#its not quite done but it's the most finished part of the story so far

[dinogoofymutated]

Please, when u have the time, more Pietro stuff 😭😭😭 ur writing for him is excellent and I need more!! Headcanons, stories, idc I just need more Quicksilver written by u.

Enemies to lovers!Quicksilver/GN!reader - pt 2

Here's part 1

It's finally here!! I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. Also, I think the ending is probably the most dialogue heavy scene I've done so far, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but i wanted to post this so bad!! I might go back and edit later though. Hope you all enjoy!! TWS: Fighting, passive aggression, full on aression kinda, logan is a worried asshole big brother, Professor X watching his tragedy not quite repeat. Pietro is kinda an ass but he's a broken ass so its okay.

You and Pietro had a weird relationship. And it seemed to just spiral into even weirder territories and murkier waters. Each and every interaction tiptoed into something a little more than just enemies, and one night you think the two of you fully crossed the line. You were sure of it, and it was just the start.

    You’re finally starting to fall asleep when there’s a sudden whoosh of air and grunt of pain. It startles you, and you sit straight up in bed, leaning over to flicker on the light. When your eyes finally adjust, you see Pietro standing by the window, hunched over in clear distress.

    “Pietro? What are you doing here?” You ask, But he doesn’t respond. His suit is ripped and bloody, and various deep cuts litter his skin. You swear he’s about to pass out as he stands in front of you, swaying just a little like he did on that day at the beach. Whatever fight he had just been through, it had taken a little more out of him than that fast metabolism could heal so quickly. 

    “Are you okay?” You ask, wide-eyed at him. Pietro grimaces in a way that looks more angry than it does pained, and yet he still says nothing. Unable to deal with the idea of admitting he needs help, you assume.

    He’s sitting on your bed now, naked from the waist up as you stitch his wounds. He’s been silent the whole time, only offering a wince or grunt every now and then with particularly tender wounds. Right now you’re on your knees as you stitch up a rather deep cut on his upper side, his arms keeping his balance as he leans back on your bed.

    “Do you wanna talk about it?” You ask eventually. Pietro’s chest pulls on the stitches just a little as he huffs in annoyance, regretting the action a moment too late.

    “If I did, I would be.” He snaps. You raise an eyebrow at him as you begin a new stitch, piercing the skin perhaps a tad less cautious than you had been before.

    “Take it easy, speedster. ‘Last time I checked I was the one with the needles in my hand.” You snark. Pietro has nothing more to say to that, instead turning his head away so that he doesn’t have to look at you. It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s a bit embarrassed at this whole situation, and you feel a bit bad for him. Out of all the places he could have gone to, there had to be a reason he chose to come here. You just couldn’t tell what that reason was. 

    You’re gentle while you finish wrapping him in bandages, and he can’t seem to look you in the eyes even for a second. When you reach out to brush some dirt off of his face, he finally meets your eyes. He’s a little less guarded than he was before, but the wall between the two of you still remains. There's a quick gust of wind as he moves towards the open window, stopping just before he leaves.

    “...Thank you.” He says after a moment, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You smile at him, a warm feeling in your chest. The difference in his attitude was noticeable, and the fact that he was acting even a little less cold with you was reassuring.

    “You’re welcome.” You reply, and then he’s gone again, having closed the window behind him this time.

The difference between the two sides of Pietro you saw was so jarring. You were so used to the cocky asshole that spent all his effort in terrorizing you, not the quiet, almost angry, and guarded man that stood before you that night- and the many nights afterward.

The second time he showed up, this time woundless and simply laid on your bed to rant, you were surprised but didn’t mind it. Then it happened again, and again, and then came the board games, the nights of talking endlessly, and the midnight snacking. 

And eventually, Pietro started to climb into your bed. He never spoke a word when he did, simply pulling back the covers and pulling you close, pressing his face into the back of your neck. Nights like this were vulnerable, and tender. Quiet. He came to you in need of comfort often, and you were willing to be his safe space for as long as he wanted.

The more he came to you, hurt or angry or sad, the more concerned you became. And you were upfront about it, much to his dismay.

     “You know, I get that we’re on two different sides of things- but you know that the school’s doors are always open to those who need it, right?” You ask, late one night after he had crawled into bed by your side. You were facing him, hand curling on the pillow an inch away from his face, fighting the urge to brush his bangs away from his forehead. Immediately, he has a negative reaction to it. He scowls, recoiling away from you as he glares. You know it should hurt worse than it does, but all you can see is the hurt he's feeling right now.

    “The last thing I need is for another person to tell me what to do.” He snaps, turning his head away from you as he sits up and runs his hand through his hair, aggravated. You sit up on the bed a little further, almost wanting to reach for him, but you don’t.

    “Pietro, You know that’s not what I meant-” You say, softy.

    “Does it matter what you meant?” Pietro practically cuts you off. His tone is sharp, and it hurts you for a second. You frown at him- not that he could see it anyway, and the hurt quickly turns to aggravation on your end.

    "Yes, it does. I'm not bossing you around, I'm just telling you that the X-men- myself included- are here if you need any help." You huff, watching as he practically rolls his eyes at you and stands, looming over the bed as he turns to look at you.

    "The telling part is the problem. Everyone tells me that I could do something, but what they mean is that I should do it." He snaps. You move over to his side of the bed before standing, almost in a challenge. The two of you are now almost uncomfortably close, to the point where you’re sure if you moved an inch your noses would be touching.

    "Well, What if that's not what I’m doing but you're just reading it that way?" You say, meeting his gaze. Pietro was never one to back down from a confrontation, especially not one with you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him quite this angry at you before, rocky past be damned.

    "So you’re saying I'm overanalyzing?" He says, and you groan at the fact that nothing you said was getting through to him, pushing the palms of your hands into the outer edge of your eye sockets. 

    "I'm saying that I'm not your dad-" 

    "And what would you know about my family?!" Pietro yells, and you’re quick to look back up at him, scowling. 

    "Don't raise your voice at me!” You snap, pushing a finger into his chest. “I know enough to know that your dad controls every aspect of what you do, and that's not fair to you." You tell him.

    "Don't pretend that you understand or care about any of that" Pietro says, grabbing ahold of your hand rather tightly. God! You did not understand why he couldn’t get it through his thick fucking skull!

    "I do care, Pietro!" The words burst out of you, almost uncontrollably. You slam your other fist into his chest, tears of frustration welling in your eyes as you look at him. His eyes are wide, looking shocked and confused. You’re beginning to lose your fight, leaning against his chest, still somewhat caught in his grip despite the fact that his hold on your hand had become light, and still, it felt confining. 

    "I may not understand why you do what you do, but I do care about you." Your words come out quieter this time, blinking away those stupid tears that had started to well. Pietro’s eyebrows are furrowed, eyes searching your own, but you don't know what for. The two of you stand there for what feels like forever for both of you speedsters, but was surely more like a split second. You’re still pressed up against his chest, faces so close they could touch.

    And then they did.

    Pietro is the first to kiss you, leaning in and quickly cupping the back of your neck with his free hand, almost in a possessive manner. Once his thoughts have finally caught up with his actions, he pulls back. He looks at you, wide-eyed at his own actions before you gently pull him back in for another kiss. It only takes a moment to click before he sighs into you, melting into the kiss. His kisses are tender, sweet presses of his lips against your own. After a few long moments, you slowly pull away from him. He rests his forehead against your own, a fond look in his eyes that you were sure you mirrored. 

From that night on, his nightly visits to you meant something more than they had in the past.

That didn’t mean that they went unnoticed by others, however, and one day you found yourself being called into the professor's study. Of course you were a little worried, but you were so sure that there was no way anyone could have noticed, right?

    Logan is standing next to the professor's desk when you enter the room, frowning with his arms crossed. Professor Xavier on the other hand sits rather calmly, inviting you to sit down. You choose to stand instead, cocking your head at them.

    “Wow. What is this, an intervention?” You joke, trying to laugh off the oddness of the situation.

    “Yup.” Logan snorts. You shoot him a confused and slightly panicked look that the professor picks up on immediately.

    “There’s no need to worry, my dear.” The professor says calmly. “We just had a few concerns about-” 

    “We know that Magneto’s brat has been sneaking into your room.” You almost flinch at Logan's accusatory tone, bristling with a sudden flash of embarrassment and then anger at him for what he calls Pietro. “I’ve been smelling his scent on you for weeks.” Logan finishes, and you’re so taken aback you don’t know what to say at first, mouth hanging open in shock.

    “Easy, Logan.” The professor says, raising an eyebrow at the furry man, but Logan isn’t listening, approaching you with a scowl on his face.

    “Have you ever heard the phrase, no fraternizing with the enemy, kid?” He continues, and the close contact has you bristling again, unwilling to back down.

    “Logan.” The professor tries again, unsuccessfully.

    “Look, the first time he came to me he was injured. I wasn’t going to turn him away.” You finally say, fists clenching as you ignore Logan before looking back at the professor instead.

    “I understand that. In fact, I’m thankful that you could be so forgiving towards Pietro, despite the past the two of you share.” The professor states, but his words hardly relieve you.

    “Then what is the problem?” You ask, exacerbated by this whole interaction already. Logan seems to be angry that you’re ignoring him but snorts at your question.

    “-The problem is that you shouldn’t be letting him in your knickers.” You gasp at Logan's accusation, and the professor looks appalled. 

    “Logan!” Professor X scolds as you struggle and scrabble for words, now both embarrassed, mortified, and rather flush in the face.

    “-Excuse you! We weren’t- we’ve never!” It’s a struggle to finally find your words, and even more embarrassing to be so caught off guard. What kind of asshole accuses someone of that out in the freaking open?! In front of your mentor no less?!

    “Sure you haven’t. That’s why your bed doesn’t smell like him.” Logan rolls his eyes, and you refrain from punching him in the face right then and there.

    “Well if your stupid nose was as good as you say it is, you would know that we haven't done anything just by the smell!”

    “Just because it hasn’t happened now-” 

    ENOUGH! Both of you! The professor silenced the argument with a single thought. Both you and Logan feel scolded, and yet still bitter about the other. You cross your arms in a bit of a defensive manner ad the two of you turn back to face the professor.

    “This was never supposed to be an argument, simply a conversation.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You scoff at that, sending a pointed look in Logan’s direction.

    “Well maybe, Logan should learn to stay out of my business!” You say, only for the professor to hold his hand up for you to stop, simply hoping both you and Logan would quit continuing to dig this hole deeper and deeper.

    “I’ve heard enough.” Professor X states. “We were simply concerned about the nature of the relationship between the two of you, seeing that you have been growing closer. I know your mind, and I trust you to stay by the X-men’s side.”

    “Then what is this?” You ask, the words coming out as more of a whisper. Logan sighs, looking regretful but ever the stubborn ass. He looks at you, moving to where he can lean against the professor’s desk again.

    “... Look, Kid. we just don’t want you to get hurt. Anything between you and Pietro isn’t going to end well.” Logan says. You feel a little more understanding of him now, but only a bit, with him back to acting like he normally did. He was always an older brother figure to you, but that did not give him the right to air out your business, even if the professor could find out everything that had been happening with the barest glimpse into your mind. Still, you scowl just slightly at Logan, looking away from him. He sighs again, and with a nod from the professor, leaves the room. The professor nods you over to his side, wheeling his way towards the bookshelf with one particular photo on it. One of him and Magento in their college days.

    “You are an adult. I cannot stop you from making your own decisions.” The professor starts. You find yourself tracing the features of the young Erik, finding the image of Pietro in every part of his father's face. The professor looks at you, and all he can see is a face so similar to his own. “I too, understand what it is like to hold affection for someone so distantly aligned from you. It’s due to that understanding that I worry for you. I…” The professor trails off and you turn to look at him with a frown. You knew. You know. The two of you are so different from each other, but surely that didn’t mean you would be enemies forever? He wouldn’t hurt you in the way that Magneto had hurt the professor so many times before… would he? Professor Xavier reaches out to take your hand in both of his own, squeezing it reassuringly.

    “Just be careful, my dear.” 

    “I understand, professor.” 

[yappaccinocookie]

demon snow!

yn cookie with an ability like kyouka from bsd, how would and ancients and beasts react?

I only did the beasts that have been released (seen in the story) so far. I haven't finished watching bsd, so i used most of my sources from wiki! since cellphones don't exist in crk (that I know of) the inanimate object that is used to control her ability is not described as anything else but an "object." stupid tumblr also deleted all of my work, so I redid this. i didn't proofread, it's just straight brain to paper (digital paper maybe) i also didn't know if you wanted them grouped together so I did them all separately this is why this ask took forever. you can take this as romantic or not!

LOWER CASE INTENDED!

context (from wiki) : her ability, demon Snow (夜叉白雪, Yasha Shirayuki), materializes demon snow, a ruthless sword-wielding phantom that only follows orders coming from her mobile phone, which allowed Akutagawa to control her ability in the past.

— ANCIENTS

White Lily —

"Really? That's... terrifying— wait not to degrade you I think it's neat!"

she was terrified at first, after learning about your ability she felt guilty knowing you couldn't control this winter beast in you, instead it was controlled by a phantom that wouldn't listen to you. this poor cookie over thought everything.

she immediately (although patiently) asked you for more information, to see if she could do anything to make sure this ability wouldn't harm your dough or cookies–a–like that are near you during transformation.

white lily noted everything she could discover about your ability, although she was terrified at the possible outcomes she was also intrigued with what it could do. this phantom would only listen to that object you hold around, and it made her paranoid considering somebody could steal it and use your ability for bad. she started working around ways to make it safer for you with the information you provided and the things she could find in every nook and cranny of the library.

at the end, when she's done all she could do she'll just help you maintain a healthy relationship with your ability, and even though she kind of shivers watching it destroy everything in the battle field there's always a glint of amazement in her eyes.

her reaction is a mix of confusion, curiosity and fear. know she just wants the best for you, and she's also trying her best for you! if you need help you can ask white lily, she'll find a way.

Golden Cheese —

"Wait really? That's pretty cool, what can it do?"

she found it badass, and didn't look more into it. golden cheese is a god herself with godly abilities, so abilities aren't new to her she won't be that curious, I don't see her as the type to do much/serious research other than a few random questions.

golden cheese is eager to battle the phantom though, it didn't seem like a cookie like everyone else. it would be a fun experience! only if you want to though, maybe it could get out of control and she knows that's unsafe for both you and her.

her reaction is like "OH COOL!" a few 5 year old questions and then she doesn't look into it much, unless you want to talk about your ability or you want her to talk about it.

Dark Cacao —

"That's quite a dangerous ability, are you able to control it properly?"

the answer to that is no, the phantom won't listen to you, anyway dark cacao isn't really concerned about what you can do but what it can do to you.

you cannot underestimate anybody, nor can you be too comfortable around companions, and he's had bad memories with curses and swords, so he is kind of stiff when you mention it. there's this random part of him sometimes that wonders if the phantom will act up and slice him with a sword.

dark cacao observes the object that controls the phantom, wondering its importance, considering there are multiple of rare objects the phantom could've chosen why this one?

he's pretty chill, but if you tell him that the object got lost or got stolen, all hell will break loose and he'll order his subjects to turn his kingdom upside down, backwards, reversed, whatever just to find it.

his reaction is more of a "I see..." thing, he gets flash backs of war since he's old. he'll be concerned for your wellbeing, but if you're alright he'll be okay. even if companions are not to always be trusted, he wants to make sure his companions (you) are safe too!

Hollyberry —

"Ooh, that's amazing!"

hollyberrys eyes shine like never before, full of curiosity and contagious amounts of excitement.

after seeing the phantom fight in your frail cookie body, she deems you and the phantom as a worthy opponent and, like golden cheese, asks for a battle. she won't pressure you, but she also won't admit defeat. that won't be the last time you hear her asking for a battle, and if you accept win, or lose, hollyberry is giddy after and before the battle.

she wants to see its full potential, but makes sure you're safe too. hollyberry would take you on expeditions with her to various places to see how this snow demon fights, with her fighting along side you.

hollyberry would also ask to see the object that controls it, but becareful she may be high and mighty but she's not slow and steady she might drop it! she'll be looking at it for a while, like she's seeing all the stories it's been through, through one glance.

hollyberry is definitely the one that reacts the most enthusiastic, she's always up for a new adventure and she sees this as an opportunity to learn more about her pal! (you)

Pure Vanilla —

"Fascinating, I've heard of this ability but never seen such in person."

considering pure vanilla is all–knowing he's already seen a bunch of cookies with strange abilities, he's seen yours in one of those library books from back when he was still young!

he knows alot, but not all. there are times where the phantom just straight up controls you to communicate with this guy, I don't know why, but pure vanilla seems to have that nature.

if you're having struggles, like white lily cookie, pure vanilla wants to help you to the best of his abilities. he's known for guiding cookies to the right path, and this doesn't exclude you, even if cookies mark you as dangerous.

he'll tell you all he knows, and make sure the thing that controls it is safe—also this ability is yours, not his, and if you can handle it then he will only support your decisions!

like for example, he will not stop the phantom from attacking enemies, but only shield and tell the allies to back off or becareful around it.

like everyone else, as long as you're okay it's not much of a problem. the phantom doesn't seem hostile to cookies who haven't angered it, so he focuses on the host (you) and make sure you haven't irritated it lately.

his reaction is most the most chill of the bunch, but he does get concerned once in a while when it breaks loose.

— BEASTS

Shadow Milk —

"What can you do for me?"

beasts are evil, this is no surprise to anyone. Shadow Milk wouldn't cause harm on YOU specifically but the things around you. Beasts had live long enough to know alot, so he knew already about what your ability can do.

he's not afraid of the snow demon, but knows others can be, and uses it to scare little cookies playing. "there's this scary cookie with a monster inside of them! they're gonna eat you!"

you're gonna have to stop him before fairy tales of a scary snow demon start popping up, it's his way of teasing you since he has no peace with anybody.

do NOT show him the object that controls it, once you blink he's already taken that and hid it somewhere you won't see. Shadow Milk is very sneaky.

he'd steal the object that the phantom follows orders from, and has let it break free and cause alot of accidents. ones you've felt guilty for, but he won't kill anyone, only fires and house destruction.

unlike pure vanilla, he would not have a nice relationship with that phantom. he'd probably make fun of it by stealing its sword, and/or fight it depending if it would hurt you or not he doesn't want his old pal dying on him! he'd probably be a trigger for it to come out, and if it does come out he'd plan scripts as if he was doing one of his carnival performances.

when you tell him to stop he freaks out, and either stops being all smiley and scare the living crumbs off of you or he cries out and tells you to stop being cruel and let the him have fun. either way he won't stop, but will subtly make his pranks less damaging.

the only time he'd shut up is when he's observing the phantom fight, there's a glint of admire, he likes destruction no matter what type.

his reaction was more of him realising the power you hold, and what he can do with it! (100 crimes would be committed if you don't make/set boundaries.)

Mystic Flour —

" ... "

mystic flour is closed off, and she barely speaks on your ability unless you guys are really close. it may seem like she doesn't care, but trust me she's really intrigued just not to the extent of the others.

she's neutral about the whole thing, and wouldn't use you for bad or let it break free for the joy of wanting it to destroy things. infact she finds it pretty annoying when she just wants peace and quiet.

mystic flour sees the phantom as greedy, and won't listen to any sob backstory of why it controls you. if you show her the object she'll look at it for 5 seconds and then give it back. maybe she knows too much.

fighting or communicating with it is not her forte, she prefers hiding away. she won't listen to the phantom if it begs for a fight, but if YOU specifically ask her for a battle she'll hesitate, but give in.

her reaction is empty, it seems not even that unique demon snow ability of yours can make her care enough to move away.

Burning Spice —

"At last, you're not boring like the other dough!"

you've captured this beasts attention! burning spice wants to destroy the phantom, he would definitely want to fight it. actually, not a want, he WILL fight it no matter what you say.

each fight with you/demon snow entertains him, because you/it can catch up with his speed and be as ruthless as him. he does remember you're but a frail cookie made from dough, and only ever fights it once it's out and you seem healthy/fired up to fight. this is not a boundary (although that would be nice) it's him preventing you from dying so he won't get bored.

he secretly admires it's strength, but always makes degrading remarks to it. "weak!", "I can do better", "I will destroy you!"

speaking of destroy he will destroy the object that controls it unless you never let him hold that thing. it's impulsive behavior and he has no self-control if it doesn't harm him, himself.

his reaction is terrifying, not for him, but for you!

Silent salt and Eternal Sugar aren't here...

[strwbmei]

Silverwolf thoughts (monsterfucking edition) (dubcon? consent isn't asked for beforehand/stated, but sw consents)

Silverwolf who's completely clueless to what's about to happen to her when she wanders into the kitchen for a late night snack in nothing but an oversized shirt. What's wrong with walking around your own home with barely any clothes? It's not like there's anyone else with her... right?

As soon as the microwave starts, she feels something cold and thick push itself into her cunt in one go. Her knees go weak, and she's forced to use both hands to hold onto the counter for balance. With nothing to use to muffle her sounds as a ghost thrusts into her at a rapid pace, she moans like a whore. At one point, she could feel something cold on her hips, similar to human hands yet so different, trying to hold her up.

Eventually, she feels her womb getting filled up with something, but she still feels... somewhat empty. The ghost leaves her breathless and gasping for air in the dimly lit kitchen, the puddle of her fluids on the wooden flooring the only evidence left of what she had just experienced. Maybe next time, she should walk around completely naked...

OR

Silverwolf buying a brand new VR system with cutting edge technology that makes her feel like everything she experiences in game is real. She plays around with the settings and controls before jumping into the most exciting part: the games themselves. Of course, she already bought a game or two for the system. Yet, when she looks at the library, there's one that she doesn't quite recognize. Still, it's already there, so why not play it anyways?

Everything seems normal at first, and Silverwolf actually ends up enjoying the game. She advances a fair amount and even reaches the underwater area where she's forced to wear a swimsuit that's way too revealing in order to proceed with the story. A bit weird, but it's not like games have never done this before so she swallows her pride. Silverwolf encounters a boss, an octopus with 3 eyes and very thick tentacles. Of course, ever the gamer that she is, she's already completed all of the side quests and I'd already far too overleveled for any monster in the area.

And while that may be true, her levels can't keep her from being paralyzed by the suckers on its tentacles. The enemy information tab didn't show anything of the sort, and as a result, she was careless. She expected to be finished off, but the octopus... starts taking off her swimsuit? Before she can register what's happening, a tentacle is already in her mouth and facefucking her ruthlessly. Thinner ones restrain her arms and legs in case the paralysis wears off. The biggest one, however, is stretching her tight cunt out like she's never experienced before. It's merciless with her petite body as it fucks into her. By the time it's over, Silverwolf only has two choices: masturbate furiously she the empty feeling in her cunt subsides, or ask someone for help and fill her up with real, warm cum.

[linalavender]

[Spoilers] (One Piece Chapter 1120)

The Sins of the Father

I feel like Oda has been wanting to bring this theme into the story for quite some time. The D. intentionally being systematically eradicated from this world has always been a present theme in One Piece, But Clover outright saying this brings it to the forefront. And this is something he tried todo recently with someone who isnt a D. clan descendant but for one reason or another sort of Subtly cut out of the story

Man I just sat with this panel for a good 3 minutes or so, really impactful.

The Kurozumi clan commited a grave sin to the People of Wano, they sold out the country to Kaido for the price of the clan becoming the Shogunate. And for the most part the Kurozumi Descendants are horrible people exploiting all others of personal gain and complete disregard for the people of Wano. But theres an expection to this, While its never explictly said in the Manga (aside from a later SBS) and Tamas parents grave, Tamas full name is Kurozumi Tama. As far as we know in the story she is the sole survivor of the Kurozumi clan. Odas reveal of this is Volume 105's SBS goes further.

"Should we hate her, then? In the final scenes of the arc, Hiyori clearly said, "Kurozumi was born to burn." Does that mean she's including O-Tama? No, of course not. It's clear from the story that Hiyori is referring specifically to Orochi. How would people react if they found out that O-Tama was from the Kurozumi Family? Please use your imagination. This has been a problem throughout human history that continues to this day."

I feel like we would still be in Wano and not even close to finishing if he included every little detail like this but I wish we got to see this tidbit, Will people be calling for Tamas death? We readers know Tama, shes the sweetest little dumpllng and has suffered much like everyone else. Her name did not grant her any of the special privleges it "should" have Could she possible redeem her clan? Is the Sins of the Father so grave every generation after it is stained forever?

I do think the D. Clan actually truly did something horrific. The World goverment and its actions after the fact has made them absolute villians but I think he is playing with this narrative that Luffy and all other D. clan descendants ancestors did something that makes the Founding members heroic for stopping. Does that make it so people like Luffy, Law, Vivi etc should be killed? For something their great ancestors did 9 centuries ago? BUT does it also justify the World goverments opression and founding? absolutly not. Dont get me twisted here. The attrocities and genocides of the World goverment has commited over the last centuries is far, far graver than what Joyboy and the D. Clan could have ever done,

This is sort of riffing of a very old twitter post of mine after Tamas full name so if youve somehow read this before sorry lol

ALSO I hope this serves as proof you should read the manga ur missing so much if you dont :)

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (part 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

After his work is done and Dream finds the time to retreat to his chambers, he pulls out Hob Gadling’s notebook and reads Hob's last journal entry in its entirety.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend! 

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it. 

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

As we are sharing truths and have both admitted that we're lonely, I would like you to know that I have never been content with our schedule. If you're willing I would love to meet you a lot more frequently. A lot of things I'd like to tell you about are long forgotten again when we meet. I guess this book is a good way to share stories with you more often now, if a regular Friday night at the pub isn't your thing. I kept notebooks like this all my life, to be able to peruse them in preparation for our meetings and choose the best stories to tell you, because I knew I wouldn’t have enough time to share them all. We got cut short so often, I wonder how you appeared to know me so well without me telling you overly much. But then, that is what you do, isn’t it?

Like with Lushing Lou, you know everyone. And now you mentioned that you do not forget anyone. Do you truly know everything about me then? Is me telling you stories of my life more of an amusement than a necessity for you? Could you actually know it all with a glance instead of listening to me ramble for hours?

Please forgive me, my friend, I do not mean to sound offended. You wrote that you enjoy our meetings - and apparently my ramblings - and I know you would not lie to me.

You do enjoy stories, then. Is that it? Are you a collector of stories? Of histories? Or is your interest actually in my interpretation of these stories and events, in how a mere human experiences the things that are so easily visible to you? I remember the spark in your eyes when I told you about printing. I was such a dewy-eyed fool then, it almost makes me laugh to remember. Did you already know what Gutenberg’s machine would mean for the advancement of humanity? Did you see me finally shaking off my rough and bloody persona as a step in the right direction? Or were you simply interested, like you said, in my experience, and how I would change over the years?I admit, waiting for you to finally tell me who you are is hard for me. But I’ve waited this long and I will wait longer, and I won’t be offended if it takes you another hundred years to tell me. We have time, after all.

Much has happened in the last hundred years. Mostly war. Humans have reached new heights of cruelty. We have become even more ingenuous at killing ourselves. We have created weapons to wipe out all of humanity. We are one wrong phone call away from destroying all we’ve accomplished with the press of a button. People are overthrowing their regimes left and right and while that is generally a good thing, I am still looking over my shoulder, metaphorically, stashing money and valuables in uncanny places like a pirate of old, in preparation for what might yet turn into a true apocalypse.

It is stressful, and I admit that the new drugs are very tempting. I have not been able to resist trying most of them over the last two decades, either to be able to relax or to be able to feel something other than dread, to see some colours in all this grey.

I participated in both wars and it left me unable to sleep properly for decades. Not that sleep was anything to look forward to. If I tell you that I’ve not had a dream since before the first World War started you will surely think that I’m being silly. That I just don’t remember them. But let me tell you, about a week ago I had the first dream since, I think it must have been 1916 or 17. It wasn’t anything magical or special, (just something very simple, about lying in the grass on a hill, looking at the sky and watching bright blue birds fly overhead) but when I woke up I cried because I felt such a profound relief! Relief that I could dream again! 

I did dream of something strange soon after, though.I dreamed of a skeletal little man, mad and raving, chasing someone that looked like a weird bird man - and here I want to make clear that I do not intend to insult you, dear friend!, but this man that looked like a bird and at the same time was neither, he reminded me of you. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just something in the way he moved, maybe, or the tilt of his head-

Anyway, it was a strange dream, and I felt reminded of you, which is why I am mentioning it, I guess. I’m sorry for rambling about silly dreams. But their return (for I am certain dreams returned, I did not simply start remembering them again) has made me hopeful again.

Maybe times are a-changin’, who knows. They always are, and hopefully for the better this time.

I could tell you a lot more of the last century, of course, but I don’t know if you care to hear war stories. I do not necessarily want to drag all those unpleasant memories up, as it took me years of therapy to get over a lot of them, if you can forgive me for summing things up like I did.

I will think of better and brighter things to tell you and write to you again soon. I would be very happy if I found a reply from you in the meantime, but please use this book at your own leisure and don’t feel pressured to answer me every time I start rambling at you.

I hope to

Yours, Hob

Yours. Dream swallows and reads the word again, traces it with his finger. Yours.

Hob considers himself Dream’s. He knows it’s just an expression used when writing letters, but somehow Dream also knows that Hob means it to be more than just an empty phrase.

His.

Dream does not know if he wants Hob to consider himself Dream’s. Dream would not trust himself with another, not before and certainly not after his ordeal. Where before his imprisonment he had felt too sharp, too lonely, too easily enraged, he now feels brittle, too thin and too vulnerable. He cannot hold another’s heart and keep it safe. He cannot be trusted with the affections of another. He has learned that, over the last billion years. Every relationship he has ever had has ultimately failed. Because of him.

He does not want Hob’s and his relationship to fail. He intends to fix this friendship that he knows he does not deserve but cannot stop himself from clinging to. Few are truly loyal to him, Dream has learned, even fewer because they want to. Hob is singular in that regard, in his enthusiasm and friendliness when it comes to Dream, despite, or rather because he does not know him. And there Dream’s thoughts circle back to his predicament again.

He wants Hob to know him and like him, but Dream is terrified that introducing himself to Hob will leave their barely-mended friendship ready to break completely.

With a heavy sigh he stops moving, realising that he has been walking in circles in his chamber while his thoughts do the same.

Maybe it will be better to simply start writing.

Part 4

[i-think-i-have-too-many-fandoms]

Epiphany

Summary: Mansion Baron Park Seonghwa was tired of living in a dusty mansion so he decided to finally hire some help. On your first day working for him you noticed something strange about the man, but you can't ask him because he is almost always gone during the day till your done with your shift.

(A/n: Watched the Halloween performance video for 'A Black Cat Nero' and it HEAVILY inspired this. there also might be a little bit werewolf!straykids mentioned if i continue this but idk yet- its a bit of a clusterfuck bc as i was writing i just kept getting more ideas 🙄)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: he word 'smirk' probably written too much,

Pairings: Seonghwa x fem!reader, and a little bit of Hongjoong x fem!reader(?)

Seonghwa hated dust. It was one of his biggest pet peeves, and lately, he hasn't been able to keep up with the amount in his large home. So while he was at the store one night and he heard you talking to the cashier about how you were laid off from the last family you cleaned for, he innocently followed you out of the store to ask if he could give you a job. You needed the money and you were looking but you couldn't help but think something was off with him, but hesitantly you said yes. He gave you his number and address and wrote down a date and time for you to come by.

His home was rather on the outskirts of the city you lived in thus you couldn't take your usual form of transportation (the bus) the entire way there. You took it as far as possible and then rode your bike the rest of the way. When you arrived you had a feeling his house would be big but you didn't think it would be this big, it was a solid three stories and most definitely there was another below. You decide to put your bike somewhere it wouldn't be quite as visible. You were somewhat out of breath so you took a moment to catch up with your lungs before you knocked on the door. But before you could the door abruptly opened with Seonghwa holding it open.

"Welcome, Y/n, I hope you found your way here safely." He spoke softly towards you with a faint smile on his lips. "I noticed you didn't drive up? Did you leave your vehicle at the gate?" He peered at you waiting for you to answer as if he was trying to read you in some way.

You didn't particularly want to tell the beautiful man before you that you're poor but lying could only lead to more problems down the road. "Ah, no actually, I usually take the bus but i couldn't take it all the way here so I biked part of the way."

He scowled lightly seemingly disapprovingly before training his face back to before. "I see. Well then, if you will follow me I will show what you will be doing for me." He turned around heading inside and walking slow enough as though to make you you're able to follow behind him.

When he had finished the tour of the upstairs, and main floor and showing you what you would be doing you noticed a door and you mustered up the courage to ask Seonghwa about it and his only response was "You needn't worry about it, that area is for me to clean." And you probably wouldn't have as much curiosity as you do if it weren't for the eerie smile he gave while saying it to you but you can manage to hold in your piqued interest. He swiftly changed the topic of conversation by asking if you would like to start working that day for a limited amount of time and you didn't have anything else going on for the rest of the day so you said yes. He reminded you where the cleaning supplies were and led you to where he wanted you to start and once you did he walked away.

When you finished cleaning and it reached the designated time you agreed to work until (six thirty), you walk through the house (mansion) to try and find Seonghwa. As you rounded a corner you nearly bumped into someone and lost your footing trying to keep that from happening. Mentally preparing yourself to fall you almost don't notice the firm grasp on your waist.

"I am so sorry, Mr. P- You aren't Seonghwa?" You study the new handsome face belonging to the hand on your side. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you and sorry for nearly knocking you over. Do you happen to know where Mr. Park is?" You step away and hold out your hand for him to shake as you introduce yourself.

The man in front of you now glances at your hand before taking it in his own and proceeding to lean down and kiss the back of it. Your face flushes almost instantaneously as he stands straight again while he smirks at you. "I am Hongjoong. It is a pleasure to meet you. And Seonghwa is just down the hall in his study. Are you working here permanently?" While he speaks that smug smile never leaves his face despite his eyebrow raising in question.

"Yes, I will be working here permanently, today was my first half of a day. And thank you for telling me where Mr. Park is, Have a nice rest of your evening." You smile at Hongjoong as you pass him to go to Seonghwa's office.

When you get to the door you knock and here a faint 'come in'. As you push open the door Seonghwa starts speaking, "Hongjoong I thought i told you i was done with the conversation and asked you to leave me be for a- ah, Y/n, I'm sorry i thought it was someone else. Is it time for you to leave already? Time must have gotten away from me. Let me get you your check and walk you out." When he noticed it was you a kind smile grew on his face and he began standing.

As your making your way home you can't help but feel uneasy. A feeling of being watched looming over you. You're waiting at the bus stop when a black car pulls up. You avert your gaze as the window rolls down, a man inside the car calls out to you in a voice you recognize. "Y/n, do you need a ride? Seonghwa told me you take the bus and i couldn't in good conscience let a woman go home by herself. It's dangerous out here at night." It's Hongjoong, just as your about to turn him down you hear a very strange noise in the woods and quickly move to get into his front seat. He smirks at you, "Eager to go home with me?" You open your mouth to correct him but realize he was being sarcastic. You close your mouth and tell him your address... You can pick up your bike tomorrow...

The ride to your apartment was quiet, not even the radio. And even though your in the bustling city now you still feel like your being watched. Hongjoong parks on the curb and you get out and close the door before he could say anything (if he was going to say anything). Once you've finally gotten into your apartment you start your nightly routine and can't help but think about your mysterious new employer and his possibly even more mysterious friend. They were fascinating men and you couldn't get them off your mind.

~~~~~

should i continue this?

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 10

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker gets to spend some more one on one time with Tom, she's left wondering how it's possible that no one else can see him the way she does. Maybe, rose colored glasses aren't so bad after all.

Read the story here: prev / next

Three weeks pass without much fanfare.

Tom, as it turns out, actually does live quite a busy life as an A-list celebrity, and when he's not recording a new paid advertisement or championing photoshoots, he's flying from one state to another to do appearances on various talk shows. It's weird going so long without seeing him—weirder even when Parker thinks about how shortly they've known one another, yet how he's somehow become a part of her routine—and though they share an occasional text message here or there, for the most part she doesn't hear much from him.

She's disappointed, but also understanding, and so rather than sit around moping about the lack of Ryder in her life, Parker uses the time to focus on tackling Melissa's ever growing list of renovations in her bookstore. The last of the shelf liners get pasted, the paint is finished, half of her tacky posters are replaced with thrifted decorations and the other half are spruced up with wooden frames. She adds a coat rack by the door, buys a new welcome mat, and even gives some life back to the tattered reading chair thanks to the cleaning underworld of YouTube.

It's a lot of work, definitely more than she had originally envisioned when propositioned by the teenager, but when it's all said and done...

Well, it's worth it.

Parker has never been so in love with her shop as she is now. She comes in early to straighten her latest arrivals, and hangs around late to sweep underneath the shelves. She's always loved her little shop—it's the only thing in her life that has ever, unequivocally, been hers—but it's better now; now it's something she can take pride in showing off.

And showing off she does. The throng of customers increases throughout the weeks. Not enough to add a couple more employees to her roster, but enough to add a modicum of business to her days. Melissa has somehow enlisted half of her high school to stop through; teeny-boppers hoping to catch glimpses of Tom, and young boys hoping to gawk at the teeny-boppers. Plus, she's been dropping flyers off at Crave Cafe on the daily that seem to be drawing in tourists and retirees alike.

It's not quite success, but it's close.

And damn if it doesn't feel good.

"What are you all smiley about?" her brother asks as if specifically trying to ruin said good feeling. "You look like you're high. Are you high?"

"You look like you're high all the time," she rebuts with a bite of her sandwich.

"That's—I have small eyes, you know that. It just looks like I'm squinty and red when it's too bright," he says in that upsettingly righteous tone of his. It's an excuse she's heard before, and when Parker arches a brow at him, he huffs. "It's—blame Mom! I didn't ask to look like this."

"Aw, Mom doesn't look like an idiot, Colt. That's all you."

His features flatten, deadpan eyes. "Ha, ha, ha. That's hilarious. Soooooo hilarious that I almost forgot to laugh. Almost as hilarious as the first time you made that joke. When was that—the seventh grade?"

She smirks around her straw, and Colt sinks in his chair to cross his arms.

"I was just trying to make conversation," he says, waving his arms around at her. The movement scares off a nearby pigeon, and she watches its flight with languid eyes. "Trying to be nice, see what's new in your life or whatever, but you just had to take it too far."

"That's you being nice?"

"Always have to take it too far," he continues, ignoring her to shove some fries into his mouth. They're sitting at a picnic table outside, a sun umbrella with bright red stripes propped open above their head, the beach in the near distance swelling with the smell of saltwater and taffy, and despite his demeanor, Parker sports a blithe smile. It's a nice day; too nice to be truly bothered by her petulant child of a brother. "Next time, you can buy yourself lunch."

"Oh, hit me where it hurts," she jokes. He shakes his head at her, more fries gone, and all it takes is her offer of an onion ring for Colt to be smiling too. "I'm just happy with how works going. We finished painting, finally, and I think I hit a record for customers this week."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, I think most of them still have braces, but I'm not complaining. If I hired Melissa a few months ago I might have been rich by now."

He makes a face at the mention of her employee, and Parker rolls her eyes. Only Colt would have beef with a high schooler.

"I suppose I can pop in after this, give it a look. See if it's up to par."

"I forgot you were an expert. Where'd you go to school again? Was it Carnegie Mellon? Or Pratt?"

Colt shakes his head at her teasing, but there's no love lost between the siblings. They argue about arguing about arguing. It was pretty much a natural response at this point in their lives. And though she was arguably better at it than him—Colt had a real problem with being tongue-tied, wit was certainly not his forte—every once in a while he gave as good as he got.

"Yeah, well, you're successful, I'm successful. I guess it's a family trait. Glad to hear the store is doing well, though. I was worried I'd have to pay your rent for Christmas again this year, and, well... I really didn't want to."

"Magnanimous as ever," she joked with a sip of her soda.

"What? Three years in a row? I'm not Santa Claus. I do have a life, and I've been eyeing this really nice mountain bike lately."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Since when do you mountain bike?"

"Since—well... shut up. Can't a guy have hobbies?"

"Why can't you ever have a normal hobby? One that won't end up with you in the emergency room or on my couch for three weeks."

He rolled his eyes to jab some fries in her direction. "That was once, and it was a hernia. It had nothing to do with my hobbies. Besides, you read for fun. I'm not going to take criticism from someone that can't even walk up the stairs without hurting herself."

"I can!"

"Oh, can you?"

Parker flung an onion ring at him, only to have it backfire when Colt victoriously stuffed it into his mouth. She probably should have seen that one coming. She half considered throwing her phone at him next, but it was at that moment that their waitress stopped by to check on them, and by the time she'd left Parker didn't feel so inclined for violence.

A good thing for her brother considering he quite literally needed his body functioning for work.

Speaking of, "how's work for you going? When's filming start?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Not for a bit, but I've been working on some stunt coordination with Dan and the other guys already. This sci-fi movie is really stepping it up from the last one. I've already had to learn a couple new moves."

"Like what?"

"Rolls, jumps, fighting sequences, jumping out of a moving car. That sort of thing."

Parker considered that, before frowning. Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly is this movie about again?"

"NASA," he said around a bite of his burger, as if that explained anything. It didn't; not in the least, but before she could badger him some more he finished the last of his food with a belch. Any thoughts evaporated at the disgusting display, and she waved the air in front of her a grimace. "Now, I gotta go see a man about a goat."

"That's not the—"

He was gone before she could correct him, and when the door inside fluttered close with a fwap, Parker just settled into her seat with the shake of her head.

"Idiot," she said, stealing a sip of his beer now that he wasn't around to guard it. Colt got like a dog when it came to his food and drinks, and despite him always asking for some of her food, she rarely got the same treatment in return. Thoughtfully, she took another sip, adding, "bastard," just because it felt warranted.

She was almost done her own sandwich when the table shook beneath the buzzing of her phone.

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before...

"Hello?" she mumbles through a mouth full of onion rings, phone tucked into the crevice of her shoulder as she wipes the grease off her fingers.

Only her brother would sniff out the greasiest restaurant on this side of LA for a casual lunch.

"Are you—are you eating?" a judgmental voice asks; as if he can see her slumped at the table, stuffing her face, and sucking down soda like it was nobody's business.

Parker immediately sits up straighter, swallowing the remaining food with a grimace, before lying, "no, of course not. That's rude and gross and, you know, totally not what I'm...."

Subtly, Parker glances around the patio. There's a couple sitting at her left, a family at the table on the far right, but other than that there's not a soul to be seen besides the occasional tourist trying to catch the bus. Certainly no Tom Ryder to be found spying on her from the bushes.

"Er, what's up buttercup?" she says, then immediately cringes at how overly causal that question was. What's up buttercup? she mouths to herself. "You don't—that's—what are you doing?"

The line is quiet for a moment, but she swears she can hear Tom shaking his head at her in the interim. But, when he speaks, he sounds no more scornful than normal. "I just got back from New York. Well, got back this morning, anyways. I just woke up from a nap."

"Oh, right! You were on Fallon last night."

"You watched it?" he asks, and this time, he does sound smugger than normal. Though, she supposes his usual levels of smugness was already more than the normal person. Tom Ryder really did love to brag about himself; even more, he loved when other people bragged about him.

"Don't be ridiculous," she tuts, shaking the ice in her drink as she sips it. She tries her hand at scornful as well, but it comes across teasing and light. "Even I draw the line at late night television. Melissa was talking about it this morning."

"Oh?" he hums. "And what'd she think?"

"That you looked even dreamier than usual. And then something about barking, but, honestly, I was a little too afraid to ask what that meant so do with that what you will. Was it fun?"

"I guess. Fallon isn' t so bad. The time difference is killer, though."

She hums, not having any idea what it would be like to travel back and forth across the country multiple times in a few days, but imagining that it likely did suck. "Kudos to you for being awake at all. I think I would have just slept all day, and then been awake all night, and then the cycle would continue until I died from caffeine overdose."

He laughed, and Parker chewed on her straw to keep a stupid smile from splitting across her face. "Maybe that's a reason why you're not famous."

"Right. The only reason I'm not famous," she teased, and when he snorted, she didn't bother to hide her grin. It's a good thing she wasn't at home or she might be lying on her bed, twirling some hair, and kicking her feet in the air like a lovesick idiot.

Speaking of idiots—she glanced towards the door and sighed in relief when her brother was still nowhere to be seen. It wouldn't be long, now, as he had a habit for bad timing.

Knowing this, she asked, "listen, could I call you back later? I'm out with Colt right now and I swear to god he's like a baby when I'm not paying attention to him. Unless you want to be put on speakerphone, that is."

Tom scoffed. "You ever consider getting him a babysitter?"

"He's not up to date on his vaccinations," she joked with a dramatic sigh. "And the kennel stopped taking him after he bit that other dog."

Tom laughed again, and it felt like a victory. Especially since he had called her, and here she was asking to call back later. The guilt didn't have any time to fester, however, before he was moving on. "Well, listen, I thought maybe since I was back in town that we could, er, get dinner. Have dinner, I mean, at my place."

"Oh," she said, so thrown off by the offer that she didn't really know what else to say. She quite literally hadn't stopped thinking about getting lunch with Tom on set a few weeks back; it had been so nice, so fun, to just hang out with him—no Gail, no Colt, no drunken executives or paintball warfare to distract them—just him that she had already planned on accompanying Colt onto set as often as she could manage in hopes of doing it again. She hoped the fact that he was offering meant he enjoyed it too. "Oh! Yeah, sure! That sounds great."

"Great," he echoed. "My place? After you get off work?"

"Sure," she said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically given the fact that he couldn't see her through the phone. Her thoughts drifted to work, and immediately she wondered if she could close early or talk Melissa into pulling a double. "Do you want me to bring some more books? I know you already got the role and everything, but I could bring some more recommendations for you to talk about tonight. Or you could just explain to me the plot of the movie because I'm honestly so confused about it already. Actually, I think I still have some napkins in my purse..."

She shifted through said purse, rattling through a mess of tampons, coins, bobby pins, receipts, and collection of rocks that she thought looked cute but never knew what to do with as Tom cleared his throat across the line.

"You don't need to—" he started, before sighing. As if he there was a bigger picture here that she wasn't quite seeing. Parker, too enthralled in why she had four different buttons in her purse didn't even notice. "I'll just see you later?"

"I'll text you when I get off work."

"Alright," he said. "It's a date."

And then, before Parker could question whether that was just a colloquial saying he used from time to time, a joke, or the reality of what this whole thing was going to be, Tom hung up.

She stared at the buttons in her hand, dial tone buzzing in her ear.

In perfect timing, her brother flopped into the seat across from her, and snatched a onion ring off of her plate. He swept his gaze from her plate to her phone to the buttons in her hand.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Er," she said, wondering the very same thing, before slowly dropping said phone and buttons back into her purse. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

Colt took that in, thought it through, and then pointed to her plate.

"So, uh, are you going to finish that?"

---

Parker doesn't get to give the date versus dinner conundrum much more thought over the next couple of hours due to a constant flow of customers, deliveries, and teenagers. She thinks the sudden business might be penance for taking a long lunch with her brother, made even longer when he insisted on hunting down some iced coffee after their meal, and when she does make it back to the shop Melissa is so relieved that she practically melts on her feet.

And though the teenager does agree to stick around for a double shift, Parker finds that she's too occupied to sneak out early anyway, and by the time she gets a moment to catch her breath she's already running late.

There's no time to fix her hair or grab a change of clothes, just as there's no time to do anything about the smell of old, papery books clinging to her besides drive with the windows down at a speed likely to get her a ticket. That, of course, only seems to frazzle her braids even worse than they started the day with, and by the time she's parking in Tom's driveway, she looks likes she's just finished an eighteen hour shift down at the docks.

Please let him have gone blind, she thinks while hastily taking out her braids with paper-cut laden fingers. It's a mess of tangles and knots due to her driving, however, and by the time it's straightened out she's running even more late than she originally was.

Hoping out of her car, Parker doesn't think of anything as she rushes up the steps, knocks a hasty staccato, rocking on her feet with a wayward glance down at her dirty sneakers that certainly don't belong walking on real wood floors.

Please don't throw up, she thinks next, stomach in her throat.

Please—

Any thoughts are silenced when the door swings open, and Tom Ryder is suddenly there.

She's speechless as she takes him in; dark slacks, a white tee, jean jacket with a gold chain that catches in the light, freshly clean sneakers that put her dirty ones to shame. He looks good in the way that he always does; polished and shiny, Hollywood and new, but his hair is airdried and lacking gel, his beard freshly shaved, sleep lines dotting the skin along his cheeks.

He looks good, but he also looks comfortable and soft. Natural, in a way that she's never seen him look before.

"...hi," she says dumbly.

Tom's gaze, having been taking her in the same way that she was taking him in, snaps back up to her face, and with a characteristic eyeroll and huff, he echoes, "hi. You coming in or...?"

"Oh, right."

Parker flushes but enters, and his house seems so different than the last time she was there that she cranes her neck to gander. Without people flush wall to wall she's able to see the character of the house better, taking in the hues of orange and yellow paint, the shiny brown age spots on the wooden floor, taupe pillows and white fuzzy blankets sprawled messily across the couch. ESPN is playing on mute, music drifting from the kitchen, a mess of protein powders and vitamin bottles scattered across the marble island in addition to dirty pans.

A reminder that he's a person as much as a celebrity, and Parker smiles at the thought.

"Where should I put my shoes?" she asks.

He blinks at her, already halfway back to the kitchen. "What? Just wear them."

Parker glances down at the muddy soles of her sneakers knowing just how many questionable places they've walked through, and with nothing more than a glance at the too white couch she bends to untie them. Tom rolls his eyes a second time, and she scoffs in response. "What? I'm not trying to mess up anything here. I can't even imagine what you're cleaning bill must be like."

"You're not going to mess anything up," he says. "And if you do, it doesn't matter. I have maids for that shit. You really think I clean this whole place myself?"

She tsks, imagining how nice that must be. "Ooh-la-la, look at me, I'm Tom Ryder and I have maids and—" she mimics, only to slip on the first step she takes in her socks. "Okay, that's humbling. It's like an ice skating rink in here. What kind of polish do they use? Pine sol on crack?"

"Do you really think I have the answer to that?"

"Something fancy, I bet," she continues, head on a swivel as she ambles closer. Even the ceiling looks free of cobwebs. "You should give your maids a raise. Very nice, Ryder. Very nice. Consider me impressed and a little scared of their ability."

"I'm glad you're impressed," he drones, clearly not caring in the slightest, but she wiggles her eyebrows at him anyways, and Tom bites back a smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good," he nods, pulling a wine glass down for her. "I made paella."

"You made it? I change my mind, I'm not hungry at all, " she teases, accepting the glass from him. It's a hefty pour of red wine—not necessarily her favorite—but Parker doesn't doubt it's expensive and some sort of collector's edition so she keeps that to herself. Tom seems so used to just giving people things instead of asking for their preference that she tries not to be too miffed about it.

He shoots her a deadpan look, betrayed only by the amusement in his eyes. "You think I'm going to poison you?"

"No, I think you're going to force feed me some sort of seaweed, or, like, lemon grass salad under the presumption it's good for me."

"Seaweed is good for you."

"For facials, maybe," she rebuts with a sip of wine. It is good, just dry, and Parker takes reminds herself to drink it slowly. Tom doesn't seem all too amused by her teasing, however, and she reminds herself that food seemed to be a touchy subject with him. Still, her stomach is despairingly empty, and she's thankful for the music just so he wouldn't hear it growling. "Just tell me there's some sort of meat and I'll be happy. And not, like, tofu. I don't care what PETA says that stuff tastes like cardboard."

"Are you so poor that you're eating cardboard now? That's disgusting."

"Tom Ryder thinks poor people are disgusting," she echoes with a smile, and she can tell just from the look he shoots her that he's amused. "Who should I sell that to? TMZ or Perez Hilton?"

He shakes his head at her but moves towards the patio, and with nothing else to do, she follows on socked feet. "Hilton is a tool, you'd get more money if you went to TMZ," he said, playing along. "Anyway, you don't need to worry about that. I'm not eating seaweed on a cheat day, and travel days are always cheat days. Plus, it would just be wasted on you."

It's an playful insult, and even if it wasn't it's not one she would care about, and so Parker sips her wine with an indifferent shrug as he continues.

"Anyway, I made paella. The salad is on the side."

"You made—?"

Her scathing retort comes up empty when they step out onto the patio, and Parker is met with a table flush with food. There's a large steel pan of paella in the middle, a heaping of bruschetta on the side, brussels sprouts and green beans in a beautifully printed dish on one side, a large serving of salad on the other. There are placemats, linen napkins, fancy silverware, and a bottle of chilled water in the middle.

Parker stops short.

Tom, already seated, gives her an odd look. "What?"

She knows there's a more tactful way to frame it, but the first and only thing that comes out of her mouth is a rushed question of, "is this actually a date?"

He blinks at her, before pouring himself some more wine. He's calm, collected in his movements, but his shrug is stiff. "It's dinner."

"A dinner date," she corrects.

"It's dinner," he reiterates, glancing back at her before immediately glancing away. Clearing his throat, Tom shifts in his seat to stretch an arm over the back of his chair; a catalogue worthy pose with the dark sky of LA behind him. "It's a date. What difference does it make? Have you never been on a date before or something?" he asks in a tone she can't quite place.

Teasing, but serious. Cocky, but hesitant.

Yet, Parker is too distraught to think about the paradox that is Tom Ryder, and instead throws her hands up. "Okay," she announces. "I'm leaving."

"Wait—what?" he asks, standing with a screech of his chair as Parker turns on her heel. She makes it two steps before turning back again, head feeling like a nest of squirrels as she tries to put her thoughts in order.

"I can't—Tom—honestly! I'll be back in, like, an hour. Maybe. Probably not. Is there an outlet near here? Oh, they'll all be closed. Okay, maybe two hours then. Or maybe we could just reschedule to, like, Monday night so I have time to—"

"Parker, what the fuck are you going on about?" he interrupts her derailed train of thought. It's an innocent question, well-meaning, but honestly the fact that he doesn't know pisses her off.

She gestures at herself with a wild flap of the arms.

"Look at me! Look at you!" Her jeans are ripped and tattered, cut in places where they weren't originally intended, and faded on the butt from years of use; her sweater was found at a yard sale (five dollars, but she haggled for three) and the tank-top beneath was stretched at all the wrong spots. Even her socks—why did she insist on taking off her shoes?—were mismatch shades of orange. "I can't wear this on a date! Our date! A date with you looking like that! I mean you just got back from New York! How do you look so good?"

Tom let out a sharp breath, color returning to his cheeks. "Jesus, Parker, I thought.... you look fine."

She didn't buy that for a second, and crossed her arms at him haughtily. "You're literally always telling me my outfits are awful. I could have, like, gotten a skirt or worn a dress or something, anything, other than this. Jesus! And I forgot to wash my face this morning—"

"Parker," he said again. "I don't give a fuck. I like what you're wearing."

She raised a brow. "Really? This? You like this?" she challenged, arms thrown out so he could get a better look at her ensemble. Tom's gaze flickered down then up again, and his mouth quirked at the side. She stabbed a finger at him. "Ha! See? I knew it. I look like Chucky. Or, the bride of Chucky, or whatever—I never watched those movies. The doll reminded me a little to much of our cousin, and I didn't feel like trying to unpack that."

He clipped his smile, coughing into his hand. "You look nice."

"Don't patronize me."

"Fuck, you're so annoying sometimes."

"I'm leaving."

"Alright, alright. I think the outfit is awful. You look like a scarecrow. But that's how you're always dressed, so you shouldn't change that just for a date. You could throw a stone in Hollywood and hit somebody with no sense of style. At least you dress like that because it's who you are, and not just an attempt at getting attention. There's not many people around here like that, you know; genuine," he said slowly, and although it was an insult, Parker oddly felt better at hearing it. It was less nice and complimentary and more cocky and rude, more like him. And she wouldn't want him to change that for her either. "Now, are you going to be normal? Or, you know, normal for you. I'd like to eat before the paella gets cold."

She shook her head at him with a sour look. Part of her didn't want to give in to the asshole—not when he was mocking her, and certainly not when he was showing her up on a date—but the other part of her didn't want to leave. She wanted to stick around, eat his food, laugh and talk and joke just like they were doing.

In defeat, she slinked back towards the table. Tom made a show of pulling out her chair with a smirk so cocky it could kill. "I'm not going to get salmonella or something from this am I?"

"Colt told me about how you set the kitchen on fire while trying to bake him a birthday cake," he snarked in that self-righteous way of his, sitting himself. "I'd cool it on the shit talking. You're not exactly Gordon Ramsay yourself."

"Oh my god, that was one time and it was an accident!" she cried in her own self-righteous way. He didn't buy her excuse, however, and when Tom laughed at her, she gave up. Huffing, Parker waved a hand at him impatiently. "Whatever. Just pass me the paella already. I'm starving."

---

Dinner has long since gone cold as they talked, carried inside and stuffed unceremoniously into the fridge upon Parker's worries that the food might spoil. Tom hadn't been all that concerned about it, and she suspected he likely wasn't. She doubted that he had to worry about any sort of household chores living in a place like this, but he had worked too hard on cooking it, and she was too poor to ignore it, and so under her pestering everything had been moved inside when they did. Their first bottle of wine is long forgotten as two more sit on the table between them. There's a few waters there as well; both half-drank, and dripping condensation onto their wooden coasters. They've moved from the outdoor patio to the inside living room—the couch a much more comfortable alternative, though with an arguably worse view of the twinkling LA landscape—and Tom's jacket has been shed along with his sneakers as they volley questions at one another.

Parker's enjoying the activity a little too much; carefully prying into the life that belongs to Tom Ryder, and it seems that Tom, rosy-cheeked and smiling more than she's ever seen before, is in too good of a mood to mind.

He's answered more questions about himself tonight than she thinks he ever has on any of his talk shows, and she's told more stories about her and Colt getting into trouble than is probably appropriate for a date. But neither mind the other, and as the night just gets darker around them, they've yet to get bored.

And they've discussed quite a lot of topics.

"What would it take, then, for you to shave your head for a role?" Parker muses at one point in the night with deviously arched brows. Her head is just starting to feel heavy, a sign that she's teetering past tipsy, and she makes sure not to rush the latest pour of wine he's given her as she swirls it around the glass with careless movements. "Like, you get the role of a lifetime, maybe—oh, maybe a Nicholas Sparks movie, gut-wrenching love story, that type of thing—but your character has to shave his head."

"Shave my head?" he asks, his own head heavy and propped on a crooked elbow as he thinks. "No bald cap, I'd have to shave it."

"Completely."

His head tilts left, then right, before he shakes it. "No way."

"Seriously? Not for a really good role?"

"No. A wig? Sure. Bald cap? Fine, I've done worse for roles. But there's no way in hell I'm shaving my head," he says with a laugh and a shrug. "There's just no way."

"Not even a little? Just a bit. It'll grow back."

"No fucking way! Do you know how many gigs I get just for my hair? I'd have to give up my campaign with Old Spice. I love them."

"You love Old Spice? Seriously?" she echoed, nose scrunching in disbelief, but he either hasn't heard her tone or is ignoring her judgment, and Tom takes another sip of his wine with a confident shake of the head.

"No way, not happening. My hair is everything, you know. Tom Ryder without hair is... that's ridiculous."

Parker tilts her head, squinting one eye as she tries to imagine him bald. But it's too difficult to do, which brings her to the startling realization that he's right. His hair, gorgeous no matter the color, is part of him. It'd be like seeing Taylor Swift without her red lipstick or Dwayne Johnson without his tattoos. One doesn't go without the other. Still, the idea is funny, so she pesters, "what if it was a Spielberg movie?"

That has him pausing, but only for a moment. When he shakes his head, she can't help but laugh at his dedication. "Still not worth."

"That's—Spielberg isn't worth it?" she cries. Parker doesn't pretend to know a lot about the movie industry, but even she knew which directors were worth something and which weren't. Only Tom Ryder would refuse a chance at making history for the sake of his vanity. "You're crazy."

"It's my brand," he sniffed with a laugh of his own. "It'd be bad marketing to just shave it all off. I'm not just an actor, you know. I'm also a businessman."

She's sure that's true, but Parker doesn't care for the argument, and so she thinks hard for a moment. Snapping her fingers, she tries again. "Okay, what about Tarantino? Pulp Fiction is your favorite—you said that yourself."

He made a face. "Well, yeah, it's my favorite..."

"So...?"

He glanced at her, before a hand snaked up to his head to softly rake through his hair, as if testing the worth of it. He did that a lot, a nervous tick she had noticed, and as they sat together it was messier than she'd ever seen it before; slept on, air-dried, with no gel to perfectly coif the blonde tufts. And yet, she wished he wore it like that more often. "I mean... nah. Still couldn't do it."

His answer didn't surprise her in the least, but it was still so ridiculous, that she tipped her head back to laugh at it, cheeks splitting open for the grin that came. "You're crazy. Actually psychotic, Tom. You wouldn't work with your favorite director if you had to sacrifice your hair."

"I like my hair."

"I do too, but, come on! Tarantino?"

"It's not easy to have nice hair. I've worked on it for years to get it how I like it," he said, and then as if he she was suddenly a suspect, Tom narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. "Do you not like me hair or something?"

Another absolutely ridiculous thing for him to say, and if Parker wasn't aware of how deep his insecurities ran, she would have mocked him. Instead, she gave him a patronizing smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Of course I like your hair."

"Then why are you trying to get me to chop it off?"

"Just trying to see what your limit is," she defended with her palms held up, as if she really was a suspect. He didn't buy it for a moment, but he gave up easily. Parker rolled her eyes at him. "Big baby. I'. just trying to figure out what is crossing the line in Hollywood. You get paid for acting gigs, so where's the line at what you will and won't do for a lot of money if it's required for a role?"

"Easy," he shrugged. "The line exists as shaving my head."

She blew a raspberry at him. "I'm serious!"

"So am I!"

"Well, what if—ha! okay—what if you got to work with Tarantino and made, like, a million dollars."

He blinked at her. "You think a million dollars is a lot?" he deadpanned.

Parker waved her hand at him flippantly, dismissing that comment with a disgruntled eyeroll as she adjusted on the couch. They had started with a full cushion in between them, but over the night, they had both been moving towards one another without meaning to—stars in orbit—and as she pulled her legs up underneath her, Parker's knee pressed against his.

But he didn't mind like she worried he might, and when he stretched an arm over the couch back behind her, Parker continued.

"Alright, thirty million dollars. You would do it for thirty million, wouldn't you? Rich or not rich, thirty million dollars is a lot of money."

His brow lifted higher, and she hesitated.

"...right?"

He laughed at her, bending forward to pour more wine into his glass as she smacked him on the shoulder. "Seriously? Yes, that's a lot of money. I'm not that rich."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me, Mr. Money Bags. So? Would you?"

He hummed, popping the cork off the bottle to pour out the rest of it. She waited impatiently as Tom then took a long swallow of the fresh pour, really dragging it out.

"Tom!" she whined.

"Okay, yes. If I got to work on a movie with Tarantino and got thirty million dollars, yes, I would shave my head," he finally admitted, looking both pleased at her irritation and troubled by the concept. He sat back while lifting a hand to run through his hair. She watched him tug on a few strands as if reminding himself it existed and when he caught her watching, Parker swung a hand up to hide her smile. Rolling his eyes, he tacked on, "but... it'd have to be a really good role. A starring role. You know? Not just some side character, something that is actually worth it."

"Worth more than thirty million dollars?"

"A lot more."

"You really love your hair," she said, then, as if only to be obnoxious, gave a mock gasp as she clutched a hand to her imaginary pearls. Tom spared her a look as if he knew what was about to come, but was amused by it nonetheless. "Oh my god, your hair is your superpower, isn't it? That's where you get all the swagger and rizz from."

"Rizz? You're spending too much time with Melissa," he commented blithely.

But Parker was on a run, and she wasn't about to let his sour commentary stop her, and so she continued with an air of dramatics that Hollywood would appreciate. "All this time I assumed you were a Bruce Wayne—you know, rich, sad, rich—"

"You said rich twice."

"—rude, egotistical, awful with women—"

He sat up. "Hang on a minute, awful with women?" he echoed in bewilderment, but Parker just continued as if he hadn't said anything at all.

"—the type of hero who gets his superpowers just from being, you know, insanely rich. But, really, all this time you've been like Superman. Good looking, obsessed with wearing glasses that you don't actually need, but with a real superpower. Your hair is totally your kryptonite, isn't it?"

She finally glanced at Tom, only to find him shooting her an unimpressed look. "That doesn't make any sense."

"What? Sure it does. It's what makes you so... you know, Tom Ryder."

"Are you saying my hair is the source of my power or my greatest weakness? Because kryptonite is his weakness. You know, the one thing that can kill him," he said as if it was obvious.

"Well—alright, your Achilles' heel or whatever," she threw her hands up with a huff. Of all the times that he didn't know what she was talking about, of course he would be a closeted comic book geek. "I bet if I cut it off, you would just fall over and die."

Tom rolled his eyes, setting his glass down on the table. "Do I need to hide my scissors?" he asked.

"Scared?"

"Of you? Well, yeah, I'm starting to be."

Parker laughed at his deadpan tone, and something smug curled his mouth as he laughed as well. She always knew that he was a bit of an attention whore, liking when other people were praising him and following him around like puppies, but the smug look didn't much feel like that. Instead, she was starting to get the distinct impression that Tom liked making her laugh in the same way she liked making him laugh.

Proud to be able to do it at all.

Parker bit her lip knowing that her face was flushing a deep red, both from his attention and from his jokes, and she took a moment to set aside her wine glass. The last thing she needed to do was spill some red wine on his expensive white couch, and knowing her history of spilling things that shouldn't be spilled, it was a miracle that she hadn't already done some damage.

"Do you want some more?" he asked, mistaking her reasons.

"No, I shouldn't. I still need to drive home," she said. Then, she glanced at the couch with a worried gnaw of her lip. "Besides, you may not care about this couch, but I do, and red wine is just a disaster waiting to happen."

"It's had worse."

"Oh, I'm sure, but not by me."

"You don't have to worry so much about that," Tom told her with a shrug and a gesture around them. "It's just a couch and you already know that I have maids."

"Well, yeah," she hedged. "But... it's still your stuff, and it's nice stuff, and I'm not trying to ruin it just because you can afford to replace it. Maids or not. What kind of logic is that?"

He shrugged again, utterly unconcerned. "This is, like, my third couch this year."

"What?"

"I have people over a lot," he explained as he ran a hand over the smooth material himself. "Shit happens when you're drinking. If it gets fucked up, I just get a new one."

She frowned. "Yeah, but, still... Accidents happen but I'd be furious if my friends ruined three of my couches in a year. That's just... Do you really not care when people wreck your house?"

Tom glanced at said house for a moment, gaze sweeping over the lavish furniture and expensive decorations before returning to her. He looked so innocent as he just said, "it's just stuff. Freddy and my boys are constantly fucking something up. You know how it is when I throw a party; people get drunk. I have an interior designer on speed dial to replace whatever gets ruined. You should have seen this place after my birthday last year."

"Yeah, but..."

"It's just stuff," he reiterated.

And that much was true. It was just stuff.

In one way, that was a good viewpoint of life. Things were just things, and they could easily be replaced. But as Parker sat there on the couch, feeling how comfortable and soft it was, examining the wooden pegs and beautiful details, she couldn't help but feel offended on his behalf. Things were just things, sure, but she would never go over to someone's house and not care about whether or not she ruined their things. Money or not, that was just shitty behavior.

Certainly not the behavior shared between friends. The idea that he would invite people over—friends, supposedly—that would trash his stuff without caring at all was so off baffling that she could only blink.

"I guess," she said after a moment.

As if he sensed her discomfort, Tom nudged her with his elbow, and when she blinked up at him, he was wearing a troublesome smirk. "Besides, women like my stuff."

Parker felt blood rush her face that didn't have anything to do with the wine, and his smirk widened at seeing it. She couldn't let him off that easily, however, and so she feigned disinterest. "Oh, really? They like this stuff? Hm."

"Oh, come on, it's nice. Just admit it."

"Well, I suppose the couch is okay."

He huffed, shaking his head at her. "Yeah, sure, okay. This couch was featured in Vanity Fair."

She stuck her nose up. "Oh? I don't read Vanity Fair, so I'll have to take your word on it," she continued to dig in, satisfied with the way his smirk twitched at the edges by her goading. "But I guess that's supposed to be a big deal, yeah? Not too bad, I guess."

"Not too bad?" he echoed incredulously, his earlier smugness gone, replaced by incredulity. It never ceased to amaze Parker how easy it was to push his buttons. "Come off it. It's a good couch. George Clooney has the same one in his house in Lake Como."

She poked a cushion, pinched the material between her fingers. "Hm. I would have thought he would get something... I don't know, classier."

"Classier?" he deadpanned.

"Like real leather. Or, oh, you know I read on Buzzfeed that some really rich people don't even have couches nowadays. They just stand all the time, and if they really need to sit, they have super big beanbags. Like, giant. Heard they're all the rage."

He huffed. "Fuck off."

"I mean, I'm not sure if they're in Vanity, they're kind of underground, you know," she continued, getting far too much enjoyment out of teasing Tom. He didn't seem all that amused from where he sat next to her, and she leaned closer to pinch the material of his shirt next. "And this? I mean... Tom. Seriously, I don't want to step on your stylists' toes or anything, but a white tee? Are you Kevin Bacon?"

His eyes grew wide as he swatted away her hand. "This is Armani!"

"Are you sure? Fake brands are a thing, you know. You have to check the stitching, the material, the tags. All of that. It's easy to get it wrong nowadays."

"Parker—"

"It's a whole scam. You might not be able to tell, but I have a great eye for detail. Plus, I've been getting scammed my entire life—I mean, the pink tax? What even is that?—so I'm pretty familiar with the concept."

"It's not—I'm not being scammed!" he exclaimed, swatting her other hand away as it tugged on the back of his shirt. He was fully scowling. Clearly, not pleased with her joking, and as she exploded in laughter, he lifted a brow at her crossly. "You think you're funny?"

She poked her teeth with her tongue, giggling. "I think I'm hilarious."

Tom hummed, eyes jumping over every inch of her face, and the moment his mouth curved into a devious smirk, Parker knew that he was up to something.

"Tom—"

She wasn't quick enough to get away, and all it took was for Tom to wrap an arm around her waist before she was being bodily hauled towards him as though she weighed nothing. She shrieked—never having been one for manhandling in all the years Colt forced it upon her—but despite trying to get away from him, she found herself sitting across his lap, an arm barred across her back to prevent her from going anywhere.

The same hand that was previously poking fun at the quality of his clothes was now firmly fisted into the soft material of his shirt.

"You're going to judge my clothes when you're wearing this?" he asked while pinching her sweater with his free hand. On the back patio, it hadn't seemed so out of place, but now that they were inside, surrounded by expensive bottles of wine and his collection of movie props in glass cases along the wall, it was impossible to ignore. "It's awful, Parker."

She swallowed, trying not to seem too flustered by the abrupt decrease in distance. "I got it at a yard sale."

"You should have put it out of its misery."

"Hey!" she cried, a soft punch into the hard muscle of his shoulder. He didn't seem all that surprised, and his smile crooked further as his palm spread wide against her back. "I like this sweater, jerk. It has character."

"That's what they say about ugly things in vintage stores."

She narrowed her eyes, only a hair's breadth away from him now, but refusing to let him win this argument just because he was looking at her like that, holding her, mouth coiled into a damning smile as if he could feel the way her heart was beating faster. "Just because something is ugly doesn't mean it shouldn't be loved."

He huffed. "No one actually believes that."

"Well, I do," she corrected him. "And I've had this sweater for five years, and I just so happen to love it."

"You've had the same sweater for five years?"

That's what surprised him? "Of course I have," she blinked, thrown by his surprise. "I can't afford to buy a new one every time I want to. I just... you know, take care of my stuff. Ugly or not. I mean, every once in a while I accidentally shrink something in the wash, but I do my best to make stuff last. Are you going to judge me for that too?"

It was a joke, but Parker didn't need an answer. She could tell just from the soft look in his eyes that he wasn't judging her. Just... looking at her.

The kitchen lights were off, the balcony ones too, and the only light in the room came from the fireplace and the small chandelier over the stairs. It cast glittering lights around them, highlighting everything that shined in the room—glass, picture frames, awards, props, and screens—yet somehow Parker swore that he shone brighter than all those other things; as if he was made to be in the spotlight.

At this distance, she could make out the miscolored flecks in his eyes; not just blue but golden and brown and hints of green that were always absent in his airbrushed ads. She could just make out the tired rings beneath his eyes, the crease of his mouth, the tiny curve of his nose, the wayward tufts of hair that he'd mussed wrong at one point in the night.

All a sign that he was human, he was no different than her.

Not really, anyways. Not in a way that mattered.

He blinked at her, and though Parker would never know for sure, there was something in the depth of his features that made her think he was realizing the exact same thing. And as the thought passed between them, their movements synched, and as she leaned up, he leaned down.

This kiss wasn't like the first one; that one had been hard, knocking the air out of her lungs and the thoughts from her brain in a single fell swoop. It had felt rushed; brought on by a moment of excitement and laughter, but lingering in sloppy kisses as if they were teenagers given only a moment of privacy before they would be found out by the English teacher. An absurd thought, that wasn't actually so absurd when the sound of laughter or chatter would drift up to their little patio from the party happening down below. Maybe that's exactly what they had been, just two kids pretending the rest of the world didn't exist, kissing like there wouldn't be another chance.

But this?

This one started slow. Just the gentleness of his lips on hers, the feeling of his hands slowly tugging her to his chest until there was no room left between them. It was hesitant in how her hand skated up his chest, his shoulders, and into his hair. Featherlight, as if afraid to touch, before becoming more confident. His mouth tasted like wine and rhubarb as she kissed him, the smokey flavor of a stolen cigarette chased by the berry-sweet flavor of her chapstick as he chased the delicate curve of her mouth.

Hesitant became familiar as the kiss evolved, nervous became excited as they realized they weren't going to be interrupted or chased away. The kiss turned harder as he shifted their bodies on the couch, pillows knocked to the floor as they became a jumble of laughter, and just as her skin had started to feel like it was on fire, hands nothing but a jumbled mess of firing neurons as they skated around the back of his neck, catching on his gold chain, before a gentle tug on his locks as all thoughts ceased to make sense—

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get home before the...

Thoughts came back, and the pair froze with matching looks of horror.

Tom blinked at her with wide blown eyes. "Is that your phone?"

Parker glanced over her shoulder finding said phone face up on the table, vibrating a steady rhythm on his glass table as the song played aloud for them to hear.

Of course it was her brother's fucking face flashing across the screen.

"...I'm actually going to kill him this time."

"Colt?"

"Colt," she repeated irritably. Tom blinked at the ceiling as Parker glared at the phone, willing it to stop entirely, but neither wanting to move in fear of shattering the moment entirely. "It'll stop eventually," she said awkwardly.

What if I'm late? Gotta big date...

"What the fuck is your ringtone?" he asked, breath tickling her skin.

Parker flushed for more reasons than one, and cleared her throat. "Harry Nilsson," she said, but that didn't seem like an adequate answer, and as the stanzas continued, she added with a nervous chuckle, "uh, it's from a Netlix show. It's not the theme song, but there's a scene where Nadia—er, the main character—she keeps dying, you know—like an endless loop sort of thing—and this is always the song that's playing when—oh, it stopped."

They blinked at the phone screen, and together the pair let out the breath they had been holding when it finally went black.

Parker turned back to Tom, somehow more nervous than she had been before. "So—"

He kissed her before she could ramble, a good thing for them both considering just how much she could ramble, and as if they hadn't stopped at all, her entire body melted back into goo beneath his touch. It wasn't hard to pick up where they had left off, not when he held her so close, when his chest was burning hot as she skated across it with timid hands, when his owns hands skimmed beneath her sweater to leave tingling trails down her spine, or when he ducked closer, sealing away any last inch of—

You gotta get up, gotta get out, gotta get gone before the morning...

She winced, and Tom glared at the phone so sharply she thought it might shatter. Too cowardly to look herself, she let her head fall against his chest as she asked, "is it...?"

"Colt? Yeah."

She groaned.

"Can't you just turn the fucking thing off?" he asked, and though it was a logical next step, the thought of what if had her hesitating. He noticed immediately. "What?"

"Well, I am his emergency contact." That logic didn't seem to matter to Tom at all, and Parker let out a great huff as she stretched for the phone. "He could be, like, dead or something! What kind of emergency contact would I be if I didn't pick up?"

The hand that had been under her sweater fell against her thigh with a thud. "If he's already dead, then there's nothing you can do about it," he snarked.

"Dying, then," she corrected tartly. When that didn't earn her any compassion, she tried puppy dog eyes. "Just thirty seconds."

Tom flopped against the cushion behind him with a sour look, and she rolled her eyes at his petulance. "Honestly, I can only handle one child at a time," she muttered, much to his annoyance, but he wisely didn't respond as she lifted the phone to her ear, hitting the green talk button. "Hello? This is Parker."

"What—of course it's Parker. Who else would it be?" Colt said, and the fact that it was Colt and not some hospital administrator had Parker relaxing.

Just as quickly she tensed in annoyance when she realized that this was very likely not an emergency. "Colt, is, uh, something wrong?"

"Wrong? Why would something be wrong?"

"Because... you just called me twice in a row. That's, like, something is wrong textbook 101."

"Oh," he said as if that had never occurred to him. And considering the fact that she had never had to call him in the middle of the night for a medical emergency was probably to blame for his ignorance to the situation. "Well, no, nothing's wrong. What are you doing?"

"Er, just, you know," Parker hedged, glancing anywhere but at Tom. "Just... hanging out. Drinking some wine."

"Nice. You want to go to the movies?"

Parker's eyes rounded. "W—what?"

"The movies! I feel like it has been forever since we went to the movies, just the two of us. You know, for something that wasn't a premiere, anyway, and I still haven't seen the new Alex Garland movie, so I figured we could go together."

Parker, baffled, grabbed Tom's wrist and twisted it until she could read the very expensive Rolex sitting on his wrist. He looked perturbed by her manhandling of him, but Parker didn't even notice as she huffed, "it's—it's late! What movie theater is even still open right now?"

"The one on Beumont Ave. I'll swing by your place, and we'll be just in time for—"

"No!" she said, louder and more forcefully than necessary. The line went silent as she blinked, and as Tom arched his brows at her, Parker waved her free hand around in the air in a vague gesture that he clearly wasn't able to interpret. When he opened his mouth to make what likely would have been a scathing comment about her ability to stay calm under pressure, she clapped the hand over his mouth instead. "I, uh, can't. Not tonight. Sorry. I actually have to, uh... I just can't."

"What? You just said you weren't doing anything."

"Well, technically, I'm not doing anything."

"Then, what's the problem? I'm like fifteen minutes away from your place. Just wear sweats, or whatever."

"Colt—"

"Jody can't make it, though, so it'll just be us."

"Colt—"

"That's cool, though, you know, I don't have to do everything with Jody. We used to hit the movies all the time, just the two of us, before, and I already bought some gummies from the gas station, so make sure you bring a purse so we can sneak them in. I'm definitely feeling popcorn. Maybe some—"

"Colt, I'm not going to the movies with you!" she blurted out, and the second she did so, Parker's shoulder sank in disbelief at her tactlessness. But—to be fair—she was a little overwhelmed in the moment, tipsy on expensive wine, with Tom Ryder staring up at her like that. Not to mention the fact that the moment he kissed her, her brain elected to take the rest of the night off. As if he knew he was the problem, his mouth curved into a wolfish grin. She shot him a glare. "Don't even start with me."

That caught her brother's attention.

"Are you—are you with someone?"

Tom rolled his eyes at the question, clearly put up with Colt's needling, and he tried to grab the phone from her. But Parker was quicker than he was, and in a better position to evade, and so she stretched onto her knees as high as she could as his hand tangled in her hair. "I'm, stop that! I mean, technically, yes."

"Well—what the hell, Park? Who are you with?"

"...that's none of your business," she said whilst swatting Tom in the chest when he tried to make another grab for the phone.

"Just hang up already!" he hissed at her.

"I will! I am! Just—give me a second!" she hissed back, as her brother's voice droned across the line. "I really can't talk right now, Colt."

"Oh. Oh. Sure, of course you can't, since you're all so busy having secrets now apparently. I mean, I thought we shared all our business with one another, but fine. Be that way," he groused, clearly hurt by her evasion, and as Parker twisted out of Tom's reach once more she prayed for a meteorite to come crashing through his ceiling. "But, just for the record, when I go on dates, I tell you about them."

"Yes, and I've told you before that I really wish you didn't do that."

He huffed, then huffed again. "Well, sorry."

"Can I just call you back tomorrow?"

Another huff, then a scoff. "Sure. Fine, Parker. Whatever."

"Colt—"

"No, no, it's fine! Go have your date, have fun or whatever. I mean, I go on plenty of dates that I don't tell you about, too. So, yeah, I guess we both do have secrets."

"Colt—"

"Just, you know, don't do anything you don't want to do and if he asks—"

"Oh my god!" she shrieked, misery at an all time high. "I'm hanging up now!"

"But—!"

The dial tone echoed in the empty room around the pair, and only when Parker felt like the humiliation of it all had faded enough for her to operate normally again did she dare a peak towards Tom.

"Did he just totally kill the—?"

"Yup," Tom said. "Killed it, stomped it out, and threw it in the river. I hate your fucking brother."

"Yeah," she groaned, letting her head tip all the way to the side until she was flopping off of his lap and onto the empty cushion. She brushed some hair out of her face with a grimace. Tom didn't look much better, and she watched him sink deeper into the couch with a miserable frown of his own.

Silence sat between them, thick and suffocating.

He fiddled with his watch as she counted seconds in her head, and when she got to thirty, Parker gave up entirely. "Do you... want to watch some tv?" she asked.

Tom looked surprised by the suggestion, and his gaze flickered over Parker; as if assessing how serious she was. "You don't want to leave?"

"Why would I leave?"

He didn't answer that, and his refusal to say anything was answer enough. Parker considered the course of events this evening; the food, the wine, the flirting before moving onto the couch, the kissing...

She suspected this was usually how dates went for him, just like she had a strong suspicion that his dates probably treated him in the same way his friends treated his things; without respect, and with a single purpose in mind. But she saw more in Tom than a single purpose, and so the thought of leaving hadn't even crossed her mind. Clearly, though, that wasn't a reaction he was expecting, and she fiddled with her hair timidly.

"Do you... want me to leave? Because, I was thinking I'd hang around a little longer."

Something flickered across his features as he stared at her, and as if he hadn't even thought he had a say in the matter, when Tom relaxed into the couch, he had a small smile curling his lips. "Do you watch House of the Dragon? I'm a couple weeks behind."

"I watched Game of Thrones, but haven't seen any of it yet."

"Want to watch it now?"

"You don't have to start over," she said, watching the little box drift back to episode 1 with each click of the remote. "Just tell me who is fucking who, and I'm sure I'll catch up."

But Tom wasn't having that excuse, and as he gathered up some pillows and a blanket, he tutted at her. "May as well just rewatch it. I've missed half of this season, anyway, so it won't hurt to go back and refresh a little."

"You don't mind?"

He tsk-ed, rolling his eyes in that judgmental way that he did—as if he couldn't believe she would ask something so stupid—and for some unbeknown reason to her, Parker didn't mind one bit. He wasn't acting like she was stupid, just the idea that he wouldn't want to do something as simple as rewatch a tv show for her was. And when he lifted an arm with an expectant look allowing her to snuggle against the warm plane of his side and wrap her legs with his, Parker accepted that maybe it was a stupid question.

After all, she's starting to think that there's very little she wouldn't do for Tom.

It was nice to know that he might feel the same about her.

And when she woke up the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the windows, wrapped up in Tom, surrounded in every way by his essence, to find the celebrity A-lister drooling on his white Armani shirt...

Well, Parker couldn't help but smile.

Maybe Superman was a little more human than people realized.

[funficwriter]

A Wolf and A Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Letters' Interlude - 1

A/N: So these aren't official chapters per say, just an extra to the story that explores the yandere dynamic I'm trying to put forth! Also, I love listening to romantic music while writing for this 🩵 Until I finish Chapter 2, enjoy!

Synopsis: Being a noble meant that marriage was a chess game, not an affair of love. Unfortunately for the pristine Balthazar family of Fontaine, Y/N has long been enamored with love and sought it out before their priorities. After her grey, boring time of courtesy and fake niceness, she meets Duke Wriothesley, who makes her yearn for the first time in her life, and it's the same for him. Threatened by the idea of losing this first, it seems they'll stop at very little to be together...

Warnings: Obsessive yandere language, graphic details in Wriothesley's.

Tag: @yue-caelum

From: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Vacation Manor, Belleau Region, Fontaine

To: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

Dearest Duke,

I am not quite sure how to begin or structure my thoughts, so I hope you forgive me if this letter turns out messy. It's barely been 24 hours since our fateful meeting and I finally got some privacy. I should interest you in the fact that today's tea is Earl Grey. I'm having it right now, accompanied by a chocolate and strawberry mille-feuille. If you're ever feeling bold, I'd recommend this combination. Quite the contrast on the taste buds.

I realized that even with our cadence and how we enjoyed chatting together, there's still so much to know. How have you been doing? I'm presuming you're at the Fortress. How is life there? How do you spend your days there? Is it a lot of work? You told me a bit of the nurse. Sigewinne, if I recall correctly. Does she have a lot of patients? And what tea do you drink when you're feeling so tired and done with the world? (I'm partly asking this one for myself. Some days are like that.).

Though I must say, since Liffey is a bit far from Romaritime or the Court's region, you must have a good teleportation waypoint. Belleau is far, too, but by Focalors' name it is enjoyable. It's quiet, lush and lovely. The water is so nice to swim in too. I find that regular swimming is one of the most beautiful parts of my day. I might be heading into more dangerous territory saying this, but I believe you'd enjoy it a lot if I took you with me. If you had a day off and I showed you around, we could then swim in one of the lakes. It's so refreshing and fun, and a good break from the city.

Don't get me wrong; I love its bustle and life. But I know when we return, I'm going to have to look over these boring nobles' declarations, and meet with them more often. Speaking of which, I'm sorry to sound so forward, but... Well, are you interested in carrying this further?

I'd like to tell you something about my worldview. As you know, I read a lot, but last night I couldn't get into the 'why' due to mother's timing. As a child, I felt strangely bored with existence, maybe to a worrying point. That would explain my parents' fretting. I liked the dance and violin lessons, but there was something about my books that gave my gray life a bit of color. Unfortunately, having to come back to real life was a painful must. There were times where I thought to myself: "Is this really life? Boring, plain, and feeling wrong for watching everyone's intense reactions while I derived joy from so few things?". I didn't even want to think about my future as I become a woman. This was all before we met.

Ah, Wriothesley! I've been imagining it over and over in my head! I even stood outside in the cold and closed my eyes and pretended you were right next to me... Imagine my pain when I confronted reality, mixed with the excitement I felt remembering you! Even now, I can't stop kicking my feet as I write this. For the very first time, I was proven wrong. I was mistaken about life, and who said mistakes were bad? After years of chasing perfection, believing it was beauty and goodness... Why, I might have committed the most beautiful fault in existence!

Will you please prove me wrong again? I know I might get greedy and stick to my old worldview, just for it to happen again. But I swear, I'll be good and I'll stop. I just want to feel my entire body and soul rattling in excitement once more. And you're the only one that happens with.

Mother and Father are planning another social, soon after we return to the Court's region. My understanding says you're not often social, so if you don't want any part of it (or even, if I'm being too intense), discard this letter. I must go now, but if you're as invested as I, I will be awaiting a response. And if Celestia is kind, I will be open for more. I'll be open for anything if it's with you.

Yours truly,

Lady Y/N Balthazar

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

From: Duke Wriothesley of Meropide - Fortress of Meropide, Liffey Region, Fontaine

To: Lady Y/N Balthazar - Balthazar Vacation Manor, Belleau Region, Fontaine

To my cherished Lady,

I would like to start off by expressing my most feverish thanks, for reasons beyond enumeration. You taking the time to send me this lovely letter is the least of them. It is generally good form for a Duke to answer quick when he can, but I was so overjoyed with your letter's contents, I re-read it many times to take in all the joy you graced me with. I was also very touched with your personal confiance in me, so I'm also writing to return the favor.

First off, do you know how much I yearn to hear about your day, down to the little details? You talked a good deal about Belleau. I didn't care much about that region before, but now? All I've been thinking about is those fresh waters and woods you praised so highly. The only imagination I entertained was you, holding my hand, whispering that there were no nosy gossipers or greedy parents. Just the two of us, and the lake was all ours to swim in until we couldn't.

If it makes you laugh, I thought about it so much, I almost mistakenly wrote some prisoners' region tab as Belleau. Had Sigewinne not been near, the administrative mistake would have been a pain to fix. Are you laughing? I hope for it with all my heart.

And I want to know more. I want to know whether Earl Grey is your favorite, or you're only taking it because it's been brewed at that time. I want to know which chocolate you like best. Which books you're currently reading, and why you're so interested in lycanthropes without a hint of discrimination. Will you tell me more? If we get the chance to talk with less barriers, will you enlighten me with you?

After getting to know your old worldview, I question just how alike we are. It's easy for two people to share superficial interests. But when one feels so dissected, so naked knowing about another's deeper life and secrets, you can't help but question whether Celestia really does link souls. Whether you once knew them, or whether fate can be so perfect to send such a person your way. I'm sure you felt terrified writing it. Your mailbox may be private, but who knows when your family feels nosy and reads it? You know of the risks that come with such correspondence, especially as a maiden. Despite that, you didn't throw it into the trash. You wrote it, and sent it to me, letting me know about you. You may have just intoxicated me, and now I feel like I might die if that is all I know of you.

As respect to this, I'll confide in you, only it may be a little graphic. "If you feel queasy after this, feel free to end our correspondence here."... Is what I wish I could say with full honesty, because after that night, I'm not sure whether I can really be okay with that outcome.

I used to commit crime, both petty and serious. Such was the life of an orphan at the time. Being little fish wasn't an option; You had to be the top dog or get eaten alive. I opted for the first, even if it landed me in prison later on. My convictions range quite a bit, but once I grew up, I renounced crime. Even insignificant things. I wanted to leave that behind me.

Forget the obvious stealing sweets from the kitchen. When I saw that slimy Duke Arya talking to you, touching your shoulder, acting as if he always knew you and your wedding was tomorrow, I never felt the urge to murder as much as I did that night. The reasons behind my old violent crimes felt so small next to the ugly sight in front of me. You clearly didn't want him, but he kept going, as if you'd magically change your mind and be into slimeheads like him. How dare he be the reason you were pulled apart from me? Where does he get the gall to take you, act like you're owed to him if your parents decided?

How I wanted to end his pathetic standing, laughing, breathing. How I wanted to use my vision and punch his head out into an ice block, then freezing his wrangling body so he wouldn't mess up the carpet. How I wanted to lunge at him, bite, claw and make a bloody mess out of him. What did it matter if I perpetuated half-wolf stereotypes, when he was doing this? Which would hurt him more? Only one idea stopped me: You might not react to a show of violence so well. Oh, if I traumatized you, I'd never forgive myself. Being sent back to jail would be too light a punishment for a beast like that.

Please don't worry about transport, or ask about my attendance. I'm determined to attend that social. I'm so happy you told me about this in advance; I'm going to be seeing you, in all your radiance and beauty that make the world pale. So long as that happens, all is well for now. In the meantime, I'm adding some final touches to my declaration, and eagerly waiting for our next meeting, and hopefully the time I can freely take you into my arms, kiss you and prove the both of us wrong about everything.

With all the love I can hold,

Duke Wriothesley

[illmoraineakoi]

I feel like this should be obvious, but I hope that there's at least a few people who are downloading and backing up Green's videos for preservation's sake, on the off chance that the entire Channel is deleted by the end of the Arc. That is always a possibility for how it ends. It's more than likely that the Arc will end on a positive note, like Alan's stories tend to, and also likely that it'll end with Green learning his lesson about social media/getting over his obsession.

I feel like the most probable outcome will be that Green just abandons the Channel and his other accounts. They'll have served their purpose for the narrative, and, in universe, once Green overcomes his social media obsession issue, he'll probably be unlikely to touch any of it again. He and the Color Gang will move on to their next adventures. Alan's already juggles so much other stuff that I feel it'll be far-fetched to expect more Green videos after the Arc is finished, no matter how adorable and awesome that would be, especially if it was like the first videos: them just having fun and messing around.

That being said, it's also possible that Green gets over his social media issues by deleting his accounts entirely, or deleting them at the very end as proof to the others that he's done with it all.

This means that it falls to us to preserve as much as we can before that potentially happens, on the chance it might. I know quite a few people have been cataloging his comment replies and saving his insta posts, so there's probably people who are downloading and backing up the videos themselves, I just haven't seen any.

I personally don't think the channel and accounts will be deleted, at least not anytime soon. Having them exist alongside the influencer arc episodes on Alan's channel is really cool, and its neat to be able to actually go to them and interact with them. It's part of the experience, so I feel it'll be likely that they're kept up at least for a while to keep that experience intact for newer viewers who didn't get the opportunity to be here as the arc has been happening.

But still, it's impossible to know what Alan and the Team actually has planned for how this all ends, so while it might not be a very big chance that everything will get wiped, it's worth trying to preserve it while we still can, just in case.

On that note, if anyone has any links to any preserved/backed up Green content, feel free to send it my way. That's something I wanna keep tabs on.

[mdhwrites]

Zenless Uses Mechanical Pacing/Styling Like Red Dead 2 Used Animation Speed

I think something a lot of people agree with about ZZZ is that it feels cozy. That it feels like a place you'd want to hang out at. That you want to try hitting up Godfinger, or get to watch Mr. Chop at work first hand too, etc. like that. I would argue this is far and away more true than even with a lot of other gacha games... But why? Nothing ZZZ does is revolutionary after all so what allows it to cultivate this vibe?

It is in the pacing of everything. The fact that when you spend too much time grinding for materials, it kicks you out so your MC can take a nap. How a cutscene plays when you get coffee or a bowl of noodles. How instead of just going to a menu to access this stuff like with HSR's assignments, you have to go back to your own video store, talk to your Bangboo and assign them not to nebulous tasks but to making sure your business gets promoted. There is a flavor and texture to these things that is actually built of inconvenience that makes it not quite feel like real life but how one imagines real life in an anime world would be like. More fun, vibrant and exciting but you still do have to wait for your coffee to finish getting made.

Red Dead Redemption 2 is famous for doing something similar to this with its animations. So as to immerse you in its vibe, it makes everything take FOREVER. Not literally be the amount it would take in real life but evocative of that work. However, friction there adds weight to all of your actions. Adds to understanding the labors of Arthur Morgan. It is not meant to be cozy but at best cathartic, at worst like a proper day's work. That doesn't quite line up with ZZZ's goals, does it?

That's where the small touches come into play. You stay up all night gaming at the arcade? Hey, they have complimentary breakfast and free rooms for you to crash in. Your noodles aren't done in a regular manor but by an over the top demon man with mechanical arms. Even more purely mechanical, more numbers intensive things like crunching down equipment and making new ones is done in a music parlor where you listen to records on vinyl. What it evokes the most with all of this is the Gathering Hubs of Monster Hunter. The grand orchestration of the cat chefs, the endless line of metal and work at the blacksmith, etc. like that. None of it seems like work, at least in Monster Hunter World, but people doing it for the love of the craft and like we're all here for sport and entertainment, not because it's actually much of a hassle. This is why I know people, and I will often do it too, who still to this day watch the cooking animation for every meal in Monhun and I actually make sure to do it in ZZZ too to help make sure I still connect with this vibe.

BUT.

This is not a perfect goal. Not by any means. Part of how they have attempted to achieve this is through the pacing of mechanics. Everything needs a proper introduction that's metered out so as to avoid the game EVER feeling overwhelming. It also needs to be introduced with its own place in the world so if a place is locked off to a different area... Good luck. They did break this with the HIA Club but ONLY it and if they hadn't, it would have been another five hours, when it already takes a long time, to get to being allowed to use your energy in any way because of where it's located in the world. It also knows it can't introduce the grind up front which is why instead of getting to spend energy, the game's first activities on Sixth Street are eating noodles and playing Snake Eater with Billy at Godfinger. It's introducing mechanics but it's prioritizing vibe over mechanical usefulness. It is a mixed blessing because it's trying to get you invested first like it should but it's struggling to know how to pace that.

I think this is part of why there are so many level gates in 1.0's content. You have to get to level THIRTY. SIX. to clear the main story. That's over half the account levels in the entire game. However, if they didn't slow you down, you'd never engage with the small side quests on the streets, or in the Hollows, that will help endear you to the setting and help solidify its tone before you're done with the main content. More charitably, it also tries to imply that ZZZ is a more chill experience. That it's not trying to rush you. Too bad that I kind of need to get to Proxy level 50 so I can max out my character levels and have any chance of clearing like ANY of the limited time Shiyu Defense content they've put out currently so that pressure is still being applied in places that are just copy and pasted from other Hoyo games.

It is messy and unique, like so much of ZZZ. I don't really say any of this as either praise or condemnation but just to dissect it. To see how it works because flourishes like these matter. Even in regular books, with no mechanics, the sort of strength of language, the shade of purple of the prose and what the story focuses on can cause different vibes. A soft, low stakes romance is probably going to spend a decent amount of time just with our two leads being in pleasant situations and not even panicking. A more whirlwind romance might make everything really intense to try and sell the emotion its going for. Meanwhile, something that's meant to be dramatic and teases to potentially end in tragedy will tinge most scenes with a small bit of intrigue and try to make sure the audience never really gets to sit entirely at ease, not until the calm before the storm that brings it all crashing down.

These are tools in your toolbox and your audience will like them or not. For me, I find them to be a mixed bag. Something I loved when there was a lot to do and now something that makes the time between patches feel more straining on my patience with the game. What are your thoughts though? Do you find ZZZ cozy or does the pacing frustrate you? And as always, see you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter viii

⟶ Chapter summary | As Yoongi returns home, he is welcomed by the shadows of his past, and the secret behind his journey being challenged and questioned. At the same time, you slowly begin to unravel your father’s secrets, as you begin to learn more about his magic,  and you continue following the shadows of his footsteps to find out what he has planned.  

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au ⟶ Word count | 12,1k words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; mentions of war, dark magic, a brief mention/hint of stalking  ⟶ Story Masterlist | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

⟶ Author’s note | We’re finally getting a long chapter! I contemplated between dropping this part as a full chapter or to split it into two, but I figured it would be best to combine the scenes as they work much better if being shared and told at the same time. That being said, I might be taking a break from posting the chapters for a couple of weeks (just a week or two, maybe) to finish the rest of the upcoming chapters so we can have some more regular updates. I’ll be back soon with more thrilling scenes, I promise. But for now, I hope this long chapter will fill your days as we wait for the next ones to come :)

chapter viii. chasing shadows

Yoongi never truly understood why he was able to find solace while he was staying in Smotia until he finally returned home.

Emburn Empire, Min Yoongi’s home kingdom and the home of the fairies, can be quite distinctive compared to any other kingdoms that inhabit the Land of Far Far Away. Its vast territory rises from one of the most sequestered regions of the fairy tale land, divided into three separate sections connecting Emburn Empire with the three different elements of nature which support the empire as a whole—on the land, its landed territory that is united with the main continent of the fairy tale land; on the water, the small province floating against the rough waves of the Carmine Sea; and on the air, presented by the patch of island housing the main government of Embun which levitates gracefully above the continent, floating among the thick white clouds on the blue-grey sky above.

Here, much like in Smotia, greens in various hues cover the expanse of Emburn. Widespread of green grass and a vast variety of trees blanket the range of hills, with dense clusters of tall trees crowning the rising terrains and stowed between the dip of valleys. Some trees grow here just as wide as the people’s homes and almost as tall as the sky above, with many that are almost older than the entire empire itself. Thick clusters of wild ivy smother the stone walls of the Imperial Palace and the people’s houses in the towns, and flowers bloom in a myriad of shapes and colours that only exist here in the Emburn Empire.

Yoongi recalls all the dawns and mornings he spent sitting on top of the tallest hills in Smotia, looking away from the towns and the mercenary camps to enjoy the sight of the canopies of trees and the widespread meadows and finding similarities there to the sea of green waiting for him back home. Oftentimes, he would wonder how the empire that was built within the human realm could have given him a sense of familiarity which reminded him of his home. Whenever he remembered how Smotia existed in the borders between two realms, he would find himself wondering if the similarities had been deliberately created to mirror their closest neighbour, albeit their existence is separated by the portals hidden in the depth of the Elcester Forest. And that was before Yoongi learned of the truth about the Wicked King’s true antecedents and the true history behind his ascension as the ruler of the Nythelean Empire.

Had King Aneas done it on purpose, then? That he had built his new home in the human realm which resembled the land where he had once been, taking everything that he had learned from his former ally about making use of the land’s resources to establish his empire and to support his people?

Because just like how Nythelean Empire gain their resources from the Land of Smotia, the fertile land, the green hills, the abundant woodlands and fresh springs that spread all over the territories of Emburn are the ones that have helped the empire and its people to thrive for a long period of time. But unlike in Smotia, resources are not the only things that the people of Emburn could gain from nature.

One look was all he needed to see, through the first sight that Yoongi had taken from his homeland on the day he emerged in the bluffs after leaving Smotia behind, to remind him that the two empires are not one and the same. Arriving at the bluffs at dawn, he traveled towards the southeast of Earthpeak Cliffs and across the borders between kingdoms, where the sight of the territory of Emburn first welcomed him. The green hills of the landed territory of his homeland opened for him like a warm embrace. The sight and the feeling that overcame him as he marched his loyal mare, Aspen, through the borders had been almost comparable to what he experienced the first time he first came through the borders of Smotia.

Yet all the similarities ended once he finally reached the area where the landed territory of Emburn and the capital city were connected, where the first sign of Emburn’s distinctive nature could be seen.

What doesn’t exist in the vast fertile land of Smotia is magic. The same kind of magic that exists here in every part of the land, drifting in the air that Yoongi breathes, and is constantly felt by every single inhabitant living within the territories of Emburn Empire. This old magic is what becomes the empire’s source of power ever since the day it was established and built by Yoongi’s ancestors, with the emperor and empress sitting on its throne becoming the pillar and the core that hold the magic together, binding it and keeping it stable for many years.

It is the same powerful magic that allows the capital city of Emburn and the Imperial Palace to defy gravity, levitating far above the mainland and higher than the peaks of Earthpeak Cliff, the tallest rocky mountains which stand above the Carmine Sea.

The sight of the levitating capital city which Yoongi saw the moment he reached the heart of Emburn had become clear evidence and reminder of how different his homeland truly is, not only compared to the human land of Smotia but also to all the places he visited throughout his journey. Beyond the sight of the sea of green that welcomed him in the landed provinces, appeared to his eyes the majestic sight of Marble Falls, the flowing waterfalls that descend all the way from the grounds of the Imperial Palace in the sky and down to the Armere River that flows between the range of hills in the grounded region of Emburn in the mainland.

This powerful magic was first found by the ancient fairies who once roamed this part of the fairy tale land, passed down to Yoongi’s blood ancestors who built the empire from the ground up to create a peaceful haven for the fairies in Far Far Away land. The magic that still exists today, the one that is holding the empire together in the present, and the same magic that becomes the cure to Yoongi’s ailment, helping him piece together the bond that he has with his mana which has grown weak and fragile during his time away from home.

It had only taken Yoongi mere seconds after breathing in the fresh air here in Emburn and stepping through the gates of the Imperial Palace for his power to begin knitting itself together. He could feel every fractured piece of his mana strengthening itself until his powers began coursing through his body once again, until he was finally able to heal. In an instant, his senses were heightened, the mana flow within him stopped rebelling against him and it began to calm down, settling peacefully the way it should have been.

Days have gone by since his arrival, and before he realises it, those days are slowly turning into weeks. Albeit his mana has yet to fully return to its normal state, Yoongi is quite relieved to have made the decision to return home, allowing him the chance to not only recover the magic within him but also to gain more strength before he returns to finish his journey.

Sometimes, when he would roam through the imperial palace on his own, he would be filled with guilt and realisation that he should have probably listened to Yijeong’s advice about returning to Emburn so he could recover. If only he had listened and hadn’t been so stubborn about staying in Smotia, knowing that the chances of him finding what he was after had been slim, perhaps he would have been able to use his powers when he needed them the most.

But that was all in the past now, and all he can focus on now is to recover completely while thinking of ways to make up for his obstinacy once he gets back to where Yijeong is. Because recovering his powers hadn’t been the only thing that Yoongi had managed to gain by coming home.

Ever since the moment he arrived back to the land of Far Far Away, Yoongi immediately noticed the peculiarity hanging in the air. He could easily sense the turbulences happening in the fairy tale land, recognising immediately that something had been brewing in his absence. Warning bells kept ringing in his head as he entered the home castle with cautions upon his arrival. His shoulders had been heavy, not knowing what to expect as he made his way to see his parents.

While it wasn’t bad news which welcomed him home, the odd exchange that he had with his mother during their first reunion didn’t help much to reassure him about the situation.

“Was it really necessary for you to be away for so long? What could have been more important than being here, for you to prepare for the crown and handle the matters around the empire in place of the Emperor?” 

Empress Ariane had always shown Yoongi a form strict of love, as she had always placed the matters of the crown and the empire above everything else, including her own son. In her eyes, Yoongi is not just her biological son, but the Crown Prince and the sole heir of the Emburn Empire, and she has always reminded Yoongi of his role at every chance she gets. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Yoongi when she immediately brought up his duty to the empire and the crown upon his return home, to remind him of the need for him to focus on preparing himself to take the Emperor’s place once it was due time for him to take the responsibility.

Yet there was something in the way the Empress addressed the matter which had been bothering Yoongi. His own conscience has been brewing with suspicions, and it has kept nagging him in the back of his mind that he finds it hard to shake the thoughts away, even to this day.

“What if something happens to—” the Empress’ words broke and shattered at the mention of the Emperor while they sat together in the throne room the day Yoongi first came to see her. Hurt flickered through her gaze, though she quickly blinked it away before Yoongi could say something about it or look deeper into her thoughts at that moment. “What if something happens while you are out there running amok doing heavens know what? You know I wouldn’t be able to handle this entire empire by myself.”

Yoongi never said a thing in return except making a promise that everything would be okay, regardless of what the Empress was trying to imply. There was no need for her mother to finish her words, as Yoongi could already hear it in his head.

What if something happens to the Emperor?

“Nothing is going to happen. I am sure of it.” Yoongi said this to the Empress with full conviction, as he had truly made sure of the safety of the empire and the Emperor before his departure from home.

Emperor Aymon, the ruler of the Emburn Empire and Yoongi’s biological father, has been bedridden from a mysterious illness which started two years ago. The ailment had come out of nowhere, when the strong and healthy Emperor unexpectedly started to grow weak. It had all begun with the Emperor losing control of his mana flow, until the magic within him began fighting back against him, erupting through his whole body while hurting him from the inside. Once the powerful mana began to simmer down, it almost seemed like every drop of magic within him had been wasted, and so did his soul.

Even the entire empire was hurting, as his magic—that was supposed to stabilise the powerful magic within the home of the fairies—started weakening. The unexpected changes of weather caused the crops to fail and prevented fishing ships from sailing out across the Carmine Sea. Earthquakes and storms happened every so often that people kept having to build new homes, while a series of peculiar illnesses began to spread in towns.

To this, the Emperor had chosen to lock himself in one of the tallest towers in the Imperial Palace, not only for the sake of himself and to prevent his magic from harming people around him, but also to preserve the magic that he had left to keep his empire under control. Even once the Empress and the High Priest of Emburn managed to aid him in stabilising the empire with their magic, Emperor Aymon remained in his refuge while doing his best he could to find a way to heal.

Yoongi still remembers the days he spent with the Emperor during the height of his sickness. The fairy king had always appeared to his eyes as the most powerful being he had ever known. But during that period of time, it seemed to him that his father was withering right in front of his eyes, appearing more frail than he used to be as the Emperor laid down on the massive bed where he had been resting during the time of his illness.

But at the same time, the Emperor still appeared to him as the strongest person he had always known. When even at his most critical condition, the Emperor still did his best to fulfil his duty as the ruler to use the rest of his magic to keep the empire and their homeland from crumbling apart.

If only Yoongi had been as indifferent as how the Empress had made him to be—both to the Emperor’s condition and the turbulences occurring in his home kingdom—he would have thought that Empress Ariane’s inquiries had come from a place of concern. The concern she might have felt for the Emperor’s wellbeing, and what might happen to the empire with the Crown Prince being away during the Emperor’s absence.

Yet, seeing the truth now, Yoongi remains haunted by a lingering doubt.

Unbeknownst to the Empress, Yoongi had visited Emperor Aymon not long before leaving Emburn. Not only had the Emperor always known what Yoongi had been up to during his time away from home, but it had actually been the Emperor himself who sent him off on his journey in the first place.

“I want you to do me a favour while I still exist in this realm. It will be quite challenging of a task should you take it, and it wouldn’t be an easy path, but it is necessary that you go into this journey to prevent the upcoming turmoil that may arise in the Land Far Far Away in the near future.”

That day, the Emperor sat down on his bed, his back resting on the headrest as he spoke to Yoongi. He seemed resolved as he relayed his request to his son. But for the most part, he also appeared resigned, as if he was ready to welcome the end of his time should it come to him. But for the first time after a while, Yoongi had also noticed that his father had looked like he was in a much better shape than he usually would, which gave him a sense of relief, albeit briefly. Because no matter how well-shaped he looked as he sat there looking into his son’s eyes, the Emperor’s voice still showed how weary he truly was.

“If you are willing to take this challenge for me, you have to promise me two things,” Emperor Aymon said then. His voice came out stern, and his words came like a warning that Yoongi had no other choice but to agree and make a promise to follow his words. Only then did the Emperor continue with the list of requirements that Yoongi needed to follow. “One, you must go into this with an open mind and forget everything that you’ve learned about the war between kingdoms that was written in the books. Two, you must never let your mother know about my request. Promise me this.”

Yoongi had questioned this specific request from his father at first, yet the warnings given to him had made him grow cautious enough to make sure that he wouldn’t be leaving the Emperor alone without someone watching over him while Yoongi was away. Before he left, Yoongi had ordered a few of his trusted men to keep watch on the Emperor, warning them to trust nobody except for Yoongi. Not even the Empress herself.

He hated not being able to trust his own mother, but the situation that happened after had proven that he had made the right call. As now that even the Empress and the Royal Aides are being placed under close watch, the Emperor’s condition has been getting better. Though Yoongi has been adamant about keeping this information a secret between himself and his men, that not even the Empress knows about the Emperor’s improving health.

It has caused him to feel unsettled, not knowing who to trust even in his own empire. Yet the situation had only given him more reason to do what his father willed him to, as he set off to fulfil not only the Emperor’s request, but also his own intention.

Tonight would be the last night Yoongi would be spending at his home.

Tomorrow, he would have to decide if he should return to Smotia and regroup with his men, or if he should start investigating the Wicked King more closely to know what he is up to. Yoongi knows that he has been gone from his camp for too long, and through the reports sent to him by his men, he has heard that many things have been happening with the Nythelean Empire since the day he left Smotia.

It has made him feel anxious, suddenly afraid that he would miss the perfect opportunity of accomplishing his tasks, now that the Wicked King is on the move. Once again, he regrets for not taking his time to recover sooner, as his departure from Smotia seems to have only caused him the long restless nights filled with all the ’what ifs’, wondering if Fates are trying to stop him from doing what he is required to do.

To calm his thoughts, Yoongi steps away from his bedchamber once the night has fallen. When the night is deep, Yoongi often feels a heavy awareness hanging in the air around him, as if warning him about the shift happening in the fairy tale land and there is something looming in the horizon that he needs to be wary of.

Normally, he would simply reside in his room when this happens, where the stiff tension that he has been constantly feeling would not be able to mess with his mana flow. Or, he would spend the night in the library, trying to make sense of everything that the Emperor had told him as he dives right into the books that were written about the ancient kingdoms, the great war between kingdoms that had once rattled the land of Far Far Away, and about the ancient magic spells—one of which had been the same one that had allowed him to walk into his soulmate’s dream.

Tonight, Yoongi chooses to spend his time roaming through the dark hallways of the Imperial Palace with no destination in mind.

For the first time after a long while, he allows his mana to lead the way instead of giving in to the silence. He tracks down even the passageways within the castle that he had rarely traveled through—passing the vacant rooms and the Royal Guards’ posts, past the Great Hall where the empire would often hold their annual festivities, and he continues walking until he suddenly finds himself crossing the palace’s courtyard and entering the Lumina Apex Hall, where the source of the elemental magic that the Emperor has casted onto the palace’s grounds can be found.

Originally built by his ancestors as a temple to worship the moon—which was once believed to be the source of Emburn’s magic—the Lumina Apex Hall has become a fixture within the Imperial Palace’s grounds where the Emperor would spend late hours in the night to cast his magic, casting the spells that are needed to maintain control of his empire and its vast territories under his reign.

With walls and pillars built with Clayntine stone, one of the most durable materials that could only be found in the land of Emburn, and windows made of Shadow Crystals, the Lumina Apex Hall lights up in the nightfall with structures that reflect the moonlight perfectly like mirrors. Located at the center of the Royal Garden, the structure is partly covered with a layer of wild vines growing along its walls and pillars which have rapidly developed with time. Thick hedges and flowers blooming in pastel colours line up on either side of the pathway leading to its front door which has been left unlocked for the Empress and the Royal Priests’ daily visit.

A burst of energy welcomes him as Yoongi enters through the door. There are no lights inside the main atrium, yet moonlight streams through the Shadow Crystals that form the dome ceiling above the atrium, illuminating the hall perfectly with streaks of soft light spreading across the stone floors and bouncing against the stone walls. Standing at the center of the atrium, his eyes roam through the walls around him.

Even here, inside the stone walls, vegetation grows rapidly between the pillars. The overgrowth of vines appears along the pillars, bushes rise from the ground to cover the pale-coloured walls, and a thin layer of grass emerges where the floor tiles made of Osnite stones are split. As Yoongi looks up, he gets to see the bright display of stars which adorn the night sky of Emburn. The sight of the dancing aurora in copper and gold in the sky should have been daunting, when Yoongi notices that the shades seem darker than they usually would, presenting the shadows of peril in its wake.

Yet the sky seems brighter tonight than it usually does, with stars glimmering in the night sky, surrounding the aurora like a protective blanket. Somehow, it gives Yoongi a sense of peace to be walking under such a phenomenon as he steps towards the center of the atrium, where a small pond made of Clayntine stone stands on its own, taking over the space at the heart of the Apex Hall. Around the pond, specks of silver and cyan blue glitters appear to be floating around it instead of a flowing stream, beginning from its center and moving out towards where the streaks of moonlight are falling into the room.

He reaches out to touch the silver specks, feeling them crackle against the tips of his fingers before he retracts his hand. Smiling at the sight of the flowing magic that is the essence of Emburn Empire, he turns away and walks across the atrium to reach one of the glass doors of the Hall which leads to another part of the Royal Gardens that only the Emperor and his trusted people could enter.

Under his touch, the door opens for him, and Yoongi walks out through the pathway that has become familiar to him after all the years he has become acquainted with this place. A core memory from his childhood returns to him as he walks down the gravel-covered pathway, though the overgrown hedges and blood orchids blooming all around him are nothing like what he had seen many years ago.

He was a mere child when he first walked down this pathway with his father holding his hand, long before Emperor Aymon took the throne and during the time Yoongi’s father was slowly taking over the empire’s business with their alliances. To the Emperor, those visits had been about introducing Yoongi to his future duty and responsibility as the future Crown Prince of Emburn, while to Yoongi, the memories that had been engraved in his mind from that period of time hold an entirely different meaning to him.

Beyond this pathway is a magical place, the portal gate which acts as the border between realms and the bridge that connects Emburn Empire to the other kingdoms in the mainland of the land Far Far Away. It was through this magic gate that the Emperor had been able to travel freely between kingdoms and realms, to be able to visit their allies and neighbours while keeping the homeland from being exposed to external threats, and without having to lose connection to the source of Emburn’s magic—just like what happened to Yoongi during his journey. It wouldn’t be until later, once Yoongi takes the throne as the new ruler, when he would be required to do the same, though he would still be able to cross the portal gate whenever he needed to.

The Eden Isle Gardens is what the magical portal gate is called, and it is the one place that Yoongi would always come to visit whenever he returned home.

For many years, ever since he was a child, he would secretly escape to this place whenever he needed a moment of reflection. This has been a place of refuge where he would be able to find peace, and a place that holds one of his most treasured memories which Yoongi has kept for many years.

Even in the Emperor’s absence, the vegetation in this part of the magic garden grow beautifully. The Emperor’s magic remains strong here, keeping the grounds fertile, the grass and hedges perfectly trimmed instead of growing rapidly, and the portal gates secured, with nobody else but Yoongi and Emperor Aymon holding the key and memorising the spell that would help them activate the portals when needed. Yoongi follows the path that has been adorned with blood orchids growing left and right, fairy dust leading his way through the areas that moonlight is unable to penetrate, until he finds the center of the garden, to the place where Yoongi would always return to.

At the center of the garden, surrounded by a small pond and blooming blood orchids, stands a small gazebo made of Shadow Crystals. His legs feel light as Yoongi walks across the boardwalk across the pond to reach the gazebo, while a sense of deja vu fills him as he takes a seat inside, right at the spot which overlooks a locked steel gate which has always caught his attention.

Once in the past, that steel gate had been one of the magic portals that the Emperor would use for his journeys. It was the main bridge connecting his empire to their former ally, another empire which the former Emperor of Emburn, Yoongi’s grandfather, had managed to form a tight bond with. A close and mutual relationship which lasted until the height of Emperor Aymon’s reign.

But as Yoongi looks out through the steel gate now, there is nothing left out there but the wastelands and the ruins of the fallen empire that was once superior in its reign.

After the war between kingdoms, the territory which lies beyond the portal has become a forbidden area for anyone to enter. With remnants of hazardous toxins and black magic that may still linger in the area after the war, nobody has been allowed to come across the borders and into the wastelands for many years. From this side of the connecting portal, the steel gate is secured with chains made of Magraonor steel and locks that are bound with magic spells casted by the Emperor and the High Priest.

Even though Yoongi wouldn’t be able to walk across the gate with all those spells preventing him from seeing what is beyond the darkness, he can picture it inside his head. Through his distant memory, he still recalls the majestic empire that had once been the most peaceful place in Far Far Away, the home of the elves, fairies, and powerful mages who once loved to travel between kingdoms to spread their knowledge about ancient magic and healing remedies. But if only he would close his eyes tonight, the brilliant images of the fallen empire that he once remembered would not be the image that he sees.

Another reason why Yoongi has been doing all he could to evade sleep tonight was the dreams. Ever since he used the spell which allowed him to walk into his soulmate’s dream, and ever since the day he arrived back home, a different kind of dream has been haunting his long, restless nights.

In his dream, he saw himself crossing over the steel gate, the chains and locks had been broken and he could easily walk across the borders to enter the wastelands. He saw himself walking up the steps to the fallen empire’s home castle, surrounded by nothing but shadows and the ruins that had been said to fill the barren territory, and a thick layer of white mist following him as he reached to where the main palace should have been.

Everything about the dream has been daunting, and it has only solidified his concerns about the peculiar shift happening in Far Far Away. While he never got to see what was waiting for him at the end of those steps, to see what was hidden behind the thick mist and beyond the broken stone walls, he still remembers the feeling of unease that lingered through his chest as he was stuck inside the dream, the eerie shadows that seemed to follow him through the mist as he entered the wastelands, and the feeling of death that seemed to linger.

The unnerving sensation he felt was so strong that he could feel it touching his skin even as he opened his eyes upon his return to the waking world. Even now, as he silently recalls the sights he saw in his dreams, his body shudders, while the same uneasiness fills his chest, warning him about the darkness that may come to visit.

As Yoongi sits silently at the center of the magic garden, under the dome roof of the glass gazebo overlooking the high hedges and broken pathway leading to the steel gate, he is unable to look away from the darkness beyond him. Lost in the faint memories that he has of the past, he doesn’t notice it when a black cat enters the premises, sauntering between the hedges filled with blood orchids and over the glimmering pond before finally joining him to lie down in the gazebo.

The black cat follows Yoongi’s gaze, as if trying to understand what the man is thinking so deeply about. The cat suddenly slides closer and rubs itself against Yoongi’s calf to gain his attention before sitting back on its hind legs, with his curious eyes looking out towards the nothingness beyond the gate.

“We used to slip away and escape to this place when we were kids, didn’t we?” a deep voice speaks. “What a wonderful time that was, when we were nothing more but oblivious little children who knew nothing about the world.”

Yoongi turns to the black cat with a smile, recognising the voice that had just spoken to him, allowing him to identify this mysterious cat that had just decided to join him in his wonderings. “Indeed, we were. Those moments back then were truly irreplaceable,” Yoongi says, responding to the cat as he turns his gaze back at the steel gate. “We used to run away from the tutors to hide in this place, and then played hide and seek until the sun came down and Father would have to come down here himself to fetch us.”

“Those were the days,” the black cat softly chuckles. The cat falls silent for a moment before it softly continues, “This was also the place where you met her for the first time, wasn’t it?” The cat turns to look at Yoongi as the other does the same, and they exchange gazes with each other when the cat adds, “I’m talking about Her Majesty, Queen Milena.”

Sighing, Yoongi looks around the garden and reminisces about the past. “This was the place—” he says, as his memory takes him back to that moment in time from many, many years ago, when he was nothing more but a little boy who could barely able to speak fluently, yet was curious enough to follow his father to see what the Emperor was up to when he suddenly changed his plans with Yoongi to come to this place, only to find out that the Emperor was having important guests visiting. While the Emperor went on a stroll with his guest, Yoongi came to the gazebo to meet the young Princess Milena, the future queen who was resting while staying under the shade. The young Crown Princess of their neighbouring empire welcomed Yoongi with a warm smile, a sight that to this day remains to be the most glorious thing about her for Yoongi to remember.

“We did come across each other in this place for the first time, but it was beyond that gate where I used to be able to see her—” Yoongi says, pointing at the locked steel gate, while his memory once again takes him back to those days when Emperor Aymon took him along during his visits past the steel gate. Back then, a remarkable empire stood proud and strong on the other side of the gate, with the sun shining brightly on its prosperous land. Now, there is nothing there but the dark void and the flowing white mist that haunts him in his sleep.

The black cat looks out towards the steel gate and, as if knowing what Yoongi had just been thinking about, says, “And now there is nothing left there but the wastelands.”

“Is that really the truth?” Yoongi questions almost distractedly, and the cat scoffs.

“Only you would question it.”

The blunt comment draws a smile to Yoongi’s face, and he turns back to look at his peculiar companion to say, “The only thing I’m questioning right now is why you chose to come here while disguising in that form. I didn’t expect that you would follow me all the way back home, Yijeong.”

The black cat, Yijeong, stretches out and lies down near Yoongi’s feet before answering, “As a concerned friend, I was worried when I didn’t get a word from you since you went home. I had to slip out in disguise to move easier when following you. This form was the perfect choice since nobody would pay attention to a black cat strolling through the gardens. Did you notice that you were being followed by guards? I’m not sure if they know what you’re up to, but it seems that they’re determined to keep people away from the gardens to give you some privacy.”

Despite knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see anyone other than the two of them, Yoongi still steals a glance over his shoulder, looking back to where these royal guards that Yijeong mentioned might be standing by. Somewhere near the Apex Hall, no doubt, as it would be rare for regular guards to be able to come this far. The only exception was given to Yijeong, as the son of the Empire’s General, the only other person aside from the Emperor who has access to visit this magical place. Just like him, Yijeong has been trained and prepared to replace his father once the time comes, to one day stand by Yoongi’s side once he takes over the throne and rules the empire, and he had been trained all the spells that would be needed for him to do his duties.

“I noticed having extra shadows following me since I left my room,” he says, before facing towards the center of the gardens again and settling back against the glass wall on the side of the gazebo, though he turns his attention towards the other side of the gardens this time, where fireflies are beginning to appear around the pond. “I’ve had guards shadowing me since I got back, so I already expected them to follow me here too. But I didn’t care. They wouldn’t be able to enter this place anyway.”

“I guess you’re right,” Yijeong says as he lays his chin on his paw. “What were you expecting to find by coming here anyway?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep, then I started strolling through the palace’s grounds, looking for some kind of a distraction,” Yoongi answers with a deep sigh. “I suddenly felt like I needed to get out of the palace, and I suppose that’s how I found my way here.”

Yijeong says nothing for a moment, before he questions Yoongi with a hushed voice, “Something was bothering you. Has the Emperor’s request been weighing heavily on you?”

His question draws a frown to Yoongi’s face. Yoongi had never truly revealed the true purpose of his expedition into the human realm, not to his loyal men and even to Yijeong, except to simply mention that it was a royal duty that was needed to be done under the Emperor’s request. Yijeong may have never questioned it out loud, and despite his willingness to stay by Yoongi’s side and to join him on his journey, Yoongi had always known that his best friend had been curious, if not suspicious about what he aimed to find.

It was not until the day Yoongi had to depart from camp, leaving behind Smotia to return home, when he finally pulled Yijeong aside to tell him everything—about the true reason why he left home, about why he had chosen to remain in Smotia, or why he had to keep a close eye on the Wicked King.

Only Yijeong knows what their true mission was, and what the Emperor had requested Yoongi to find without Empress Ariane ever knowing.

“Find my childhood friend. Find Milena. Help me find out what happened to her, and if she is still alive, bring her home. I cannot leave this realm without having any knowledge of her fate. I can’t die regretting that I couldn’t do anything to save her. If you can find ‘him’, then you might be able to find out if he still has her.”

Yoongi understood it quite well when Yijeong complained about being kept in the dark. Thankfully, his friend was quick to forgive him, knowing that such a big secret would cause a myriad of other problems should it ever get out, or for the Empress to hear that her own husband had made such a request. Even though it has been such a long time since both Yoongi and Yijeong ever came across Queen Milena, they both still remember how jealous the Empress had been of the Emperor’s friendship with his closest friend.

But sharing this secret only gave little relief to Yoongi’s heart, because there is still one more secret that he holds dear, unable to find a way to reveal it to Yijeong when he still has his own doubts. That finding Queen Milena, a mission that might be fundamental for the Emperor’s road to healing, has only been a small part—if not the first step—of Yoongi’s personal goal. And he has yet to be able to share this with anyone, even Yijeong, because he has never truly shared the real story of his first encounter with Queen Milena in the magic gardens.

Because that day, Queen Milena had not been sitting in this gazebo on her own, and only Yoongi and the Emperor knew Queen Milena’s secret which had been hidden until now.

Just as Yoongi is silently pondering if he should share his secret with his best friend, the air around them suddenly shifts. There is an invisible weight that breezes through the bushes, stirring the peacefulness that has been accompanying Yoongi in his wallowing. Even Yijeong becomes alert as he stirs by his side that Yoongi instantly rises, already prepared to use his magic to connect to the elements around them so he can see what is happening. But before he can even begin summoning his mana, Yijeong snaps his head to focus on him. His best friend’s gaze remains on his chest just as warmth begins to form against his skin, while the mana flow within him seems to be reacting to the sensation rising around them.

“Hey, Yoongi?” Yijeong says with a spark of surprise lathering his voice.

“Yeah?” Yoongi answers with his eyes focusing back and forth between Yijeong and the gardens, noticing how the leaves are swaying with the unsettling breeze.

“Why is that thing glowing? Did you do something or are you conjuring your mana to have it reacting like that?”

“No, I’m not doing any—” Yoongi starts to respond when his amulet—which has been hanging from his neck and down to his chest the whole time he was here—begins vibrating. He looks down and touches the amulet, which is now glowing in his hand as he lifts it up to get a better look. Blue light shimmers from the center of the amulet, flickering and swirling even stronger as he brings it up, inadvertently pointing it towards the locked gate that was supposed to lead him to their fallen neighbour.

His breath is caught, as he slowly begins to understand what is happening. There is only one reason why the amulet would be reacting this way, even if it makes no sense at all for it to be trying to lead him towards the forbidden territory beyond the sacred gate. And then, something finally dawns on him.

“You know, this amulet has been lighting up quite often since I got back home,” he whispers almost to himself, while the voice inside his head adds, ever since the dreams started happening. “But this is the first time it’s doing something like this.”

This can only mean one thing. “I think someone is using his magic to create portals, and they have been moving around between realms.”

Yijeong slowly rises, while Yoongi’s heartbeat picks up, beating rapidly in his chest right after he says those words. “Do you know who it might be? Can it be possible that—” Yijeong begins to question him, only for him to see Yoongi shaking his head, chucking to himself with disbelief when he says,

“It’s impossible, but—”

And it seems almost too good to be true just to think about it. Yoongi swallows hard as he wonders about this, as he can no longer qualm the rising hope blooming in his chest when he adds, “I think I know who it might be.”

She’s so close. How could it be? 

Yoongi has no idea how it could possibly happen, but he can sense you being so close to him that he can almost feel your presence within arm’s reach. His body trembles with anticipation, excitement, and his worries rising at the same time. Seeing that there is light appearing, hope waiting at the end of his journey, Yoongi slowly releases his amulet and kneels down beside his best friend.

If he wants to find the truth, and find you, then he will no doubt need help to achieve it.

“Yijeong, I need you to listen to me carefully—”

Your hands feel clammy as you stand right in front of another silver door.

Unlike the other doors that you have seen so far, this one looks the most ordinary and a bit—old. Made of deep-coloured wood, its front is adorned with embellishments made of thin silver linings that are crafted in intricate curves formed in floral patterns, and they all seem to glint in the dimly lit hallway. You probably shouldn’t be intimidated by its size and the intricate details that you are seeing, but not surprisingly, your knees are already shaking with the mere thought of opening this door filling your head.

Deep down, you already know that whatever you may come across once you step through this door, it will be far from ordinary. This is what you have learned so far from these silver doors after venturing into them for the past few days, as it had become one of your past afternoon activities once you are done with your daily lessons and royal duties.

The shock that you gained after entering the first silver door remained within you for quite a while. Pure disbelief had followed you after coming back out of the door, not entirely sure if what you encountered that day had been real. If only you hadn’t found yourself stumbling back into the hallway of Stargrave Castle or nearly spraining your ankles on your way back to your bedchamber, perhaps you would simply think that you were dreaming. That there was no way you could have gone back to The Citadel, or that the door had connected you back to the smaller—and slightly bland-looking—study room which your father, King Aneas, would often spend his time working in with his men back at the capital.

But you were well awake to feel it when the dusk came in and your skin was covered by the bumps rising as the temperature dropped so rapidly. And you were definitely awake when the palace’s maid came to help you prepare for dinnertime. You even held a long and steady conversation with her while she was brushing out the knots in your hair, further proving that you were walking in the real world instead of being stuck in a long, extended dreamscape.

Yet those things couldn’t stop you from questioning your own sanity as you laid down on your bed that night, particularly when you recalled the conversation that you ’heard’ from your hiding spot when you were in the study room. But then you looked out the window of your bedroom, the curtains left open as you had wished to see the stars and you saw a glimpse of the same copper aurora which had captivated you on the night of your arrival, the magical display of light once again making its appearance known to you as it danced in the sky above the calm ocean.

The sight quickly reminded you of how different and peculiar everything should be in this place. It made you realise that the odds of you actually being transported back into a different place across the realm would not have been impossible. It was hard to deny it when you remembered experiencing jumping into a burning flame to get into this realm, and that magic did exist in this place in ways that you couldn’t possibly imagine.

It was your own curiosity which had drawn you back to the same hallway after you were done with your lessons on the next day. At first, you considered going through the same door again, if only to prove that you hadn’t been dreaming and that you were completely sane. But then your father’s voice echoed through your mind as you stood in front of the same door, reminding you of his warning to only try one door at a time.

As you wished to be able to see more, you stepped away from the first door. There was no humming sound calling you back when you left it behind, while an odd pull was felt through the air, and you followed it until you found another silver door not too far away.

The silver door which soon became your second to try out had been smaller in size compared to the first one you had gone into. Yet you still entered with caution. You came through the door thinking that you would be prepared to find another surprising revelation, only to feel the shock filling your entire being when you walked through the door to come out through a small cabinet, and you found yourself emerging into the royal waiting room that was located within the city hall in the capital city of Smotia.

There was nobody around to catch you as you came out of the waiting room. After finding the podium on the first floor, right where your father’s throne was placed for him to acquire during formal ceremonies, you continued to make your way to the upper floors. Having been to this place often times before to accompany your father, you found no trouble in finding the main balcony, where the King would stand before the people of Smotia as he leads various ceremonies and rituals together with you by his side and his loyal ministers shadowing his movements.

Sure enough, as you looked down from the balcony, the Elysium Square was presented right before your eyes. The town’s square where the people would gather to see their King and to celebrate the empire’s annual events, and oftentimes, to simply enjoy the free time they have during their daily lives.

The same way the people were doing as you looked down from above. Keeping yourself in the shades to avoid being seen, you saw how the town’s workers were walking down the pavements as they were on their way home, making quite a haste to make sure that they would return to their dwellings before dusk. There were also little children playing around the fountains, while their mothers kept their busy eyes to watch over them while gossiping on the sides.

Just like the day before, when you felt your knees buckling beneath you in shock, you had to hold on to the railings as you watched the people below, the faint voices of their laughter became solid proof that you had been once again sent away from your new home. A memory flashed through your mind just then, of how each time you were supposed to attend the royal gathering alongside your father, the King himself would never ride the royal carriage with you to reach the city hall.

Each time, your father would somehow arrive not long after you would, with not a sight of another royal carriage arriving at the city hall to bring him all the way from The Citadel. Turning back to the hall where you came from, you could almost picture it, to see the King walking down the hall before emerging through the main balcony to greet his people, his daughter, and his men, without a single person witnessing how he had truly arrived.

With your curiosity deepened, you continued your adventure for the next few days by trying out two different silver doors, both of them lined up within a nearby hallway just beyond the King’s study room. And just like the previous ones, each of these doors took you back to different areas in the land of Smotia which you had become most familiar with.

The smaller one took you back to the town’s church.

You came out through the storage room door at the back of the church and, in your shock, you came so close to bumping into the head priest while you were busy taking in your surroundings. It was pure luck that you had been quick enough to slip into a nearby room which was thankfully empty, that you were able to avoid getting seen by the head priest who walked by with his helpers.

When the coast was clear enough for you to slip out of the room, the evening mass was just starting to take place. You may have recovered from your shock by then, yet once again, your mind was caught in a battle between acceptance and denial to make your exit. Fallen prey to your own curiosity, as you wanted to get a closer look instead of leaving with questions shadowing your thoughts, you returned to the room where you had been hiding in. From one of the wardrobes you found, you managed to grab a commoner’s cloak for you to borrow, using it to hide your identity as you slipped between the parishioners who came for the head priest’s sermon and gain his blessings.

As everyone around you was listening to the head priest’s sermon with rapt attention, the burning candles on the altar swaying with the breeze, their soft lights illuminating the walls and the dais while giving a serene feeling into the whole church, your attention remained on the side doors leading to the back halls where you came from. Once again, you could almost see the shadows of your father, sauntering through the back halls with his magic before appearing at the altar without anyone noticing or wondering where His Majesty had come from.

The next silver door you tried had appeared to your eyes like a work of art. The carvings on the wood panels had been the ones to draw you in, before you noticed that the silver embellishments that marked the door seemed to have silver specks floating around it, drawing more of your attention to have a closer look. That was before the humming voices began to call for you, pulling you in, enchanting you to slide in the key and open the door for a new adventure.

The magic door brought you to the orchard house that was part of the royal winery on the outskirts of the capital city. Located beyond the borders of the Elcester Forest where the wide, open plane was rich and fruitful enough for the vineyard to grow massively, it was the place which produced the royal wine that the King would often serve to his special guests during royal dinners and important events that were held by the empire.

Despite recognising the place almost immediately, you still took your time to look around to find clues, any signs that may confirm your suspicions. Leaving the main house, you browsed through the warehouse and stockrooms, not stopping until you finally found the crates of bottles that were being prepared to be sent away to The Citadel. It wasn’t until you saw the royal crest marking the crates and the bottles when you finally confirmed it, that the place had indeed been another one of the King’s properties which was situated within the territory of Smotia.

Back in the part of the empire which existed in the human realm.

You walked across the clearing with a mixed feeling of awe and trepidation. The day was beginning to settle down to dusk by the time you were venturing through the property, with the sun descending into the horizon, spreading more shadows than light through the open vineyards. It allowed you to stay in the shade to avoid being seen, and to be able to watch the workers from a safe distance. As the night was closing in, there were only a small group of people left working at the winery. Most of them were just finishing up, either at the warehouse or the stockrooms where they kept the crops. They all seemed busy with their own tasks to notice you, though it didn’t stop you from feeling like someone was watching your movement, causing you to become even more cautious while you were feeding your curiosity.

It was after the last trip you took through the silver doors when you finally came to a realisation, to finally understand the secret behind them. Once you accepted that your little adventures had not been a dream or imagination, and that what you encountered had not been mere illusion, you finally understood what these silver doors were.

Portals.

The silver doors that your father had given you access to have been magic portals, with powerful spells that would bring you to different places, allowing you to emerge in different realms, and perhaps even beyond.

If only you hadn’t had the talk with your father on the day you first arrived in this castle, or taken the time to understand more about this new realm and learn about magic since you have been here, you would have simply thought that you have indeed gone crazy. But all the days you spent learning about the fairy tale land and the magic that lies within the realm have only helped you to understand everything better, and you soon realised that this was the magic that your father mentioned the day he handed you the bundle of keys that you are now holding in your hand.

“Within each one of the silver doors, there is a strong kind of magic. One that has been so demanding of our family’s powers, exists under my control, and it is also the type of magic that should be kept secret, no matter what. Once you go through them, you will understand why it is important for me to defend this castle and our home territory.”

Was this the reason why your father brought you back to this place after so long, after spending years keeping you away from it? Did he want you to learn about his magic after protecting you from it? Was this the reason why he handed you these keys, to show you the power of magic that has been passed down in your family?

But then the most important question still haunts you to this day—

Has this been His Majesty’s way of being able to travel to different places in a short amount of time so he could handle his business, to be able to do his duty without having to travel far and long so he could continue taking care of his empire?

With this new knowledge, your curiosity has been growing stronger than your fear, and you have more questions plaguing you each day. Questions that you would have to keep to yourself until the day your father would return home.

Until then, you would gather more information through your lessons and from opening more magic doors. Perhaps, the more you get to see the magic behind these doors, the more you can see this new world as you continue venturing through these portals, then you will be able to learn and understand more about your father’s magic and this magical realm, and find out who you truly are.

That was the reason why you are standing here tonight, right in front of yet another silver door that has drawn your curiosity that you find it hard to look away. The silver embellishments on the door are glimmering right before your eyes, as they reflect the soft glare of moonlight that has penetrated into the hallway through a nearby window.

The moonlight that rarely accompanies you whenever you are about to embark on your own little adventure.

In your previous trials, you have only chosen the short period of time in the late afternoon after tutoring hours to slip out of your bedchamber and venture into these halls. Keeping the short timeframe that your father had given you for these adventures, you have always used the sign of dusk to remind you to return home, allowing you to be back right before dinnertime.

Today has been different. Tutoring hours lasted longer than usual, when Lord Gordan took over your afternoon lessons and sat you down to teach you about your family’s ancestry. The extra lessons didn’t end until dusk finally came, when Nanny Abigail took over guarding you as she led you straight to dinner in the royal dining hall.

It wasn’t until long after dinnertime when you finally found the chance to slip out of the bedchamber. The absence of Lord Gordan and Nanny Abigail when you stepped out of the room, and the absence of the lady maids in the hallway wasn’t so much of a surprise, but it was quite a shock to find that there had been no guards standing by outside of your bedchamber. Just like how it would have been back at The Citadel when you could barely see yourself going around the palace without at least one guard following you.

It made you curious, yet you spent no time wondering about it, and took the chance to slip out of your quarters and find your way back to this hallway of silver doors.

There were no palace staff in sight as you walked down the halls, but you did catch a sight of a pair of guards standing in their post in a nearby hall, though they seemed to be focused on guarding the King’s study room to notice you slipping into the shadows behind the pillars as you made your way into this place. Glancing towards the end of the hall and to the opposite way, you make sure that the coast is still clear, and nobody would catch what you are doing as you move closer to the silver door.

This time, there is no humming sound coming out of the door to summon you, as if beckoning you to come closer and choose this door for you to open tonight. Yet the silver key that you are holding seems to vibrate against your palm the closer you come towards the door before you. The vibration is strong enough to cause the rest of the keys in the bundle to jingle that you have to press your palm around them to keep them from making too much noise, afraid that it might draw someone’s attention and you would miss the chance to see what lies beyond the magic door.

Knowing that you won’t have much time left before the guards would begin their evening patrol and your absence in the bedchamber gets discovered, you reach back and pull up the hood of your cloak to cover yourself before walking through the door. Learning from past experiences, after finding yourself emerging into unexpected places and coming close to being seen or recognised, you realised that you would have to be more careful to avoid getting caught by someone and accidentally exposing your father’s secret during your trips.

That was why you decided to be much safer tonight, to disguise yourself as you go through with your secret escapade.

Under the half-ragged cloak that you have often worn whenever you escaped from The Citadel at nightfall, you have chosen to wear a commoner’s clothes—a plain, dark-coloured tunic top and a pair of tight breeches—instead of your daily dresses. The pair of boots that would normally be hidden under your bed have replaced the low pair of heels that you wore during today’s tutoring hours and afternoon lessons.

With a deep inhale of breath and a silent prayer, you turn the vibrating key which has somehow become warm in your hold, and gently open the door.

You suck a deep breath as you emerge into a bedroom that looks nothing like the rooms you have seen all around the magic castle so far. The room you walk into appears to be quite small yet cozy, with a queen-sized bed positioned right at the center of the room, covered with a couple of fluffed pillows and fresh sheets, with a thick furry blanket folded on the foot of the bed. There is a shaded lamp on top of the side table right beside the bed, and a cold, unlit fireplace on the opposite wall. Right in front of the fireplace, a brown felt that appears to have come from a deer is laid to cover the wooden floor, making you think for a second that you might be inside a hunter’s lodging, until something draws your attention to make you think otherwise.

On your right appears to you a wooden door. Even while being closed shut, you can still hear the muffled sounds of people chatting and cheering, the sounds of glass clinking and cutleries hitting tables and plates, and the rough voices of men shouting and calling names. The noises that you hear are enough to give you a hint to figure out where you currently are, as they bring you back to the scene you encountered a period of time ago during your late-night trips into town. Though doubt fills your mind, as you still find it hard to believe it to be true unless you can see it with your own eyes.

You turn towards the door, and the door from which you came in from grabs your attention. Looking at it now, it seems to be the door of a walk-in closet. But just like the other portals, magic has turned it into something else. Through the half-opened door, instead of seeing the interior of a closet, you see the sight of the magic portal that is still open. There is nothing there but the sight of a dark void with swirling blue lights floating at the center. The dark void seems eerie to you, yet you no longer look at it with fear as you know that this magical sight is what will lead you back to the magic castle once you are done venturing here.

The sound of a man’s laughter and the loud cheers that follow draw your attention back to the bedroom door. Curious to know where you might have ended, you carefully make your way to it. The wooden floor creaks beneath your booths, making your breath hitch, and you silently pray that the noises outside would drown the sounds you are making as you slowly reach for the doorknob and turn it open. To your relief, the door has been left unlocked, and you carefully pull it open just an inch. Just enough for you to see what is on the other side.

The muffled sounds you heard suddenly clear out and immediately hit you straight in the face—the loud chattering that seems to come from dozens of rowdy men and the boastful laughter that you heard earlier, with the sounds of glasses clinking against each other or hitting against wooden tables. Seeing nothing but a wooden walkway and railings as you open the door, you realise that you are currently on the upper floor of an establishment, while the noises seem to have been coming from downstairs. The familiar scent of booze, dust, and burning candles wafts through the air, and you stifle a gasp as you soon realise where you are.

Moving in haste when you barely have the chance to recover from shock, you shut the door with a soft click and turn the other way. Across from you appears a window, left partly opened for the cold night breeze to flow into the room, blowing the thin curtains that have little to do to shield the lights coming from the street outside. With shaky legs, you walk towards the window and look down.

Just as suspected, you see the bustling street of the business district of Smotia right down below, with people passing by as they are making their route home or searching for a place of leisure after a long day of hard work. You can easily recognise the street you are looking at, because you had ventured into the same street the last time you slipped away from home.

Still busy taking everything in, you almost miss the sound of firm footsteps and the creaks on the wooden floor outside of the bedroom, until you hear them coming closer towards the bedroom door. A low and deep voice calls out from outside the door, snapping you out of your shock, “Anee? Is that you?”

Turning sharply with a gasp, you rush to close the door to the closet, hiding the glimmering portal before rushing into the small bathroom on the other side of the fireplace to hide.

“You didn’t tell me that you were coming tonight—”

The deep sound of voice fades just as the bedroom door opens merely seconds after you close the bathroom door shut. “Anee? Are you here?” the man calls out again after coming to a halt. “Huh. That’s funny, I thought I heard someone here.”

Just when you expect him to leave after finding the room empty, you hear the man entering the room instead. The floor creaks more intensely under his boots, and you hold your breath as you sense him coming towards the window. Peering through the seams between the door and the wooden frame, you catch the sight of the man as he stands in front of the window, looking down the street with a sigh.

“Must have been my imagination, then. ’Am getting old for this, I swear,” he seems to mumble to himself before he gently shuts the window, and as he bends, you get to see him more clearly to recognise him. The illuminating street lights from outside the window are helping you to see his face.

Sir Elias.

A woman’s voice is heard from outside the room, calling for him, and the man turns to walk away. “Nothing, love. I thought I heard someone in the room, is all,” he calls out to whoever was calling him as he makes his way to leave the bedroom.

“Who is it? Is it Anee?” the woman’s voice seems muted as she remains outside the bedroom, with the noises from below rising in the background.

“Nah,” Sir Elias chuckles lowly. “It’s just the wind—” he calls out to the woman that you assume to be his wife as he turns and begins walking away, before adding gently under his breath, “Or maybe I just missed that bloody sucker.”

You remain still as you listen to the faint click sound of the door coming to close, followed by the sound of Sir Elias’ heavy footfalls over the wooden floor fading in the distance, until silence fills the room.

It isn’t until you take a few more deep breaths and steady your shaking hands before you finally open the door, looking around you to make sure that the bedroom is completely empty before finally stepping out of the bathroom. With a deep, exhale of breath, you come down to your knees in your relief and rest back against the bed. Your eyes turn to the window, now closed shut to shield the voices from the town below, leaving you in the stifling silence where your mind once again becomes the loudest.

The silver door has taken you back to The Rare Roots, the local pub right at the center of the business district in Smotia, and straight into one of the rented rooms on the upper floor of the pub, which Sir Elias had offered you to take the night you came here.

Your head spins as questions after questions continue to fill your mind.

Why would the King have direct access to a local pub in the business district of Smotia?

And why would Sir Elias—the owner of the local pub who you have never once seen coming to visit The Citadel—be calling your father by his childhood name, as if they have known each other personally for a very long time, or that he would expect the King to be appearing in one of his rented bedrooms as if it would be such a normal occurrence to happen here?

You remain in the bedroom for a while longer, looking around to find any sign that your father had truly been here, while the night passes by with the muffled sounds from the crowd of The Rare Roots below penetrating through the silence. The noises out there are loud, but not loud enough to drown your thoughts as you take a seat at the foot of the bed, trying to make sense of your findings.

The curtains by the window have been left open after Sir Elias’ departure, allowing the figure that has been moving in the shadows to look his way in, watching your movements in silence, his presence completely unbeknownst to you. Perched atop the roof of the next building, he gets a clear view of you. Of the way you seem to be wallowing so deep in your thoughts that you are unaware of the pair of eyes that are keeping a close watch on you.

And he continues to watch over you, taking his time to take the sight of you in and memorise everything he sees of you until you finally slip away, disappearing into one of the doors which acts like the portal bringing you back home. That is when he also makes his move, stepping back into the shadows to return to where he belongs, filled with the delight of victory that comes after finally finding what he was after.

Found you. Finally, I’ve found you, he wonders to himself, as he slips away and disappears through the shadows of the night.

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[hallowpen]

The plan was to start watching The Sign by divvying up the series into two episodes per day until I could finish. Well…that plan went completely out the window and I ended up binge watching the entire thing in one go. So, as I try to gather my thoughts, I wanted to sort of get my feelings out there on what I thought was an incredible show before I finally unfilter the tags (as to avoid any outside influence on my opinion).

Let me preface this by saying that this is going to be an incredibly bias opinion given my cultural upbringing and background (I'm half-Thai and I've spent almost half of my life living in Thailand), so please take that into account before reading any further. I metaphorically removed my western-lensed glasses while watching this series and preferred to watch as a Thai viewer, which probably made the more confusing or difficult parts of the show a lot easier to swallow. So, yes, I will admit that the show was not perfect by any means, but I was able to overlook a lot of its shortcomings given the parts that had been done so well and what this series could mean for Thai QL media going forward.

My goddess, where do I even start…

I'm a sucker for the reincarnated/fated lovers trope, so the show had me before it even started. What I absolutely loved the most about the romance and the A+ chemistry was that it didn't dominate or singularly drive the story, which was refreshing to see. It gave room to explore the fantasy/mythological elements of the show, the investigatory plotlines (which we'll get to later), and the relationships of the characters surrounding the "main leads".

Episode 3, my beloved, was what solidified my trust in this series and served as the foundation for the personalized experience I curated in my continued viewing. First off (and a bit of a side note), seeing Yoshi show up as Sand just made my heart super happy. I've been following her off and on since 2018, and she was one of the only things I actually liked about หมอ มือ ใหม่… but I digress. Behind the main story (and maybe even because of it), this episode was, for all intents and purposes, a love letter to Thai culture and its religious mythology. Which, when you consider how much international draw a BL series can hold, is truly momentous. International viewers got to experience the Bang Fai Phayanak (the naga fireball festival) that occurs every Wan Ok Phansa (the last day of what is considered Buddhist Lent) and the significance it holds over Thai history and culture. Using this as the stepping stone to establish the importance of the series' reliance on naga folklore…brilliant! The episode was also the viewers' introduction to the Buddhist idea of the cyclical intermingling of karmic fates. How the implications of an interdependence on one fate more than the others would later define the relationship between Phaya, Tharn, and Chalothorn…genius! All of this!? In one episode…of a BL!? I was overwhelmed by a sense of cultural gratitude and pride, that I still can't quite shake. I think Saint knew exactly what he was doing when he chose to adapt this series and I love him even more for it.

Aside from the cultural dependency and relevance, the show delivered so much beyond that as well. The production quality sailed high above previous BL standards and, in turn, lent itself to beautiful visuals and cinematography.

The casting! Billy and Babe's chemistry was just so *chef's kiss*. I knew Billy would absolutely smash it in the role of Phaya, but I often forgot that this was Babe's first ever acting role. It was an undertaking, that you could tell, he did not take lightly. Heng!? Wow! What a performance! He's been a staple in every Idol Factory series thus far, but he really nailed the purely villainous role of Chalothorn. Gap as Yai? No notes. He was able to flesh out what could have been a very one-dimensional character. Tack and Poom as Khem and Thongtai were a welcome levity inbetween, what was otherwise, a more weighty plot.

If I had to address any gripes I had with the series, there were only two that really stood out:

1) I wish the moments/conversations between Tharn and Chalothorn that eventually led to Tharn's return hadn't happened off-screen. There was a lot left to be resolved that could have been explored in that instance. But using my own inference based on Tharn as a character, his relationship with Chalothorn, and the core of his personality, I could kind of piece together how that ending came to be.

2)The lesser intriguing elements of the investigation storylines were shaky, at best. (If you were looking for the show to have a firm western-influenced ACAB agenda, then I'm sorry to say you were setting yourself up for disappointment. As much as I selfishly wanted it to be, this series was never going to be that show, it's a Thai drama.) From a Thai perspective, it made sense that the "copaganda" aspect of the series focused on the incompetency and inefficiency of a police force where justice is often informed by wealth and greed. I got an idea of what the show's stance on the matter was supposed to be but the overall plot and its consistency got lost somewhere within the final execution.

Other than that, I was left feeling satisfyingly content with where the series landed and I will continue to highly recommend it. It's easily one on my top five favorite Thai BL dramas and just Thai dramas in general! And…

There is such a rich history of mythology and folklore left for the show to still sink its teeth into: the garuda of it all, the pre-existing feud between the naga and garuda and why that is… Aside from a few minor specificities that were missing from naga folklore (their exclusion didn't really detract from anything, but it could have served to benefit non-Thai viewers), all of that could be addressed in a second season. Which, at this point, seems pretty likely 🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾 and would be HUGE in the BL world.

PLEASE, LET IT HAPPEN! 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

[dvzaiosamu]

just a rushed oneshot about osamu dazai, once again. This one is about how he was never happy; nothing could fill more his heart, for he will live forever in the solitude. But he has you, he does, but for him, it doesn't feel enough. Dazai x fem.reader. This has two parts.

tw: suicide, self-harm mentions, depression, not mentally stable, sensitive topics, blood mentions, ect...

song recommendation: the lobotomy by maebi and old doll, mad father.

parts: 1/2

note: In fact, I already had the oneshot for this post done... but, when I wanted to schedule its publication, an error occurred and everything I did was deleted, leaving only what you are going to read below. I literally cried :( I hate my fucking luck. I'm tired now so I won't be able to upload the second part, I'll upload it one day when I feel motivated.

A night with a single moon, a strangely bright starry night. There have never been as many stars as there are today, or at least not as visible as the ones he glimpsed. His heart gave small muffled beats, an audible sigh as he stared at his already fired gun. On the ground lay the body of a weakness that did nothing, was only pierced by a bullet in that dark street full of dangers where he, Osami Dazai called himself the boss of the dangers of those streets, a mere attempt to disconnect from his intrusive thoughts.

He knew better than anyone what was going through his mind; Thought after thought, tiredness once it was over and tired of life, a strangulating stone blocking his throat, a pain and suffering that this world housed him. How was he going to die? He tried and failed, he didn't succeed. In a weak attempt he rubs his forehead, trying to get rid of the headache... Thoughts or headache? Headache or thoughts? Not even he knew it. He was overwhelmed by the burden of living.

In the darkness he continued to find himself, a pool of blood was created in front, obscured by the poor lighting. He couldn't care less about the life of a citizen. He tried to hide it, drown out his thoughts by killing. He thought that if he killed he would be happier, that at least it would be a distraction to get rid of everything. It wasn't like that.

Darkness took over this night, giving it an eerie appearance. Osamu used to love nights like this, when he most enjoyed scaring and then shooting his victims without any remorse, without mercy. He was a cruel murderer.

On the other side you were, considerably far from the young man. You were at your house, a house shared by you and Dazai. It was spacious and quite cozy: it had simple windows that were covered at night by lowering the blinds, for the sole reason that people could clearly see what was going on inside. It was itself a two-story, two-bathroom, three-bedroom house with its own amenities, space, and beds. One of the rooms was yours, the other was Osamu's, and the third was guests'. On that same floor (upstairs) was one of the bathrooms, with all kinds of luxuries, but minimalist in its own way. On the ground floor was the living room with its respective large and long sofa accompanied by a rug, television, shelves for books on one side, some furniture to store things and that's it. Then you had the kitchen and dining room where you were currently, preparing today's dinner, eagerly waiting for your partner to show him another wonderful dish that you decided to prepare.

You finished cooking and preparing a copious table, and you waited, waited and watched the clock tick, with its sound memorized in your brain that repeated like a broken record: tick tock, tick tock...

He always came around the time you finished cooking and getting everything ready for a cozy night in for Dazai after hard work in the mafia. You were worried that something had happened to him, that maybe Mori had detained him a little longer until he finished his missions or that he had simply forgotten that you made him dinner every time he wasn't home, it frustrated you at an end that he had forgotten, but then it quickly melted into worry, you didn't know what to believe and you were confused.

"Why does he takes so long to arrive? It's been over half an hour now and I have no calls, texts or messages from him." The question stood out and resonated in your head: why? Why did it take so long? You sighed and let time move forward. "Guess I'm just going to call him."

Moving your hand to your pants pocket, you grab your phone, tap its screen, and deftly enter your phone's password. Biting your lip repeatedly, you nervously reach his profile and press the call button.

The phone vibrates as you wait for Dazai to answer on the other line, a characteristic sound as you wait impatiently: vzzzzzt. You wait a few minutes and the wait ends with a message: ‘Osamu has not responded.’ Your condition worsens and you press the ‘call again’ button. This time you will finally be able to witness how the young mafioso accepts the call. "Hello Dazai, are you okay? How are you?"

A short two-second pause, overwhelmingly giving off a bad vibe. "I'm fine, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to know where you are. I made dinner and you were nowhere to be found, and look, that's the time you always show up. Something happened?"

"You see... Maybe I dallied on the way home, but you don't have to be so desperate, I'm already on my way, it won't be far away," He explains to you on the other end of the phone, with a carefree voice, still maintaining his soft but icy tone. In the background you can hear his footsteps stepping on the asphalt.

"Well, I guess I'll wait until you get there... Take care, I love you," You hang up the call with a sigh.

Back to Dazai, the youthful mafioso, crude and indifferent. He was walking through some very dimly lit streets. The crickets sing while there is a silence so unusual that it seems pleasant to the ear. There was no wind or noisy people talking on those same streets, there was just him. He was alone.

On the way home, he repeatedly thinks about jumping off an icy water bridge he was passing over. He didn't know what else to do, he wanted to die but without pain, he wanted to die but without losing close ones and friends, he wanted to die but find a reason to live. There were only knots in his mind, he was tired. He thought about committing suicide once and for all with his gun, drinking poison on purpose... So many ways to die and so few possibilities of achieving it.

*sigh*

[glacierbash]

Y'know, any time I start to talk about this game, I feel obligated to lead with the funniest fact I have: I absolutely hated Final Fantasy, for myriad reasons both personal and amusing. I hated, for example, the way Elezen were shaped. I hated that Lalafell looked so young. I hated that everybody acted like it was so great, and by sheer contrarian nature I decided I would simply never play this game. And for quite some time, that worked! I'd bombard my partner with whatever media algorithms recommended me involving FFXIV, just to make fun of it. I detested this MMO, without having ever tried it. And yet, deep down, I knew I wanted a community. I wanted to be around people, even if through an online medium. When I worked at the library, my coworker set up a WoW private server that I spent some time fucking around in, but deep down I wanted people. Try as I might, I couldn't deny some part of me wanted to see what the game was all about.

So, I tried it. I spent 30 minutes exactly between opening the character creator to first posting a name that, genuinely, would define more than 2 years of my life: Iverelle Vauvenelle.

I spend about 2 days playing the game, one being chased around by strangers who my partner swore were good people, and one just questing on my own--and it was fine. I got to MSQ level 24, quite literally one quest away from being able to travel to other city states, and I stopped. I played my fair share, I played 5 hours, and I decided the game wasn't for me. I put it down for several months, when I was approached by somebody who I am no longer friends with. He said I should play the game again, keep going just long enough to travel to Gridania, so that I could see one of his alts--and maybe, we could play together! I didn't want to upset him, so I said "fine," and gave it another try.

By the end of the week, I was finishing up ARR, and moving into post patch, and something just... Changed for me. I'm not sure what it was, honestly. It's not like the game magically changed for me then, or if Iverelle had become perhaps my most meaningful character ever, but something shifted, and I found myself enjoying the game. It didn't even make sense to me then when I bought a subscription to the game, but I knew that something here was special. I just... Had to.

Post patch took me about a month, with multiple days spent stressing out over queuing into Good King Mogglemog out of fear and anxiety, because the trial was labeled as hard and my disorder was, frankly, at its worst. But, I managed to do so anyways. The victory was meaningless for most people, but for me? It was beyond words, just how important it was that I did content with other people, especially considering I went through all of ARR solo.

I made it to the end of ARR, to the infamous cutscene, when I realized I was sick with covid. In VC with two of my friends, I said the infamous line: "I think I have a fever." What a way to enter Heavensward, huh? I think it is in no small part due to Covid that Heavensward ended up being my favorite expansion of all time, and why Ysayle Dangoulain ended up being my favorite character of all time. Sickness and quarantine gave me all the time in the world, and being far too sick to be anxious, I sped through the story. One week later, I was done with Heavensward.

And of course, by now, I am finished with Endwalker and awaiting Dawntrail. For 2 years of my life now, I have been playing this game nigh daily. I stay up late playing it, I finish my daily responsibilities as soon as possible to play it, and I find myself enjoying it. I never thought that would happen, truth be told. More importantly than enjoying the game itself, though, is the friends I met.

I have lived a very isolated life. Partially due to my anxiety making me extremely averse to interacting with people, and partially due to how I've been raised, I struggle a lot with people. Autism, anxiety, and having not been properly socialized made me terrible. I longed for new friends, but I hated the effort that went into it. Imagine my surprise when one day, I found myself driving out to meet people who I play this game with, to spend time with them? When I found myself wanting to meet them?

And yet, here I was. I was driving out to meet these people who I play this game with--and more importantly, they wanted to meet me. Even as I think back on that day, I start to tear up. It was one of the most important days of my life. Were it not for this game, for playing it daily, for being dragged into a Free Company and for sitting in calls with people because of this game, I would not have known these people. They are some of the most important people in my life.

I think of the late nights playing Mahjong, or doing PVP, or treasure maps, or just sitting around talking. I think of those nights and then having to wake up early for work, waking up exhausted but so happy. I think of staying up until damn near 5 in the morning talking about whatever it is that comes to mind. I think about stupid inside jokes, and shared experiences, and the stories that I'll tell for years to come.

It's just a game. Final Fantasy XIV is, at the end of the day, just a game--and yet, that game has served as a way for me to grow as a person in ways I've never thought possible. My anxiety has not magically been cured, mind; but, when I'm able to talk to strangers and my heartrate doesn't skyrocket, when I'm able to do things in this game that once terrified me, when I'm able to exist comfortably not just in this game but in the outside world, I realize that it's done more for me than I'll ever be able to say. Yes, it is just a game, but people play a game due to a shared interest, no? And through that shared interest, friendships can blossom. To say that I love my friends, the people I met ultimately because of this game, would be an understatement, and I fear I do not make that clear enough.

Stupid as it is to say, Final Fantasy XIV has changed my life, for the better. Dawntrail is coming in just a few short hours, and though I am a whirlwind of emotions, the predominant one is excitement. I was there for the end of an era, and now I am here for the start of a new one.

So thank you. If you read all the way through this, thank you. If you skimmed just to the end, thank you. Thank you to my friends, especially. I would not be here as I am now were it not for you all.

Here's to a new adventure, friends :^] (Second screenshot featuring: @gailiag, the best viera on hydaelyn)

[untoldsoup]

Hi! I was curious about how you organise work with your comics, including the writing parts :)

Idk if my process is how it's supposed to be done, but I'll share what's been working for me so far!

So for the btb comic, I got it written last year before the 'change' comic was done being drawn. I learned alot about how I wanted to do storytelling with that comic and it influenced how I organized the sequel.

One thing I learned from the 'change' comic is I absolutely loathed drawing the same location too much. Most of that comic is the wedding and by the end of the wedding I was so sick of drawing the wedding scenes (it almost caused me to quit a few times lol).

So when writing the script for the sequel I told myself every chapter would indicate a scene change. This would help me get through drawing a chapter knowing a new scene location would be drawn for the next chapter.

A scene change can be as small as a different room or as big as a new location, as long as *something* changed about the background I would have to draw.

Each chapter is its own word document (well google docs now, i switch over)

I write my stories in movie script format. When researching how to write comics I found the most helpful advice was screenwriting advice. I highly encourage people to watch youtube videos on screenwriting. I also watched a ton of videos aimed at screenwriters that talk about plot, how to write interesting characters, and the three act structure.

I made sure i could answer questions such as "why is my character doing this?" And "what motivates them?" And "how does their wants and desires change throughout the story?" I made sure that each character's motives and personality could answer these questions with a few simple words. I needed to make sure I have a clear understanding of what they wanted.

I go through a TON of edits in my chapters. I even edit alot when I finally start drawing, if I think some dialogue would work better rephrased once I see it next to my art. Editing is huge. Your first draft really is just getting the "dumbest" version down. Once you get over that hurdle, you can mold the script into what you need.

I remove a lot of dialogue during edits. Comics are a visual story telling device, so i try and make sure the words and art work together, and that the words don't feel like they could exist without the art.

There is nothing I hate more than when a comic page is a giant block of text. I find large scary blocks of text uninteresting, So I will often go out of my way to draw more panels if it means breaking up the dialogue.

I also try my best to write realistic dialogue. Would this character say this? Why are they saying this?

If you notice with my stories alot of characters are not direct in how they speak. In real life no one tells you directly "i am mad". They deflect, lash out, say things because they are jealous or hurt ect ect. I wanted to do my best to have my dialogue reflect how each character would realistically handle the pain they are dealt.

When I start drawing, I have the script for the chapter I'm working on open on one computer screen, and my art tablet with my program open on the other. This way as I'm drawing I can easily reference my script.

If I'm drawing an action heavy scene, I will often start paneling out on paper some crude sketches just so I can keep track of where everything should be. It's easy for things to get lost in the action so I try my best to make sure I am aware of where every character is in busy scenes.

These drawings are extremely crude but really really helpful. I don't mind sharing these as they are so abstract they don't really give anything away lol. But they do help me organize.

I use clip Studio to draw and from there start drawing my pages. Each page takes about 2-3 days to finish depending on complexity. I think I get about two pages done a week, more if I have vacation days or something from work.

I have a full time Quality Analyst job, so I'm only able to work on my comic between the hours of midnight and 5am lol. It's why you always see me updating and posting at horrible hours lol.

Anyway I hope that helps? Hopefully I answered your questions!

[dustteller]

I just finished watching all the available episodes of The Apothecary Diaries, and I have to say that it surprised me!

The premise of an apothecary working for the emperor's consorts and solving medical mysteries is already a gun one, but the execution really elevated the concept past entertaining romcom to genuinely fantastic storytelling. It's not revolutionary, but it's certainly deeply endearing, and I really enjoyed how it found a balance between lighthearted comedy and acknowledging the awful aspects of sex work and being a woman/lower class in a world where neither are valued. It doesn't explore the darker side in detail, at least not so far, but it still does a fantastic job in making the horrible parts feel like a real part of the setting while still making the choice to focus on the women's joy even when faced with hard situations. I guess I just appreciate these things being openly discussed without immediately having it be a psychological story about dealing with trauma?

The characters are also soo good, and while most lack depth (its been nine episodes, so for a cast this big, that can be excused), usually their schtick is strong enough that it can easily carry their appearances. You also get the sense that while a lot of these characters do fill out comedic roles/archetypes, there's a lot more going on beneath the surface. Their schtick is fun, but its not all they have, its just there to help the audience familiarize themselves and bond with the charcaters while their entire personality is unearthed. The entire cast is genuinely absolutely delightful and reasonable and feel incredibly real while also being really funny.

The romance portion is also really really fantastic. Both Maomao and Jinshi are hilarious little freaks, and their dynamic is so fun to watch. Maomao is such a good take on the cold, blunt, genius character, who is socially challenged but very far from frigid. She's practical and logical while also keeping a very strong emotional core founded in empathy and genuine care for the people around her. Her obsession with poison is also pulling triple duty, as it 1) serves to break her cold facade and provides comic relief in the form of an ongoing gag, 2) gives the reader a strong understanding of her guiding motives/desires, and 3)gives her role as a medical investigator narrative justification. Of course she'd know what was used to poison someone, that's her whole thing! Jinshi himself is a counterpart to Maomao's colder tendencies, being very clingy and emotional. This show is not afraid of making him a pathetic little obsessed man, and it's all the better for him. Unlike other possesive and obsessed male leads, Jinshi manages to mostly stay away from the creep factor by being so uttely pathetic and cringe that he never really comes across as an actual threat. Couple that with him actually being very respectful of Maomao, only engaging in light flirting, and how he never actually wants to change her (most rapey MLs try to break the FL out of their feisty charcater or demean her for it while showing her how they're more powerful), and Jinshi makes for a very good love interest that also feels like a very safe comfortable person, which I feel matches the tone of the show very well. He's also as much of a freak as Maomao ("she wants to crush me like a bug <3333🥰🥰🥰), so they're very well matched there, too. He's such a petty loser, and that makes him a stronger character.

The story seems to be ramping up, and while I don't think it'll ever lose the lighthearted tone, I'm excited about how it already seems to promise a more in-depth exploration of the world it's set up the scaffolding for. For what it's worth, I also think the show has done a very good job at making the world feel expansive and mysterious, while also balancing that wholesomeness, which for a show centered around sex workers is quite the feat.

Anyways, long story short, I think the nine episodes that are out so far are really great, and the story thrives through how utterly endering it is. I am charmed by the world and the characters and what the plot has promised us, and while I don't expect it to revolutionize anime or whatever, it's still a masterclass in narrative shorthand and the act of balancing its heavy themes, especially when it comes to the characters themselves. There's so many of them that are so fun and memorable that I didn't mention, but who absolutely deserve their own posts, and that's only nine episoded into a comedy show, which I think goes to show how strong of a start this series has. Overall, I'd rate the show so far an 8/10, and I'm really excited to see what will come from the next 15 episodes.