fandoms. If you want to experience it, try joining a Hannigram or Destiel group on facebook and you will probably encounter one eventually especially if you happen to be living through a major historical event. Like these women probably wouldn’t even be considered “fujoshi”, because that term doesn’t really apply to them given they aren’t in the BL/anime fandom, yet they’re the ones I personally see actually doing the most harm.

Of course this isn’t the ONLY kind of fetishizing woman in the mlm/BL world, there are other ways fetishization shows up, but this is the most toxic kind that I see.

A girl just being really into BL or whatever may be “cringe” to you, or she may be expressing her love for BL in a “cringey” way, but a straight woman really enjoying BL is not, on its own, somehow inherently fetishization. Yes, sometimes teenage girls act kind of cringe about how much they like BL and that might be annoying to you, but its not necessarily ~problematic~. 

That being said, IT NEEDS BE REMARKED that a lot of the “fujoshi” that you all hate so deeply, are actually closeted trans men or nonbinary people who haven’t yet come to terms with their gender identity, or are otherwise just NOT cishet. I know because I was one of these closeted people for years, and I honestly think tumblr and the cultural obsession around purity is one of the many reasons I was closeted so deeply for so long. STORYTIME LOL!!! In my early adolescence, I was a sort of proto “fujoshi”. I identified as a bi girl who was mostly attracted to men, or as most (biphobic) people called it, “practically straight”. I wrote and read “slash” fanfic and looked at as well as drew my own fanart. We didn’t use the term fujoshi back then, but that’s definitely how I could have been described. I was obsessed with yaoi, BL, whatever you want to call it, to a cringe-inducing degree. I really struggled to relate to most het romances, so when I first discovered yaoi fanfics (as we called them at the time), I fell in love and felt like I finally found the type of romance content that was made for me. I didn’t know exactly why, I just knew it hit different. LGBT+ fanart and fanfiction brought me an immense amount of joy, and I didn’t really think too hard about why.

At some point, in my early 20s, after reading lots of discourse™ here on tumblr and other places like twitter, I started to get the sinking feeling that my passion for gay fanfiction was ~problematic~. I had always felt a sense of guilt for being into mlm content, because literally anyone who found out I liked BL (especially the men I dated) shamed me for liking it all the fucking time (which btw is literally just homophobic, like can we talk about that?). In addition to THAT bullshit, now I’m seeing posts telling me that girls who like BL are cringey gross fetishists who inspire rage and should go die? 

Let me tell you, I internalized the fuck out of messages like this. I desperately wanted to avoid being ~problematic~. At the time, I thought being problematic was like the worst thing you could be. I was terrified of being “cancelled”, before canceling was even really a thing. I thought to myself, “oh my god, I’m gross for liking this stuff? I should stop.” I beat myself up over this. I wanted so badly to be accepted, and to be deemed a Good Person by the internet and society at large.

I tried to shape up and become a good ally (lmfao). I stopped writing fanfic and deleted all the ones I was working on at the time. I made a concerted effort to assimilate into cishet culture, including trying to indulge myself more deeply in the few fandoms I could find that had het content I did enjoy (Buffy, True Blood, Pretty Little Liars, etc). I would occasionally look at BL/fanfic/etc in private, but then I would repress my interest in it and not look for a while. Instead I would look at women in straight relationships, and create extremely heterosexual Couple Goals pinterest boards, and try to figure out how I could become more like these women, so I, too, could be loved someday. 

This cycle of repression lasted like eight years. Throughout it all, I was performing womanhood to the best of my ability and trying to become a woman that was worthy of being in a relationship. I went in and out of several “straight” relationships, wondering why they didn’t make me feel the way reading fanfic did. Most of all, I couldn’t figure out why straight intimacy didn’t work for me. I just didn’t enjoy it. I always preferred looking at or making gay fanfiction/fanart over actual intimacy with men in real life. 

Eventually, I stumbled upon a trans coming out video that someone I was following posted online, my egg started to crack, and to make an extremely long story short, after like 3 years of introspection and many gender panic attacks that I still experience to this day, I realized that I’m uh... MAYBE... NOT CIS..!? :|

I truly believe if I had just been ALLOWED TO LIKE GAY STUFF WITHOUT BEING SHAMED FOR IT, I probably would have realized I was trans way way sooner. Because for me, indulging in my love of gay romance and writing gay fanfic wasn’t me being a weirdo fetishist, it was actually me exploring my own gender identity. It is what helped me come to terms with being a nonbinary trans boy.

Not everyone realizes they are trans at age 2 or whatever the fuck. Sometimes you have to go through a cringey fujoshi phase and multiple existential crises to realize how fucking gay you are AND THATS FINE.

And one more thing - can we just be real here? 

A lot of anti-fujoshi sentiment is literally just misogyny. omg please realize this. Its “women aren’t allowed to enjoy things” but, like... with gay fanfics. Some of the anti-fujoshi posts I see come across my dash are clearly ppl projecting a caricature they invented in their head of a demonic fujoshi fetishist onto any woman who expresses what they consider to be a little too much enthusiasm for gay content and then using their perception of that individual as an excuse to justify their disdain for any women, especially straight women, ‘invading’ their ~oh so exclusive~ queer fandom spaces.

 god get over yrselfs this is gatekeeping by another name

idk why i spent so long writing this no one is even going to read it, does anyone even still use this site

*EDIT: HOLY SHIT WHEN DOING RESEARCH FOR THIS POST I FOUND OUT THAT Y-GALLERY IS BACK OMG!!! 

[otagamerkorin]

Trial by Fire (including very little actual fire and honestly just a whole lot of snow)

Merry (very belated) Christmas @blasphemousfungus! I was your secret santa for @kibasniper‘s Psychonauts Secret Santa! Unfortunately, due to a lotta stuff going on in my life, your present isn’t completely done yet, but here’s the first (honestly kinda massive) chapter of it! I plan on putting it up on AO3 as well, so I’ll ping you then too! For reference, this was highly inspired by mystery_notebook (or I think they might be @tvguts on here?) fic Like It Used To Be, But Better, which is amazing and you should totally check it out. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Edit: Just realized I completely forgot to give it a title. Whoops.

When they had gone into the asylum, none of the members of Thorney Towers had expected to come back out not only dear friends with a 10 year old, but also under the close monitor of an organization of secret psychic agents.  Initially is had only been to ensure that being around Loboto while in such delicate condition hadn’t left any lasting damage. Luckily from what they’d been able to work out from the fours scattered memories of the time, the dentist hadn’t involved them in any of his experiments, but better safe than sorry. The surveillance really hadn’t gotten in the way of their new lives much. A few calls a week, the occasional in-person check in to see how they were doing, not much to write home about in the grand scheme of things.

After a time though, things had begun to get...interesting.

It was actually Boyd who kicked the whole thing off, so to say. It had been a day like any other, possibly even more quiet and domestic than usual considering they’d just hit the weekend. According to the other three, he’d simply been drying dishes after dinner that night when a wayward mug has slipped off the counter behind him. The resulting crash has two effects. 1.) The former nightguard jumped about three feet off the ground with a startled shriek. And 2.) The dishtowel in his hands promptly burst into flames. Luckily he’d dropped the flaming cloth into surprise and a bit of group panic and rapid stomping has quickly put out the blaze, leaving the four gathered in the small kitchen, staring down at its burnt remains.

The lot of them, Boyd especially, were dumbfounded by the whole event and immediately phoned up their new psychic associates, if only to make sure they weren’t all going crazy again. There had to be some mundane explanation for this, right? But after a few quick tests from Sasha, it was official: Boyd was most definitely a psychic.

Signs from the others quickly followed.  Fred would frequently find papers and pens floating in orbit around him whenever he got embroiled in his nursing reinstatement exams. Edgar would sometimes find those around him caught up in a sort of bewildering mental fog, leaving them staring around in confusion. And while Gloria had always had quite the green thumb, now the plants in her garden flourished with just the touch of her hand, the woman assaulted with a hundred whispered voices of delight whenever she appeared at the gate with her watering can. Lili was especially happy about the latter, having never met a fellow connoisseur of florakinesis until that point, let alone one who was so friendly.

To say everyone, both Psychonaut and otherwise, was baffled was an understatement. None of the four had shown an signs of psychic powers earlier in life. So why now?

It was Razputin of all people who offered a hypothesis.  They were all aware that the large amount of  Psitanium around the camp and asylum had been less that helpful for the fours delicate mental state, what with the whole “making the sane less sane” thing and all. Perhaps though, the other half of the phrase may also be in play. What if being around all that Psitanium has brought whatever deeply buried psychic powers the four shared to the surface?

Honestly, it was the best they had to go on. There were hardly any cases of spontaneous psychic manifestation in those beyond adolescence and the four weren’t showing any of the usual symptom relating to those sort of circumstances.

Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that the organization now had a whole mess of new psychics in the mix who needed training.

Which is what brought Milla to the front gates of the Von Gouten Arts Academy for Girls (formally Hagatha Home) bright and early one Wednesday morning. The former actress had bought the dilapidated old academy around a year ago using some of the wealth she’s amassed during her glory years. (It was amazing how much interest a saving account left to sit could accrue.) Since then she’d been fixing the place up, hiring teachers and generally getting the place running even better than before, eventually joined in her endeavors by the other three Thorney Towers residents when they moved onto the grounds with her.

Milla found herself smiling up at the stylized “VG” woven into the metal of the newly installed gate in the stone fence that surrounded the property. Gloria really was doing an excellent job with the place. Rolling her window down, the Mental Minx leaned out and pressed the button of the call box installed in the fence wall. For a moment there was silence and then a familiar voice crackled to life on the other end.

“Good morning! Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, I would certainly hope so Darling.” Milla teased and she could practically hear the smile in Boyd’s voice when he replied.

“Dang, is it really Wednesday already? Well, head right on up Mrs. Vodello! I’ll let the rest of the gang know you’re coming.”

There was a buzz and the whirring of mechanisms as the gate opened and allowed access to the road beyond. Continuing on down the path, she soon found herself pulling into the large round driveway in front of the building. A group of students tending to one of the flower beds out front waved as she parked and stepped out of the car, Boyd likewise stepping out of the guard shack nearby and making his way over.

“Good morning to you Ms. Vodello! You the only one here today?”

“Not quite.” She replied with a chuckle, just in time for the back door of the car to fly open and Raz to stick his grinning face out around it.

“Hi Boyd!”

“Hey, good to see you too Raz! Come on inside, the rest of the gang should be on their way.” He replied with a grin, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair as he led them inside.

For as horrid as the place had apparently originally been ran, the former owner had at least had good architectural sense, and the large oak front doors opened into a soaring foyer, complete with a grand spiral staircase. One that Gloria was already beginning to make her way down as the doors closed behind them.

“Well good morning Ms. Vodello! And to you too Raz dear!” The former actress beamed, taking Boyd’s offered arm as she stepped down the last few stairs.

“You came at just the right time. I just finished up with morning announcements. Please, feel free to head right over to the practice room, the rest of the boys should already be on their way. Oh, and I’ve also had some snacks from the dining hall sent on ahead. I hope you both like blueberry muffins!”

“That sounds just delightful darling!” Milla replied cheerfully, smiling wider when she saw the stars in Raz’s eyes at the mention of food. Milla sidled up beside the actress as they started down into one of the academy’s wings, one of Gloria’s arms still linked with Boyd’s.

“So how have the plants been treating you darling?”

“Oh, better everyday! My garden is thriving and I think I’m really starting to get a good hold of this whole telepathy thing! Getting it across to all my little lovelies that there’s really no need to shout every time I come in hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s finally starting to stick. The roses and lilies are still a horrible bunch of gossips, but I doubt there’s much I’ll ever be able to do about that.” She replied with a laugh.

“They do come in useful to make sure none of the students are pulling anything they shouldn’t though!”

“That’s wonderful to hear! How about you Boyd? Have you been making any process in your off-time?” Milla asked, the guard rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, a bit. It ain’t exactly been fast progress, but one step at a time you know? But hey! At least I haven’t accidentally lit up anything important again since you taught me those exercises. There’s only so many times I can almost burn down Edgar’s classroom before it starts to get ridiculous.”

Milla smiled softly, reaching over to pat the guard on the back.

“Well, learning to fully control one’s powers can be a long path. It took me years to master my own skillset. Like you said, it’s just one step at a time. I think you’ve made wonderful progress though, and I’m very proud of you darling.” She mused and the man flushed a bit at her praise and mumbled a word of thanks, tugging his hat low over his eyes bashfully as Gloria gave him a smile.

The group of four quickly found themselves at the extra dance studio in the buildings far west they’d assigned at their practice room, and upon stepping inside found Fred and Edgar already waiting for them.

“Oh, hey Ms. Milla. And you too Raz. Sorry, gimme just a sec to finish up some papers.” The tall school counselor called over distractedly, scribbling away on a clipboard from where he was sitting on a nearby bench.

“Apologies for my rather ruffled appearance as well, mi amigos.” Edgar chimed in, wiping his hands down with a long-since-stained painting cloth. Both his hands and the old shirt he wore were splattered with the stuff, having somehow even managed to get some on his face and hair.

“You caught me in the middle of a bit of early morning painting.”

“Just be sure to remember and get some rest dear. We can’t have our best art teacher burning the candle at both ends.” Gloria replied with a smile as she strode over, reaching up to stroke away a smudge of paint on his cheek. The artist gave a soft smile as he leaned into the touch.

“Oh course mi amour.”

“Good. And that goes for your too Fred. Don’t think I haven’t noticed a certain someone sneaking out of bed early the last few mornings.” She called over, and the counselor jumped a bit at being called out, flushing bashfully as he looked at her over the edge of the clipboard.

“Right, you’re right. So, what’s the plan for today Ms. Milla? Seeing as how Mr. Dark and Serious isn’t here, I assume we’re working on our levitation?” Fred asked, setting aside the clipboard as he pushed himself to his feet, the Brazilian woman giving a laugh at his joke.

“Oh come now, Sasha isn’t that bad. But you are correct! Today we’re going to be working more on your levitation!” She replied, settling back as though sitting upon an invisible chair and crossing her legs as she floated up a few feet above the ground.

“Now, last time you all managed to manifest a “Levitation Ball” as we like to call it. This time we’ll be taking the next step and practicing our ability to balance atop them. Razputin darling, if you would demonstrate?” The Mental Minx requested and the young psychic nodded, raising a hand above his head.  A large ball of swirling orange energy formed in his palm and he tossed it down, easily jumping up and balancing atop it.

“Now then, we aren’t all trained acrobats like Razputin here, so it might take a while to find your balance and get the hang of it. Consider it like balancing on a medicine ball. Remember, thinking lighter, rounder, happier thoughts can help in manifesting the ball more easily. Go ahead and give it a try! And please let me know if you need any help at all.”

Early on in these lessons the group had felt a bit silly to be using psychic instruction methods typically meant for children, but they’d gotten over it quickly enough. After all, most psychics got their powers much younger than the lot of them were, so starting at a lower level of instruction was only appropriate. It helped that the simple exercises really worked wonders too.

Though that didn’t mean it was gonna be easy. Forming the ball was one thing. Staying on was another.

A fact the group quickly discovered.

Fred gave a squeak as his light blue orb suddenly slid forward, taking the foot he’d just managed to plant atop it along with it, threatening to pull the man into a split as he hopped forward to follow it. In his defense, Edgar and Boyd didn’t seem to be doing much better. The latter had managed to get atop his off-white bubble, but was now swaying about wildly as he tried to keep balanced, arms windmilling in an attempt to steady himself. The former was having much the same troubles, quickly getting dumped back onto the floor each time he attempted to clamber up.

Gloria was the only one of the bunch who seemed to be making much progress. The woman had moved over to one of the practice room’s ballet bars and was gripping it for stability as she gingerly set one foot on her own ball. With a small grunt she hefted herself up, the orb wiggling worryingly beneath her for a moment before stilling.

“There you go! You’re doing wonderful darling!” Milla cheered her on, clapping encouragingly as the other woman smiled.

“Why thank you Milla dear. After some of the ridiculous shoes I’ve had to wear in my years on the stage, this isn’t so bad.” Gloria replied, putting her arms out to balance as her stance wavered a bit.

“Oof! Well, I’m glad one of us seems to be getting it, mi amor. This is far less easy than Señorita Vodello makes it look.” Edgar replied with a grunt, the wind getting knocked out of him as he fell to the ground once more. Milla let out a thoughtful hum, tapping her lips as she watched the struggling group. Suddenly her eyes flashed with inspiration and she snapped her fingers with a grin.

“Well, I think I may know a way to help.”

The whole group, including Raz, whom had rolled over to try and help Boyd stay upright, turned to look at her in interest.

“I’d like you all to form two, smaller levitation balls instead of one.” She directed, miming the shape of two basketball sized orbs.

“Uh, ok. But how is that gonna help?” Fred asked, already focusing on trying to reform his ball into two even as he tiled his head in confusion.

“Well, as you know, those like me, who’ve had a lot of practice, don’t require a physical representation of their levitation in order to float. Most of those who do tend to only create a singular orb to assist them, so they can don’t have to split their focus. I’ve found that others though, who have a nice grip on the psychic side of things, but are having a harder time managing the physical part, tend to prefer use two. Think of them a bit like ice or roller skates.”

“Oh, I think I see what you mean amiga!” Edgar replied in excitement, focusing till his deep red ball split into two smaller ones. Carefully, he stepped atop on, managing to balance one-footed long enough to successfully stabilize himself using the other. Cautiously, he rolled forward a few feet, face splitting into a smile as he managed to keep his balance.

“Well, well, this actually is easier.”

The others quickly followed his example, and the slight adjustment seemed to do wonders. Soon Gloria was twirling lazy loops around the room like a proper skater, Edgar trailing a bit more slowly, but no less enthusiastically, after her. Fred seemed to be doing a tad bit better than before, but was still gripping tight to a much more steady Boyd’s shoulders as the two slowly drifted in circles, Fred’s long legs doing their damnedest to keep him upright.

“Never been great at skating either, but this is a bit better I guess.” The counselor murmured, glancing up to find his partner giving him an encouraging smile.

“Hey, it just takes a little practice! I’m sure you’ll levitating like a pro in no time!” Raz encouraged, giving a whoop of delight as Gloria grabbed him and twirled him around as he glided past.

“Impressive, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut the class short for today.”

The whole group gave a jump at the sudden voice, Fred giving a yelp as the levitation bubbles below him popped and dropped him on his ass, and they all turned to see Sasha standing in the now open doorway.

“Sasha, darling! What are you doing here? Didn’t you have other business today?” Milla asked in confusion, drifting over to help Fred up, and the German sighed seriously.

“Yes, but I just got a call from the headquarters. It seems...that Agent Pandor has disappeared.”

Milla gave a gasp, pressing both hands to her mouth, and Raz cocked his head in confusion.

“Uhhh, who’s Agent Pandor?”

“Ms. Tanya Pandor. One of the Psychonauts junior agents and a specialist in subterfuge and information gathering. I’m afraid you haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet.”

“But isn’t Tanya on vacation right now?” Milla asked and Sasha nodded.

“Yes, she had gone skiing at a lodge up in Colorado. The HQ asked her to check in regularly for security reasons. According to what I was briefed with, reports dropped off a few days ago. After a few failed attempts to get ahold of her, eventually the HQ resorted to calling the lodge itself to check in on her, thinking maybe she’d fallen sick. When they checked her room however, the whole thing was empty. It’s as though she just vanished.”

“Oh my! That sounds troubling indeed!” Gloria gasped, mirroring Milla as she held a hand to her mouth dramatically, and the German nodded.

“It certainly is. While Ms. Pandor wasn’t one of our top agents, her skills are none the less important to the Psychonauts and her disappearing is far from ideal. Finding out what happened to her has been assigned as our team’s top priority.”

“Well, is there anything we could do to help?” Fred piped up and the two senior agents looked over at him in confusion.

“What do you mean darling?” Milla asked and the counselor fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt as he replied.

“Well, I mean we’re technically part of the Psychonauts to now, even if we’re just in training, right? So that means this agent is one of our buddies too. And it’s only right to try and help out our friends whenever we can right?”

“I agree!” Edgar exclaimed, clapping a hand down on his companion’s shoulder as he turned to face the assembled agents.

“If there’s anything we can do to help and find this missing girl, we’re more than happy to do so!”

Boyd and Gloria nodded along in agreement as Sasha’s gaze scanned over them, the German man’s head tilting in thought.

“Well, I suppose more eyes on the ground would certainly help. And since Mrs. Pandor wasn’t on a mission or anything, this could be a fairly safe environment for you all to get some field experience...”

“Well, I think it sounds like a great idea!” Raz chipped in, folding his arms and nodding wisely, earning an eye roll and a sigh from the older agent.

“...Very well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Excellent! Don’t you all worry, I’ll get all the arrangements handled! Just be ready to go in a few hours and remember to pack warmly!” Milla replied, clapping her hands together cheerfully, as Raz gave out a quiet cheer.

The three agents departed quickly after that, leaving the group to make arrangements. It took a bit of scrambling to get everything organized with the rest of the schools staff, but soon enough they found themselves packing.

“I sure hope that poor gal is ok. Hopefully we can find her quick.” Boyd mused, leaning hard onto his suitcase in order to try and get it to lock around the mound of sweaters and other winterwear inside.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s just fine Boyd dear. Those Psychonauts are a tough bunch after all. No doubt she’ll appreciate your concern when we do find her though.” Gloria reassured him, folding up a thick woolen dress to tuck into one of her own bags.

“I must admit, I’m a bit excited. I’ve never been to a ski lodge before.” Edgar pipped up, an excited smile on his face as Fred let out an amused laugh.

“Can’t say I have either. Well, cept for this one time back in college. And with all the drinks that weekend, I can barely remember it. I’m sure it’s not gotta be anything tooooo over the top. Those places always talk themselves up.”

*

“Holy hell, they were not talking this place up.”  Fred muttered, his and the rest of the motley crews jaws dropping open in shock as they leaned out the windows of the truck to stare at the vista unfolding before them.

The place was really less of a lodge and more of a small village, what with the amount of connected buildings that made it up. The whole residence was constructed of pale wood, stone and brass, all woven together into a beautiful work of architectural engineering at the base of the snowy mountain. As they pulled into the parking lot at the place’s edge, they passed beneath a large ornate arch reading “Goldsmuth Lodge and Resort”.

“Yeah, Tanya does not mess around when it comes to her vacations. No really surprised, that girl barely gets any time off.” Oleander agreed, nodding in appreciating at the sight as the car slowed. When Milla and Sasha had announced their new plan to the other higher-up, the man had been assigned to the case as an additional supervisor, as well as another pair of eyes. Raz had tried to convince Lili to come along as well, but apparently there was few things the girl hated more than cold weather, not too much of a surprise coming from a florapath, so his requests had fallen on deaf ears.

Once their oversized vehicle had stopped, their collective group spilled out to stretch, several backs popping after the lengthy ride. They couldn’t very well retain their cover if they came flying in on a Psychonauts jet after all, so they’d been forced to stash it at one of the organizations safe houses and drive the rest of the way instead.

“Well then, let’s unpack and get checked in. The sooner we can find Ms. Pandor, the better.” Sasha announced, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the large plaza for the proper entrance.

There was suddenly a yelp and the sound of tumbling luggage from the rear of the vehicle. Glancing around the back of the truck, they found a mound of bags and suitcases that had no doubt tumbled free when the hatch had opened. A moment later a bag fell away as a familiar blue head popped up out of the pile and swiveled to look at them, the figure immediately giving them a sheepish smile, a hand also emerging from the pile to give them an awkward wave.

“I still can’t believe you convinced HQ to let us bring Loboto along.” Raz mused in amusement, Oleander shaking his head as he walked over to help extract the rehabilitated (in progress) criminal from his luggage prison.

“Well, Cagliosto is certainly in desperate need of some outside socialization. A relaxing place like this could be perfectly helpful with his recovery, darling!” Milla replied with a chuckle as she watched Morry lever the skinnier man up and almost fall over himself in the process. The former mad scientist quickly grabbed the agent by the front of his coat in a panic to keep him upright, the two flushing as the motion inadvertently tugged them chest to chest. Sasha gave as an amused eyeroll as the German could feasibly manage, while Milla and Raz gave a quiet giggle at his side. The two former villains had been dancing around each other for months now, much to the amusement, and occasionally frustration, of everyone watching.

“Well, like Sasha said, the sooner we get inside, the sooner we can really start enjoying ourselves. Here, let me help you there dear.” Gloria smiled, the rest of the group trailing after her as she stepped up to help retrieve the fallen luggage, Loboto giving her a thankful, if sheepish smile in return. While the four had long since forgiven Caligosto for all the asylum business (after all, he had been cursed at the time with, as he himself put it, the “insanity of a manatee”), things were still pretty awkward between them. Gloria though, every friendly, had doing her best to help bridge the gap in the meantime.

It took a bit to gather up all the luggage, and even longer to find the right entrance, but eventually they managed. The walk there had been interesting at least. Everywhere they looked, there was some new, interesting winter activity the place seemed to offer, from ice skating to toboggan rental. Their own rather modge-podge group was also getting a number of curious onlookers, which was far from ideal, but there wasn’t much they could do about it really.

The lodge’s lobby was wonderfully warm compared to the wintery chill outside, and they could already feel the scattered flakes of snow melting on their coats as they strode up to the main desk.

“Hello there! Can I help you ladies and gentlemen?” The brunette behind the desk asked with a smile, Sasha plucking his glasses off to wipe away the fog they’d accrued from the heat inside as he spoke.

“Reservations for Nein, Vodello and Gouten.”

“Alright then, just a moment!”

The young woman’s finger flew along the keyboard in a blur for several moment’s before she paused, biting her lip in concern.

“Oh, well there seems to be a small problem. You ladies and gentlemen called for a reservation rather last minute and it seems your rooms aren’t quite ready yet. My deepest apologies. You are all more than welcome to wait in the lodges lounge till they’re ready, free of charge.” She replied, giving an apologetic bow of her head as she gestured towards a pair of open doors nearby.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all darling!” Milla replied, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Apologies for the rather sudden reservations. Our little trip was a bit of a recent development.”

“Thank you for your understanding Ms. I’ll come and inform you once your rooms are ready.”

The lounge was somehow even more impressive than the grand lobby they’d just stepped out of. He place was lit in a dim but cozy manner, a long bar stretching along one wall. The rest of the space was filled with a number of comfortable tables, armchairs and couches that encircled a handful of square open-sided pillar fireplaces that dotted the room here and there. With an excited “ooo!”, Raz rushed off to look around with Loboto trailing after him, the bunch chuckling at his antics as Sasha glanced around.

“How about you all stay here for a bit? We need to ask around the staff and see if we can find anything regarding Ms. Pandor’s disappearance.” He proposed after a moment.

“Are you sure? Is there any way we can help?” Boyd asked, fidgeting nervously.

“No, it would be best if you aren’t seen with us too much while we’re actively investigating. To help avoid casting suspicion on you lot as well and all.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open while we’re gone soldiers! Always vigilant!” Oleander commanded, giving them a little salute as the trio went off. Shaking her head in amusement at their antics, Gloria gestured toward the bar.

“Care for some drinks while we wait boys?”

Despite the lodge’s rather bustling crowd, there were only a few people at the bar and they were easily able to find seats.

“Hello there folks, what can I get you?” The bartender, a man looking somewhere in his 30’s, asked.

“Hot Chocolate!”

Gloria’s yelp of surprise at the sudden shout quickly devolved into giggles as Raz and the former villain popped up beside her, clambering up onto the next stools.

“And a cider for me sir.”

As the bartender went to work assembling the groups drink orders, he glanced over at them with a smile.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you folks around before. Welcome. What’s the occasion for the visit?”

The group glanced at each other, all trying their best to hide their slight panic. They hadn’t exactly been properly prepped for people asking them about their motives yet after all.

“Oh, uh, we, uh, came to visit with a friend we heard was staying here.” Boyd stuttered nervously. Picking up on what he was trying, Gloria slipped straight into her old actress skills and gave a sigh.

“Yes, a Ms. Tanya Pandor. She’s one of our old students. Unfortunately, it seems that we may have just missed her.”

The bartender paused, tapping his chin in thought.

“Ms. Pandor you say? Actually, I do remember her. Very exuberant. And you heard right, she seems to have left already. Was the talk of the staff rumor mill for a day or two actually. Some of her coworkers called asking to speak with her on some matter, but when the staff went up to let her know about the call, she was nowhere to bee seen. Must have left damn late at night for nobody to notice her. Which is odd really...”

“Odd, how?” Loboto asked, the group jumping a moment at his voice, seemingly having forgotten he was there, before leaning towards the bartender in interest, the man glancing around before lowering his voice.

“Well, we’re really not supposed to divulge things about the other guests, so you didn’t hear this from me, but I may have been one of the last people to see her. You see, I was assigned as a ski slope guard that day, you know, to watch and make sure nobody got injured and needed medical attention. I was stationed on one of our more challenging hills, the Black Diamond one, when I saw Ms. Pandor go whipping by. I know it has her because she had a very distinctive ski jacket she always seemed to be wearing. This whole black, purple and gold affair. Plus she has been very kind and gracious to the staff. We tend to remember those sorts of things. Anyways, she gave me a wave as she went past and seemed to be having the time of her life. It seems so strange that she would leave so abruptly without saying anything. I do hope something didn’t upset her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, dear.” Gloria replied with a smile, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Tanya has always been the spirited type, zipping from place to place. Just a little lightning bolt.”

“Yes, she certainly did seem like that type. I’m sure you’re right. Ah, that’s right, your drinks!”

The group was quickly presented with their fine beverages, including a healthy topping of whipped cream and sprinkles for Raz and Loboto’s chocolatey treats. Edgar and Gloria’s cider was just as delicious, rich and warm. (Fred and Boyd’s spiked eggnog was perhaps not the most professional thing to be drinking during a spy investigation, but nobody was about to call them out on it.) For a time they sat at the bar, chatting away to the bartender about the various activities around the lodge, before Raz suddenly caught the shape of their other companions watching them from a nearby doorway. Nudging Gloria, he nodded over towards them, and the woman took the hint, turning to the bartender with a smile.

“Well, I’m afraid we must be going now dear. We can’t spend all vacation here in the lounge after all. Thank you for the lovely time.”

“My pleasure Ms. I hope to see you all again soon.” He replied with a nod and smile as they stepped away from the bar, his eyes widening in surprise and delight when he noticed the generous tip the group had left tucked under one of the empty mugs.

Following their missing members lead, the group ducked over into a more private corner of the lounge to meet them.

“Did you guys find anything?” Raz asked quietly, Sasha giving a frustrated sigh in return.

“No, unfortunately not. None of the night staff noticed her leaving that day. Which leaves us back at square one.”

“Well, luckily for you, we just might have a clue.” Fred replied with a smile, the trio looking over at him in surprise.

“Wait, really?!” Oleander exclaimed and the counselor gave him an unamused look.

“Geez buddy, give us some credit. We’re not completely useless. But yeah, apparently somebody saw Tanya out on one of the ski slopes earlier that day. Whatcha wanna bet there might be some sort of clue somewhere out there?” He replied, Oleander reaching up to stroke his mustache in thought as he considered the other man’s words.

“I’d say you’d probably be right on the money. Maybe Pandor saw something out there that made her haul ass out of here, though I’ve never known her for the scaredy cat type. And that would still leave the question of where she went.  But it’s a lead.”

“How’s about this?” Sasha pipped up, waving a hand to get all their attention.

“The three of us have worked out with the management to take a look in Ms. Pandor’s room, see if she maybe left some sort of clue behind. While we’re doing that, you six could head out onto the slopes and take a look around. A group of casual vacation goers, including a child, would likely draw a lot less attention than the three of us for the time being.”

“Well, I think it sounds like a marvelous plan!” Loboto replied exuberantly, pausing and rubbing his neck sheepishly when they all turned to look at him.

“If that’s alright with you all of course.”

He was met with a chorus of headshakes and “no, that’d be fine”s, so he grinned once more and nodded in satisfaction.

“Sounds like a plan then!”

“Just please all be careful.” Milla replied, eyes full of concern, and Raz gave her a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be ok! Besides, whenever are we not careful?”

The 50-yard stare of no doubt Whispering Rock related war flashbacks that she gave him in return spoke volumes.

*

“Thank god for government provided tailoring. Trying to find snow wear for proportions like mine is hellish.” Fred sighed quietly in satisfaction, adjusting his perfectly fitting ski jacket to a chorus of chuckles. The 6 of them were currently waiting in line at the equipment rental shop. Once they’d gotten their luggage up to the rooms and finally unpacked, they’d found the new sets of winter gear amongst their belongings, perfectly tailored and clearly a gift from the Psychonauts organization. How said organization knew their measurements was a mystery they neither had, nor wanted, the answer to.

“I must admit, they are rather fetching, aren’t they?” Gloria replied with a smile, giving a little twirl to let the hem of her longer coat poof out for a moment like the skirt of a dress.

Eventually the line cleared out enough for them to enter the small store displaying the various types of equipment available for rental and purchase. Splitting up to look, they all quickly selected their preferred styles. It didn’t take long for most of them to reconvene near the counter, each carrying a fairly simple pair of skis. There was no need for the super high-grade stuff, none of them were professionals after all. When Raz came running back with a snowboard, none of them were really that surprised. Skis had seemed a bit boring for the boy’s exuberant personality to begin with. What did draw their shock however was when Fred came trotting up behind the young psychic, a long light blue board slung over his shoulder.

“Uh, mi amor, are you sure that’s what you meant to get?” Edgar asked, eyeing the board in equal parts confusion and concern, and Fred laughed in return.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about it. Never said I had been using skis when I went someplace like this back in college. Always been useless with them. Snowboards were a different story though. Used to skateboard a lot back in high school too. Now let’s go see if I’ve still got any of that old muscle memory still rattling around.”

As a group that was inexperienced, and in some of their cases completely unfamiliar, with the equipment, getting into their rented pieces ended up a tad more challenging than intended. Boyd nearly poked himself in the eye with one of his poles and Raz promptly fell backwards into a snowdrift after figuring out how hook his boots into the board, but eventually they managed to get their nonsense together enough to try and get in line for the ski-lift that would take them up to the Black Slope.

Try being the key word.

Just as they were in the process of settling themselves at the back of the line, a slightly nervous voice called out behind them.

“Hmm, now I don’t claim to be an expert on skiing, but something tells me this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

Turning to look back, they found Loboto had not only somehow managed to put both of his skis on backwards, but was now also slowly sliding away from them down the slight decline, ski poles digging into the snow in an attempt to stop himself. Boyd, being the closest to him, darted out to try and grab the man, but missed his hand by a hair, and he began to pick up speed.

“Whoa! Look out there!”

Someone suddenly darted behind the former mad scientist, catching him by the shoulders and stopping his uncontrolled journey. As the person carefully pushed the man back up towards the group, they got a better look at them. It was a young man in his early 20’s, with pale skin and messy sandy blonde hair.

“There ya go!” He announced, settling the dentist back in front of the rest of the group and crouching. down to look at his skis.

“Ah, here’s your problem! Here, this should help.”

With deft fingers, he unhooked Loboto from the skis, flipped them around and had him step back in, hooking him securely into place.

“Uh, thank you. I’m a bit of a beginner.” The blue skinned villain thanked him, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit of dark blue in embarrassment, the younger man glancing over at the sign announcing the coming hill at his words.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly recommend this hill to someone still getting their snow legs, but I can’t fault you for wanting to jump into the challenge head first!” He replied with a merry laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be very careful. Thank you for your help, Mr...?” Gloria replied, the young man jumping to attention when he realized her pause was requesting and answer and reaching out a hand to shake.

“Oh, just call me Josh! A pleasure to meet you folks!”

He quickly exchanged handshakes with them all, Raz included, as the line to the chair lift drew shorter.

“You certainly seem to know your stuff.” Edgar complemented him, glancing over as Loboto turned his ankle this way and that to look at the ski mechanism in fascination.

“I would certainly hope so, considering all the years I’ve worked here! I know all the ins and outs like the back of my hand!”

“Well isn’t that wonderful. This seems like a splendid place to work.” Gloria replied with a smile.

“Oh it is, I couldn’t be luckier. Oh, looks like it’s you guys turn!”

Turning to look, they found the couple behind them settling into their chair on the lift, the next one incoming. As they stepped up to wait on it, Josh stepped away, giving them a wave as he turned to leave.

“Hopefully I see you guys around! If you’ve got any questions, just let me know. If want to know anything about the lodge or hills, I’m your guy!”

“We definitely will!” Fred called after him, the group raising their arms to wave back, before prepping to climb aboard the lift.

The benches ended up only being able to fit 3 people, so they ended up separated into two groups, Fred, Boyd and Edgar in the first chair, with Raz, Gloria and Caligosto grabbing the second. For the former, the ride up was honestly pretty pleasant and peaceful, the view from up so high showing them a beautiful vista.

“Wow, we really are up high huh?” Boyd, wondered out loud, glancing down over the side of the chair at the forest spread out below them.

“Si, we certainly are. Hmm, I wonder, is this the sort of view you normally have mi amor?” Edgar asked, looking at the lanky man between them with a cheeky smirk. Fred gave the painter an unamused look as on his other side Boyd let out a snorted laugh, breaking into giggles.

“Seriously? Your pulling out the tall guy jokes?”

With a grin and chuckle, the Hispanic man leaned up to give the taller man a peck on the cheek as their other partner leaned against his shoulder in a giggling fit.

“Apologies mi amor, I couldn’t resist.”

In the other chair however, things were going...less pleasantly.

Raz gazed down at the trees below as they rode along, humming some song the piano player in the lobby had been playing. Feeling something bump his leg, he glanced over, seeing Loboto’s legs jittering back and forth enough to jostle against him. Now that he thought about it, the whole man was shaking. Glancing up at the dentist’s face, he found the older man’s gaze fixed straight down at the ground. His hands were fisted in and tugging nervously at the strings of his ski hat (they’d all agreed the shower cap might be a bit too conspicuous), causing the large pop pom on top to bounce rhythmically. And judging by his harsh breathing, the guy was probably about 2 steps away from hyperventilating.

“Um, Loboto?” The young boy asked, seeming to snap the dentist out of his daze, at least partially, both he and Gloria looking over at him.

“Are you ok?”

“Now that I notice, you do seem a bit...tense, dear. Are you feeling alright?” Gloria added gently

“Oh, just fine! Happy as a clam! No reason at all to feel nervous!” He replied exuberantly, the smile on his face horribly forced, eyes darting to the drop below them every few seconds.

Raz stared at him, mind puzzling over the info. The slightly loony man was usually fairly fearless, sometimes to the point of his own peril. So what could have gotten him so stirred up?

Glancing down at the ground far below them, something suddenly clicked in the boy’s head. A memory rose to the front of his mind, one of a night at an asylum what seemed so long ago, and a certain dentist’s supposed demise at the hands of a turtle powered tank. Raz felt the pit of his stomach drop, guilt sweeping over him at the realization.

“Uh, hey, is there any way this about the time you...you know?” Raz asked gently, hand gestures miming the image of a person falling off something, and flinched when the man’s head snapped around to look at him, smile wide.

“What?! No, no, of course not!...Maybe...probably...” He replied, his vibrato visibly deflating as he tried his best not to look down.

“Oh, Loboto dear, it’s alright. There’s nothing to worry about.” Gloria fretted, catching onto the issue and reaching out to pat the blue man’s back.

“Yeah, these ski lifts are like, totally safe!” Raz exclaimed, in an attempt to help.

As though mocking them, the lift jerked for a moment, sending them swinging a bit. Loboto sucked in a sharp breath at the motion, hand instinctively tightening where it had been wrapped lightly around Raz’s forearm in a grip that would definitely be leaving bruises the next day. Gloria grimaced when she saw Raz wince, raising a hand to tap her chin in thought.

“Oh dear, well this isn’t good.”

After a moment an idea hit her, and she leaned over to catch the mad dentist’s gaze smiling gently.

“Loboto dear, have I ever told you about the first time I ever took to the stage?”

The man paused in his panicking, seeming to calm slightly as he gave her a confused look, Raz looking at her in equal confusion but seeming to roll with it.

“Um, not that I’m aware of?”

“Well, let me tell you. I’ve preformed on hundreds of stages of the years, all over the world. The theater was my lifeblood. But the first time I performed in front of people, oh, I was terrified.”

“R-Really?” The man replied, eyes widening.

“Oh, absolutely. It was the worst case of stage fright I ever felt. I was absolutely petrified. My palms were sweaty, my head was spinning. I completely froze up on stage. And that wasn’t the only time. No no, I’ve had stage fright hundreds of times in my career. I almost refused to go on stage for my own awards ceremony, I was so nervous. But let me tell you something very important I’ve learned.”

She leaned in close, taking the man’s hands gently in her own, both he and Raz leaning in in fascination.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. Everyone fears something. I’m scared of messing up on stage, overwhelmingly so. Young Raz here has his own fears, as do you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Being brave doesn’t mean the absence of fear. Anyone who says so is an idiot. No, to be brave is to look fear in the face and still continue on in spite of it.”

Leaning back, she looked out at the forest surrounding them.

“This really is a lovely view, isn’t it?”

“Yes...Yes I suppose it is.” The dentist replied quietly, gazing out at the landscape around them seemingly with new eyes. He still seemed nervous certainly, gaze fixed firmly on the horizon in an attempt not to look down, but his shaking had stopped and his breathing had steadied. From behind his back, Raz gave the actress two big thumbs up and a grin.

As they neared the peak of the hill, they could the others laughing about something in the chair ahead of them, quickly hurrying off of it to make room as they reached the landing. As soon as it was their turn, Loboto practically threw himself off the ski lift, clearly trying to reach Terra Firma as quickly as possible. Gloria and Raz followed at a more normal rate behind him, pausing for a moment when the boy looked up at her.

“Not gonna lie, that was kinda awesome.”

“Why thank you my dear.” She replied sweetly, before giving him a little grin and leaning in closer as she lowered her voice.

“I’ve had a lot of practice at that speech. You’d be amazed how many new actors and actresses get opening night jitters. Still works like a charm.”

Leaving the boy to sputter in surprise for a moment, she skied on to where the others were waiting at the hills peak.

“So, what’s the plan?” Fred asked, adjusting his feet in the snowboard as Raz caught back up with them.

“Keep together and keep our eyes out for anything suspicious I guess?” The boy replied with a shrug, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Sounds like a plan bud.”

After some quick adjustment of clothing, equipment and whatever else, they set off.

It became quickly apparent that none of them were even close to professional skiers, though some were faring better than others. Fred’s muscle memory did seem to be kicking in, handling his snowboard with surprisingly few complications, while Gloria’s seemingly natural graceful-ness was doing her skis well. Raz took a spill every now and them, but likewise, his acrobat training seemed to be translating pretty well to snow-sports.

The others weren’t faring quite as well. Edgar seemed to be developing a habit of falling over onto his back pretty often, his large upper body pulling him over whenever he began to lose his balance, while Boyd seemed to be having the opposite problem, having taken more than a few headers face first into the snow already. Loboto was surprisingly staying up pretty well, perhaps his long legs were to blame for his better balance, but every few second he would begin to weave wildly back and forth on the slope before correcting himself, only for the cycle to repeat again shortly thereafter. The whole lot of them were certainly getting a lot of curious looks from the more advanced skiers that would occasionally pass them, the occasional trail guard they passed seeming even more concerned.

With all the chaos, it’s a wonder any of them ever saw anything.

“Whoa, wait everybody!” Raz suddenly cried about halfway down the trail, skidding to a sudden stop. He was nearly bowled over by the others in their attempts to stop, Edgar managing to fall onto his back once more and slid a few feet past him with an exasperated sigh.

“Dios mio, this is becoming tiring. What’s the matter mi amigo?”

“Look at those trees over there.” He replied, pointing to part of the forest that lined either side of the path. Glancing to where he pointed, they spotted what he seemed to be gesturing to. A swath of low branches in a certain area were snapped and bent, as though something had run into them or pulled them out of the way.

“Yeah, that definitely looks like it could be something.” Boyd replied with the critical eye of a security guard, the whole group moving off the path and towards the woodland to examine them. Upon closer inspection, there was most definitely something amiss. While the branches closer to the path broke inwards towards the forest, others further in seemed to break outwards.

“Hey, what’s that?” Raz asked, squinting further into the woodland. Unhooking himself from the snowboard, he darted further into the trees, moving to the edge of the breakage, and crouching down, seemingly digging around near one large trees roots. After a moment he seemed to free whatever he was holding and started back in the others direction.

“Look at this guys.”

He held it up for them to see, the group leaning in for a closer look. It seemed to be a long scrap of torn fabric, patterned in thick, alternating purple and black stripes, with a flash of gold along one edge.

“What do you guys think it is?” Boyd asked in bewilderment, squinting at the piece. Beside him, Edgar gave a sudden small gasp.

“Wait, didn’t that bartender say that Señorita Pandor wore a jacket in these colors?”

The group gapped at him for a moment before turning back to the scrap with renewed interest.

“Holy hell guys, I think we just found an actual clue.” Fred sputtered in amazement, Raz’s eyes lighting up.

“Hey maybe there’s more stuff to find back there! Come on, let’s go look!” the boy crowed, moving to run back into the trees.

He didn’t get very far though, as the wind suddenly kicked up, nearly knocking him over as it ripped through the trees with a swirl of snow.

“Geeze, I though trees were good for avoiding wind. Come on!”

He tried to take a few more steps forwards, only to get knocked back by another gust, being forced to take a few steps back to the group this time. Quickly the wind began to build, howling around the lot of them and kicking up the snow into near white out conditions.

“Damn, they’ve got some crazy weather in these parts!” Boyd called over the noise, Fred replying as he threw up his arms as much as he could to block his face.

“Not the sort I’ve ever seen before!”

“Wait.”

They all quieted, turning to look over Loboto, who was currently looking around in confusion.

“Now, I may have been called crazy one or twice in the past, but does anyone else hear something odd?”

The group stilled, listening hard over the wind. All at the same time, they seemed to catch it, Fred glancing around the group in sudden nervousness.

“Does that sound like growling to anyone else?”

Indeed, the sound mixed in amongst the howling of the wind was much deeper and guttural, rumbling through the air.

Crack

They all froze at the loud sound of splintering wood, all slowly turning in unison to look deeper into the woods. A shape appeared through the blur of snow, the growling growing louder and the shape becoming clearer as it drew towards them. Eventually it stopped at the edge of the broken branches and their hearts all collectively stopped as they made out what it was.

A massive beast, easily 8 or 9 feet tall, bipedal, and clothed in long white hair, only it’s slightly darker face and palms peeking out through the thick fur. For a long, drawn-out moment, there was nothing but the howling of the wind. The only thing to interrupt it was a tiny, likely instinctual whisper from Raz.

“Holy shit.”

The beast didn’t seem to like that very much and its growl deepened. With one massive hand, it reached up and tore a branch from the tree beside it with the sound of screeching wood, before reaching back and hurling it at the group. With a collective cry of surprise and panic they all managed to throw themselves out of the way of it, the large chunk of wood landing amongst the other broken branches nearby. Its failure seemed to enrage the beast even more and it reached down, clawing and tearing a truly gargantuan chunk of snow up out of the ground. It lifted it up and above its head, clearly reeling back to launch it at them, and Raz let out another, this time very foreign sounding, curse.

“Oh, that looks like a real bad time! Boyd! I’m gonna need some help!”

With that, the boy darted out in front of the rest of the group, the security guard seeming to pick up on his plan and following along behind him. Just as the beast hurled the massive snowball, Raz threw his hands up to conjure a psychic shield, Boyd’s own hands joining just beside his to release a spray of flame outside the barrier just as it contacted.

The snow clump exploded around them. Most of it dissolved into steam under the sudden onslaught of the fire, what remained splattering against the curved wall of psychic force in a spray of water and slush, flying off on either side of the group.

“Where is it?! Can anybody see what it’s doing?!” Raz called out, trying to squint through the cloud of steam now surrounding them.

“I don’t know, I can’t see!” Boyd replied, waving his hands to put out the small flames sparking on his gloves.

As the steam was cleared by the slowly calming wind, Raz blinked in surprise at the scene before him, shield disappearing as he lowered his hands.

The beast had vanished, seemingly into thin air.

For a moment they all simply sat there, most of the group having fallen to the ground in the scramble to get out of harm’s way, the air thick with unspoken disbelief. Till finally, Fred said what they’d all been thinking.

“Was that a goddamn yeti???”

“In my professional dentist opinion...yes.” Loboto replied, staring equally slack jawed at the spot.

“What?? Where did it go?? A beast that big does not simply disappear into thin air??” Edgar sputtered, clambering back to his feet as though a higher viewpoint would somehow reveal the 9 foot tall creatures hiding place.

“I...I don’t...-“

“Oi! What are you lot doing back there!?”

The whole group let out a collection of shrieks and yelps at the sudden shout, whipping around to look behind them.

An older man armed with a hefty walking stick stood at the edge of the ski trail, staring into the woods at them with a grumpy scowl on his face.

“Wha- who are you?!” Raz asked, at a loss for words, and the old man’s expression seemed to sour even further.

“Ambrose. I’m the grounds keeper here. And I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Did...Did you see...?” Boyd asked, dazed by his seeming unconcern for the fucking yeti that had been in front of them 20 seconds before. The old man leaned to glance at the place he was gesturing to, brow creasing.

“See? I don’t see anything. All I see is a bunch of troublemakers putzing about in the woods. Get out of there! You’re supposed to stay on the trail!”

Like a bunch of scolded children, they all quickly gathered themselves and scurried back out onto the path in front of the man, who pointed an angry finger at them.

“Now don’t let me go catchin you messing about in there again, understood?”

They all obediently nodded and, seemingly satisfied, he turned away with a nod, grumbling the likes of “people these days” as he slowly hiked further up the path.

“...Ok, so we’re all in agreement that we gotta tell the rest of the gang about that right?” Fred asked, seemingly still dumbfounded, and was answered by a chorus of nods.

The rest of the trip down the hill was largely uneventful. Somehow, an encounter with a mythical creature has seemingly improved their snow-sports skills, and they managed not to have any more major spills on the rest of the way down the mountain. The sun was setting by the time they reached the bottom and, after getting their equipment situated, the six ventured back through the main lodge in search of their three companions.

They did eventually find them back in the lounge, tucked away in a corner table with their drinks.

“Ah, hello everyone!” Milla greeted them with a smile and wave as they made their way over.

“Did you have a good day out on the slopes?”

“Uh, yeah, it was, uh, pretty, pretty good.” Fred replied, sharing a look with others.

“How’s about you guys?”

Sasha gestured for them to sit, voice lowered as he spoke.

“Well, we looked over Ms. Pandor’s room and it was just as empty as we’d been told. Not a trace of her. The only things we found was the Psychonauts bug she put in the rooms phone when she got here. Which means that she likely didn’t leave willingly, if she didn’t have the chance to remove it. That or she simply forgot it when she left.”

“Yeah, and that sort of absentminded-ness doesn’t sound like her. Girl might leave her workspace a mess, but I’ve been on missions with her before, and she’s a neat freak when it comes to hotels and stuff. All the tidying she does, she probably leaves them cleaner than it was when she got there. Gotta ask her if she’s got some sort of service industry trauma from college or something...” Oleander added, trailing off into rambling at the end.

“So did you six find anything out on the slopes?”

The group glanced at each other and eventually it was Gloria who haltingly began, realizing just how insane what she was about to say was going to sound.

“Well, there may have been a bit of an incident out on the trails...”

“We got attacked by a yeti!” Raz suddenly blurted, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. Sasha turned to look at him with a truly flummoxed expression, seemingly completely thrown for a loop at the boys’ words.

“...R...Run that by me again??”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story.” Boyd replied with a sigh.

It took quite a while to explain the events that had befallen them all, added to by the fact that dinner arrived in the middle of it, but eventually they got the whole incident out in the open, the three senior agents staring at them in bewilderment by the end.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of polar bear or something? Those things can get big as hell when they’re on their hind legs.” Oleander offered and Gloria shook her head.

“Now I know how this all sounds, Agent Oleander, but we know what we saw, and that was most definitely not a bear.”

“Plus, we found this!” Raz added, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the fabric scrap, handing it over to the trio.

“The bartender we talked to said he saw her wearing a coat like that!”

“Well, I’ll admit, this definitely looks like Tanny’s sorta style.” Oleander admitted with a shrug, handing it over to Sasha to look at.

“Regardless of what this beast you saw might be, there is most definitely more going on here than a simple wayward agent.” The german acquiesced.

“Well, how’s about we all get a good night sleep and continue the investigation tomorrow. You all must be exhausted.” Milla offered kindly and Edgar gave a groan as he stretched, back popping loudly.

“After the beating we took out there, you don’t know the half of it Ms. Milla.”

Luckily for them, their rooms at the lodge were, just like the rest of the property, amazing. They’d been separated across 4 adjacent, and connected, rooms, with the senior agents sharing one and the former asylum members another, leaving Loboto and Raz to bunk solitarily. Their mother organization had, knowing and being blessedly supportive all sorts of relationships, even been kind enough to book the four a California King, while Sasha, Milla and Oleander were more than happy to settle for a King.

“Ugh, we literally just started doing spy stuff and I already feel like an old man waiting for retirement.” Fred groaned, stretching and feeling some muscle in his back twinge.

“Hehe, implying you aren’t already an old man.” Edgar teased him with a chuckle from where he was kneeling in massage position over the lanky man’s hips, his own aching back already having been kindly tended to by Gloria before her bath.

“Hey, keep up that talk and I’ll have to revoke smooching privileges.” The counselor shot back, pointing a finger over his shoulder threateningly at the larger man, even as he melted blissfully beneath he ministrations of the artist’s talented hands. Edgar finally managed to work out the last knot at the base of the man’s spine and Fred gave a little groan of relief, going boneless on the mattress beneath him.

“You boys better not be having too much fun in there without me!” Gloria called from the bathroom and Edgar laughed, smoothing his hands lovingly up and down the thinner man’s back a few times before climbing off him.

“Alright, all done. Time to move mi amor.”

Fred gave a little grumble that sounded a lot like “Sleepy. Don’t wanna.” and the painter rolled his eyes fondly, grabbing him and, like an owner with a lazy puppy, simply dragged him out of the way, patting the spot that opened up.

“Your turn.” He called over to Boyd, who’d been looking out onto the rooms snow covered balcony that overlooked the lodge’s main square, and the guard abandoned his post with a grin.

“Oh thank goodness.” He replied, shucking his shirt off and flopping onto the bed with a sigh, sending the nearby Fred bouncing slightly. He gave another grateful sigh as he folded his arms beneath his head and Edgar set to work.

“Damn, today was a crazy day. The more I think about it the less it makes sense.” He mused, earning a snorted laugh from a slightly more awake Fred as the man reached out to run a sleepy hand through the guard’s hair.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Well, I must admit, I find it all a little bit exciting.”

The three men glanced back to find Gloria emerging from the large bathroom, dressed in a fluffy towel and currently braiding her long damp hair.

“Yes, there’s a been a bit of danger I suppose, but what adventure doesn’t have some danger?”

“Sure as hell beats grading papers at least.” Fred agreed, earning a collective laugh.

“Would you like one when I’m done, mi bella?” Edgar asked, gesturing to the massage in progress, and Gloria shook her head, stooping down to give him a kiss on the cheek regardless.

“No, but it’s sweet of you to ask.”

Soon enough they all found themselves properly prepared for bed, lights flipped off, and beneath the plush covers of the bed, tangling together in the warm heap they’d so quickly become accustomed to.

“Goodnight you guys. Love you.” Fred murmured sleepily, answered by a small chorus of similar sentiments.

Before long, the four found themselves drifting off, eager to see what new, and potentially yeti-related, adventures awaited them in the morning.

[eagehaunting]

Mystery March 2021 day 8: Home

I used today as an excuse to write out a little something on how Lewis took possession of the mansion! I hope you guys enjoy!

Lewis wasn’t sure how long he had been in this mansion. If he could focus enough to estimate, probably a few days, if worse came to worse, probably months.

And yet, he still hadn’t cleaned... Lewis turns a corner and takes in the long, dusty corridor. The many rickety doors stared back at him mockingly. The rugs hissed as they crunch under his shoes. The peeling wall paper threatened him with every step that he took.

“Lewis, what are you doing?” Comes a voice to his left, shocking Lewis out of his exhausted stupor and bringing him to look at the wall- more appropriately, the portrait. The woman with fine purple curls- Faust- stares back at him pointedly. “Well?”

“I... I wanted to get out of my room,” he admits, before his eyes wander to the mildew forming beside the portraits golden frame. “But now I remember why I didn’t want to come out.”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I know it seems difficult now, but it’ll become easier. I promise.”

His frown deepens, and Lewis sighs miserably while leaning against the wall across from her. “I know.. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“Why’s that?”

“I haven’t gotten a hand on my powers. Not yet, ” Lewis admits, chewing on his lip. Faust rolls her eyes, but props her elbows on her frame. Even though she couldn’t poke her head out far enough, Lewis understood the sentiment.

“Lewis, look at me.” He drags his gaze to meet hers. Faust’s eyebrows soften, and she heaves a gentle sigh and leans out a bit more, letting her curls fall out and touch the dirtied ground. “Being dead is tough, trust me, I know. Being in your shoes is also hard, and I can’t imagine how much it’s hurting you to deal with what happened.” The almost condescending tone- something Lewis knew he was imagining - made him flinch, averting his gaze to the painted tree in Faust’s background. He almost regrets sharing all of his backstory with her, and if he knew she would have this tone most days, he would have kept his mouth shut.

“The house is ready to accept you, and so are all the occupants. We will stand behind you every step of the way.”

Lewis grimaces, but nods. There wasn’t a point in fighting her right now. He had a good feeling all of the other portrait ghosts would be on her side too. It only makes sense. Lewis did accept the role as the new owner... he just had to take control, let his power manifest.

Now if only it wasn’t so hard.

Clicking her tongue, Faust straightens up. “Worry not, Lewis. You don’t have to do it this instant, the moon is still out and clearly you aren’t in the right state of mind. Now...”

A distant familiar clacking of metal grew nearer. As two suits of armor step into the entrance of the hall, they cast Lewis a worried look. One that Lewis doesn’t return, instead opting to glare at the stained rug.

Faust continues, “I think it’s time for you to go back to sleep. We will figure your abilities out tomorrow.”

Lewis follows the guards up the steps, and then up another. The wall paper, bricks, and windows full of moonlight blurs together until it accumulates into one door. His door. Leading to the single highest room in the entire mansion.

The guards take their stand on either side of it, nodding to Lewis carefully and not waiting for him to nod back before stilling.

“Thank you, sir Clive, sir Ranveer.” Lewis murmurs, pushing open the door and stepping in.

The room is simple, despite the elegant state one may expect. An old, wooden bed frame, scratchy wool blankets and a silk top sheet. Light pink curtains that flutter in the open window. Lamps on either side of the bed that didn’t actually turn on.

His room, and yet far from it.

Pulling the blankets aside, Lewis crawls into the bed, nestling his face against the pillow and pretending like he couldn’t smell the light stench coming from it.

Tomorrow he will take hold of his power, and he will make this mansion his home.

His home, for him and all the spirits already residing within it.

Lewis’s eyes moisten as he falls into his ‘slumber’. Praying for no nightmares.

“Im going to take the lower path, why don’t you two take the other... don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine! I have Mystery.”

“Dont cling to Lewis too much Ar...”

The moss and slimy green walls reflected like a million eyes. All watching. All staring.

Even as Lewis peered up at his own hand, clutching his torch, knowing what was to happen... he wished more than anything that he could simply turn around.

His stomach drops, his blood runs cold. The sudden halt broke his fall, his spine bent oddly and digging behind his bellybutton.

Cold. Cold. Yet so hot.

Empty. Yet rushing. A river, but still. There was so much light at first, and then it was so dark. Growls, howls, screams of every kind...

Loneliness.

All he wanted... was for them to come back. Save him.

Of all the memories Lewis had to revisit, why did it always have to be this one?

There was still gaps, such as the moment when he hit the spike, and when he forced himself up. How he even did it, Lewis wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t focus on that when the gaping wounds in his chest filled with with and stung from the cold.

His legs still ached from the stillness and the fatigue, and from the exhaustion of being awake despite dying. He wobbled far, tracing his dead fingers along slimy walls and against currents of chittering laughs. Then the constant thought. A mantra. Over and over. Come back for me. Come back, please.

Wake him up from this bad dream.

If only he accepted that it wasn’t going to happen...

He didn’t know where he was going, nor how long he was going to walk, but Lewis didn’t stop until he was face to face with a tall metal gate that shined unlike the eyes in the walls.

The rusted lock doesn’t break, but Lewis pushes through like jelly.

The staircase was a nightmare. Transitioning from cave stone to proper granite the higher he ascended. All while the prickling sensation of being watched crept up his back and urged his weak and heavy body to move faster.

Lewis ‘wakes up’ up with a shallow gasp. Eyes wide, he pants. Slowly turning his head, a layer of sticky sweat clings to Lewis’s face. He wipes it away and peels back the blanket, crawling out of the bed as the lingers of his ‘dream’ fights to hold the forefront of his mind.

His friends... they still haven’t come back for him. The guards would have alerted him if they returned to the cave, and Lewis would have been rushing out the doors if he heard the familiar engine.

They weren’t here. Lewis isn’t sure why he kept expecting them to suddenly show up.

Pushing himself to move, Lewis hops into a float and drifts to the door. Figuring that he may as well show that he has a grasp on some of his new abilities, now he just needed to realize what his main skillset was.

The guards lead him down the flight of stairs, past the library, and the office, and to the largest room in the mansion.

The living room was filled with an air of elegance, even if covered in dust and mildew. Several portraits line the walls beside the mighty fireplace, and leading to it was two long couches and an even longer coffee table. Book cases sat in between the tall windows, and smaller spaces left unused seemed to act as their own mini lounge, with a smaller bookcase, chair, table, and lamp.

Lewis compared it to a community center before, but now it felt like a stage.

More guards file in behind Lewis, with Sir Clive and Ranveer taking their positions behind him. He could feel a heavy, although gentle pat on his back from Ranveer.

After that, the dozen or so smaller, formless and colorless ghosts fly in and take their seats on the cushions.

The fireplace before him seemed to smile at him. With its decorations acting as its wise and considering eyes.

A line of sweat slides down Lewis’s cheek. Now wasn’t the time for stage fright, but his legs lock up in their floating position. He inhaled slowly.

“Psst.”

Glancing over, Lewis catches the soft, affectionate smile on Faust’s face. She tilts her head. “You got this.”

Lewis balls his fists, ”Do I? I really didn’t expect everyone to gather for this...” he admits.

“We know.” The portrait of the priest, Father Zachariah, responds. He gives Lewis a stern look, reminding Lewis to stand straight. “We didn’t want this to be a private affair. If you are really taking over this mansion like you said you would, then we have to right to partake in your awakening.”

“Aw jeez, give the man a break, will ya?” Another portrait, Terri to wrestler reaches out and fists some of Zachariahs robe, glaring at him. “Can’t you see he’s nervous?” He then says, throwing out his hand in a grand gesture toward Lewis, who shrinks back slightly.

Tamaki, the attorney, rolls his eyes dramatically and pinches his brow. “Lewis, I can assure you this isn’t a judgment, quite the contrary. We knew that it would have been hard for you to do this on your own, so we are providing an ample amount of support throughout the activities. Do you understand?”

He nods, unsure how else to respond, although the exhaustion made Lewis want to join the spirits on the couch and take a long nap.

The two portraits of shadows, Haseeb and Ameena, also nod in tandem. “Yes, Lewis. Infact, since you enjoyed music, we wanted to bring out the excitement.... I hope you’re okay with that.”

“Speaking of which,” Faust pipes up, leaning out of her frame and narrowing her eyes at the spirits sat on the couch. “Weren’t you all supposed to grab your instruments? Where are they!”

The colorless ghosts jump and flash past Lewis in one synchronized movement, before rushing back just as quickly. Returning with old violins, cellos, flutes, clarinets, and trumpets. Two more lag behind, with a cymbals, and one final one dragging something heavy. He turns, eyes widening as a singular spirit drags a *piano* from a closet he didn’t remember being there.

”Hold on, I’ll help you.” he says before realizing he was moving, that is until he floats past to the other side of the piano and bracing itself underside. Only for the spirit to send him an anxious look.

Oh.. it’s probably too heavy for them to also lift. Lewis spots the mini orchestra and waves them over. ”We need more hands, come over here and help up.”

Abandoning their instruments, several more spirits rush and brace the other side, allowing the piano to be lifted and carried earlier.

“Yeah you deadbeats! Why do you need his command to get a move on?” Terri calls, anything but cruel however. Deadbeats... that’s an interesting term. Lewis faintly ponders as he sets the piano down, before going to retreat the stool.

At the same time, the living rooms doors open, and the puny skeletal gardener drags in the painter spirit.

“Rye! Thank you for fetching Elora.” Tamaki says.

“Oh eff off,” Rye responds, plopping down on one of the chairs and sinking down. “I was busy trying to save up my energy for tonight’s show. You want there to be flowers, right?”

Flowers?

“Yep, thats why the windows are open. Let’s wait until Lewis is prepared however.”

”N-no need to wait, I’m ready now,” Lewis squeaks out, clearing his throat as he turns and takes in the grumpy strawberry looking gardener.

Rye bobs their skull and spins away from him, “Fantastic.”

She raises her arms, and in a swift motion, glows the same ripe red color as her dress. All at once, the windows are swarmed with vines. Green foliage spilling in, connecting across the ceiling, draping and tangling amongst the curtains, and wrapping around the stone busts on the bookcases. It happened so fast that Lewis couldn’t react. Instead he gaps up at the magnificent display, watching as floral arrangements burst, forming meticulously designed patterns along the entire room.

When he finally tears his gaze away from the display, Lewis is met with calm, expectant smiles.

“Ready whenever you are, bucko.” Rye pats his arm and reclaims her seat, leaving him in the center of his imaginary stage.

Now, his anchor beats twice as fast, almost overwhelmed by all of the effort, all the eyes sim directly at him.

Pressing his finger tips together, Lewis wets his lips. Several heads tilt as they wait.

Clearing his throat, Lewis lowers his head,”... I’m sorry. What am I supposed to do first?”

Faust gasps lightly, the first to realize their crucial mistake. Ignoring Terri’s chiding, she clears her throat.

“Of course, Lewis, the first thing we need you to do, is concentrate on your internal thoughts. As you do, try to figure out which emotion or feeling is more prominent.”

A single note plays from the deadbeat sat at the piano, followed by the violin, and a growing hum from the others who hadn’t begun to playing. Lewis’s heart skips a beat, and he bites his lip as he closes his eyes. The piano continues, the notes floating through his mind and striking chords that were far from forgotten.

A new set of voices fill in the emptiness between notes, running alone side the piano and dancing along with the violin. A flute begins, and Lewis sharply inhales.

He loves music, he always has, it always made him want to dance. Grab the first person in arms length and pull them close, whether it be the waltz or a swing, it filled him with warm laughs that always spread across his face in a smile. A familiar tingle fills his arms, and Lewis is sure that he can feel Vivi in front of him, swaying as they listened to the music. The warmth grows as she fills his minds eye. Her soft scarf tangled in between them, how her skirt swirled and swished as she spun and dance, leaving him warm in the face and his chest full of bubbling warmth.

Warmth. He felt warm.

That certain warmth fills his hands, tingling at his finger tips and running along his scalp.

The room smelt faintly of decay and staleness, but a memory envelopes him, and Lewis is in his families kitchen. Dancing in place and singing at the top of his lungs with his sisters twirling around him. Cinnamon, garlic, sugars and herb fills his nostrils. The lavender and sweet floral in the air elevating the smells of their garden which he pranced through many times during the warm summer nights. The bonfires, the flare of heat from the oven, the thick humidity in a late evening as Lewis arm wrestles with his much scrawnier friend.

The warm spreads up his elbow and all along his back. Before Lewis knew it, the singing, the music grew loud, amplifying as more instruments add to the mix, and as his own voice joins them. A crash of the cymbals becomes the splash of the beach, and the laughter chittering along with it.

His heart races, and the warmth becomes hot and exhilarating as he recalls the endless nights of fondness. Of redness in his cheeks from drinking alongside his friends, on his tongue as he taste tests his fathers latest recipe, and the swell of pride upon seeing Cayennes first ballet recital.

Pride, love, happiness.

Spastic notes become fireworks. Blasting, rocketing, exploding across the night sky. It becomes the crash and crackle of buildings as he and his friends rush from burning buildings, away from spirits whose voice booms too loud. The warmth spreads to his legs, in the ache of running, carrying his friends over his shoulders in a desperate need to escape. As his heart burns in the terror of thinking they were hurt. In wanting to slam his fist into the fiends face for daring to threaten his loved ones.

The guards dance with him, metal clacking and sparking. Lights spot the area as Lewis shoots out his arms and pulls one in against his chest to spin in tandem, before releasing them in a dramatic flourish.

Anger, fear, the need to protect.

His friends, his family.

The loves of his life-

Lewis opens his eyes, and the passion fueling his movements die in an instant.

His hand glows, his arm flaring. A line of fire burns away from him, pink and flaming and just as excited as he was. Gasping, Lewis tears himself away, slipping and hitting the ground. The music screeches to a halt all at once. Everyone freezing.

“Lewis, are you okay?” Faust calls out, gripping her frame as if she were going to rip herself out of it. Concern warping her face, along with the other portraits, the ghosts, everyone.

“You were doing good!” Terri says, “don’t tell me you got cold feet!”

Tamaki nods in agreement, “it’s truly delightful to see you smile for once. I was worried we would never see it.”

Shoulders tense, Lewis’s eyebrows furrow.

That... was him?

Baffled, Lewis holds his hand in front of him, and sure enough his palm was glowing. He tenses the muscles, and he jumps as a small flame puffs out at him.

”I- wait, seriously? I did it?”

“Yes, you did. Marvelous work, Lewis.” Zachariah hums approvingly. The warmth- embarrassment and concern- floods his chest, before Lewis is smothered by smiling deadbeats swarming him in a hug. Curling around him and nuzzling their formless heads against his.

His legs twitch as Lewis rises, floating naturally instead of jumping this time, and becoming upright.

Everyone is smiling at him, faces warm and bright with delight. Warm with the same sentiment, that it was time to make this his home...

He knew it, they knew it, that had to be the entire point of everyone gathering. Not to help him, but to watch him accept them as his new family... leaving his old.

Leaving his family, and his friends...

Faust is the first to speak, eyes crinkling. “Are you ready?”

What about Vivi? Arthur? How is he going to be there for his sisters? How can he keep his friends safe if he can’t be there for them. He can’t abandon them. Because they won’t abandon him. They wouldn’t. They’re coming back for him.

”No. I’m not.”

The disappoint was clear by the stilted air. But no one argued with him. The deadbeats had sunk, their instruments hitting the ground in shock, before being lifted up and taken back to their proper places. The vines retreat and retract, and quietly, the spirits all left the living space. Even the first place seemed to grow cold, if that was even possible.

Lewis didn’t say anything to the portraits when he left the room and raced upstairs to his tower of solitude. The same thought racing through his head again and again.

They’re coming. They will.

Soon. Soon...

Soon...?

Feeling trapped and terribly homesick, Lewis crawls under his blankets. His eyes sting from moisture that shouldn’t accumulate in the sockets, but he wipes them away anyway. Pulling the blanket over his head, Lewis curls into a ball.

Why did it hurt so much reject them? Why did it hurt so much to hold off for so long?

What was he expecting? For Arthur and Vivi to pull up in their bright Orange van and pull him out of the bed, pull him into an embrace, and into the van. Whisk him away so he can embrace his mami and papi, kiss his sisters and tell them how much he missed them.

Why was he even holding out hope? They arent coming back! Why would they...

Arthur killed him... Lewis’s arms shake and he grips the blankets. Arthur shoved him off that fucking cliff with a smile on his face. He should be grateful for anyone to accept him into their family.

He wanted to slam his fist into his gut, to direct the pain from his aching chest. Lewis wanted his eyes to stop stinging.

But he couldn’t. Home was where they were, and he has been thrown away.

Lewis fell into a half sleep, living through the same memory of his death again and again. Watching as his nightmare loops with his life being torn from his grasp with a single push.

That one moment of inaction, the one second of trust. And now?

Lewis is dead.

The memory looped for a fifth time, with Lewis desperately searching for an escape from the grip of reality, when the universe finally gives him one.

An engine. It’s not loud, and it rattles lightly. Lewis pops awake, disoriented from the jarring switch from the cave to his bed, but he disregards it.

Tearing the blankets, an adrenaline thrashes through him. Warmth, heat, rocketing through him. It burns his soles as the impossible dangles right in front of him.

It can’t be, is it really them?

Are they here for him?

Lewis’s anchor skips a beat as he almost falls down the first set of steps. Before he hits the steps face first, his body vanishes in a burst of flame and reappears with a running start at the bottom. The halls wake up with the pound of his feet and his heart, and Lewis forgets that others lived on this decrepit mansion as he races to the main stairway, leading to the front door.

He expects specks of blue, yellow, and white to meet him there. For smiles to spread across their face as they run to swallow him in a hug.

Lewis freezes. Heart going still. Heat draining as he takes it in...

There’s four people, who he hardly recognizes, except for the role they were trying to play as they whisper amongst themselves.

”This place wasn’t here a few days ago.” “do you think it’s a trap?” “Do you think anyone’s here?”

Paranormal investigators...

They start to wander, poking at the busts and pushing open doors, unaware of Lewis staring at them.

It’s not them, his friends aren’t coming.

Now strangers are in ... in this mansion, disturbing the people who have been nothing but kind to Lewis.

The need to protect returns, strong and lashing as his fists ball up, tears stinging his eyes.

Teeth grinding, heat pools into his hands, and fire spits out like sparks of electricity. Finally grabbing the investigators attention as he stomps on the first step. The fire crackles, leaving a singed footprint in its place, but Lewis doesn’t care. Focusing on the bug eyed look of the four intruders who back away in mounting terror as the flames rise.

Breath coming out in hisses, Lewis growls. ”Get out.”

It was enough to send the four scrambling for the door, the engine roaring again as they undoubtedly piled in. Just in time for the suits of armor to clamber behind him, looking around in shock until they see him.

The furious gaze didn’t die upon seeing them. No. Except Lewis turns away from them and floats to the bottom step, theres a strain on his body that extinguishes the fire in his hands, but that didn’t matter.

Lewis rounds the corner, leaving a trail of smoking fire pits in his wake.

Until he’s stood in front of the fireplace, the hearth that he was instructed to simply light it to accept his place as the homes new owner and protector.

His first family protected him, but his loved ones ended his life. Now it’s his turn to ensure the safety of the only family he may have left.

Lewis’s arm wavers as he lifts it up, a ball of fire burning his palm and spitting in every which direction as he glares at the fireplace, whose glass doors open wide.

The flame shoots out, and upon making contact with the bricks and wood, the entire mansion lights up in a magical blast. Transforming peeling wallpaper to freshly striped, strewing chandeliers in every room it could fit, burning away the rot and leaving the floors warm and spotless.

Everything around him changed in an instant, but Lewis doesn’t see it.

His anchor hits the ground with a soft clink, hot to the touch and wet with tears.

[monstersandmaw]

Evening to ya, Ghosti✌️😆

Sorry if the wording sounds silly, but I wanted to ask if you know any rituals I could do for the New Years. 🤣 Christmas hasn't been exactly an easy time for me for various reasons and I tend to get the holiday blues pretty bad, and for a long old while New Years has felt very similar. I'm doing my best to feel hopeful and to have some faith for the new year, but it's turning out to be trickier than I anticipated. So I wanted to ask for suggestions as to do anything that could help feeling more hopeful, I dunno. :3

Though feel free to ignore this if you don't have the energy for it. I hope you had delightful holiday however you celebrated!!! 😊💖💖💖💖

Hey anon! (it’s now afternoon here in the UK, and it was morning when I started this! I got a bit carried away). I don’t know that I’m necessarily the right person to ask about this, but here are some ideas of things I’ve found helpful/centring/calming anyway which you could draw from. Other folks, please feel free to chime in with your favourite ways to put the old year to bed and welcome in the new one!

(first of all, I’m sending you lots of virtual ghostli hugs to help drive away those holiday blues. That sucks, and I’m so sorry it’s been so tough for you.)

Here’s a rundown of what’s below, and I’ll put in a ‘keep reading’ so that it’s not an incredibly long post! Some of it is more on the ‘spiritutal’ side of things, and others are just mundane and practical things.

Congratulate yourself on making it through the clusterfuck that was 2020

Make some tea and meditate on what’s been and what you wish for

Go outside, be still, and breathe deeply

Let go of negative events and thoughts by writing them down, then safely burning the paper

Disconnect from social media for a few days (or however long you’re comfortable with)

Start a bullet journal

Write lists of goals for 2021 and then refine/distill them down to 3 manageable objectives

Commit 100% to 6 months of positive change

Pick three dates/months in the year when good things will happen, and make them happen (including growing veg/fruit)

Light a candle on the full moon or New Year

Ok, so, first of all, you’ve made it through this year!! That’s no small accomplishment, given the sheer volume of absolute shite that has been flung at us from all angles, no matter where in the world you live. Celebrate that. Seriously, I’m not being flippant. Take a moment of stillness wherever you are, be ‘present’, and just think about the fact that you’re here, right now, reading this post. Not everyone is here any more for one reason or another, but you did it. Congratulate yourself and celebrate that. Treat yourself to a slice of cake (or something you really enjoy) specifically to celebrate making it through 2020.

Make a cup of tea (try a new blend or recipe perhaps, or stick with your absolute favourite), or make a comforting drink of your choice. As you pour the water into the cup, breathe in the steam and enjoy the scent of it. Try and imbue all the positive things - memories, achievements, moments etc. - that you encountered this year into the tea/drink, and think about them growing in strength as the tea steeps, and envisage them continuing on to next year too. When you drink the tea, you take the positive thoughts into yourself and they become a part of you. You could try it in the morning with a caffeinated drink (if you enjoy those) and let it fuel you for the day, or you could try a herbal tea at night to let the good vibes steep overnight while you rest. Make it part of your daily routine; a private meditation.

Go outside and find a quiet spot somewhere and either stand or sit and just soak up the atmosphere. If there’s a tree nearby, think about the way its roots are planted in the earth, its trunk stands tall, and its branches reach towards the sky. Feel that space inside you. Breathe deeply in and out, visualising your lungs filling to the deepest parts, starting at the bottom. Count to four for each inhale, and six out (or whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as the exhale is longer than the inhale). This will help to still you and calm you.

If you have something fireproof (can just be a ceramic bowl), take a piece of paper and make a moment to write down all the negative things about this year, using a pen that you’re comfortable with. If you’re not one for words, draw pictures. You can make it really beautiful or just scribble it all down - it doesn’t matter. Get that shit out. Look at it for a while and read it through, mentally letting go of each thing as your eyes pass over it, then light one corner (carefully!!!) and let it burn somewhere with good ventilation (a cooker hood is good for that, but outside is better). Visualise all that negativity being swallowed by the universe and let it go. My favourite line from the Seamus Heaney translation of Beowulf comes at Beowulf’s funeral when a Geat woman is singing her grief at his passing to the sky, and there’s the simple sentence: “Heaven swallowed the smoke.” How beautiful is that? The sky swallowed up her grief as she poured it out to the universe. The negativity might take some time to vanish from your life (it’s not going to disappear at the same time as the paper, sadly!), but watching it go can be the first stage of letting things go. I did this last year, and I’m only just letting go of the last things on that list, but it was a start, and it made me feel more at peace. 

Disconnect from social media. I know that with so much more happening online this year out of necessity, we’ve become even more dependant on our phones and computers, and it’s wonderful that we have this chance to connect with people when we can’t see them face to face, but social media can also act as a crucible for negative feelings. People usually post the best or the worst aspects of what’s going on for them or what they care about, so it leads to a skewed view of both the world and of what’s going on amongst our connections. It’s easy to start feeling insignificant next to someone else because of their achievements or their looks etc. and it’s also easy to start to get a bleak outlook when the news is full of terrible stories and people are reacting to it in a volatile and often knee-jerk way. Take some time off - uninstall the apps, or put the limiter setting on, or just step back - for a day, two days, a week, whatever you’re comfortable with. It doesn’t have to be forever. If you use those platforms to talk to people, tell them what you’re doing, and give them another way to reach you if they need. No need to isolate yourself completely!! Think about how you felt before you started it (write it down?) and do the same afterwards, and compare. If it didn’t work for you, then that’s fine too. 

Start a bullet journal! Now is the perfect time to start bullet journaling. I first started this year when I felt like time was slipping through my fingers and my life was out of my control, and it’s really helped me to get a sense of order back. It’s not the magic cure-all for procrastinators and time wasters, trust me, but it can help to organise your mind as well as your day, and keep track of your habits etc. It can be literally whatever tool you need it to be. There’s a trend on social media - particularly Instagram and YouTube - that shows off these gorgeous journals that are basically works of art in themselves, and while it’s absolutely fine to aspire to that if you want to, the essential point of the bullet journal is to be a tool. You can buy print-outs from Etsy if you don’t fancy doing your own spreads. But don’t get completely hung up on pretty spreads and layouts because you won’t use it fully then. If you’ve got ‘new book fear’, like I did, make your own! I literally started my journaling by folding a few pieces of paper over, slapping a few stickers on them to cheer them up, and writing some lists. I didn’t buy a ‘proper’ journal until July 2020 when I’d got the hang of what I wanted out of the tool, and how to use it. I adapted one or two things, and I’ll be changing one or two things for next year, but it was a good way to start.

Here are two ‘minimalist’ journals and styles that I found helpful when setting mine up. They focus on usefulness and practicality, rather than overwhelming, artistic spreads and cutesy designs. I’m about to do a ‘plan with me 2021’ journal video for YouTube, so I’ll put that up when I’ve finished it, in case that’s helpful. 

Elsa Rhae

Pick Up Limes

Write down the things you want to achieve for 2021. These can be more abstract concepts like ‘more organised’ ‘healthier’ ‘start a business’ etc. Then, when you’ve got as many things as you’d ideally love to achieve/accomplish/manifest (don’t hold back at that stage), take another piece of paper and choose a maximum of six from that first lot to focus on, and below that, choose just three absolutely essential things to focus on. Make those your things for 2021.  

Now, this one is a personal one for me, so it may not be applicable at all to you/others, but I’ll share it anyway. For me, I need to make some significant lifestyle changes for my physical and mental health. So, I’ve decided to commit to 6 months of really hard work to bring about those changes. Time is going to pass anyway, from January to June. Six months will come and go anyway. Where will I be in six months’ time? I could be physically and mentally exactly where I am today. That thought is super depressing to me. Or, I could devote 200% focus, commitment, and energy, and bring about those changes, and be the ‘me’ I want to be in six months’ time.

It’s like the adage of ‘given a week to write a speech, it will take you a week, but given a day to write the same speech, it will take you a day’ - your brain will tell you it takes the amount of time that you have at hand to accomplish the task, and that’s simply how long it then takes. Use those three things from the 2021 list above, and commit to making those three things happen.

As an aside, tell someone (whose opinions you value) that you’re going to do this. By telling someone, you’re helping to cement the idea in reality, and you’ve got a support to turn to if it gets rocky, someone to cheer you on, and someone to celebrate with who knew what a struggle and commitment this was to you in the first place. 

Pick three points in the year where good things will happen. Book yourself something nice, save up for something and have it delivered then, or tell yourself that you will have achieved [x] by May, or September, or December. For me, it’s a working draft of my novel, and certain health goals by October, but make it yours, and keep those points fixed in your mind. It will help 2021 not to be one amorphous mass of time, and will give it structure and form. You could also choose to grow something in a pot - lots of vegetables can be grown cheaply from seed in a pot on a windowsill, and you’ll have something tasty to eat at the end of it!!

Here’s a slightly gentler idea to finish with: 

On New Year’s Eve take a moment to yourself, go outside if it’s not raining or too cold etc., light a candle, hold it (safely) in your hands, and be still. It doesn’t have to be exactly at midnight, but it will help your focus if it’s dark. Otherwise, go to a quiet part of the house and turn the lights down so that the candle flame is your focus. As before, think about what you’ve achieved this year, and be honest, not just negative! It’s very easy to say ‘oh I didn’t achieve anything, it all sucks, it was all awful’, when there will be tiny victories tucked away in there, I promise you, even if it was the toughest year of your life. Then think about where you are at the moment, mentally and physically. Acknowledge that state of being. Look at it with honest eyes. This moment is not for anyone else, so you don’t need to colour it one way or another. It’s for you. If you’re finding it hard not to be negative, be neutral. Let those thoughts come and go, and then turn your mind to the future. Mentally feed those negative thoughts into the flame in front of you, one at a time. Say it out loud if that helps, but do what makes you comfortable. Let the light from the flame fill your mind and your heart, and think about your intentions for the new year.  

Tonight (30th Dec) is a full moon, so if that is significant for you, you may wish to do this tonight instead of tomorrow. 

I hope that some of that gives you some inspiration, and I hope that people will chime in with their own new year’s rituals and habits. Be honest with yourself but not harsh, and be positive but not unrealistic. This year has been one hell of a ride, and we’re not done yet... Here in the UK, we’ve got the highest numbers of Covid that we’ve ever had, we’re in the harshest lock down (Tier 4) and can’t visit anyone, and we’re also going through Brexit (which is proving a nightmare for everyone, especially small businesses...).

Control the things you can control, and learn and employ systems to ride out the things that are beyond your influence. And take heart - you have a family of folks on here, all across the world!