#its very unique gravity group killed it

[bumbis]

Ok last thing. If youre going to put a rollercoaster on your album cover switchback at zdts is such a good one I literally just put a filter on an rcdb pic and

Done. Heres your emo album cover

[countenanceblog]

Chapter 61

Chapter 61

A manhole somewhere on the outskirts of Monolith popped open from the inside. It glided to the side an inch above the ground. From inside emerged Rufus, Karen, Jack, Nook and Corey. The five of them looked around.

Jack nodded to himself. "I know this neighborhood."

"You really had us guessing, Corey," said Rufus. Corey couldn't help but crack a sinister smile. Karen scoffed.

"You killed a hundred people, or so you say. Are you proud of yourself, Corey?," she intoned. Nook nodded.

Corey shrugged. "If you inflict enough losses, you win by default. You think these men will keep fighting?"

Jack perked up. "We should get out of the road. If we walk fast, we could get to my friend's house before anyone notices we're out in the open. It's possible, anyway."

Rufus chuckled. "And what? Get them killed, too? Anywhere we go, people are going to die. You saw the Most Wanted list. We're right up there with Aleister."

Karen surveyed the empty yards and windows in the neighborhood. "Jack's right, we can't stay in the open. You're sure they haven't killed this friend of yours?"

Jack smiled. "They can't have gotten all my exes. C'mon, I'll lead the way." With that, the five of them got onto the sidewalk. Soon enough they arrived at a white matchstick house. "This is it."

Jack, seemingly taking a moment to collect himself, walked up to the door and rang the bell. A woman with a very unusually curvy body, and tall figure answered the door. She was dressed in a black bralette, black skirt, and thigh-high black boots. Her roots needed to be dyed. "Jack!," she cried, a bit too loud. "Come in."

"Emilya," said Jack merrily. "Thank you so much."

Inside Emilya's house, the white furnishings created a serene and calming atmosphere. As they settled in, Emilya's gullible nature came to the forefront while she looked at the group with wide-eyed excitement. "Oh my gosh, you guys! You won't believe this! I saw you all on television! People are saying you're part of the Resistance and that you're gods in human form! Is it true?"

Rufus rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh, you got us! There's nothing godly about us, right, guys?"

Karen held up a finger dramatically. "Well, not entirely true, Rufus. We do have our...special qualities."

Nook blushed at the attention. "I-I think Emilya is referring to our alter egos, the ones with abilities beyond normal human capabilities."

Corey sighed and clarified, "Yes, it's true. We're more than just ordinary people. Each of us has unique gifts and responsibilities. For instance I just killed a hundred guys."

Jack, the brainy maverick, chimed in, "But we're not the only ones with powers. There's another one in town, Raj Dubey, people think he's the god Helion. And more still, in Spain City there's Grindall with his lightning."

Emilya's eyes widened even more. "Whoa, really?"

Karen nodded with a mysterious smile. "Indeed. But we try to keep a low profile to protect our loved ones."

Jack added, "Yeah, it's not all fun and games. Being part of the Resistance comes with its challenges."

Rufus glanced around the room, taking in the quirky decor. "You know, Emilya, you should probably keep this on the down-low too. We don't need everyone knocking on your door, thinking you're friends with the Gods."

Emilya giggled, oblivious to the gravity of the situation. "Oh, don't worry! My friends know I'm a bit spacey. They won't believe me anyway."

Jack, failing to respect any boundaries, looked Emilya up and down rather hungrily. "Are you still single?," he blurted. "Sorry, it's just. You're so good-looking."

"What's your power, Jack?," a candid Emilya asked.

Jack pouted. "Threatening people with a gun."

Emilya smiled and nodded. "That's really cool Jack. I'm not single, actually, but my girlfriend was looking for a guy we could have a threesome with, and I think – "

Jack's eyes widened. "Girlfriend?," he cut in. "Three way?! Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" He pounded his fist on the chair and stood up. "God, you just made me so horny I can't believe it. Sorry, guys."

Rufus nodded. "Yeah, me too. You're going to have to come back here later if any of us survive, Jack."

Emilya piped up. "What do you mean, if you survive? You guys will be okay, right? All you have to do is kill the vampires." She smiled and nodded reassuringly.

"Oh right," said Jack. "You believe in vampires, huh? You always did. Damn it, what a gal you are, Emilya. Thank you for letting us inside."

"Anytime," said Emilya. "You guys wanna watch the news? We can figure out what's going on by not believing whatever they say, all the time."

"Yeah," said Jack. "Turn on the TV." Emilya walked over to the aged television set and turned the dial away from the 'off' setting. The set flickered to life.

Redheaded Amanda Cairn was at it again. "Griffith, who blew up his own headquarters killing over a hundred brave Elite Tactical members, was caught in a shootout with Elite Tactical near the intersection of Diamond and – excuse me, here is our President, Robert Mayflower."

"Damn," said Jack. The others shushed him. An older man with a turkey neck flashed onto the screen. He wore a dark blue suit and tie. Everyone leaned in their seats.

"Good afternoon, my fellow Agarthans. With the death of David Griffith, we invite a new dawn for our country. Though our sacrifices have been great – "

Jack snarled. "Fuck me. They got to Mayflower too. I thought he was from Brownsville, what a sellout."

Karen nodded. "It seems we have few friends left in this world. For that reason, I have to thank you, Emilya. You let us into your home in a time when many would have turned us away. You have my eternal gratitude."

Emilya beamed. "It's not just me. A lot of people have heard about the man who escaped the earthquake in Cortez. Everyone saw it live, and then they heard Apollo talk about it live, and then, well. They've been killing too many people. They made themselves look bad."

Jack put his tongue in his cheek. "Maybe not. After all, they did get David Griffith. What a mess. That means they probably got everyone else, too." He put his face in his hands. "I can't believe they got him," he muttered.

Nook, sensing Jack's distress, spoke softly. "Jack, I know how much you idolized David. He was a complex man, and a hero. Losing him is a tremendous blow."

Corey interjected, "We can't afford to lose hope. David's death doesn't mean the end of the Resistance. We carry on his legacy, and we keep fighting."

Karen, channeling Nyx, added, "Death is an inevitable part of our journey. But it also fuels our determination to protect this realm and its people. They need us."

Rufus, being sarcastic as always, tried to lighten the mood. "Well, if we're gonna get all philosophical, I suppose it's our destiny to be the dysfunctional superhero team of Agartha. Except for me and Jack, of course."

Jack, still grappling with his emotions, nodded solemnly. "Yeah, sure. I can't help but feel responsible for not being there to help him. I should've been there."

Emilya, ever the optimist, put a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder. "You're doing your best, Jack. You can't save everyone, but you're doing more than most people would. I believe in you. I'm really glad you're here."

Karen chimed in, "We all do. We're a team, and we have each other's backs. We don't have to give up."

Nook, speaking with her quiet strength, added, "And we'll honor David's memory by continuing to fight for what's right. We'll take down The Monolith."

[dailycharacteroption]

Deity Drop 1: Apsu

Though today’s subject is also lawful good, he is much less involved than Erastil. I present the draconic deity Apsu!

 It always seems that in fantasy settings, at least the ones with their roots in D&D, there are always two major dragon gods, one good, one evil, and Pathfinder is no different. However, while the classic duo in many D&D settings are brother and sister, in Pathfinder, the duo is father and son, and today we are looking at the father.

According to draconic belief, Apsu is in fact one of the deities responsible for the creation of the multiverse, and while that is likely an exaggeration on the part of dragons, it no doubt has a grain of truth to it. In any case, Apsu originally did not go by a name, and was originally described as one of two great waters (which ties into the description of his real Mesopotamian namesake), the other being Tiamat (whom is implied to be, or at least a version of the very same Tiamat running around D&D’s various settings, but who is only mentioned in Pathfinder briefly because of legal reasons), whom was his mate and wife.

The pair had many children together, but one in particular, Dahak, was a violent and destructive being whose rampages are the very thing that turned the plane of Hell into a burning place of suffering long before the first devils or even asura arrived on the plane. He was not content to end his rampage at an entire plane of existence, however, and slew many of his siblings, whose broken remains fell to the material plane and were reborn as the first metallic dragons.

Enraged, Apsu named himself and took form, joining with the metallic dragons against his wayward son, defeating him. However, before the final blow was struck, Dahak pleaded for aid from his mother, who answered, offering the dragons injured in the fight healing if they would turn on Apsu. Those that accepted became the first chromatic dragons.

Dahak escaped in the ensuing fight, but Apsu ordered his followers not to pursue, turning to ask his mate, who took the name Tiamat, why he had aided his son.

Tiamat only answered that she blamed Apsu for the death of their children, and cast them out from their home to wander.

Since that time, Apsu and Dahak have only met once, when they teamed up to help other gods defeat the monstrous Rovagug. After the battle, Dahak swore he would kill his father, and left. Ever since then, Apsu has been a distant leader of dragonkind, quietly preparing for the day when he and his son will have their final showdown on the surface of Golarion.

Apsu himself, who dwells in a roving demiplane home called the Immortal Ambulatory, teaches that one should seek glory and peace, and that leaders should be just and fair, which makes sense as he is the patron deity of all good dragons, metallic and otherwise. However, while many good dragons worship him, very few among them actually take training in divine magic under his guidance, perhaps out of draconic independence. However, he does have a small following of humanoids on Golarion, most notably the group known as the Platinum Band, who do train as proper priests of Apsu.

Unsurprisingly, Apsu has a much wider following on the planet Triaxus, where the native Rhyphorians and their dragonkin allies among the Dragon Legions of the Allied Territories.

Though Apsu’s parenting skills are called into question by the existence of Dahak, he is nonetheless a god of justice and good, serving as an inspiration to those who wish to uphold his ideals. He commands his followers to help those in need, as well as guide them to become stronger, and punish the wicked that betray your mercy.

This aligns him with a lot of paladins, as a lawful good god he is at least respected by many civilizations, but he is most commonly worshipped by those who travel and do his work across the world. However, it is notable that Apsu apparently refuses to have a hand in the creation of oracles, even as part of a pantheon, as it is against his beliefs to force power upon a mortal, especially not that which also curses them. Oracles that come to worship him later do exist, apparently, as those that do gain access to unique spells. Additionally, as he is associated with the preparation for war, he is often given prayers by architects and craftsmen who build fortifications and other tools of protection for coming war.

 Apsu is served and worshipped by most good dragons, metallic and otherwise, as well as even some wyverns and drakes that have risen above bestial concerns. He does command some angels as a celestial god, but he counts no one specific outsider type as his own. He does have a herald in the form of the celestial silver dragon Oreganus, as well as Blameless Flame, a coatl surrounded by the flame of a gold dragon’s breath and Syrax the Platinum, a clockwork dragon with the mind of a once-living brass dragon.

Apsu rules over the domains of Artifice, Good, Law, Scalykind, and Travel, as well as the subdomains of Archon (by way of good or law), Construct, Dragon, Exploration, Toil, and Trade. The inclusion of Artifice is tied to the oft-forgotten aspect of Apsu as the builder of fortifications.

His second edition domains are creation, protection, travel, and wyrmkin, as well as granting spells associated with bolstering natural attacks, creating temporary items, and shapeshifting into draconic form.

Those who are devout enough to follow his deific obedience perform a daily ritual of walking in one direction for half an hour, then walking back. When traveling away from their starting point, they consider the tactical and strategic advantages of the terrain, while on the way back, they consider it’s wonder and beauty and contemplate on the Wayfinder’s role in its creation. Such devotees are granted heightened awareness, particularly when it comes to attackers.

Evangelist devotees tap into Apsu’s aspect as a crafter and preparer, gaining spells to carry large loads with a disk of force, bless weapons with the divine power of law, and create wards against the environment; as well as enchant weapons to fight on their own, and the power to pour life into an object you have crafted, animating it.

For those that follow the path of the exalted, they imbue his aspect as a traveller, blurring their movement, defying gravity, and moving with incredible speed. What’s more, they are blessed with the ability to monitor the places they have been, placing short-lived sensors whenever they teleport away, letting them see what goes on afterwards, be it pursuers, or potential spies or sneaks. Additionally, they can set up safe locations and teleport back to them with allies at later dates.

Draconic fury is the gift granted to those who become sentinels in his name, blasting foes with sprays of light, bolts of fire, and imbuing themselves with draconic wards against the elements. What’s more, they can surround themselves in a ward against foes that is most effective against evil dragons. Additionally, they can imbue their weapon with the normally reserved fury of Apsu in battle, making for supernaturally accurate attacks that are almost guaranteed to deliver deadly wounds to evil dragons.

As far as I know, neither Apsu nor Dahak have been mentioned in Starfinder yet, so it is unknown what their status is. Both deities were prophesized to end their struggle once and for all on Golarion someday, but in the far future of Starfinder the planet Golarion is missing. So, either their battle has already happened before or during The Gap, or that prophecy was derailed in the same way as most other prophecies in the Age of Lost Omens and beyond. If Apsu does exist, either with or without Dahak, he is no doubt most popularly worshipped among the Skyfire Legion and among more goodly parts of the Drakelands on Triaxus, much as they have always done. Still, any world where metallic or otherwise goodly dragons exist may see some of his influence, and I imagine that he might even have a small following in the Knights of Golarion.

That does it for today, but it’s good to demonstrate how even gods outside of the Inner Sea grouping can be just as influential in their own way.

[youarejesting]

Wild Space

Pairing: Alien!Jimin x Reader Beta: @jung-hoseok-s-airplane​​ Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, SFW Rating: 16+ (slight mature themes implied something) Words: 4.6k

Summary: You are on an expedition to explore a new world, the one you encounter is so beautiful and unique but you find the real beauty in its people. Though they are a little different you feel yourself falling in love with culture, their way of life and their cute ears and tails.

“This is unit one we have finally finished docking and are now beginning assembly and exploration of planet B52. It seems this planet's flora are similar to that of earth, none have started to move or eat us which is a bonus.” It took a whole day to land the station so you weren’t as excited to be here as you had previously been. Your team leader cleared their throat disapprovingly which earned him a rolling of your eyes. “I mean none of the participants within the exploration have been consumed to date.”

The wording though correct probably didn’t need to be said with the snobbish tone, but you were feeling particularly sassy. Wanting to get away for a while after being cooped up in the station you picked up your bag full of supplies and headed out.

The air was fresh like dizzyingly so, the place was green and rich with life and you thought if the earth needed time to rejuvenate then this could be the new substitute in that time. But the colours were odd, it really was a new world. The green grass had a pink tinge to it, the oceans were mauve. But it was all deemed safe perfectly so. We humans are smarter and have figured out how to promote the world's health and well-being.

“The temperatures are stable and the solar flares are filtered by the Ozone layers.” Watching one of the two suns ‘set’ was relieving, sure it wasn’t the fore sun but it did cool the air significantly. The fore sun was practically the same distance between earth and our sun with a slight more reddish tone than our bright yellow one. But in this solar system there was a dwarf sun well really it is just a burning planet but it orbits the sun so close, burning just the same but in a vibrant blue. No one could get close enough to test the elements on the dwarf sun that made it burn that colour but it was beautiful.

As one of the suns moved behind the other a beautiful pinkish haze took over the planet giving it a hazy romantic feel. Talk about rose coloured glasses. This transition revealed the neighbouring planet of B52 a large celestial body with rings which in the glow of the afternoon sun were in shades of pink and purple and the planet was a deep lavender.

The astrologists and physicians had both determined that the two planets moved together in harmony and both planets were deemed liveable but they were never going to collide as they equal gravity, each pulling the other at the same intensity. The sky was never the typical sky blue but always a haze of purple, at its lightest it was a soft lilac and at its darkest the sky was a deep byzantium.

Because of this the water on the planet reflected the purple tones and the clearest waters were a mauve but the darkest were a heavy plum. “The fauna is also similar to that of the earth with a few abnormal features, here and there.” You looked upon a small group of tiny animals; they walked on all fours and were fluffy somewhere between a hamster and a cat. They were predominantly ears and eyes, which is probably how they found you, turning and freezing. Big round orbs looking shiny and innocent and with a squeak they were gone.

Being a linguist you didn’t really have anything to do, the crew usually just gave you odd jobs and as of late that job was completing the reports. You were exploring and recording your observations while the others set up the station and greenhouse. The sooner one can grow their own foods the better off for all of you.

You followed what almost looked like a tiny dinosaur that walked slowly to a nearby tree and began eating berries. You had decided you would be useful and started sketching what you see whilst moving about. The ferns moved in the gentle breeze and an almost odd and yet sweet floral scent enveloped you. A river on your left trickling quiet quickly and in the distance you thought you could hear a waterfall.

From the river emerged what looked like an axolotl each foot pulling it onto the red toned grass and shook itself like a dog and you realized it was fluffy. This caused you to giggle, you began drawing the animal while singing softly. When you were done you continued reporting.

In the middle of your ramblings about the health of the planet and such, you heard a rustle behind you. It was odd because when you turned there was nothing there. You were out of earshot so you dropped your professional jargon.

“There seem to be no immediate signs of danger but the crew is working as per protocol for the safety of the team.”

You watched as a flying mouse landed in a tree squeaking and chewing at some sort of fruit it gathered. It was very much the bumble bee dilemma wings too small for the size of its body. It was colourful though like a rainbow lorikeet, it’s tail multicoloured.

“No sign of intelligent life, so far-”

Another rustle behind you accompanied by heavy breathing, you tried to glance around at whatever it was. Looking as far as you could out of your peripheral vision the only feature you caught was a long red tail swishing low, and whatever it was walked on all four legs. You tried to grab your radio but you heard a low rumble from the animal in question. The thing seemed to change shape and moved until it was right behind you mirroring your posture on two legs, its nose pressed to the back of your neck sniffing.

The figure moved around you and you saw it completely. A man, well mostly. He was muscular and lean, he had claw-like nails and teeth that were sharper than a human. On the top of his head were two ears that were peaked and alert. His tail puffed and he growled. In fear of this strange new life especially the fear of being killed caused a tear to roll down your cheek, he circled around you faster and breathed you in.

You stood still as he stepped behind you once more and seemed to brush past your ponytail; it must have startled him as he pulled it firmly, causing you to fall back. He growled at your sudden movement and jumped on top of you baring his teeth over your neck. Unmoving once more you watched him slowly circle your form, he sniffed you here and there licking the side of your boot and you were thankful for the fact he had some sort of fabric over the lower half of his body so you didn’t see anything unnecessary.

His eyes were dark, his hair a vibrant red as were his ears and tail; he was mixed in appearance. You couldn’t determine whether he was canine or feline, he had features from both sides.

Sniffing he nudged your arm burying his nose against the underarm of your shirt. You knew you were sweaty, it’s not like deodorant was a priority on a space trip there was some but not enough to last a whole expedition. And if you know anything about the animal kingdom, smell was what they used to identify each other.

He growled circling you again before curling up beside you and placing his head on your chest watching you as his eyes drifted shut with a heavy sigh. He was beautiful, he reminded you of the exotic people in the avatar movie where those blue aliens were so tall and human-like but just slightly off. He wasn’t blue, but he was very naturally beautiful.

After an hour or two of trying to get out from underneath him you gave up entirely. At another point you accidentally started patting the young man’s head forgetting he was not a sweet domesticated animal despite the ears and tail.

As the fore sun began to set over you, the cold breeze began seeping into your skin and shivers bloomed from within you. The action seemed to wake him, eyes widening as he launched himself away. Backing away, you shared equal expressions of fear. Trying not to move, wanting to appear harmless, he was also unwilling to move. Eyes searching the area for any danger, he saw you shiver again curling up with a small whimper. He looked around calmer as the minutes passed. He said something softly and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you said?” you whispered, blinking he made a face. Very slowly you sat up reaching into your pocket to retrieve an apple. He watched you curiously as you took a bite and proceeded to sniff the air. Holding out the apple, he braved getting a little closer to examine what you were eating. He gave it a lick and again before taking a bite.

“What are you?” You asked, he watched you cautiously talking back in his strange language. Clueless to what he was saying you took your time repeating his words and he blinked almost shocked. He sniffed your pocket which you had left unzipped to retrieve the apple and he sniffed getting dangerously close to areas he shouldn’t but he pointed and spoke in his funny language.

“What’s in my pocket?” you pointed at the pocket and he pointed again at the pocket.

You pulled out dehydrated meat and held it up, “Meat” he snatched it sniffing and eating it quickly before reaching into your pocket grabbing the rest. He also found some berries they were almost like ones he was used to but these were so unique.

You sat there as he ate, you tried to talk to him but he was busy eating. Stomach growling signaling dinner time and you looked at the empty bag and frowned.

He noticed the frown of your face and looked at the empty food bag. He held it in his hand and took your hand in his, his claws brushing your skin but not causing you any harm. He pulled you through the woods and turned back as you tripped and stumbled your gait generally slower than his.

You passed a beautiful purple waterfall and the water as it fell reflected a purple glow on the rocks around them and as it splashed a mist of purple sprinkled the air and a typical rainbow prism appeared. You looked down, noticing you were walking on a trail. The flowers on either side were a gorgeous blue that in the shade of some trees seemed bioluminescent. He didn’t seem impressed by your abilities or in this case lack of, and deciding to pick you up over his shoulder and run. He was also unaffected by your added weight, running as he normally would.

He arrived at a small cave, the rock was metallic and each piece reflecting beautifully in the light of the setting sun. He placed you on your feet and you walked towards the stone and touched it brushing your fingers over the smooth arch entrance way.

You knew he must have carved and smoothed this himself, he watched you curiously as you ran your hand along something at the top it almost looked like a form of writing and you traced it slowly and turned to him pointing.

“Jimin,” he said and he patted his chest referring to himself.

“Jimin,” you pointed at the sign and then turned to him stepping closer and placing your hand on his chest over his rapidly beating heart. “Jimin.”

He gave a strange gesture with his hand but his eyes seemed light and his smile told you, you were correct. You slowly and gently took his hand placing it on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat.

“Y/n,” you breathed and his eyes searched yours. You repeated your hand on his chest and said his name before placing it back onto yours “Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he said, his mouth forming the name with a heavy accent.

The moment was broken as voices could be heard talking in the strange language and he pushed you inside the cave walking you deep inside and sat you on something soft. He said something sternly gesturing to the ground with his palm and you nodded as he ran back out.

He was asking you to stay, his body language was pretty clear. And you pulled out your rechargeable lamp, turning it over to turn the large dial underneath. With a satisfied click it turned on, lighting up the space.

With the light you could see every little detail and couldn’t help getting up and exploring. There was an area with stacked wood and sticks and beside it a pit with some ashes and coals in it and you understood it was a fireplace.

Above the fireplace was a hole in the cave again it was man made and impressed you greatly. The craftsmanship of how he made his house and a chimney and everything made you proud.

There were shelves with items wrapped in big leaves and a pile of the strange fabric he wore.

You looked to where he had sat you, it looked like a bed filled with soft iridescent furs. These animals must be magnificent.

You hung the lamp from a rock, your stomach rumbling again. If you remembered correctly there was a small selection of foil sealed food in your backpack.

Shrugging off your backpack you looked to the fire pit, stacking wood you took out your flint and started a fire. It was teal, the flames looking similar to the northern lights. You had a small pot that looked like a metal cereal bowl and you poured the contents into the pot and added some water.

It was a stew and you mixed it up, you didn’t want to seem selfish so you made sure to serve him some in the little metal dish. Hearing footsteps, he entered the cafe sniffing the air curiously.

“Jimin!” You smiled and he lowered his head with a smile. He had started blushing as he placed down handfuls of fruit. You handed him the plate and he watched you eat mimicking the way you used a spoon. He followed your lead scooping the food and blowing on it gently before he put it in his mouth. He hummed his tail flicking back and forth rapidly in excitement at the flavour.

You grew tired and it was late, you wanted to return but you couldn’t and you knew that. Not only because you didn’t know your way back but he seemed to not want anyone to see you. You instead tried to talk to him some more pointing at things and repeating what he would say and he realized you were trying to learn the language of his people.

He helped you and you were able to process so much. The whole reason you were on the trip was for this. You were a linguist and you wanted to learn and decipher their language. You noticed so many things about their language.

You pointed at the soft fur area and he said something that sounded complicated and you tried to say it. His laughter was like soft bells and you tried again, he continued laughing and he kept saying it until he shook his hand. You understood this gesture to mean yes.

He was teaching you so much, you had filled at least five pages of your notebook with new words and information you had learned about him. After an hour or two you had almost figured out the sentence structure and he was amazed.

He was preparing fruit and telling you what you assumed were their names as he handed them to you. He was so sweet, smiling and talking to you, while you were drawing him and his beautiful features.

He turned away looking through the basket of fruit while you packed up and walked over to the furs and laid down curling up. They were soft like silk but warm. You blamed the strict sleep schedule you all had to maintain on the expedition for your inability to stay awake. The crackling embers of the teal fire lulling you to sleep.

You dreamt of B52, but you didn’t dream of it colonised, you dreamt of it exactly how it was, you moved through the soft two toned grass and waded through the mauve waterfall playing when Jimin called your name. He smiled brushing your hair from your face and gently rubbing your ears affectionately.

They weren’t normal human ears, they were like his and you looked down to see his tail had hooked around yours and he leaned in to press his lips to yours when you woke.

Laying in the furs Jimin's body pressed against your back and his arm around you buried in the Furs. Standing you wanted to leave but you knew you couldn't leave without a trace. So you left behind the drawing of him concentrating looking down while he cut fruit.

Sneaking out you used your tracking device to not only mark this location but to also navigate your way back to the station following the trail of flowers until you arrived back.

“Where the hell have you been?” The leader hissed

“I was making friends with the locals,” You said, reaching for your backpack for your notebook.to show them what you had learnt.

“Haha, you are on cleaning duty for a week,” The captain said and you frowned and headed inside. “Grab a shovel, you are turning soil today.”

Ignoring him you walked to the small area inside the green house and began shoveling.

“Seriously though I met them, well one of them, he was super nice.” You tried to explain to your friend but she laughed looking at you like you were crazy.

“Did you eat something you shouldn’t have, breathed in pollen from a poisonous flower?” She turned to look at you “Bitten by a space tick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“I am perfectly sane Namsoon and I am telling the truth,” You breathed, “It was cool they have their own language and they look like us except they have different ears and get this they have tails.”

“That sounds gross,” she blanched at the thought, “like a rat.”

“No, they are beautiful,” you tried to defend him.

“I think you should go rest today, you can help tomorrow” Namsoon took your shovel and turned away and you sighed and headed back to the station. On your way through the corridors to your chambers you passed the kitchen. Pausing in the hall, a big grin spread across your face, you turned around taking out your day’s rations and a small digital camera for photos of the planet turned back to the station entrance. Slipping into the woods wanting to find Jimin.

You arrived at his cave, thanking your forward thinking for marking the location on your navigation device. Entering it was quiet and he wasn’t there, you sat on his bed lying down staring at the roof.

You were working on the vocabulary when he came back in growling. He pounced on you his ears and tail puffed and teeth bared. He froze when he noticed it was you again and you were wide-eyed staring at him.

“Annyeong haseyo.” He smiled down at you, trapped below him, he was drenched and his hair was dripping water onto your face.

“Annyeong haseyo,” you grinned back, he beamed, flicking his hand in approval and he sniffed you, you spoke in english even though you knew he couldn’t understand “I went back to the station, does it smell weird?”

His nose tickled your neck and he paused catching a familiar scent and traveling down your body. You blushed as he got awfully close to certain private areas but he detoured to the pants pocket and tried to get the Jerky from your pocket.

“Meat,” he said and he used his claws but it not only ripped the pocket open but also scratched your leg causing you to call out in pain. He snatched the meat and was chewing happily. You frowned seeing the blood stain your light grey pants.

Opening your backpack and pulling out your little first aid kit. Trying to calm your heart, you knew he didn’t mean it but it scared you how wild he was.

You pulled the side of your pants down to reveal the area he had clawed on your thigh and you hissed at the sight. He turned confused by your noise and saw the cut, his smile fell and he lowered his head watching you.

He got closer looking at the wound and then at his hands, Nose scrunching at the smell of the paste you put on the wound. He stormed out of the cave, you continued to clean and dress the wound, you readjusted your pants and took a needle and thread and began sewing your pant leg. He came back with some fruits and he hung his head carrying washed fruit which he cut and gave to you.

It wasn’t easy to sneak away from the station, but you did almost every day to meet with him. You were so good at his language now you were able to hold conversations with him but he still had to explain a lot of things as best he could.

He liked it when you sang or played music and he would move around the cave with a smile. The two of you went to see the silky iridescent almost cow like creatures. He took you around showing you different flowers your favourite had to be one where he pulled you inside and sat on the leaf with you and the flower curled up around you both and inside it was like a galaxy all spotted with tiny little glowing creatures. They were completely harmless but reminded you of glow worms. He had you to try different foods. It was heaven not eating the bland genetically modified food everyday. That is until he gave you a particular fruit that made you super itchy, you decided to take an antihistamine from your first aid kit and he apologized and the two of you got back to Jimin’s favorite which was a sour fruit.

He took you swimming at the mauve waterfall and you were splashing one another and playing. He got scared when you were underwater for a long time. Diving under the water he grasped you by the waist and swam you up and called for you. “Y/n, gwaenchanha ni?”

He pulled you against the rocks holding you there with his hand on your waist and took your face with his other hand, his eyes burning in worry. You placed one hand over his leaning your cheek into his touch, “Nan gwaenchanha.”

He sighed in relief pressing his forehead to yours and looking down into your eyes. He stole your breath away, you licked your lips trying to keep them from going dry and he noticed the action licking his own. He leaned in slightly and you elongated your torso trying to bring yourself closer to him, his pupils dilated wide.

You felt his lip just touch yours, the two of you hadn’t kissed yet before his ears turned and pulled away grabbing you and pulling you through the water. He pushed you behind the waterfall and pressed his palm to your mouth and made the no gesture with his hand before slipping away.

There was a small group of them and they played and spoke, you watched them interact. They were no different from playful boys or puppies except they were fully grown men. Time passed and he finally got them to leave but you were freezing and wet.

Jimin grabbed you from the water and looked at you all blue and shivering. He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and raced back to his cave where he started the fire. He turned to see you had removed your clothes and found a spare shirt from your bag you curled up in the furs. He too changed out of sight and laid behind you trying to warm you with his body heat.

It was sweet he wasn’t trying to do anything but keep you warm, however, you knew how it must have looked to the young man who walked in, the deep growl traveling through the cave. Making you stiffen and he sat up and growled back his body crawling over yours protectively and they began arguing. You spoke to him slowly and he looked alarmed that you understood him.

He told you, to leave before you two were caught and someone was hurt. Jimin growled saying he didn’t want you to leave and at that moment you thought maybe he felt the same way as you. With a sigh Jimin agreed to return you in the morning and Taehyung nodded thankful for his defeat before he told you both he would guard the place.

Jimin explained the village were aware of the new people and were sceptical, he also said it was a festival tonight and everyone was in good spirits visiting neighbours. You leaned in pecking his lips with yours and grinning. “Gamsahabnida.”

He sat up looking at his pupils wide with affection.

You woke early and took your sketchbook and the camera. You went to leave and Jimin grabbed your hand a sad look on his face and pressed his hand to your chest. “Y/n. I love Y/n,” he said, he hadn’t remembered much from your lessons of your own language but this phrase was one he practiced well. You asked him to let his leader meet with you and your leader for a discussion, promising your men would come without weapons laughing about how weak your kind were compared.

You passed Taehyung and he sniffed you and began scolding Jimin all you understood was the words bed and you blushed realizing he knew more than you thought. You said goodbye to Taehyung and ran off to the ship.

You showed the captain the pictures and the drawings and explained how they lived peacefully but had things and resources we didn’t. “Jimin will meet me this afternoon and I would like you to meet him with me alone and without a weapon, if you bring a weapon I will actually kill you myself.

Another meeting came to a successful end and you smiled walking over to Taehyung, Jimin, and Namsoon who showed them both videos of earth, every meeting she would show them another video and they were amazed.

“Jimin-ssi,” you called and he turned beaming his ears perking up and tail swishing back and forth he began sniffing your neck and giving an almost purr. It was still unclear if they had more canine or feline features but you didn’t care.

“Why is it everytime you two meet he becomes more and more adorable, doting on you?”

“The pregnancy pheromones?” Namjoon said in english to Namsoon his nose and tail twitching. He learnt English quickly and you exchanged languages and linguistics with each other and each took your time teaching them each other's language. You blushed as Jungkook grinned patting your swollen stomach and handed you a big woven leaf basket full of berries. He was a sweet kid and looked up to Jimin. “We are very domestic people, when one of our own is pregnant we protect them?”

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[artisqueer]

RetroBangBoy AU - DREAM REALITY (ao3 link)

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairings: Yoongi x reader, mentions Namjoon x reader

Warnings: Mentions violence, blood/gore.

“Goddamn, it’s hot as fuck out here.” Indeed, it’s a hot sweltering day. Most of the jocks are crammed beneath the courtside canopy to find shade from the blazing sun.

“Hyung, let’s go for another round,” Jimin suggests, removing the jersey from his overheating abdomen.

“You wanna lose again that bad, huh?” Seokjin’s smirk disappears behind his jersey as he lifts it up and over his head. The sheen of sweat over his ripped shoulders is distracting to both teams. Jimin mocks his laugh then pouts.

“Be a good sport, Jiminie.” Hoseok passes him the basketball as he joins Jin’s side on the court.

The men assemble in their respective teams.

Jimin, Taehyung, and three other juniors.

Jin, Hoseok, and three other seniors.

***

It’s 3:15 pm and you’re getting off work early. Although it’s summer break, you’ve enrolled in advanced calculus for the fall and you want to be prepared. So, you’ve taken up an offer from a certain big-breasted mathematician. Yes, this is completely for academic purposes, Bighead.

There’s an unusual spring in your step as you walk the route from the concession stand to the parking lot behind campus. Someone from Joon’s crew will be there to pick you up because he’s still at work.

Your fingers brush along the chain fence as you pass by the court, deaf to the hooting and hollering of the intense game on the other side. You can’t be bothered to notice. Your head is pleasantly filled with thoughts of math figures and Namjoon’s figur—"

[POW!]

***

“Choco Pie? Wake up please, are you dead?”

“They’re not breathing.”

“Oh my god, we killed someone ㅠㅠ”

“I told you not to throw the ball so hard, Wonho.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Y/N’s seismic head came out of nowhere and pulled the ball like gravity.”

“This can’t happen! I’m so young. So beautiful. I can’t go to jail! ㅠㅠ”

“Sweetcheeks, please wake up. Guys, help me get t—"

“Move!” A voice growls and shoves them out of the way.

Your subconscious drifts back into a slumber for several minutes. Then, you hear the low voice again. Min Yoongi.

“Do any of you useless punks know mouth-to-mouth?” The group remains silent, dumbfounded. Yoongi bends over your motionless body to tilt your head back, blocking the sun as he checks your breathing. His face must be so close to yours because you can smell his cologne. There’s something that reminds you of the woody fragrance Namjoon carries, but this has a unique sapor. Something sweeter, more delicate. Suddenly his mouth is on yours. All your senses awaken and your heart jolts, snapping you out of your coma. Your eyes flutter open and stare directly into his. Is this is a dream or reality? If you died, this must be heaven.

You look around until you discern the outline of a dozen athletes standing above your head, deep concern across their faces. Several are grimacing in pain. Wonho has a bloody nose, Hoseok’s jersey is torn up, and Jimin is sulking behind him. They must take basketball very seriously, you think.

“Hey Dove,” Yoongi’s soft voice beside you pulls you back. It’s soothing in contrast to the pounding pain starting in your head, “are you okay to walk?” He taps your leg gently and you look down. It’s badly scraped from your fall.

“I think so.” You struggle to get up. Yoongi supports you by the arm carefully so you don’t fall. You feel a lump forming in your throat and your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as the collision replays in your mind. The basketball must have been thrown out-of-bounds with excessive force. Luckily you just happened to be in its direct path.

“Where are you going, Choco?” Jin asks, worried. His jaw looks swollen and red. You’re too humiliated to look at any of them. Plus, you were kinda sorta just resuscitated by the one and only Yoongi. The image of his soft lips on yours is threatening to make you faint again.

Yoongi holds you close and steps past them without a word, using his body as a protective shield between you and their questions.  “Are you okay, Y/N?...Why are you going with him?...I’m sorry….Stay with us…”

When you reach the parking lot, he points to a chopper-style motorcycle. “Harley Panhead ’48,” his gummy smile peaks through as he talks. “Ain’t she a beauty? I fixed her up myself.” He pats the leather seat proudly. Panhead? You’re still dizzy.

“Wait, Yoongi!” You nearly shout his name as you grab his arm. “What happened to your hand?”

His veiny hands are bloodied and bruised around the knuckles. He hides them away with a grunt. “It’s best if you stayed away from those punks, Y/N. They’re always starting shit. I was supposed to pick you up unharmed. Namjoon’s gonna be pissed.”

“It was just an accident. Wait, did you beat them up while I was unconscious?!” You thought Yoongi was just quiet and calm, but apparently he also has a dark side that can get intense. You look at his dark eyes and notice a fire blazing within them. This is new and you don’t know if you like it. It’s intimidating. He notices you looking and changes his demeanor.

“Get on the bike, Toots. It’s getting late.” He hands you a light jean jacket and you quickly throw it on, remembering that your delay might worry Namjoon.

Riding behind two bikers in the span of a few months… Damn, Bighead. You’re busy.

You can wrap your arms around him more easily than Namjoon. Yoongi may have a smaller frame, but he’s built strong. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his forearms. The muscles flex when he revs the long handlebars on the inclined streets. You notice a tattoo on his right forearm and read it quietly under his ear “dream….reality.”

He hears you and chuckles to himself.

“What’s so funny, Yoongi?” You’re not understanding how there’s humor in anything that happened today. Your leg is still stinging as you hold him tight during turns.

He chuckles again. “You should keep your mouth closed when you ride without a face covering.”

“Why? Am I annoying you?” You hear the sassiness in your own voice and cringe.

“Nah, Dove. I just don’t want you to catch any flies.” He chuckles even harder as you’re forced to suppress another remark.

You laugh too and then stop because your mouth is open.

***

He parks the bike in the driveway where you first met.

“I never thanked you for fixing my sprinklers, by the way,” your eyes fall onto his lips and there’s an awkward silence. “And thank you for today. You always show up unexpectedly—"

“Listen, Dove,” the sweetness in his eyes hasn’t gone anywhere, but you see the blaze return in them just as much, “it’s just a random coincidence. It could have been anybody.”

But you don’t desire it to be just anybody. His words sting and it travels down to your knees.

“Hm, you’re right, Yoongi.” He squeezes your hand as you part ways on the driveway. “Thank you anyway.”

You reach the door but don’t turn back. Instead, you go inside and tidy up for your study session. 

Five minutes pass and there’s a knock at the door.

“Hi, Sweetheart,” Joon follows you into the living area, “sorry I’m late again…i-is that Yoongi’s jacket?”

“Oh yeah, I must’ve forgotten to give it back to him when he dropped me off. Maybe you give it to him later?” You shrug it off and hold it out. Namjoon takes it from you slowly.

“Why? W-what’s that look?” You blink, confused at his reaction. It’s one you’ve never seen and you’re sure you never want to see it on him again. Sadness.

“Oh, it’s just that, I sent Jungkook to pick you up.”

To be continued….

[lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache]

Gone

Summary: Din Djarin and Baby Yoda are trapped. Fighting ensues. Welcome to the pain train :)

Rated T: Violence, Major Character Death

Word Count: 5.122k

The Mandalorian had been in so many impossible shootouts, he started to lose track. Something about this one was different. He was surrounded by bounty hunters and stormtroopers alike, with Moff Gideon at the helm of the ambush. The Mandalorian had been in a situation like this all those months ago, with his friends at his side. Déjà vu was probably the correct term for how he’s feeling. Except, Kuill is dead, IG-11 is gone, Greef Karga is still on Nevarro, and Cara Dune isn’t here. It’s just him and the kid. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to get us out of this one Ad’ika,” he said, defeated.

The child’s ears drooped, and he cooed sadly. They were safe for right now, barricaded indoors. Din Djarin took a moment to check his weapons, while the kid cuddled up to his midsection. A blaster burn had scorched his collarbone, and he was doing his best ignore it. The adrenaline rush was helping a lot. 

He sent a message to Cara Dune for assistance a while ago, but he wasn’t even sure if she had gotten it yet. Hope that help was on the way, act like there isn’t. Suddenly he had an idea. He had three charges, and if he timed it right, he would be able to kill a lot of the enemies and it would cause a big enough distraction that he could take the kid and run in the opposite direction. This wasn’t a fight he’d be able to win, so escape was the only option.

“Okay Ad’ika. I need you to be quiet, and not squirm too much okay? We’re getting out of here.”

Mando tucked the child into the crook of his left arm. His pulse rifle was strapped to his back, and his blaster was snug in its holster. His heart was pounding. They only had one shot. He took a deep breath and tried to seem reassuring to his kid, who was looking at him with worried eyes. Din Djarin was nauseous. Now or never. 

He kicked open the door separating him from the Imperialists and their allies, and he threw a now active charge into the crowd of troopers closest to him and the kid. He didn’t wait to see how many the explosive took out. He turned and ran into the forest that backed the cantina he had used as shelter. 

The sound of blaster fire filled his senses. He did his best to dodge the shots, considering they were coming from behind him. After a couple near misses, he activated his next charge and launched it behind him. He heard the explosion and the satisfying screams of dying stormtroopers and bounty hunters. Good. It’s what they deserved.

He put more distance between him and the group chasing after him. They weren’t out of the woods yet. He had one charge left and didn’t want to use it to soon. The kid was relatively calm, the only indication that he was in distress was the distinct droop of his ears. His ship was still so far away, he was beginning to think that they weren’t going to make it. He kept running, his breathing getting sporadic, when a lucky shot hit him in the back of his left arm. The force of the blaster and gravity sent him stumbling forward and he dropped the child when his grip loosened as a reflex from the wound. 

The child squealed as he landed with a thud. Shit.

He dove back down to the child to protect him. The shooting stopped. That’s never a good sign. Gideon approached the pair but kept his distance.

“We don’t want to hurt the Asset, Din Djarin.”

Din grit his teeth. His name being spoken out loud (again) after all this time was unsettling. He didn’t trust Moff Gideon or any Imperial’s more than he didn’t trust droids, if that was possible. So, he called bullshit right away. The Mandalorian was never much of a talker, but if he had to talk his way out of this, so be it. He was desperate. Din was never desperate. First time for everything. 

He stood up slowly, his left arm hugging his chest. The kid was on the ground, clinging to the back of his leg, hiding from view. 

“Then tell me what you want with him. He’s a child.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow in surprise. It almost sounded like the Mandalorian was considering negotiations. He would indulge Djarin, and then he would kill him and take the Asset anyway. 

“We want to understand him. You know of his power, I’m sure of it. We want to discover why he has this power. He’s fifty, but young for his species. If we can harness that power, at a young age… the Empire could rise once more. We can’t do that very well if he’s harmed, now can we?” Gideon said. What the Mandalorian didn’t know, is that he was lying through his teeth. 

There were other Force users in the galaxy. The Empire, or a shell of the Empire would rise once again regardless of the asset. The asset posed a threat, however. The remaining Imperials had hoped to convert the Asset to their side, to ensure the longevity of the new Empire. If not, then the Asset was to be eliminated. Obviously, it was of more value alive, but Gideon had no qualms about putting an end to it here and now. 

“Give us the child, and you both walk away from this.” 

Din Djarin would not hand the kid over. He couldn’t. 

“Over my dead body.” 

“That can be arranged.” With no warning, Moff Gideon pulled out the Darksaber. 

Now acutely aware of just how hopeless this was, he activated his last charge and launched it into the crowd behind Moff Gideon. During the split-second distraction of the explosion, he pulled out his blaster and started firing. 

Gideon ducked behind his troopers, waiting. 

This was definitely the least pleasant fight the Mandalorian had ever been in. He couldn’t outrun them, so this was his last stand. He was essentially a human shield, using his Beskar covered body to protect his Ad’ika. 

Every blaster bolt that hit the Beskar made the armor heat up to the point where it was almost unbearable. Thank the stars that troopers were awful shots, or he never would have lasted as long as he did. He was surprisingly efficient; despite being relatively grounded to one spot (the kid still hadn’t let go of his boot). He was only a man though, and he was exhausted. A particularly nasty shot hit him just below the knee, where the Beskar didn’t cover. His leg buckled underneath him, and he hissed in pain.

 The kid chirped worriedly and started to peek around from behind the Mandalorian. 

“Don’t! Stay behind me, I’m fine.”

As usual, the kid didn’t listen to him, but Djarin was being overwhelmed. Every time he shot a trooper down, another one took its place. A sea of blaster bolts shot towards him at the same time. He couldn’t dodge all of those. The child came out from behind Din and raised his little arms. 

Time stilled. 

The blaster bolts slowed in their approach towards the Mandalorian and stopped mere centimeters from him. The child opened his eyes, and with a flick of his tiny wrists, sent the bolts careening backwards. Many hit their marks. A lot of them scattered, seeing the Force in action for the first time. It helped but it wasn’t enough. Oddly, the kid didn’t pass right out. Maybe he knew how dire this was. The kid was a warrior, protecting the injured Mandalorian from getting shot again. Din resumed shooting at the plethora of stormtroopers that remained. 

What he didn’t see, was that Gideon had snuck around to the side of the child and the Mandalorian. With a blaster in one hand, and the Darksaber in the other, he was hard to miss. They noticed too late. Gideon leveled his blaster, aiming at the space in between the Mandalorian’s helmet and his pauldron. If his aim was true, he’d hit Din clean through the neck. An inevitable kill shot. 

The child launched another volley of blaster bolts back into the stormtroopers. Moff Gideon shifted his blaster and pulled the trigger.

 The Mandalorian watched in horror as the child flew backwards, and light green fluid soaked through his robes. When his Ad’ika hit the ground, eyes closed, and unmoving, Din Djarin saw red. 

With strength he didn’t know he had, he got up on his feet and turned towards Moff Gideon. If looks could kill, Gideon would be dead a hundred times over. He ran towards Gideon, rapidly firing at him. Swinging the Darksaber, Gideon managed to block the shots. 

The Mandalorian was simmering with rage. He would never be able to get close with the Darksaber in Gideon’s possession. He thought fleetingly of Xi’an. Switching his blaster to his left hand, he yanked his vibroblade out of his boot. He kept shooting, distracting the Moff who clearly wasn’t entirely experienced with the unique weapon. Xi’an taught him to be almost as precise with small blades as she was. The anger that fueled him, made up the difference. With all the hate and anger he could muster; he skillfully flung the vibroblade so it slashed Moff Gideon across the throat. Gideon’s eyes widened in shock, and he sank to his knees. The Darksaber slipped from his grasp, deactivating before it made contact with the ground. 

The Mandalorian stormed forward and retrieved his vibroblade from the ground. He eyed the Darksaber and picked that up too. He made eye contact with Gideon, who had a silent plea forming on his lips. 

‘End it.’ 

That was too easy. Gideon was going to choke on his own blood (good), and it was still too pleasant of a death for him. Din Djarin activated the Darksaber. 

“This belongs to the Mandalorians.” 

Rapid fire could be heard from behind the Mandalorian and he whirled around, saber raised. Some of the tension poured out of his shoulders when he realized that backup had arrived. Cara Dune was piloting a gunship, raining hellfire on the stormtroopers who just watched one of their bosses get killed. 

Djarin was going to be relieved, but he remembered why he killed Gideon. Anger bubbling up again, he examined the Darksaber that was now in his possession. He would make quick work of this. Adrenaline at an all-time high, he ran right into the sea of stormtroopers, putting the blade through anyone that was close enough. He went absolutely feral. He may have gotten shot a few times (again), but if he did, he didn’t notice. 

He cut down stormtroopers one by one until there was only a handful left. Cara had landed the ship in a clearing and raced towards the scene with her blaster drawn. She shot down the remaining troopers and scanned frantically for Din. When she saw him, she was unsettled? Maybe scared was a better word. His back was towards her, so she had to get closer to realize what was going on. He was beating the shit out of a stormtrooper who was clearly, very dead. 

“Mando?” she approached him worriedly.

He ignored her. Or maybe he didn’t hear her. She couldn’t tell. He was unhinged, that’s for certain. She put her blaster in her holster and continued to cautiously creep near him. The last thing she wanted was to startle him.

“Djarin?” 

The only answer she received was a grunt, but that was probably because he kicked the fallen trooper. She noticed an unhealthy amount of crimson darkening his sleeve, his collarbone, and his leg. That doesn’t include the blood dripping down his breastplate. She didn’t know if it was his own or the stormtrooper’s. Probably a mixture of both. 

“Din!” 

In the blink of an eye, he had the Darksaber pointed at her throat. She put her hands up in an attempt to placate the Mandalorian. She couldn’t see his face, but turmoil was radiating off him in waves. As if he suddenly realized who he was threatening. He deactivated the Darksaber and dropped it at his side. 

He swayed unsteadily and collapsed. 

“Whoa!” Cara rushed to his side. “Are you okay?”

He couldn’t answer. How could he?

“That sword. That was the one Moff Gideon stole right? Where is he?”

Din raised his good arm shakily and pointed in the direction she just came from. She helped him up, and they slowly trudged to Gideon.

 “It's okay, I gotcha.”

About twenty feet from where Gideon was slain, Djarin stopped moving. He pointed in the same direction that they were going but made it clear that he would not be accompanying her. Cara gave him a quizzical look but figured that he was more hurt than he let on, so she let it slide. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, what she hoped sounded reassuringly. What the hell happened to make him like this? He seemed detached. Like he wasn’t all there. She saw Gideon’s body, and smiled grimly. The son of a bitch was dead. Brutal death, but it was probably better than he deserved. 

Satisfied, she returned to the Mandalorian, just to find him on his knees, his back towards her once again. If she squinted, she could have sworn that she saw him shaking. 

As she neared him, she could tell he was holding something small. Halting to a stop right behind him, she peered over his shoulder and her heart sank, a strong wave of nausea hitting her. 

“Oh god,” she groaned.

She understood now. The kid. He was gone. 

Din just stared at the child, his brain short circuiting. He heard Cara call his name. She was right behind him, so why did she sound like she was a million miles away? 

“Din? I’m going to get your ship, okay? I had to crash the gunship and I passed it. I’ll bring it back here and then we have to leave.” 

She had to give him time alone. Nothing may change, but he certainly wasn’t going to react or do anything if she was around. He needed time. It wouldn’t be enough, but she wasn’t sure all the time in the world could help him now. 

Once Cara was gone, Din cradled the child close to his chest. 

“Ad’ika,” he murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His voice was tight with emotion. He had spent decades learning to stuff his feelings in a box and throw away the key. He wasn’t about to stop now. 

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad,” he whispered. He should have said it sooner.

By the time Cara made it back, the Mandalorian was back on his feet. He had laid the child to rest in the forest. She didn’t expect him to answer, but she had to ask after he boarded the Razor Crest. 

“Are you okay?” she regretted it as soon as she asked. Of course, he wasn’t okay. In a weak attempt to cover it up, she added, “Physically?”

He was in the cargo hold of his ship, where Cara had joined him once she put the ship on autopilot. They were going back to Nevarro. He was sitting on the floor, his head tilted back against the wall. He was quiet for a moment. 

“I’m not sure. I can’t feel anything, so that’s probably not good.” 

Cara blanched. He was probably in shock. She didn’t know if it was because of the kid, or the amount of blood he lost, or the trauma of it all. Before she could ask another question, he blacked out. 

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

When Djarin woke, he wasn’t on the Razor Crest. His arm was in a sling, and there was a bacta pad on his collarbone and his leg. He hurt everywhere. Groaning he sat up, and it all came rushing back. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” Greef Karga was sitting by the end of the cot. “You had Cara and I worried there.” 

“I take it we made it to Nevarro okay?” His voice was surprisingly steady.

Cara came in with food, and a jug of water. 

“Yeah we did. Listen, you’ve been out for a few days, so you need to eat. Karga and I will leave you be for a while, but then we need to talk.”

Djarin nodded his head once, in silent confirmation. Relieved that he didn’t put up a fight, his friends shuffled out of the room. In one swift motion, he pulled his helmet off and placed it on the bed next to him. The rest of his Beskar was cleaned and placed neatly in a pile on a table in the corner. His stomach growled and he noticed how hungry he was. He did his best to eat slow, but he ended up throwing it all up anyway. The water he could handle. Shortly after he donned his helmet, there was a knock at the door. 

“Is it safe to come in?” Karga asked. 

“Yes.”

Cara entered, followed by Greef and they both looked nervous. They kept glancing at each other and fidgeting.

 “What is it?” Din sighed.

Cara cleared her throat. 

“What you went through was- is, a lot. What are you going to do now?” 

He blinked. What is he going to do now? Oh right. He didn’t have to worry about the kid anymore. He would go back to his clan- oh right. The Imperials came through and killed them. His focus shifted to Karga. 

“Am I still welcome back in the Guild?”

Greef looked taken aback. 

“Of course, Mando! That offer has no expiration date. Though I do recommend you wait a bit until your arm has healed.”

He looked at Dune. “I’m a bounty hunter. I’m going to keep bounty hunting.”

Okay. She didn’t have to like it, but it was his decision. 

“Are you going to take care of yourself?” 

Now he was annoyed. “I’ve made it this far.”

“You know what I mean," she said seriously.

“No, I don’t Cara! Stop dancing around the subject. If you want to say it, say it!” The Mandalorian raised his voice.

“You haven’t talked about it, about him at all. It’s not normal. It’s not healthy,” Cara said.

Djarin was getting mad. She was trying to pry the box open. He kept it locked for a reason. Except, this time it cracked. Just a little bit, but it still cracked. 

“What do you want me to say Cara? The child is dead, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it? He’s gone. It’s over. I can’t change the past, and neither can you.” He calmed as he spoke. 

He took his arm out of the sling, testing his range of motion. Pretty good considering the minimal amount of bacta that was applied. He grabbed the Beskar from the desk and put it all back on. Even his signet, which he had somehow unearned. 

Imagine that. The only Mandalorian in the history of Mandalore to earn a signet and have it unearned in a matter of months. He shook his head and huffed, almost laughing at himself. It would be him of all people.

“Greef, how many pucks do you have on you right now?”

Karga looked through his pockets.

“Eight,” he supplied. 

“Good,” the Mandalorian said. “I’ll take them all.”

Karga offered him the pucks, without objecting. He knew the Mandalorian needed this. That’s how it usually goes. Keep busy, and you might not fall apart.  Before he left Cara Dune and Greef Karga in the hotel room, he stopped in the doorway. 

“Thank you both. For everything.” 

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

Six Months Later:

Business was booming. The Mandalorian was now the most widely known, successful bounty hunter in the galaxy. He was different now. Cold. Calculating. A shell of the man he used to be. It didn’t matter. Cara called him out on it, and he retaliated. It’s safe to say that they weren’t friends anymore. 

The Mandalorian very rarely, if ever stepped foot on Nevarro anymore either. Client’s would contact him directly if they wanted a job done, so he hadn’t seen Greef either. He probably never would, unless someone placed a bounty on Karga. 

His work became his life. He hardly found the thrill in it anymore. But he did what he had to do to survive. Some days were hard. He would open the panel of the compartment of his ship where the kid used to be safely tucked away. Then he remembered that the kid wasn’t hiding. He was gone. He looked for the kid everywhere he went. He knew he wouldn’t find him. The kid was dead, and he had buried him. 

He had just returned from his last job, and currently there weren’t any more scheduled for him. He did that on purpose. Like he said, some days were hard. But every night was hard. He found himself dreading sleep. He would get a good two or three hours of rest, when nightmares of that day would tear him out of his slumber. He tried to go days at a time without sleep. He succeeded. The less sleep he got, the sloppier he was on his jobs. The amount of times he’s used his cauterizer in the last week was testament enough. At this rate, he would be all burnt flesh by the end of the year. 

So, for the first time in his life, he had a clear schedule. Hopefully, he would be able to catch up on sleep, and then pick up another job. He wasn’t optimistic, but he had to try. 

He set the Razor Crest to autopilot, to crawl around in deep space. He removed the Darksaber from his belt and placed it on the cot next to him. Paranoia would never really leave him. 

He closed his eyes, and let exhaustion take over. 

~ It was raining blaster fire. Cara had showed up earlier here. The odds were looking in to be in their favor. Din genuinely smiled. He thought this was the end. It was far from it. Suddenly an odd light glinted in his peripheral vision. 

Moff Gideon had the Darksaber. 

Recognition of the weapon and its history sent tendrils of anger shooting throughout his body. Gideon would pay for that. He wanted to kill him.

Then he noticed the blaster pointing at the child. 

“NO!” 

He launched himself in front of the child, and the blaster bolt ricocheted off of the corner of his pauldron. He didn’t notice that Gideon had shifted the gun to shoot at him instead. His movement had deadly consequences. 

A sickening feeling worked its way into his throat, and he tasted bile. He turned his head slowly to look at the child who was lying face first in the ground next to him, his robes smoking from the heat of the shot. 

Din dropped to his knees. This was his fault. ~

The dreams were always different, but they always ended with the same line.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Ad’ika."

He woke up with a gasp and shot up like a rocket. He placed his helmeted head in his hands. Apparently, he was going to suffer indefinitely. Frustrated, he went back to the cockpit. Maybe if he went to a market or something, he could purchase sleeping pills or some other form of medication that would save him from his endless nightmares. 

He’s tired, on edge and frustrated, so when looks at the Mythosaur pendant that the child used to wear around his neck once upon a time, a little bit longer than normal as it dangles from the ceiling in the cockpit, he grips the lever a little too hard, and the knob pops right off and in to his hand. This tiny, insignificant ball should not make him hurt this much. 

He stood up and threw it to the back of his ship. He wanted it out of his sight. He returned to his seat, the silence nearly suffocating. He wouldn’t kill anyone ever again if he could get his Ad’ika back.  Maybe if he wasn’t so sleep-deprived, he would have noticed sooner. A few minutes later he realized that he never heard the ball clang when the metal hit the metal of his ship. 

He quickly withdrew his blaster and turned around, side-stepping the pilot’s seat.

“The toy I’ve heard so much about, this is?”

Din Djarin scanned the cockpit and saw no one until he glanced at the floor. He froze. A much older version of the same species as the child was in front of him. There was a cane in one hand, and the knob-turned-toy in the other. He couldn’t be much more than two feet tall, and he was green, but tinged blue. Almost like a ghost. He shook his head. 

“Now I know I’ve lost it.”

The creature laughed. 

The Mandalorian tried blinking a few times to make it go away. It stayed. 

“Yoda, I am. Real, this is.”

Yoda used the Force to send the ball back into the Mandalorian’s hand. Djarin caught it and clenched his fist around it. Wait a minute.

“How did you know about the toy?”

Yoda laughed again.

“Many things I know, Din Djarin.”

Din tensed. 

“Why are you here? I… couldn’t protect one of your kind, if that’s why.” He was lost. He might actually be crazy. Or he managed to fall back asleep, and this was another dream.

Yoda sobered up at his confession.

 “Your best, you did.”

Din leaned against the side of the pilot’s seat and sighed heavily.

“It was all for nothing. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.” Months of pent up emotional pain bled through his voice. 

“Fail, you did. Your fault, it was not.”

His head snapped up at that.

“Then who’s fault was it?” he asked angrily.

Yoda looked around, taking in his surroundings. 

“The will of the Force, it was.”

The Force. That was the power or sorcery that the child had. He scoffed at the thought that the ‘Force’, would want a baby to die. He came to terms that he was indeed, speaking to a dead person. They stood in silence for a long time. When it became clear that neither of them were going to speak, Din turned around and looked at the stars passing by through the front window. After a few minutes, he pulled the Mythosaur pendant down and stared at it. There was a pattern with him, he noticed. He had everything, he lost it all. He had everything, he lost it all. And it continued to repeat.

His parents.

His clan.

His friends.

His kid.

Yoda watched the Mandalorian sadly. He felt the darkness in him, which had fought relentlessly to snuff out the light his whole life. Only now, the darkness was winning. 

“Highly of you, Ad’ika thinks.” 

Din Djarin went rigid, and nearly cut his hand with the pendant.

“What?” he whispered.

A very familiar, sorely missed babbling noise filled the cockpit. Djarin switched the pendant to his left hand and gripped the headrest of the pilot’s chair to steady himself. He felt his eyes betray him as they burned with unshed tears. The babbling noise got closer. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to turn around. 

“Please, I can’t. I can’t do this,” he whispered again. He wanted to wake up now. It was worse, somehow, knowing that this wasn’t a dream. A soft tug of his cape convinced him to turn around slowly, steeling himself. He looks down at the floor and sank to his knees.

The kid was right there. Right in front of him. His clothes lacked the bloodstains that the Mandalorian had last seen on him, and the child was glowing a faint blue color, just like Yoda.

 “Ad’ika?”

 The kid’s ears perked up, and he made the grabby motions with his hands. He wanted to be picked up. 

 Mando looked to Yoda, who was silently observing. Seeking confirmation. Can you even touch a ghost? Yoda gave a slight nod, and Din went for it. He scooped up the kid and the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders. The child squealed happily as Djarin held him close to his chest, squeezing a bit harder than he should have. He couldn’t help it. The helmet masked the tears that finally escaped him. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” he said. He was grateful, obviously. But it didn’t make sense. Yoda cleared his throat. 

“Missed you, he has.”

A lump formed in the Mandalorian’s throat. He looked down at the ghost of a child who was gnawing on the top of his breastplate.

 “I missed you too, Ad’ika.” His voice cracked when he spoke. He sat there holding the child, stroking his big ears with his fingers.

 He listened as Yoda did his best to explain something that Din couldn’t fully grasp yet. The Force connects all things. No one is ever really gone. Force users can come back and interact with the living under certain circumstances. Apparently, Ad’ika cried non-stop when he couldn’t find the Mandalorian. Yoda taught the child about his abilities and how to manifest as a Force ghost, so he could go find his lost guardian. Force ghosts could only interact with the living sporadically.

 However, he may have hinted that it was much easier to appear in dreams and interact with the living that way. Djarin’s breath hitched.  The child squirmed out of Djarin’s hold and waddled to the mythosaur pendant which found its way to the floor amidst the reunion. He picked it up and held it out towards Din, a questioning look on his face as he babbled.

“A-ga da a-ba?”

Din took the pendant and tied it around the child as a necklace. 

“Why don’t you hang on to that? It’s yours.” 

The child immediately stuck it into his mouth. The Mandalorian laughed. 

“Time for us to go, it is,” Yoda said solemnly. “See him again, you will.”

Djarin’s heart sank, but he nodded. Before they disappeared, the child placed a three-fingered hand on the back of the Mandalorian’s hand.

 “Ba-ba bu, buh!” The kid shook his head in frustration and tried again. “a-ga… dada!”

The Mandalorian started. 

“I-” he had so many questions. Did the kid know what he was saying? It was just baby talk. Then the kid dropped this on him just before both ghosts vanished.

 “Boo-Bu-eer. Buir!”

His heart stopped. Long after they faded, he kept replaying it in his mind. 

Buir.

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

Mando’a Translations: Ad’ika: little one, son, daughter, of any age Buir: father/mother Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad: Adoption vow; I know your name as my child Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: Daily remembrance of those passed on *I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal*. Followed by repetition of loved ones' name(s).

[paperanddice]

Fell Taints in the 13th Age

Fell taints were a weird monster that appeared in the 4e Monster Manual 2, got both a Dragon article in issue 376 and an appearance in a Dungeon adventure in issue 173, and are never going to appear in any D&D product ever again. They’re exactly the kind of strange bullshit that I love, a really unique monster with a fascinating idea behind them, and like so many others it never got any real attention in comparison to the classics. Part of this may also be that their name is kind of ridiculous. You don’t want to encounter a fell taint, but not because it’s a terrible monster. I’ve made 5e stats for two kinds of fell taints before, but for this I’m going to go all in on 13th Age conversions and make blocks for most, if not all, of them.

Fell taints are like aberrant jellyfish, only a bit more aggressive. They’re just a bundle of tentacles, body parts, eyes, tongues, mouths, and all the standard aberrant things, but far more colorful and in some descriptions and depictions actually beautiful. They float through the air hunting prey for psychic presence and emotions, and are quite good at working together to best utilize their varied abilities to bring down prey. Nothing they do leaves a mark on their foes, so a rash of completely pristine bodies may be a precursor to a fell taint infestation. Fell taints never communicate with other creatures however, and often seem to completely lack higher level understanding of their world. They can recognize threats, rarely attacking when outnumbered or against creatures that have proven dangerous in the past, but seem to have no recognition of other creatures being allied. A fell taint will occasionally follow a group of adventurers, feeding off of the fallen enemies, but the instant one of the adventurers falls in combat the fell taint will seek to feed off of that person as well, completely failing to realize that doing so will turn its steady food source against it.

Most fell taints are fairly small, only 2-3 feet in diameter, and they have no weight at all. Even when they lose their incorporeality and flight to feed, there’s no weight countering attempts to lift them up. When killed their body fades away after a few seconds, leaving just a slight misty residue behind that quickly gets swept away by wind and passing creatures. Proving their existence can be quite difficult for this reason. When there’s no food nearby, fell taints can go into a sort of hibernation, anchoring themselves into hidden corners and high ceilings to sleep until a new meal arrives.

They appear where alternate realms come close to this one, branching off and only partly real as they explore the new world they’re in. This may even further weaken the barrier between realms, and if left to feed and multiply for too long far more powerful aberrations could follow them through. No current Icon is at all interested in letting these things to gain a foothold in the world, though rumors of previous Icons such as the Alienist and the Great Mind suggest that someone out there may make a move to establish themselves as a new power if allowed.

Fell Taints

Most fell taints have the following abilities, though a few have variations on them noted in their stat blocks.

Fell Taint Feeding: The fell taint can feed off of an unconscious or helpless creature it’s engaged with. It loses its flight and incorporeal form abilities until the end of its next turn, and the target must immediately roll a hard save (16+); on a failure, the target loses a death save until the end of the battle (it will now die after failing 3 death saves or last gasp saves, and this is cumulative) and the fell taint immediately regains all of its hit points. Flight: Fell taints almost seem to simply ignore gravity, moving in three dimensions with no limitations. Even in death they simply hover in place before fading away. Incorporeal Form: When an enemy rolls a natural odd attack roll against the fell taint with an attack that doesn’t deal psychic damage, that attack only deals half damage. The fell taint also can’t be hampered or stuck.

Fell Taint Drone 1st-level mook [aberration] Initiative: +7 Vulnerability: Psychic Tendril Caress +6 vs. PD - 3 psychic damage Fell Taint Feeding: If the fell taint hits a helpless or unconscious creature with an attack, it gains 5 temporary hit points. Incorporeal Form: When an enemy rolls a natural odd attack roll against the fell taint with an attack that doesn’t deal psychic damage, that attack automatically misses and deals no damage and has no effect on the fell taint.. The fell taint also can’t be hampered or stuck. AC 17 PD 13 MD 12 HP 5 (mook)

Drones are pretty exceptional, though not in the way they might like. Immature fell taints, they are even more animalistic than other fell taints and don’t yet understand smart hunting tactics. They are more likely to attack even when outnumbered, and may not retreat even when more advanced fell taints leave the field of battle.

Fell Taint Lasher 1st-level blocker [aberration] Initiative: +5 Vulnerable: Psychic Tendril Caress +6 vs. PD - 5 psychic damage Natural Even Hit: The fell taint can use tendrils of stasis against the target as a free action. [Special Trigger] Tendrils of Stasis +6 vs. PD - the target is stuck until the end of the fell taint’s next turn Natural Even Hit: The target is also dazed as long as it is stuck. Flowing Tendrils: When the fell taint makes an opportunity attack, it can immediately move as a free action. AC 16 PD 12 MD 15 HP 22

Lashers close in on prey quickly, trying to lock them down so that pulsars and thought eaters can bring their most powerful attacks to bear. Lashers nearly always have more tentacles than other fell taints, though they have no more of a physical presence than any other kind.

Fell Taint Pulsar 1st-level caster [aberration] Initiative: +4 Vulnerable: Psychic Tendril Caress +6 vs. PD - 4 psychic damage R: Tendril Pulse +7 vs. PD (one nearby or far away enemy) - 6 psychic damage Natural Even Hit: The target is dazed until the end of the fell taint’s next turn. R: Tendril Flurry +7 vs. PD (three different nearby enemies) - 3 psychic damage Limited Use: The fell taint can use this ability only when the escalation die is even. AC 13 PD 13 MD 16 HP 18

Pulsars can send mind wrecking rays of light flying from their eyes, overwhelming the minds of creatures further away from them. They try to stay out of reach of retaliatory attacks, finding areas with high ceilings or rough ground to launch attacks.

Fell Taint Thought Eater 1st-level caster [aberration] Initiative: +4 Vulnerability: Psychic Tendril Caress +5 vs. PD - 5 psychic damage R: Spirit Haze +7 vs. MD (one nearby) - 4 psychic damage Natural Even Hit: The target is dazed until the end of the fell taint’s next turn C: Thought Fog +6 vs. MD (1d4 nearby enemies) - 2 psychic damage Natural Even Hit: The target is hampered and stuck (save ends). AC 14 PD 13 MD 17 HP 20

Thought eaters overwhelm the minds of their prey, freezing them in place and settling a thick fog in over their thoughts so they can feed at their leisure. They tend to have very prominent mouths on their bodies, though they still never consume physical material and instead these mouths inhale a semi-real fog over their enemies.

Fell Taint Warp Wender 2nd-level spoiler [aberration] Initiative: +6 Tendril Caress +8 vs. PD - 7 psychic damage R: Psychic Transposition +8 vs. MD (one nearby enemy) - 5 psychic damage and the target is dazed (save ends). Each time the target fails the save to end this effect, the fell taint can choose to swap places with the target. AC 16 PD 14 MD 16 HP 30

Warp wenders are a more advanced form of fell taint, folding space and moving themselves and their prey about in battle. It’s been suggested that each time a warp wender uses its psychic transposition to switch places with another creature it weakens the barrier between this world and the one fell taints come from a little further, calling out to more powerful creatures.

[frenchie-sottises]

Angele Headcannons. (Updated.)

I mentioned somewhere previously that I was gonna do updated headcannons for Angele, so I’mma do them now. Also, FLORIDA’S BEING A B RN CAUSE I WOULD’VE POSTED THESE SOONER IF IT WASN’T FOR THE WEATHER-

- Never had a clue that she wasn’t fully human till she got struck by lightning when she was 15. “Popcorn” storms tend to happen quite a bit in Florida, so one popped up at her home one day and managed to strike her in the back of the neck. It didn’t kill her, but it caused the nerves in her forearms and lower legs to slowly die and lose function. A group of scientists saw this and decided she was an interesting enough subject to be fitted with prostheses. (Prosthetics and Prostheses are actually two different things.) They were made of better material than the usual material found on normal prostheses cause why not?

- Physically transforming to look more like a hybrid didn’t happen on the spot. As the wound on her back began to heal, scales began to slowly accumulate in that area. Every month, there were about 4-5 new scales. They started where the lightning made its entry, which was the back of her neck, and slowly made their way down to the base of her tail. They also separated off from there and have now made their way to the sides of her thighs. They stopped forming once she hit 18, so more than likely her body won’t make any more. They’re smooth and highly reflective, much like a snake’s scales.

- She didn’t earn her wings and tail till a few months after being given prostheses. They were frail and thin, so she immediately went into intense exercising and slowly built up the muscle over time. Her wings are about as buff as her arms by this point. She treated them much like how she treats her arms cause wings are also arms, but they’re structured differently for flying. Her tail, however, needed something completely unique to be as physically fit as her wings, so Angele used herself as a weight. There was a tree stump in which she wrapped her tail around and slowly lifted herself over and over again. They’re both the deadliest parts of her body. Her wings can easily lift things much bigger and heavier than she is while her tail can send people flying for yards/meters if she strikes them in the gut just right.

- Speaking of wings and tail, she has oversized wings and a very long tail. The wings have a very simple explanation: her bone structure. Birds have hollow bones in their bone structures. Of course, it isn’t completely empty space, there are “braces” in the cavities to allow durability against pressure changes in altitudes. Angele, however, doesn’t have this. She shares the same exact bone structure with her human species, so it’s clear that somewhere along the line, her DNA recognized this and made up for it by giving info to make the wings much bigger. Although DNA in a normal human being changes due to mutations overtime, it has not been reported to “recognize” a flaw and change voluntarily. At the same time, she’s half of a species that was reported in the scrolls to not be from Earth, so it’s possible that some alien species can do this and it was just passed onto her. Her tail, on the other hand, is a mystery of its own. No one knows how truly big Kindled dragons are, so there isn’t much evidence to try and explain why the tail she was given is ridiculously long. The tail is well over 10′6, 320cm long, which is exactly twice her height, which is 5′3, 160cm. Because the tail is so long, she often has it rolled up like a chameleon’s tail. The only times she uses it outside of battle is to: catch and hold larger prey, position herself to sit in a way where it looks like she’s levitating off the ground, to grab things from a further distance, and to wrap around a branch and sleep upside down like a bat.

- That’s another thing she can do: sleeping upside down. There’s been many reports of people asphyxiating from being upside down for too long. If it’s not asphyxia, then there’s pooling in the brain since a human’s circulatory system is built so blood won’t pool at the feet. In much less serious cases, some people can suffer temporary blindness due to gravity inversion. All of this should apply to Angele, but the worst she’s ever suffered is dizziness and that was just from her getting back into an upright position far too quickly. Upon further inspection, even though she’s very much a human being and shares all the basic traits as the rest, her organs are far more durable to altitude pressures, gravity inversion, and other forms of pressure. While a normal person’s lungs get weighted on by the other organs in the body from being upside down, which leads to asphyxiation, her lungs manage to stay intact. When it comes to possible pooling in the brain, her body seems to recognize the change of position and the circulatory system can work the other way around. This also explains her heart’s position, as it points straight down and not to the left like a normal human being’s. Her lungs are also the same size, which allows more oxygen into the blood and further lessens the chance of asphyxiation. 

- She has the slowest heartbeat of any human being, which is reported to rest at 23bpm, beating the bpm of Guinness World Record holder, Martin Brady, who’s resting bpm was 27bpm. Although a bpm lower than 60 could be considered bradycardia, which is a condition where the heart just beats too slow, for highly trained athletes, they can have a bpm around 30-40 and have no issues. However, Angele isn’t a highly trained athlete, but she did exercise rather intensely on her own accord. This, combined with the fact that she’s half-alien, would possibly explain the slow heartbeat. The highest it has ever reached was 90bpm, and that was when she was running her max speed of 75mph down the highway all because she forgot to delete her Internet history.. Okay, I’m joking on the last part, but she did think leaving her wallet in the store’s freezers would be funny.

Okie, I’mma stop here for now.

[emsartwork]

May I ask? Have u given any thought to the flags and size of planets such as zhene koyu or vaonaa?

Below the cut ^-^

Zhen flag is reference to their planetary animal and planetary colors. Vaonaa’s represents their oneness and connection that the prevalent wind on the planet provides. Koyu is the crown jewels, the planet’s form, and the dark eyes that are characteristic of Koyuvians.

Eraklyan’s don’t technically have a wedding dress, usually they just wear a nice gown, and modern weddings with use a more traditional clothing style. Bloom here is in a royal gown, so the average Eraklyan would have shorter sleeves/dress, a less ornate vest, and no cape. Eraklyan Weddings are heavy on tradition, and have a set structure of courtship, engagement, ceremony, and post ceremony. Courtship isn’t dating, but a declaration of the intent to be married, engagement is the actual contract between the couple, and the ceremony consists of spoken vows and exchanging of personal jewels. Each person on Eraklyon has a gem given/assigned to them at birth, in the past personal jewels were thought to hold a person’s soul. Worn as jewelry( bracelet ring, piercing, everything except a necklace), these gems are given to the other as part of the wedding, if a person is not Eraklyan, they will pick out a gem at the start of the courtship. Instead of wedding rings Eraklyans propose/signify marriage with necklaces(the necklaces are separate from personal jewels, only necklaces can be used for marriage) Bloom has the heart of Eraklyon which is a specific jewel that been passed down through the people who marry INTO the Eraklyan royal family. The average Eraklyan engagement jewel is basically the same shape tho usually smaller. Eraklyan women also put their hair up after they are married or for the wedding, in ancient times sometimes the wedding day would be the first time an Eraklyan woman had tied her hair up in her entire life. Modern times have relaxed this custom but its still pretty common for unmarried women to leave their hair down most of the time and married women to wear their hair up more often than not. Sky initiated their courtship period in the first movie, Bloom(and Domino) misunderstood and thought he was officially proposing. He proposes in season 5 with the Heart of Eraklyon.  

MOVING ON TO ZHEN

History: Zhen is a very rigid planet social customs-wise, but they have a long history of political unrest and war. The planet is divided into small feudal states, and each one is constantly on alert for invasion or offense from the others. Through a very clever scheme, a prince of a larger state convinced another state to send him one of their princesses/princes as a peace treaty. Then claimed the prince/princess never arrived to the palace(they did, were not harmed and  hidden away in the lap of luxury) and propositioned a different state for a marriage peace treaty. Eventually he revealed he had kept the royals safe and alive and had legally binding peace contracts with each of the states he had tricked. Zhenese have an intense code of honor and will follow rules/contracts the way the fae do even if its inconvenient for them lmao. He became the leading power, and forced the other states to send him some of their family to stay at his central palace. Zhen was then at peace for longer than before in their history, eventually developing the central system of government with a central royal family. Local rulers still send a portion of their family to live at the palace complex as a tradition and a safety measure, though the family and their Regent will switch off visiting the hub. Unfortunately, the most recent Emperor and Empress were assassinated and their daughter, the closet heir, disappeared, thought to be captured or killed as well. Leaving the royal families to claim a right to the throne and fight it out. Ho-boe left a week after the assassination on one of the last ships before the rival states set up blockades for each other’s fleets/communications.

Cimate: Zhen is on the cold side and has numerous mountain ranges littering the continents with very flat land in between them. Their coastlines are ragged with a lot of good bays to use as ports. They have a lot of rivers in the mountains which generally combine into one major river across the plains. They grow a lot of grains, and are excellent hunters, surviving on a very high protein diet (it’s theorized that Zhenese evolved their sharp teeth, hearing, and low center of gravity with heavy musculature to become more ideal hunters in their environment) During peace, Zhen exported a lot of unique furs, minerals, and their woodworking skills(they don’t have a lot of forest to use for export but they are master craftsmen) Their clothing is usually wool, from the Zhenese Argali, a sheep/goat like animal with orange/red wool and blue(ish) horns. These animals are the most prevalent species on Zhen and are wild, domestic, used for wool, skins, dyes, meat, household objects, and even their bones are used whenever possible. 

Clothing: traditional dress is still worn on Zhen instead of Magix modern styles. In general: Thick sock/shoes with leather soles tied around the ankle, loose cotton pants, a pleated wool skirt, a shirt with a square stand up collar and long straight sleeves, a short sleeved jacket or structured tunic layered on top, sometimes a wrapped belt. Hair styles are complex and accessorized.  In warmer areas the skirt and sleeves are shorter, and usually only a lighter jacket is worn. In cold weather they wear a wrapped fur hat, several layers of wool shirts and skirts. Royal wear always features the planetary colors, a complex headress, and wide skirts with several layers. and stupidly wide sleeves (usually they cover the hands entirely but if a royal is doing anything they usually roll them up) royal coat/tunics feature a lot of embroidery, usually of geometric patterns, as well as draped tied from the shoulders(usually white). For a wedding Zhenese wear black yellow and white. Black is only worn for weddings and symbolizes the seriousness of the relationship that being officiated. They also have a hat with a bead veil and a pin through the hair with fabric/paper hanging from them onto the shoulders. The beads on the hat are strung in a very specific order, reflecting the planets reliance on rules and order, the veils can taken weeks to make because if a mistake is made all the beads have to be taken off and started over. A braided chord with threads of the planetary colors is knotted around the waist to represent the planet and culture as a whole. Married Zhenese have a short thread of beads they hang from their hats or hair pins.

VAONAA

History: Generally known for their spirituality and rich knowledge, Vaonaa has a fairly standard history. Fighting slowly stopped and the various groups on the planet were united after the incorporation of magic into their culture.(yes i know this is unrealistic leave me and my idealistic alien planets alone) One substantial difference is that Vaonaa developed an electoral system of government as opposed to a monarchy. Consisting of three groups (elders, adults, and youth) they’re all part of a larger group called the Council. Each individual group has to have an equal ratio of men/women/nb. Each county has one person elected and the other person assigned(like jury duty). The council is the main authority on everything and is a full time job. The Vaonaar is like a president/prime minister temporary position, every time a council member is appointed they submit a name of their most trusted person, if the council deadlocks over a decision a name from the list the Council members provided is randomly chosen to resolve the deadlock over a period of a few weeks so they actually have time to hear all the arguments and read relevant materiel. there are also more local officials like police/librarians/parks and rec etc. 

Climate: Vaonaa has a lot of flat grass land, with a high proportion of mesa formations. as a result of these steep valleys Vaonaa has strong wind currents. They coatline is relatively smooth, and they usually have to use rivers as ports because bays aren’t super common. They have many different types of grasses, and are especially known for their high quality textile production. They export their textiles, precious stones, and metal work. 

Clothing: Vaonaaj usually wear deerskin, suede, wool, and cotton. Tunics tied together at the sides, leggings, and poncho styled blankets, and wrapped or metal belts are the basic clothing items. Beaded necklaces and earnings are common accessories for everyone. Hair is worn in either one or two braids. In warm weather, a short tunic and soft moccasins are worn  In colder weather a woven blackets is wrapped around the body or tucked into the belt, leggings are added under the tunic, and wrapped skins are layered over the moccasins and leggings and secured just below the knee sometimes the blanket has a smaller buttoned on hood but i didn’t draw that. Royal Vaonaaj have a longer tunic with stitched details and beaded sections.a more complex belt, and a rectangular blue vest/shawl worn under the belt. For weddings, Vaonaaj wear a loose tunic/dress and wrapped leather around their feet instead of mocasins. strips of fabric and jewelry is in the four colors Vaonaa considers sacred, white, green, blue, and rust red. White and blue represent the wind, blue also represents royalty and honor, green represents the grasses that cover most of the planet and are used in making textiles, the rust red represents a grounding connection to the earth something the people tend to forget because they are so dependent on the wind and all. Married Vaonaaj keep a colored thread woven into their hair, in modern times this is usually done through magic.

(PSA: I almost exclusively based this planet/culture on Navajo native Americans, with some tweaks because fantasy alien planet.  I am not native, if any of this is inappropriate please let me know.)

(second less important psa: its like super hard to find clothing references for native american cultures before European contact so if any one has some good sources pls lmk)  

KOYU

History: Koyu is thought to have begun as a dwarf planet with a highly poisonous atmosphere struck by an asteroid and pushed further towards the sun it was orbiting. This increased the radiation levels which caused the dormant fungal growth on the asteroid to begin growing at exponential rates. The growth also filtered out the toxins in the lower atmosphere but eventually reached a state of equilibrium and was unable to grow any bigger. The outer reaches of the formation are still technically living matter, but the inner reaches have dried and kind of fossilized creating a porous tangle of branches around the planets core.  Koyuvian’s eyes have evolved to be intensely receptive to any light in their environment because the inner tangles are very dark and fire cannot be used as the dried growth produces poisonous smoke when burned. many plants and animals on Koyu are luminescent and are some are farmed and used as light sources. water runs through some hollow sections of the growth like vertical rivers. others are used as highways or roads. especially large knots of tangles usually become cities. spaces that don’t have as many branches of growth are known as the voids and are avoided because its easy to get lost or fall and especially dangerous animal/plant life occupy those spaces.

Climate: The outer reaches of the planet is very hot, and has a lot of dangerous radiation, so people don’t live there. The inner reaches of the planet don’t have direct sunlight and can be pretty cold, but there are still pockets that have a decent amount of warmth due to insulation, being closer to the radiation, or the planet’s core producing some heat.  Koyu exports some of their unique animal and plant life, and Koyuvian mushrooms are some of the most highly sought after produce/garden items in the magix universe but they are almost impossible to grow off planet. Koyu has very small mineral reserves but will export Koyuvian Diamonds for jewelry and technology which are formed in high heat high pressure vent branches of the tangles. 

Clothing: Koyu’s main priority for clothing is mobility, so their clothing is durable simple, and easily fastened or unfastened as needed. usually a shirt with a vest/coat, loose pants, a long piece of fabric around the waist that can be used as a rope in emergencies, and rough sole socks are worn. Koyuvians rarely wear shoes. In warm areas a rectangular fabric with a hole for the head is worn over the shoulders and secured with a wrap of fabric around the waist and lower chest.the pants are thin fabric loosely fastened with small leather cuff, usually with a slit up the side for ventilation. In cold areas a long sleeves undershirt is worn with a lined coat usually the sleeves can be buttoned or left hanging. the pants here are a thicker material with no slit and a fur lined leather cuff at the ankle, the socks might be a tad thicker but have to thin enough for the Koyuvian to have some grip. The royals are usually the only ones with any embroidery since detail work like that is hard to do in the dark lmao. Royal dress also usually features sheer material and an extra skirt layer . The veil is able to easily detach from the crown in case it gets stuck in anything and the sleeves are secured at the wrist and neck but can also be unbuttoned if they’re in the way. For weddings the bride and groom (or what have you) are dressed in dark colors, and a blindfold. because sight is so crucial to Koyuvians survival, removing it during the ceremony puts the bride and groom in a state of vulnerability, the metal disks attached to the blindfold ring as the couple moves, their goal is to find each other, and then find a Basket, a natural formation in the Tangle that looks like a small nest, its usually used as a temple/sanctuary.  They have their friends and family watching over them to prevent any serious danger but they aren’t allowed to help the couple. The reason for dark colors is for camouflage from wild animals but the gold on the breast is so the family can spot them. The couple find a basket, share a small meal there and the marriage is official. Married Koyuvians have small tattoos on their wrists.

[razieltwelve]

Directive (Final Rose)

Elsa backed away slowly. Averia had overused Saviour, so she was supposed to be catatonic for at least a few more days. She should have been in bed. Instead, she was standing by the window staring up at the stars.

"Averia?"

Averia turned and smiled. It wasn't her smile. "Not exactly."

Ice began to creep along the walls, floor, and ceiling. "Who are you?"

"I think you know." Not-Averia made a show of sitting on the windowsill, her lips curved into a smile that reminded Elsa far more of Diana than Averia.

It took a moment for the pieces to fit together in Elsa's mind. "Saviour?"

Saviour grinned. "Yep." She tilted her head to one side. Elsa was struck by how inhuman the movement looked. There was absolutely zero wasted motion, not a single iota of unnecessary movement. It was like watching a statue come to life. "Averia is… a little occupied right now, so I thought I'd take our body out for a bit of a spin. It wouldn't be good to let it atrophy or anything."

"But… she'll be back, right?"

"Oh, yes." Saviour smiled. "She'll be back in exactly fifty-three hours, twenty-one minutes, and twenty seconds. To be honest, our body would be fine just staying still for that long, but I wanted to have a chat with you."

"With me?" Elsa was still debating calling for the others. Saviour didn't seem hostile, but if the Semblance did turn aggressive, it might be better if the others weren't here. She wasn't stupid enough to think they'd have a chance even if she, Anna, and Claire all fought together.

"Please," Saviour said gently. "Don't be afraid. You are safer here than anywhere else on the planet." Her lips twitched. "Which is actually one of the things I want to talk to you about. You see, Averia really hasn't explained how a lot of this works to you, has she?" Elsa shook her head. "And it makes you worry. Of course, Averia being kind of an oblivious idiot, hasn't noticed that yet, but when she does, she'll feel awful, so I thought I'd just save you both some heartache."

"Is that so?" Elsa found herself relaxing ever so slightly. Despite the inhuman way Saviour moved, there was still enough of Averia's mannerisms in her to put Elsa at ease. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I think the best place to start is by explaining the Directive System. It's kind of what makes Saviour operate the way that it does." Saviour held up one hand. A glass formed, and although it was empty at first, it soon filled with water. "Here," Saviour said. "You look a bit thirsty."

"You just made water." Elsa's eyes narrowed. "I haven't seen Averia do that before."

"She totally could if she wanted to. It's just she only ever bring Saviour out to fight and just making water is such a wasteful way to use Saviour's powers. Technically speaking, Saviour has the ability to transmute matter directly from Aura, so making a glass and some water is not very hard at all."

"Fraise can do that."

"Yep. She got that particular shard of Saviour. Unfortunately, she didn't get the mental filters that go with it, so she's had some… difficulties. Averia was quite upset when she realised that." Saviour floated the glass over to Elsa. The queen raised one eyebrow. "How am I doing that? It's a simple application of force and vector control. Remove gravity's effect on the cup and apply a small velocity vector to it. Easy. It's kind of like how I can shoot objects at relativistic speeds in combat only nobody is getting killed."

"I see." Elsa took a sip out of the cup. "This tastes like fresh spring water."

"Pure water doesn't really taste nice. It's the trace impurities that actually give it a sort of pleasant flavour. That particular batch is based on the stream we stopped at during one of the hikes we took on our honeymoon."

"…"

"Yes, Saviour keeps track of everything - everything - it encounters." Saviour chuckled. "But back to the Directive System. In simple terms, Saviour is driven by goals. More often than not, these are related to combat. For obvious reasons, though, you need a way to settle conflicts between competing goals. The key to that is the Directive System, which sets the rules by which Saviour seeks to achieve its objectives. The directives are basically grouped into tiers. Primary Directives are those that will be pursued, provided they don't entail the death of the person with Saviour. Secondary Directives have lower priority, and they will typically only be pursued if they do not conflict with any of the Primary Directives. Tertiary Directives are those below Secondary Directives. There are more tiers, but you should get the idea."

"Can you give me an example of a Primary Directive?" Elsa asked.

"Sure. Primary Directive #11 states that any powerful Grimm are to be eliminated immediately. In the event that such Grimm are capable of killing or significantly injuring Averia, the recommended course of action is to retreat until reinforcements can be secured. This is contingent on not conflicting with any higher directives." Saviour chuckled. "For obvious reasons, that one doesn't come up very much."

Elsa sighed. "I can't remember the last time Averia fought a Grimm and actually took damage once Saviour was active." She paused. "Higher directives? I assume that means higher Primary Directives, but is there anything higher than those?"

"Very good. I was hoping you'd notice it." Saviour smiled. "Zeroth Directives are those so important that they override all over directives. What makes them especially unique is that they are basically axiomatic to how Saviour views the world and operates. They are, in essence, the things that Averia considers so important that Saviour is under orders to obey them even if it means her death."

Elsa's eyes widened. "What?"

"Zeroth Directives are to be obeyed even if it means her own death," Saviour repeated. "That is how important they are. Thankfully, there's not that many."

Elsa was almost afraid to ask. "What is the oldest Zeroth Directive Averia has?"

"You could probably have guessed it. It was the very first order that Averia ever gave me after she awakened her Semblance. Zeroth Directive #1 states that Diana must be protected. Any and all means are authorised and there are no restrictions, limitations, or regulatory mechanisms in place. In the event that Diana goes berserk in her Ragnarok state, lethal force is not authorised even if it means sustaining serious injury or even death."

Elsa gaped. "Are you serious?"

"Averia would rather be dead than seriously injure or kill her sister. It's a valid concern too since Saviour is probably the only thing that can actually kill Ragnarok once it's reached the level Diana is at."

"That's… exactly what Averia would do." Elsa sighed. "What about the newest Zeroth Directive."

"Hmmm… the newest one is actually one that's been amended fairly recently." Saviour smiled. "Protect Elsa and the children. Again, no restriction, limitations, or regulatory mechanisms in place. The amendment was because Sigrid was born, so she's mentioned specifically in the directive. Basically, if the entire world declared war and tried to kill you and the kids, my response would be to exterminate the entire world."

"That is…" Elsa tried to find the word. It was immensely comforting, yet vaguely horrifying. Saviour was arguably the most powerful Semblance in the entire world. It could wipe out entire civilisations with ease, and Averia had authorised it to do whatever it felt was necessary if she or the children were threatened. "Interesting."

"Not all the directives are that serious. She's actually got a Tertiary Directive in place that ranks her entire extended family's pets in order of how she should try to save them if they're all in danger and she has to choose." Saviour's lips twitched. "The ranking system is actually extremely complicated since there are some amusing cases. For instance, Fury is Taren's chocobo, so he should be right at the top of the list. However, he's also huge and more than capable of taking care of himself, so someone like Professor Radical might go higher than him because he's a hamster and basically cannon-fodder in a fight."

"Any other amusing ones?"

"If it helps, keeping you sexually satisfied is actually a Primary Directive."

"… are you serious?"

"Yep."

"I'm not sure whether to be pleased or horrified that she ranks that up there with saving the world."

"Technically, it's not quite as high as saving the world since she can't keep you satisfied if the world blows up, but it's pretty close."

"…"

"Anyway, that's enough for now. I might be able to come back in a few hours, but there's some stuff going on that I need to help Averia with." Saviour sighed. "There's so much work I have to do to make sure our brain doesn't melt due to information overload."

X     X     X

Author's Notes

Elsa is getting a crash course in how Saviour works… from Saviour. Averia may or may not want to strangle her Semblance when she wakes up.

[sugaxjpg]

event horizon; m

⤷  The city of Crystalfall had, just like any other small town, the good, the bad, and the ugly. You were familiar with the first one, and Min Yoongi, in all of his despondent and reckless glory, taught you about the rest.

✓ Couple: Yoongi x Reader | Criminal!AU 

✓ Filed under: angst, fluff, smut

✓ Look out for: violence, drunk driving, and drugs; a relationship slowly getting toxic

✓ Words: 30,782 (yes, I know) 

Author’s Note: Inspired by the setting of “Riverdale”. I’d like to put out a PSA and say that this fic has moments that are quite toxic/abusive, and by no means I approve this kind of behavior, nor am I romanticizing this. It’s all fiction, and I treated it the best way that I could. Nevertheless, feedback is always welcome and, oh boy, I hope the ‘read more’ works on tumblr mobile. 

⤷ Song rec: Chase Atlantic - Triggered

⤷ This story is dedicated to @pantaemonium. Happy birthday to my beautiful, talented, unique wife. Love you lots. 

According to physics’ theory of general relativity, the event horizon of a black hole is a point of no return. It does not matter how you have reached that specific part of the universe, nor how you feel once you touch its insubstantial traces ― in that speck of victory and defeat, the only thing that holds any sort of significance is the fact that, even against your best attempts, you cannot go back to where you once were. The gravity is too strong, the pull is more than you could ever take; you are trapped in a position paused in time, unable to comprehend the nothingness that lays beyond; how even the light curves and attempts to escape from that cosmic abyss.  

Your story began the same way it ended: with a poorly thought-out decision, and a promise of better days. For the lack of a better definition, Min Yoongi, with all of his melancholic and dream-like existence, became your event horizon.

Tempestuous and dense clouds had long fallen over the suburban town once you entered that pleasant diner place, hearing as the rhythm of the rain danced against the foggy windows, almost overlapping the dim ringing of the bell that signaled your arrival. With no hesitation, you walked towards your usual table, ordering a hot cup of chocolate after greeting the friendly employees, and waited for your friends to come to your peculiar reunion.

The diner, decorated by a clear 50’s style, was permeated by a delicate aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, holding tightly to the warmness that could not exist outside. For a few hours now, the summer rain had monopolized the small town, balancing out the overwhelming heat waves that had hit you the week prior. From the corner of your hot pink sofa, you watched the droplets running down the glass next to you and, even if for an instant, you swore you could perceive the characteristic smell of petrichor that came alongside it; floating amongst humid strands of glass and quivering branches.

Your beverage arrived in a couple minutes, faster than your friends did. The delectable taste of your hot chocolate, present in so many past meetings, awakened your nostalgia promptly. You had no idea why you had been summoned to the diner that summer afternoon, but the blunt request had been the first message that popped up on your group chat that morning, illuminating your screen the same way that the sun’s rays brought brightness to your bedroom. Joohyun’s text came in the form of an abrupt and dry “3pm at Mercy’s. Good news!!” followed by the confirmation from your other friends. It wasn’t as if impulsive meetings had never been set up in the same fashion aforetime, but it was odd regardless, especially because of the lack of details.

Joohyun had been your best friend ever since you could remember and, just as far back, you could recall occurrences in which her decisions snowballed into ridiculously large problems. Back in third grade, when she decided that she wanted to lie about who gave her the answers of a test and ended up involving the entire school board; or perhaps during your junior year of high school, when she accidentally started a sexual rumor about you after misunderstanding your euphemism in Biology class. You two were almost polar opposites, but, in the end, you complemented one another, and your friendship had a harmony that you struggled to put into words. The two of you just worked, and that was all you needed to know.

Yet, you were annoyed as hell at her. You hated her cryptic 10am messages.

The sound of the bell ringing called you away from your meditations, and suddenly you could hear the vague melody of an indie song playing in the background, coming from the speakers above your head — the composition came crashing on your perceptions like waves that broke at the bay, soothing your worries instantaneously. You had no idea how you hadn’t noticed it before.

You looked up and smiled lovingly at your approaching friend, eyes following the hypnotic motion of her mermaid-like hair, brown as chocolate, as she walked hurriedly towards your table. “There you are,” you spoke calmly, “I thought you wouldn’t show up.”

She breathed out and raised her eyebrows in a expression of exhaustion. You could see underneath her eyes the marks of her sleepless night, and had to fight back the blooming of your inner preoccupations. Perhaps you could ask her about that later. “Sorry, things are a mess at home,” Joohyun said, agile while placing her bag on the table and sliding on the sofa opposite from you. Against the bright pink leather, her slim figure stood out even more. “Were you waiting for long?”

“Five, ten minutes at most,” you responded — it wasn’t as if you ever expected for her to be punctual. “You know where the others are?”

Your friend nodded. “Hoseok and Namjoon are together, they won’t take long,” Joohyun told you, running one hand through her hair, trying to fix the mistakes only she could perceive. “They were driving by that fast food near the supermarket by the time I called, which was like, two minutes ago.”

You chuckled. “Checking to see if you would be last one to arrive?”

She sighed, shoulders falling in a silent confirmation. “You know me too well.” Then, before you could even consider an answer, her charcoal-colored eyes oscillated to the half-filled cup on your hand, her eyebrows raising in interest. “Let me have some, please. You know that I love hot chocolate.”

“I do.” You slid the mug towards her. You weren’t the biggest fan of the drink — it got quite nauseating after the third slip — but you had gotten it for your friend. You did know her very well, so you were positive she would be eager to get her usual sugar rush by the time she arrived. “Now, why did you call us here for? An intervention?” you asked.

Joohyun took a second to respond, closing her eyes to fully appreciate the rich taste that filled her mouth, and humming out in delight. It was fascinating the effect that hot chocolate had on her, it was almost as if her exhausted look had completely faded away by the moment she looked back at you, eyes slightly widened by animation. “Don’t you want to wait for them?”

“I’m curious, you know that,” you verbalized, a tinge of guilt staining your words. “There’s no need to torture me any further.”

And that was the complete truth. Ever since you received her message, that was all that you could think about. It was as if Joohyun’s text was the Sun, and your thought process circled around it like Mercury, fast and restless, waiting for an answer to appear in the star-covered horizon. It was far too tempting to be there and not wish for it to be uncovered immediately — besides, the boys wouldn’t care, you knew that.

Your friend smiled back, setting the mug on the wooden surface. Around its alabaster border, was imprinted the touch of her lips, red as cherry. “You’re lucky I can’t hold myself back.” She leaned forward on the table, placing her hands on top of yours in sheer expectation, her palms warm. The world came to a halt. “Okay, so... you know about The Cave?”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion — you did not like that one bit. “Vaguely…”

But you knew about that place very well, and you were positive that, coming from her, such mention could never be the precursor of good news. The excited look that was projected over Joohyun’s doll-like features did not say that The Cave had been burned down or something alike, but that it was vivacious as ever, ready to take more victims in.

As much as you already knew where this conversation was heading, you still felt the impact of her words as they departed from her throat. “I might have gotten us a way in.” She smiled openly.

It was your time to lean forward, eyebrows furrowing into an image of your inner exasperation. “Joohyun, are you insane?” you whispered, guided by preoccupations. Not for you, but for her — she was going, regardless of your opinion. “That place isn’t for us. Do you want to be killed?”

Just as you had foreseen, your best friend disregarded your words instantaneously. “Oh come on, just—“

Once again, the ringing of the bell broke the serenity of the establishment, making the two of you move away from one another, backs pressing against your respective seats. The leather couch was often so comfortable, but now it felt like it was trapping you against the table, feeding off your nervousness and sticking to your skin; there was a bad feeling looming over your head.

From the door came two silhouettes — Namjoon and Hoseok — and the smell of fried food. Your stomach was fast to present its hunger the second that your eyes met the brown bags on their arms, slightly stained by circles of oil. God works in mysterious ways, after all.

Namjoon was the first one to speak, moving quickly to seat across from you. His pallid green jacket was covered in droplets of rain and, somehow, it matched the aura of that lugubrious diner flawlessly. “Hey guys.” He placed the food on the table, and angled his hips backwards, trying to place his body on the small space between the surface and the couch. “What did we — dude, just move over, it ain’t that hard.” He pressed his shoulder against Joohyun, who gave a little jump to the side while poking her tongue out at him. “What did we miss?”

Instead of answering promptly, your fingers were agile as you reached out for the brown bag. “Oh my god, fries,” you almost whined those words of relief as you peeked inside, salivating. Just then did you realize your lunch had been only a half-eaten apple, and your body could not be angrier at that poor fitness decision.

Hoseok scoffed as he sat down next to you. If you hadn’t been pressing against the opposite wall already, you were sure he would have asked for you to move over as well — the kid loved to take up space. “Your deduction is impeccable, Sherlock,” he told you with a grin. His dark red hair was one shade deeper because of the rain — it was a bit pushed back, but it still it managed to send droplets down his forehead. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You nodded and shoved a fry in your mouth. The assuagement was immediate, and you swore you could hear a chant of angels inside your head. “Thank you,” you said — both at your friends and the faceless creator of such divine meal, “you guys are awesome.”

Joohyun’s fingers were fast to curl around the bag’s edge, pushing it towards her, “YN, give me some,” her voice came out in an order. Your eyes flickered between the fries in her hands and the empty cup of hot chocolate next to her as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’, a memo she promptly grasped. “Today is my cheating day. Let me live.”

Namjoon chuckled as one of his arms reached out to get the other bag, which the two of you had miraculously overlooked. Hoseok had been wise to get two extra-large portions, he had to recognize that. “Whatever you say, baby,” he mocked her, and then turned his head in your direction. The anemic lights of the overcast sky curled around his features impeccably, painting the picture of his puzzlement. “So, what were the two of you talking about? Sharing is caring.”

“Did you hear that? Sharing is caring.” You pulled the bag from your friend, ignoring her full-mouthed complaints. “Joohyun here was just telling me her suicide plan,” you complained.

The girl rolled her eyes, clearly irked at your up-right attitude. “YN, why are you so dramatic? I get that you’re the mom friend, but don’t spoil the fun.” She turned towards the newcomers with a fresh, commercial-worthy smile — another miracle that her teeth were not stained by her copious amounts of chocolate and fries, but that was a subject for another meeting. “Boys, I was just talking about that place, The Cave,” she explained.

Next to you, Hoseok stopped chewing. “The abandoned industry complex at the east side?” He swallowed the food with weird eagerness, his eyebrows raising in muted excitement — oh my god, did the other bag have cheddar on those fries? You needed to check it out. “Damn. What about it?” he asked.

She licked her reddish lips — both from excitement and the need to get the remnants of salt out of her mouth. Joohyun, once again, allowed for her inner exhilaration to push her forward on the table, her black eyes scintillating in a frenzy of adventurous emotions, pendulating between the two boys. “I might have found a way for us to go in,” she spoke out, her hiss-like tone making the entire scene comical — she looked like a supervillain, in the most awkward of ways.

And, of course, your friends reacted precisely as you expected them to — like kids.

The thrill that washed over Hoseok’s face made it seem as if he had just received a present, glistening inside his eyes like the stars that decorated the night sky. “Sweet!” he exclaimed, voice one pitch higher. “How did you manage that?”

You tugged the oil-stained bag out of his hands in a gesture that was a bit too harsh. Noticing that you had forgotten the cheese-free portion, the other girl acted quickly to get it. “Hoseok!” you reprehended, anguish filling your lungs. “It’s on the east part of town, in case you forgot. It’s a place for gangs and, I don’t know, contract killers,” you said, reaching down the bag. Definitely had cheddar on it. “Do you seriously think that’s a good idea?”

Unaffected by the urgency of your tone, Hoseok shrugged your worries away. “So? We just stay out of trouble. And give me back my fries.” He pulled the portion out of your hands. That constant fighting for food could not be healthy friendship-wise. “Go on, Joohyun, how did you manage that?”

Namjoon grinned wickedly. “Her boyfriend probably got her a free ticket.”

As he spoke, the other girl saw glimpses of his chewed food inside on his mouth. Joohyun cringed her nose in disgust. “Gross. First off, we’re not dating,” she hurried to deny, even if the pale shade of scarlet around her ears told no lies. You all knew very well that they weren’t dating because of the other guy — some weird outlaw from the sewers or something, a ninja turtle for all you cared —  hated compromise, and not because she didn’t want it. “Second: yes, he did get me in, but that’s not relevant. I can take people with me, so, please?” she whined, prolonging the last word into an irritating ‘pleeeease?’. “Guys? It’ll be fun.”

Hoseok drew back against the pink couch, running his hands through his wet hair. You had no idea how he hadn’t traced a path of orange cheese through it, but your friends seemed to be in the mood to do the impossible that day. “I’m in,” he said. Not a surprise.

Across from you, the other boy spoke up, “I might have to see when I’m free, but I’m in too.”  Namjoon agreed. “When is it?”

“Tonight,” she responded.

“Count me in, then.”

You groaned out in pure irritation. Quite honestly, your mood would’ve been so much worse if you didn’t have your escapism by food to tame the tides of your chaotic thoughts. “You guys can’t be serious,” you complained, looking around to see if, amongst any of their features, you could find any remnant of reason. Nothing. “Am I the only sane person left living?”

“Between the four of us, yes,” Hoseok answered, but did not seem to truly feel any sort of empathy towards your cautious attitude. If he hadn’t been eager to get a confirmation from you, he would’ve teased you much further. “You’re coming or not, grandma?”

You crossed your arms, defensive. “No fucking way.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows as he shoved three more cheese-covered fries inside his mouth. You had started to think that maybe they should’ve gotten more. “So Miss Responsibility is just going to let her friends alone?” he teased, mouth half-full. He really needed to learn some basic manners.

You narrowed your eyes, looking your friend up and down. “Kim Namjoon, don’t you dare take advantage of my altruism.” You pointed at him. And it was your time to reach for another fry — rather angrily, if you could say so yourself. You couldn’t stay mad at them for long when your fingers were covered in cheddar. “Even if you have a good point,” you added.

“So…” Hoseok raised his eyebrows in unspoken expectation, leaning playfully towards you. “What is it gonna be?” he asked in a cheese-scented exhalation.

Your patience could only go so far. “Fine!” You threw your hands up in a theatrical signal of your surrender. The others smiled victoriously, sharing words of encouragement amongst them — a pack of demons, that was what they were. “But I’m leaving early, and I’ll complain the entire time,” you added.

“Seems good enough for me.” Hoseok placed his palms on the surface, and got up to his feet. “I’m getting us some more food, since the two of you seemed to forget that we are all sharing,” his eyes vacillated between you and Joohyun. “The usual?”

The table was filled with nods and hums of agreement and, in the next moment, Namjoon was getting up to go alongside Hoseok, claiming he probably would pick the wrong things — again. When you and Joohyun were alone once anew, your friend suspired, turning her head towards you.

Joohyun placed her palm against the back of your hand. Amongst the lines of her dark irises, you could almost read the the words that encompassed your head like vexatious insects — it seems like you will have to deal with it, “Loosen up, baby.” She pouted, crooking her head slightly to the side. Oh, she was finding joy in that small victory, and you knew it. “We’ll have fun, I promise. Something tells me that you might even find someone interesting,” she teased. “Only the Lord knows how much you need to put that sexual energy into something else… or someone, really.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of her claims. “You wish, Joohyun.”

She pouted. “We’ll see about that.”

Outside, the rain had stopped drumming against the opaque windows, and the fragile incandescence of the sun had started peeking over the diaphanous mountains of the storm clouds. There was a certain whimsical feeling to that scene, an uncharacterized emotion that resounded inside your chest, erupting in-between your lips in the form of a prolonged sigh.

If Joohyun had been mistaken that afternoon, that would have made the upcoming weeks much, much simpler for you.

Crystalfall was, by definition, a small town.

With its astonishing twelve thousand inhabitants and mundane church meetings every Sunday, it stood as a gentle agglomeration of buildings in — as Hoseok would say — the middle of no place, right next to nowhere at all. It had received that name for its dazzling waterfall and source of drinkable water which had, primordially, catalyzed the migration towards the land, many years before you were ever born.

Just like most small towns, boredom was mandatory a good amount of the time, and there was little to no task to be fulfilled during summer break, once you went back to its veridian fields and sun-kissed afternoons, taking a time off university. In fact, besides Namjoon — whose family owned a considerably large farm nearby, and had to take his afternoons off to take care of the crops and animals —, none of your friends seemed to find anything thrilling to do, instead choosing to spend time in the house, watching movies or talking for hours about the most frivolous of subjects. And, quite honestly, you liked it like that. You had always appreciated the simpler aspects of life.

Crystalfall was no big deal, but it was home, and you loved every part of it.

Well, almost every part.

You had been lucky enough to be raised on the west side of town, where most of the families did. It was, as Joohyun would say, a sheltered castle of dreams, a countryside paradise — a boring piece of utopia. There was little to no crime amongst its inhabitants, and the biggest outrage that took place had been the time in which a few middle school kids dared to steal some bread from the chapel, a matter that rapidly got taken care of.

That, however, had been amongst the locals of the westside; the east didn’t hold the same amount of benevolence amongst its people. You hated to have your mind so fundamented on that basic dichotomy of good and evil, but it had been the only way you could describe the ridiculously large differences between the two parts of that same town. While the west was a “boring utopia”, the east bordered on a bone-chilling anarchy; the womb of a few of the worst criminals your state had ever had — gangs, murderers, drug dealers, kidnappers, rapists: you name it, they had it all.

You constantly felt threatened by that, like it was the presence of death itself looming over your life. As much as the thugs of the east side often messed around with their own kind and, besides that, you were sure that there were good individuals living amongst those incarnated devils, you could never really felt safe in those parts of Crystalfall — so, in return, you avoided it the best way you could. It worked. For some time.

Nevertheless, now you had thrown all those efforts out of the window, for your friends were dragging you right into the lion’s open mouth.

You could barely keep up with their pace as they ran down the deserted streets, their heavy steps reverberating throughout the obfuscous night. Joohyun’s hand was holding tightly to your own as she pulled you to walk faster, unable to hold back her excitement. She glimpsed back just so you could notice the phantasm of a smile being casted over her roseate, petal-like lips. Her hand felt warm and inviting against yours, contrasting with the hyperborean winds of dusk. “Come on, we’re late!” she exclaimed, almost as if talking to herself. “I promised him we’d be here by eleven.”

“I never saw you as someone punctual,” you complained, but were sure she did not hear your voice amongst the fragile traces of wind. Behind you, Hoseok and Namjoon were whispering something you could not catch.

The industrial complex had been deactivated around fourteen years ago and, now, it didn’t go beyond a mere phantasm lingering stubbornly amongst the memories of the senile locals. Nowadays, most inhabitants of Crystalfall knew it as the perfect spot if you wanted to meet your local drug dealer, or perhaps mingle with people that seemed to be a better fit for jail than for a small religious community. Bottom line: even if The Cave was the closest to a club that your town could ever get,  it didn’t mean it was a good alternative.

Through shattered windows came the dust-filled rays of a deep damascus light, casting down the earth that piled up on the outside of the relinquished complex and, as you moved closer, you could start to make out the vague melody of an Eagles song echoing past it. Instead of what you had expected, however, there were no gangs piling up on the outside of the abandoned construction, no obnoxious fights to break the tranquility of midnight. The Cave, in all of its hellish expansion, appeared to be bigger than you had expected, mayhaps because of the overwhelming desolation that impregnated each and every broken tile; each centimeter of the atmosphere. It was a zombified beast living off the liveliness of its occupants.

The four of you arrived at the large, corroded metal door. Joohyun said something to a couple of big guys that stood by it and, by the mention of her (not) boyfriend’s name, they appeared to put their guard down a bit. As much as they were not precisely frightened of the people from the westside, they were absolutely horrified at the concept of allowing undercover cops into their world, and the consequences they would have to face by the hands of their own counterparts.

Nevertheless, your friend took care of the matter rather effortlessly and, within a couple of minutes, the entrance was being unlocked for you. With a hesitant suspire, you followed the three of them into the epicenter of bad decisions that was The Cave.

Okay, perhaps you imagination had taken the best of your judgement, for you did not expect the decoration of the place. It wasn’t much — and by no means fancy — but it was gorgeous regardless.

The Cave still looked like an industry complex, with its large rectangular-shaped construction, wooden boxes and empty buckets piling up at the corners, and dense concrete floors, but whoever was in charge of changing up the place did not disappoint: the large metal bars that sustentated the tall triangular ceiling had been covered in christmas lights, pouring down the room in beautiful orange cascades; inducing the ambient to border on the spectral, since it was its only light source. All over the walls, kaleidoscopic posters covered up the dry grey painting and the broken bricks, speaking in silent promises — all-you-can-eat contest; make your bets at the winners of sunday’s dog fight; Maurice’s Bear: knockout version; and other advertisements for less puritan, adult-centered services. Not that dog fights were that good.

There was a strong smell of alcohol and something burning around the static air; the Eagle’s song had then changed into a band you did not recognize. Passing your eyes swiftly over the crowd, you could see some large men playing poker on a secluded table — one of which had an disgracefully large snake tattoo over his right cheek and forehead — and, right next to them, a group of girls laughing loudly at something they were discussing. There were other, smaller groups scattered around the place, talking vehemently in roaring voices, minding their own business as the night progressively moved forward.

“Won’t you look at that,” next to you, Joohyun’s tranquil voice sounded, dragging you back to your position. Her flaming crimson lipstick was burning under those conflagrant lights, standing out against her skin and her dark hair; curling upwards on her lips as a timid smile germinated upon them. “I see my man. I’ll talk to him real quick, I’ll be right back.”

Before you could even figure out what to respond, she had already tapped you on the shoulder, and was walking firmly towards a crowd of leather-covered strangers. You had no idea how she had seen her pseudo-boyfriend amongst them. You sighed. “Sure. Have fun.” You turned around to meet your other friends. “Seems like it’s just the three of us, g—”

“—Dude is that a dart throwing competition?”  Hoseok pointed across the room, over your shoulder, and Namjoon followed his stare with furrowed brows and the hint of competitiveness shining inside his eyes. Part of your soul cracked then: you knew exactly where that was heading. “I’ll totally kick your ass this time.” He laughed.

You opened your mouth to protest, but you were far too slow. In the short time span that took you to verbalize one syllable, the two of them were passing by your side, completely ignoring your presence. “Over my dead body, Jung,” you heard Namjoon snicker.

Exhaling from your nose, you closed your lips. “That’s great,” you mumbled to yourself. That night was going to be amazing, wasn’t it? “Predictable. But great.”

Then again, your adventure had barely begun. Out of alternatives, you found yourself going towards the bar and asking for a glass of water — the last thing you needed was to lose full control of your actions and moral judgement in a place like that, especially when you were taken there under the unspoken mission of babysitting your friends. You couldn’t allow yourself to be taken away by the compelling necessity that was to drown your problems away in oceans of cheap liquor, no matter how gorgeous those polychromatic bottles looked on the walls.

You had precisely ten minutes of peace before the changes in your life started to take place.

With your peripheral vision, you noticed a broad silhouette arriving, moving quickly to seat on the bench next to you. Primordially, you thought nothing of it — there was no reason to — and continued to pay attention to the flowery details of your dahlia-colored summer dress; thoughts traveling many miles away from that overflowing place. It was only when a voice — deep and thunderous — sounded next to you that you understood your position. “You’re here alone, sweetcakes?” it inquired.

Just by the tragic usage of that pet name, you knew the two of you were off to a rocky start.

Trying your best to keep your expression neutral, you looked him up and down — from his ginger beard to his piercing ice blue eyes, then back to the overabundance of reptiles tattooed on his exposed forearms — finally, away from him and back to the strangers in the crowd. The was the last thing you needed for that night was a viking cosplayer wanting to ask you out. “I’m with my friends,” you responded, rather dryly.

He hummed, and placed his arm on the counter. “No boyfriend, then.” The red-haired smiled openly. He was clearly a large guy, and from the bad side of Crystalfall — you had no idea how he could take rejection, and you weren’t very excited to find out. “You’re not from this part of town, are you?”

You decided to keep your posture as respectful and detached as you could possibly manage. Answers were difficult to come up with when you were that uncomfortable. “Is it that obvious?” you said, turning your head to take another peek at him. He was definitely much older than you, most likely around ten years, and his breath reeked of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not interested in finding a boyfriend either. If you know what I mean.”

“I do.” He winked. He did not know what you meant. “Maybe we can have fun just for ton—”

His speech was paused abruptly and, for an instant, a loud sound broke the static, followed by even a louder one, of flesh meeting leather. Your discombobulated mind needed a few instants to fully comprehend that those noises had been the sound of another man patting your viking counterpart in the back, perhaps with the force that could be comparable to a heimlich maneuver.

Ah, the night was getting better by the minute.

“Hey, man,” the newcomer greeted, skirting his large figure. As he came into view, you could perceive the petulant smirk that curled up on his flower-like lips, and the murderous glint that lit his dark eyes aflame. Quite the combo, if you could say so yourself. “It’s been a while.”

The red-haired man paused. His thrilled face withered into one that you could only describe as a mixture of irritation and apprehension — the same sentiment when a wasp is banging against your window, but you’re not insane enough to open the glass and watch as nature gets the best of you. Some things are better left unbothered and, apparently, that guy was one of those. “Yoongi,” he spoke that name as if it burned his tongue. “What can I help you with?”

His feline grin did not subside: in fact, you were sure it grew a few millimeters. “I’m glad you asked. I’m here to talk with an old friend.” He signaled with his head towards you — who, as anyone in that place could tell from your flabbergasted features, had never seen that man before in your entire life. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

Though, from his tone alone, it was clear that there was no space for debate. “I don’t.” The other man stood up, and only then did you realize the noticeable size difference between the two. In a way, that observation was chilling, for there was certainly some sort of compensation from the part of the smaller one — in that side of town, it was nothing good. “We’ll catch up later, sweetcakes,” the viking told you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the so-called Yoongi laughed in disgust before you could verbalize anything. “No, you won’t.” He patted the guy on the back once again, this time a bit lighter; smiling freely as the other groaned something intelligible, then turned around to leave. “Keep movin’, dude,” he said, his speech clearly filled with mockery. “Let’s catch up later.”

Yoongi exhaled in artificial relief, placing his drink over the counter. The liquid was red as fresh blood, contrasting against his golden-kissed skin. “Well, he won’t bother you any further,” he told you, turning around to face the barman — who, you noticed, had been extremely entertained while witnessing that peculiar exchange. “Fill this up for me, man?”

The boy blinked, barely understanding the sentences that dripped in the space between them, before nodding energetically. “Yeah. Sure thing, Yoongi,” he agreed as he reached for the cup.

There was something about that man’s demeanor that got the best of you — perhaps the way that he held himself with such imprudent confidence, or the puzzle that formed just beyond his obsidian irises, inviting you to dive deeper into his mysteries. Phosphorescent, halcyon lights dripped down his features with perfection, his skin glowing slightly under the overwhelming brilliance — his semblance living on the thin line between human and seraphic. He was dazzling as a model, as desirable as the devil.

Yoongi looked just like a bad decision would, only a bit more tempting.

“That was a bit overdramatic.” You took a sip of water, trying to hide the smile that started creeping up your roseate-tinged lips. Even your friends would be able to tell that a guy like that could never mean good news — so why were you so drawn to him? It was so weird. “What are you, Yoongi, the big boss around here?”

Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that inquiry, for he promptly scoffed at your words. “Nah, not really,” he said, stare still locked to the barman, following the ruby liquid that was poured on his crystal-clear cup; two cubes of ice. “We don’t have leaders around here.”

“Anarchy. Always good for the soul.” You raised your cup in a silent cheer, watching as he laughed at your words — strangely, you found yourself enjoying that sound a bit more than you should. “You didn’t need to step in, though. With, you know, that guy.”

As he turned his head to find your eyes, you swore you had forgotten how to breathe for an instant. Underneath heavy eyelids, his look was sharp and gelid as a dagger, piercing directly at your soul. “Were you enjoying the talk?” he spoke slowly, voice an octave lower.

“Not at all.” You cleared your throat — you could not tell why you were so nervous all of a sudden. “Why the violence?”  

The charming stranger smirked. “I wasn’t violent.”

“Yeah right.” You rolled your eyes, and placed your cup back on the surface. Yoongi followed the motion of your slender fingers with clear interest, and his stare lingered on your skin, following up the path up your arms. “You slapped that man's back like he was choking on his inner demons.”

He shrugged, leaning against the surface with flawless grace — his every action was a dance, a frail path of endless daydreams being painted through the atmosphere. “It was nothing.” Yoongi ran one of his hands through his hair. His skin was marked by pallid blue veins, his hair was stygian as the nocturnal skyline, morphing into the adumbration of the poorly-lit room: you would be lying through your teeth if you claimed you didn’t feel attracted to him. That was bad. It was really bad. “So… you’re here with friends, right?”

“You overheard that.” You grinned. From the other side of the bar, the barman placed the drink on the surface with a mumble-like ‘there you go.’

It wasn’t a question, but he responded regardless. “Yes. And I overheard that you’re not from this part of town.” Yoongi spoke further, his sculptural lips forming his sentences with endless fluidity. He looked up at you. “What is a west beauty like you doing in a dreadful place like this?”

“Babysitting my inconsequential friends,” you overlooked his hidden compliment, even if you could not dissimulate the shade of geranium that bloomed upon your cheeks. “What is an east hunk like you trying to get out of a conversation like this?” you asked back.

He hummed and elevated one of his eyebrows. “You often have these trust issues, or is it just with me?” he provoked.

You smiled. “I often do. But you’re magnifying them.”

“Fair enough. You’re not from here.” Yoongi took his drink to his mouth, and the strawberry liquor — you assumed — stained his lips with an anemic shade of rufescent. “I’m just trying to get to know you. Which is hard, since you haven’t even given me your name yet.”

Presenting that stranger with any sort of information about you was most likely an unwise decision, but you did it regardless. “It’s YN.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Exotic,” he mocked, “I’m glad I got something out of tonight. Quite the day off.”

“Stop fucking with me.” You pushed his shoulder in a playful manner, watching as, on his lips, blossomed the traces of a diverted smile. He seemed to be such a nice guy, maybe you had judged him too soon. “Why, did my damsel-in-distress moment interrupt your business around here? Are you a dealer or something?” you joked.

Yoongi shook his head in a silent disagreement, forging a surprise far bigger than the one he witnessed. “Wow. Because I’m in a bad side of town? Talk about judgement.” He rolled his eyes. Then, against your expectations, his face grew serious, and he turned back to look at you. “But why? Want me to hook you up on some crack?”

Your lips parted in amazement. “I’m—“

He could not hold back his laugh then, and it was his turn to push his shoulder against yours. “I’m just messing with you, chill,” he said. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Overtaken by relief, you breathed out. “Damn, why did you do that for? I was going to say yes.”

“Sorry, couldn’t hold back.” He grinned — oh, he was definitely handsome. “I’m here just to have some fun, believe it or not. I was talking to some old friends, you know, catching up. Taking my mind off things.”

You agreed. “I should do that, but I’m constantly worried about something.”

“That seems like a chore,” Yoongi spoke with honesty, his tone as sacchariferous as caramel. Just by hearing his voice in such soft, casual manner, you could feel your chest being filled up with oceans upon oceans of interest, its growing tides crashing just at the bottom of your throat. That couldn’t be good. “What’s in your mind now?” he asked.

“My friends. Like those two, Hoseok and Namjoon, over there with the darts.” You pointed at the other side of the construction just in time to see Hoseok get the maximum ponctuation, his dart standing out right at the central red circle of the target. He jumped out in endless bliss, pointing at Namjoon and laughing victoriously. Next to you, Yoongi chuckled at the scene. “They love to go a bit crazy on the alcohol, and they always end up in insane places. This one time, Hobi took a cab and woke up two towns away, it was crazy.”

“Let me guess, you picked him up?” Yoongi asked.

You pouted. “It’s that obvious?”

“You seem like someone who would do that.”

“I’m his friend, it’s the least that I could do.”

“No one could’ve picked him up instead?”

You shrugged, unsure of what to respond. You didn’t know where the man was getting at. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“I do. I think he called you because he knew how you’d react.” Yoongi was talking fast, and saying all the correct words. You could tell that he had a sharp, quick-witted mind, for he responded to your sentences with zero vacillation — as Joohyun always said, smooth talkers are a dangerous type; they knew just how to carry you away. “You’d pick him up, maybe scream at him about being reckless, and let it pass. Am I right?”

Your shoulders fell in muted concordance. “Unfortunately.”

Yoongi smirked. “Thought so. You’re a Good Samaritan, west beauty.”

From the vague touches of playfulness amongst his precisely-built syllables, you though he might have been making fun of you. “Is that... bad?”

He took an instant before answering. “Not if you don’t overdo it. People might take advantage of that.”

You frowned and turned your gaze away from him, allowing for your attention to float back to your two friends. Hoseok and Namjoon were discussing loudly about one of them cheating, and nearby expectators were laughing along, perhaps a bit more invested than you’d believe possible: the two never had issues making friends. “I don’t overdo it,” you said in an annoyed whisper — it sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself.

“Yeah? So why are you here?” From your peripheral vision, you could see as he leaned his head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of your dimly lit features. Still, guilt made your gaze oscillate to the opposite direction with almost flawless timing. “Throwing your night away because you wanted to make sure they were okay. They’re adults, you can’t babysit them forever. If they only get a pull on their ear every time they fuck up, they’ll never learn to weight the consequences.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms before your chest. You knew he was right. “Pretty talk for a guy in a thug bar.”

“That doesn’t invalidate what I said.” Yoongi spoke with tranquility, as if he already knew what your advances would be. It was odd, very odd — how genuinely he seemed to care, and how well he read you. “It’s like that saying goes: don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm. Help them out, sure, but I can tell you’re wearing yourself thin because of it. That’s not the best idea.”

You sighed. “I guess.”

He found your determination to keep your walls up to be, at the very least, entertaining. Still, he wouldn’t bulge — he never backed away from a good challenge. “Let me ask you something.” Yoongi placed his arm on the table, moving a bit towards you. His voice morphed into a profound, concentrated tone, words coming out in a whisper-like formation. Yoongi’s breath was sugary, carrying along the aroma of strawberry. “Would they do the same for you?”

Your eyebrows moved together, and you looked back to meet his stare. “How so?”

He shrugged and leaning back on his bench. It was a weird dance he was performing there — getting closer and then far from you, oscillating the inflections and volume of his mellifluous voice in a way to draw you nearer. “Would they pick you up if you were in trouble, would they accompany you somewhere they didn’t want to go because they were worried about you…? The list goes on,” Yoongi explained.

You thought for a second. Reality was rather dreadful once you came to terms with the fact that your friends weren’t as worried about your safety as you would like them to. “Joohyun would, I’m sure of that. She’s my other friend.” You cleared your throat. “But I’m not sure about the guys.”

Yoongi hummed, but did not buy the truth you were trying so vehemently to sell him. He examined your features like an attentive predator, trying to find the cracks on your mask. “Where’s Joohyun now?” he asked.

You knew exactly what his intention was the second that inquiry poured from his cinnamon-colored lips. “With a guy.”

One of his eyebrows raised. “She left you alone, then?” Yoongi questioned, traces of bitterness ornamenting his speech. “In a sketchy place, filled with strangers, knowing fully well you didn’t even want to come.”

You chuckled, humorless. “Yeah. Sounds so shitty when you put it like that, though.”

He sighed. “Tell me something.” Once again, he tilted his body closer to you. “Would you do that to her? If you had come to see me, and she was the one who was left behind, would you feel good about that?”

There was no need to ruminate on that inquiry, for you already knew the answer. “Not at all. I wouldn’t do that.”

Yoongi pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows in an expression that spoke ‘that’s what I thought’. “Well, then that’s something to work on,” he said, then seemed to dive into an instant of thought. Maybe there was pity within his stare, but you could not be sure, perhaps you were just projecting. “Hey, all I’m saying is that you have to give yourself some value too. Gotta keep yourself together so you can help others with their broken pieces. All that crap.”

His words were so cliche that you would not help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “Where did you read that? In a minion meme for suburban moms?”

“I just came up with it.” He smirked, clearly proud of his impromptu work. “Cool, right? Some calendar shit right here.”

You took one of your fingers to your cheek and pretended to wipe away an invisible tear. “It was inspiring, to say the least.” You giggled. There was a certain insubstantial wave of security that encompassed his proximity, and it allowed for you to have a free conversation with him. That man was really something else. “Thank you, Yoongi. You’re cool.”

He raised his empty cup in a silent cheer. “Always a pleasure, YN,” he grinned, the lowered the object back on the table. Yoongi cleared his throat. “So... when do I see you again?”

You looked at him. There was something at work in your spirit that you could not quite comprehend — your eyes examined the exquisite person that was Yoongi, and it seemed as if your heart was filled with nostalgia, completely overthrown by a sentiment that did not belong alongside that stranger. Joohyun was right: smooth talkers were the worst, they could tear your walls down and make it seem like you did it yourself.

And that was your first mistake when it came to Min Yoongi: you trusted him far too easily.

“I’ll tell you what,” you started, turning around on your bench. Over the counter, your fingers were almost touching, and you swore you could feel the warm aura emanating from his skin. “Whenever you want to, I’m down.”

From the delight that was casted over his features, you could see that he couldn’t be more pleased at your response. “Alright. Let’s go have some fun one of these days.”

You leaned in, interested. “Got something in mind?”

“I might,” he disclosed with a grin. “Listen out. This might sound a bit crazy, but stay with me.”

So, you did.

It was a bit over two in the morning and your companion for the night had already left when you reached out for your friend amongst a crowd of strangers, poking her on the shoulder. “Joohyun, sorry to interrupt, but I’m going home,” you said as she turned around, her eyes wide and cheeks painted by a faint tone of cherry. “You can get a cab, right? Hoseok and Namjoon will probably leave together.”

The response, however, did not come from her. “I’ll drive her home. I didn’t drink.”

You looked to Joohyun’s side, meeting the face of her (not) boyfriend. He was definitely not your type, and you were sure she could do a lot better if she didn’t have such a gargantuan weakness towards bad influences. Not that you could judge her after what you had pulled that night. “Alright, man that I don’t know,” you were sarcastic as you spoke, and you noticed that the unknown guy did not appreciate your attitude. “You’re good?” you asked her.

Joohyun smiled warmly at your protectiveness — you didn’t know then, but she appreciated it deeply. “I’m good, YN, you can go,” she guaranteed with a nod. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Sure thing.” Your eyes flickered towards the guy for another instant, but he was already paying attention to a discussion that happened behind your figure, his lips somewhat parted as his eyes squinted in absolute attention. Quite the airhead that your friend had gotten there. “By the way…” You breathed out. “You were right. I did meet someone interesting.”

Her eyes lit up in a level of excitement that, almost certainly, had been enhanced by alcohol. “That’s great!” she exclaimed. “Tell me everything later.”

“Will do.” You agreed with a movement of your head. “Thank you for bringing us here tonight, and you—” You poked the guy, who blinked a few times as he crashed back into reality. “Thank you for getting us in.”

He mumbled something that you believed sounded like “whatever, chick I don’t know,” even if his speech was a bit too groggy for you to follow. There was no alcohol in his breath, and he certainly didn’t seem high. He just seemed a bit slow and, combined with his clear dislike for you, he most likely didn’t feel like having a proper conversation anyways.

Well, you took that as your invitation to leave. Next up, saying goodbye to Hoseok and Namjoon, and making sure that they hadn't stabbed each other’s eyes out with darts.

Their ebullient screams of exhilaration got to you before their images did, mingling with other, equally loud laughs. From what you could see, their little show of competitiveness had resulted in quite the audience agglomerating around the two of them, finding the situation a bit funnier than it was — and thank booze for that. You could only imagine what kind of circle of hell The Cave would be if most of its crime-leaning users weren’t drunk out of their minds.

“Namjoon, Hoseok,” you called out, trying your best not to get hit by one of the passersby. “I’m leaving. Are you guys alright?”

“Yeah, we didn’t drink,” Namjoon answered, his gaze still locked on the target. His fingers were holding his dart so strongly that his fingertips turned white, his concentration was so intense that he most likely didn’t notice his roseate tongue poking at the corner of his plump lips. “Can’t miss these shots.”

Namjoon made his sensational shot, but it came nowhere close to the central circle — in fact, it almost missed the target completely. Hoseok slapped his shoulder, unable to hold back a resounding laugh. “Clearly, you can. I’m still winning, man,” he teased. “Keep on trying, though, this is what dreams are made of.”

You could not help but smile alongside your friends, a certain sensation of amiability spreading throughout your chest. You really cared about those guys, and you were more than blissful that you all got a great night out of what, at first, appeared to be a nightmare. Perhaps they were right, perhaps you really should let yourself go more often.

But, well, you had already started, in a way.

With a final check on your friends, you allowed for your gaze to travel around The Cave for the terminal time that night. Truly, those christmas lights made everything much more ethereal, and you certainly wouldn’t mind coming back there another time — especially now that you knew someone of those lands.

Yeah, you wouldn’t mind at all.

Without further ado, you made your way to the front door, and welcomed yourself into the obfuscous veil of dusk. Around your legs, your summer dress danced, blown away by the tremulous touches of that hyperborean breeze. You placed your hands over your thighs in an attempt to keep the fabric in place, and stepped onto the dust-covered ground.

Yoongi was leaning against the brick walls, his black leather jacket morphing with the crepuscular aura of the night. Twilight danced on his skin as he raised his green bottle up to his lips, delighting on the ambrosial taste of his liquor. Once he heard you stepping outside, shoes making dry sounds against the earth, his head turned towards your figure. He smiled then, satisfied. “Said goodbye to the kids?” he inquired, even if he already knew the answer.

Your heart leaped inside your chest — he had scared you. “Yeah.” You inhaled the cool air. Behind your back, it seemed that the vibrations of the slow rock song stretched out into the infinity of the nocturnal winds, booming inside your spirit ― a clear cacophony if compared to the beating of your heart. “They didn’t seem to care much, they were kinda busy.”

“If they are your friends, they did care.” Yoongi took the bottle back to his lips, taking the remnants of the drink. The green glass used the luminescence of a nearby pole to cast emerald-colored shapes over his somber features. “Maybe they’re just taking you for granted. Happens.” He sighed once he lowered the bottle.

You looked at him and frowned. A dense mist had fallen over the asleep city. With its cloud-like nature, it curled around relinquished constructions and dispersed the lambency of fluorescent lights, those which flickered rhythmically amongst the colorless expansion, painting the white smoke by what resembled a purple hue amongst the penumbra of midnight. For an instant, you stood there, amazed at the way that landscape resembled a daydream; Yoongi’s image bordering on a mirage.

At last, you spoke out, and your words carried not the weight of certainty, but of fear. “Maybe.” You allowed for a despondent, timid smile to materialize at the corners of your rose-painted lips. “Do you go around coaching people or is it just me?”

“Just you.” Yoongi responded with no hesitation. Against the pallid touch of moonlight, he appeared to be a lost phantasm, a bittersweet soul looking for a way to anchor himself back to hope. Perhaps he had just found it. “Not a lot of people listen to me. I’m avoided most of the time,” he said, “Not that I care about it.”

Weeks later, you would ask yourself profusely how the hell you could have ignored the blatant red flag swirling in the air, right in front of your face. Then, however, you had succumbed to your ephemeral, curious bliss, and instead chose to ignore the warning signs that started to emerge within your head. “They should,” you told your new friend, hoping your words carried along the touches of your gratitude. “Thank you again.”

Yoongi smirked as he licked the remaining drops of liquor on his lips. “You’re welcome, west beauty,” he responded. “See you next week, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you responded, voice dancing just above a timid whisper. Your timbre, as light and ethereal as a tulip’s petals, carried along into the cool breeze, dispersing into the skyline. It wasn’t just a promise, it was a request to the stars. “It’s a date.”

The week that followed your night in The Cave passed in a rush of contrasting emotions and haze-covered dialogues.

After Namjoon had scrambled to arrange another meeting at Mercy’s the next day, you took your time hearing your friend’s stories about the former industry complex before you said anything about your upcoming adventure. The boys were clearly excited, talking continuously about the individuals they had met and the dart competition that, according to Hoseok, he had won; but, according to Namjoon, it had been a close tie.

“We’re even thinking about, like, forming teams or whatever, apparently some guys from the east side already have one,” Namjoon had vocalized, ignoring the other boy’s continuous protests. “But that’s about it. What you have to share, Joohyun?”

With a smile and a flick of her hair, the girl started pouring out her stories. As much as she promised to spare the spicy details of her romantic endeavors, she could not hold the same mercy towards the gossip that surrounded the group she had been thrown into. Joohyun spoke, in a voice as velvety and sweet as candy, about the time that someone was thrown over the bar and crashed against all the beverage; or about the man that constantly threatened to hang his counterparts on the christmas lights, but was terribly afraid of heights — making his plan virtually impractical.

Though, that was not the point of her monologue, and the two of you knew that very well. “But… there’s something else. Something more important.” She turned to you, a smirk already creeping up on her lips. “Isn’t it?”

You took a deep breath, and leaned back on the couch. All eyes were on you now, dripping seas upon seas of expectation. “Yeah…” You cleared your throat. “I might have… a date?”

Hoseok almost choked on his saliva. “Are you for real?”

“As serious as a heart attack,” you answered.

Then, as expected, the questions started flooding the space between your bodies. Who the lucky guy was, what he did, how in the living hell he managed to drag you out of your bed and into an emotionally threatening situation, so on. You answered them with a lingering smile on your lips and the sensation of change creeping up on your back; the feeling that something incredible was at work all around you.

It had been years since you felt that kind of infantile nervousness; the sensation of butterflies caressing the insides of your chest, their wings quivering in expectancy. As one day fell into the next and Yoongi’s messages became more and more frequent on the screen of your phone, that feeling only intensified, burning at the edges of your ponderations like wildfire, sending shivers up and down your skin. It had been an audacious — careless, hotheaded — decision, but you managed to neglect the consequences that approached on the horizon.

You could not comprehend the effect that Yoongi had on you and, quite frankly, it felt a bit frightening. Call it a crush, mere carnal desires, or the treacherous side effects of curiosity — the point was that, even against your best attempts, the idiosyncratic man kept returning to haunt the corners of your mind; his voice singing amongst your most profound of reveries, whispering the promises you could never wish for. If it had been anyone else to approach you in that place, you would have never accepted to accompany them in a date; so why had it been so easy with him?

Back then, you could not see the reality that curled around his figure like venomous, thorn-encrusted vines — Yoongi looked like a supernova, but he was just a black hole, sucking you into his gravitational field with every movement of his pallid lips. Though, some truths were very well hidden under a veil of enigmatic sentences and thaumaturgic glares. Eventually, they would all come crashing down.

Still, you were far from that fateful moment — a couple months, to be exact. No, you were still looking down to the abyss, still feeling the tingling of excitement washing down your figure. First, you had to fall to the bottom of the well and, only then, you could start your way up.

At last, the anticipated day arrived. Your animation awakened alongside the primordial traces of aurora, and the obnoxious ringing of your phone, which shook you out of a dreamless sleep. Upon answering the unfitting call, you were met with Joohyun’s voice on the other end of the line, wishing you good luck and requesting for you to keep her updated on recent occurrences. With a tender smile, you thanked her, and said that you would be more than glad to have a night of gossip after that entire deal was done with — fries, ice cream, and terrible movies; just the way you two adored so much.

Once you hung up the call, however, a new surprise awaited on your device.  

Slowly, you were starting to realize that you had a tendency to gravitate towards people that enjoyed cryptic messages far too much for your own liking — and your new friend was no different. Yoongi had texted you saying to meet him in the parking lot of a local supermarket, a bit after seven, where he would be buying some supriments for your undisclosed date.

Countless times throughout your week of daydreams and presuppositions, you had pushed the boy to share the surprise he had prepared for the two of you, but you remained unsuccessful. Yoongi would merely chuckle at your radiating desperation, claiming that all that you should know is that it was a special occasion, and there was nothing you could say or do that would make him change his mind about disclosing it. His one and only hint had been that it would be in a known spot around town, hiding in plain sight.  

But that didn’t help much, did it? It was a vague as possible.

Which, again, was a common theme with him.

Asymmetrical to the suspicions that started to propagate within your chest, you moved forward with your date and, before you could tell, the horizon had already adopted the lambent haze of the setting sun, burning amongst the buildings like a golden aura.

If one were to follow the path of the tenuous — yet dreadfully suffocating — summer wind throughout the pacate streets of Crystalfall, they might have catched a glimpse of your figure against the scalding sun. You walked towards the center of the town with your heart in your throat and your hands shaking, dress waltzing in the air alongside the rich scent of lilacs and roses — courtesy of downtown’s famous flower shop, always open for late lovers. All around you, vivacious trees trembled underneath the magnificence of the season, their leaves casting hypnotic shadows against the crepuscular asphalt, hiding in shades of green and brown.

It was an instant paused in time, paused in memory. Some days are so permeated by exquisiteness that you could not help but believe that they were made for grandiose purposes; that their heavenly symmetry could only mean the new beginning of a phase in your life. Either by coincidence or fate, that was precisely what that date was.

You saw Yoongi’s car — a black 67’ chevy impala — the instant that you arrived at the back entrance of the supermarket. Other than another blue truck at the edge of the parking lot, the place was completely desolated; its monochromatic cement painted by an intense hue of apricot, reflecting the overwhelming summer heat on your exposed legs. Not much later,  as you walked towards the vehicle, you saw the reason of your chaotic thoughts emerge behind it.

In the background, the sounds of the traffic was muted, and the trees had become static — the universe had come to a halt, and the only aspect still in focus was him. His hair was disheveled, slightly pulled back and touched by droplets of sweat and, on his lips a pout was formed, permitting for a prolonged sigh to depart from in between them, losing itself amongst the heavy atmosphere. You moved closer with hidden reluctance, accompanying the manner that the muscles of his shoulders tensed up as he placed something inside the car; his back curving so he could take a last look at the job he had done.

As Yoongi adjusted his posture and placed his hands over the trunk’s edge, ready to lower it, you swore your mind had gone completely blank. Instead of the leather jacket that your gaze had expected to meet, the summer heat had forced your new friend to cover his chest only with a white tank top. The piece of thin fabric allowed you to see his built in its full form and, more than that, paved the way so your eyes could trail up and down the black lines on his skin. Yoongi had always had a vague touch of demonic, wicked allurance to him, but that was just too much — that was temptation in its rawest form, wrapped in ashes and smoke.

Though, you had barely no time to fully take in what he was presenting you. Upon perceiving your presence, he looked up at you and his lips twisted into a cheerful smile. “West beauty,” he greeted, closing the trunk. Your eyes vacillated between his inky hair and the dark tattoos that covered up his exposed arms, drawings contrasting so beautifully against his skin. “You showed up.”

Fighting against the rapid beating of your frantic heart, you forced yourself to exhale your worries through your nose. With steady steps, you paused before him, paying close attention to the way that his caliginous eyelashes casted small shadows against his cheeks — every detail seemed to be precisely architectured so he could pull you deeper into perdition. “Wouldn’t miss it,” you responded, signaling with your head towards the car. “Shall we?”

He agreed with a nod, and made sure to open the door for you before swiftly moving to his seat. Once the two of you were inside and the low murmuring of the ignition broke the silence, your voice resumed. “By the way,” you begun, turning around and watching as he bucked his belt with a low clicking noise, “if you’re planning to murder me, I’ll kill you.”

“Seems like a fair trade.” Yoongi chuckled. “You can put the emergency number on dial if that makes you feel any safer.”

You forced out a sarcastic laugh, crossing your arms before your figure. Beyond the parted windows, a dense cloud covered the rays of the radiant sun, and the world fell into fugacious darkness. “Very funny,” you vocalized. “It already is.”

Light had long vanished beyond the mountains once the two of you arrived at your destination — the waterfalls.

In all its natural purity, the cascades of Crystalfall stood like a forgotten deity against the horizon, crashing down on a valley encrusted by lime-covered rocks and altitudinous pine trees like an enormous lion roaring into the midnight, many miles away. The water was a bright shade of cyan once it was bathed by the lambency of daytime, though, at night, its translucent flow had succumbed into an abyssal tone of indigo, its droplets reflecting like pearls against the effulgence of the moon before, at last, they morphed into the furious white vapour that floated above the lake like smoke.

For the first time in you life, you fully grasped its magnificence.

You had gone there only once, when you were a kid, but the experience was impossible to compare. With Yoongi by your side, you could notice every little detail of nature reflecting within his figure — the crystalline beauty of the water drops that flickered like diamonds inside his eyes; the sound of whispering trees that echoed within his speech; the feeble caresses of the wind against your skin, resembling the ghost of his fingertips against your own.

After sneaking past the ocean of  dry foliage and unbothered animals, the two of you stayed just over a verdigris hill — where, even with the distance, you had a sensational view of those gargantuan landscapes, and the thunderous sounds of the water did not bother the volume of your speech. In an aura of romanticism that you had not expected, Yoongi had planned a picnic for the two of you — which ended up being an overabundance of sweets over a red towel. As you were starting to notice, he might have been a bit weak when it came to the flavour of strawberries, for that was the common element amongst his packages. Not to mention the main dish: strawberries and chantilly.

Though, you were not even close to complaining about any of that. Yoongi lived with a thin layer of bliss covering his every movement; his eyes continuously oscillating back to you, silently inquiring if you were enjoying his company, if he was playing his part correctly. And, heavens, he was. There was no way he could have made that first date any better.

Minutes decayed into hours and, before you could notice, the sands of time had passed by, echoing alongside the boisterous roaring of Crystalfall. With the same fluidity of the cascading waters, the two of you prepared your picnic, and dove into all sorts of conversations — hope-filled sentences; silent requests of a kinder future for the two of you; slender cracks of the past you sought so hard to cover. You came to understand the mystery that was Min Yoongi a bit better and, besides that, found out that the two of you weren’t as different as you first pictured.

He was an eclipse: dull and obscure, but surrounded by a threadlike line of light. Beyond the twilight, an entire universe was hidden.

At some point, as snow-colored clouds tenderly held back the silver illumination of the midnight moon, Yoongi held your hand; his thumb caressing your soft skin in a constant assurance of his presence. In an unforeseen flash of euphoria, you swore that your hearts were beating in unisound, and the ballad of nature could be heard alongside his mellifluous speech — those beautiful words he had no problem using to break your walls down.

You swore that you were meant to be, that he had been handmade for you to love.

Who were you to deny the requests of fate?

“You met me in a very weird time of my life, Min Yoongi,” you spoke out, stare scrutinizing every minute detail that whispered amongst the slender trees; trembling alongside the mumbling leaves. Life in Crystalfall might have been a simple one, but its paradisiacal elegance was not mundane whatsoever.

With one of his arms pulling his body upwards, he looked up at you — his abrupt gaze was blinding as a glimpse of sun through dense storm clouds. “Is that good?” he asked.

There was a second of silence before your answer came out. “You tell me.” You suspired, inhaling the cold mountain air, purifying your lungs. That had become your small fragment of heaven, and you wished you could stay there forever. “It’s so out of character for me to have accepted your invitation — like, come on, you’re from the east side, no offense. I met you last week, I  know barely anything about you.”

He raised one finger, pausing your speech. “Don’t forget that you met me in an abandoned factory that was turned into a bar for thugs.” Yoongi added, the hint of a smile creeping up on the corners of his lips. “Sounds like every parent’s dream.”

You chuckled, finding his reaction rather adorable. “You won’t have to worry about that. My parents are out of the picture,” you said. From the way that confusion was casted like a shadow across his face, you were certain of which doubt had sprouted in his head. “They didn’t die, don’t worry, they’re divorced. But they don’t speak to each other and sure as hell don’t speak to me.”

Yoongi turned his body around, his chest now facing you. Something gleamed within his semblance, but you could not define which emotion it was. “Well at least you know who your parents are,” he spoke. “I’ve skipped from foster home to foster home my entire life, raised in the streets, all that. Not the best of influences, if you ask me.”

“That’s so rough, sorry about that,” you attempted to verbalize your compassion the best way that you could, placing your hand over his. You could not even begin to imagine how it could have been for him — to be raised with no family, no safe port, surrounded by the worst that humankind could offer. In a way, it was no surprise that Yoongi had been attracted to the east side of town, you figured that it was the only reality he had ever known.

He shrugged it off, though, perceiving your empathy as an image of pity. Yoongi hated to feel vulnerable, hated to be treated as something to be protected. “I deal with it. I’m not the same person anymore,” he said. The boy must have seen the confusion that was projected over your features, for he hastly changed the subject. “Now you know more about me, though. You’re from here?”

“Kind of. Raised here, born four towns away,” you told him. “My aunt takes good care of me.”

He seemed puzzled at the prospect. “And she’s okay with this date?”

You took a deep breath and redirected your gaze away from him; the phantasm of a smirk already showing its signs. “Well, I didn’t exactly give her all those details about the thug bar. But she’s happy I’ve met someone,” you spoke. On your tongue, the sweet taste of chantilly still lingered, and it instigated you to reach for another strawberry. “She says that I needed  it.”

Yoongi hummed in an unspoken concordance, paying close attention to your moon-bathed features, seeking for cracks on your controlled demeanor. “You’ve been feeling lonely lately?”

In some way, his question hurt something within your spirit, throwing salt in a wound that you didn’t even know it was there. Though, there was a time and place to face those demons, and your first date just wasn’t it. “Not exactly. I just stay in my head a lot,” was what you responded instead. Even if you felt secure by his side, there were some parts that you simply did not share with anyone. “I love my friends to death—“

“—Even if they take advantage of your altruism,” he interrupted.

“They care about me, in their own way.” You took a bite of the strawberry, unable to meet his gaze — it was able to look directly at the most vulnerable parts of your soul, and that was the last thing you needed them. Smooth talkers. Always the smooth talkers. “Anyways, I love them, but we seem to always be in totally different frequencies, you know?”

“I do. I feel the same.” Yoongi intertwined his fingers on your own, making your gaze navigate back to his own — those pupils that held everything and nothing at all. “I think everyone feels left out at some given point of their life, it’s normal. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing to be alone, or even lonely.”

“I never really cared about it, it was kind of the norm of my life.” You breathed out, and looked down — your hands, bathed by the pallid, silver-like illumination of the moon, stood out against the deep carmine of the towel. “The more I grow up, the more I feel like I’m out of sync with everyone.”

“The more I grow up, the more I realize there’s no rhythm to follow.” Yoongi threw back, watching as your eyes widened in confusion. Your expression showed an emotion that he could not identify, as if you had just realized something important, something that had been hidden right underneath your nose. “Damn, west beauty, just march to the beat of your own drum, whatever works.”

You could not hold back a laugh — a tender, liberating chuckle that erupted at the bottom of your throat, exorcising all the mischievous devils that had been encompassing your head for too long. “Thanks, Coach.” You smirked. “Freud got nothin’ on your bar psychology.”

“Shut up, you brat.” He laughed, taking one of his hands to push your shoulder playfully. “You really got no respect, uh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Says the man who offered me crack.”

“Jokingly,” he corrected, “Also, before my goldfish memory makes me forget to say this, just enjoy the moment. Some things aren’t meant to be understood, and we can’t be narcissistic enough to feel like we’re the chosen ones, that we deserve a special answer. Just don’t be a prick, you know?”

“Wiser words have never been said.” You smiled longingly. Something was flourishing inside the walls of your fast-beating heart, and you could not control its roots radiating throughout your entire being. “You sound like you would like a simple lifestyle. You know, on the westside.”

“Yeah, maybe one day, when I’m tired and bitter, I can get a farm like the rest of the old people in Crystalfall.” Yoongi smirked faintly at the prospect — it didn’t sound so bad when he said it out loud. “I’d have to dedicate my entire life for that, though, and I can’t stay still for too long.”

You raised one eyebrow, placing your elbow on the towel, merely a few centimeters away from him. “You’re here with me now.” You lowered your body to the same position as his. He has so close you could perceive the sugary aroma that sprouted in between his lips.

His gaze fell to your parted mouth, somewhat stained by the red tinge of strawberry. “I mean in the same city.”

“Oh, so you’re leaving me the second this date ends?” you asked, playful.

He paused at that. Yoongi’s eyes were atramentous as the night that surrounded the two of you, but there were no constellations scintillating in his pupils — there was only a fathomless fall, an unsolvable puzzle. “I didn’t say that.” He took one of his hands to your cheek, caressing the place with his thumb. You heart got trapped in the confinements of your throat as, gradually, the boy started to lean in, his nose brushing lightly against your own. “Besides... I can make an exception for a west beauty like you,” he whispered.

Yoongi’s lips tasted like a storm, like he was hiding hurricanes beneath his tongue. The boy kissed you patiently, slowly, taking his time to caress your lips with his before he parted his mouth enough to deepen his actions. Your mind was miles away, but you had the impression you heard a low, shriveled groan reverberating in the space between your mouths as your tongues met. Time ceased to run for an instant, then, it all came crashing down.  

Your eyes remained shut for a second when the boy moved away, your full attention still focused on the phantasm of his kiss, the sensation that still waltzed on your lips. At times, merely the right kiss is enough to make someone fall — the precise impact that would make you lose your balance, to decay into the pit that was those amaranthine black eyes.

That night, at least, it was.

Once you opened them, you were met with a weak smile from his part. “Can I ask you something crazy?” Yoongi’s lips touched yours as he spoke.

“Depends,” you said underneath your breath, utterly taken away by his beauty.

With stardust in his eyes and the cosmos expanding at every inhale, Yoongi was the ruler of your own shared universe, holding your hands through the infinity of time and space. When he spoke, you felt as if his words were written in the stars, guiding you towards the future you were meant to live. “I want you to run away with me.” He took his fingers and placed one strand of your hair behind your ear. “Not forever, just for a little while. We can get in this car and just go around some places, be nameless for some time. I feel like you and I could use some relaxation.”

You raised your eyebrows, walking in the thin line between worried and intrigued. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn't have even considered such preposterous idea — however, it was Yoongi, and he knew how to push all the right buttons. “Like a road trip?”

He shrugged. “You could say that. What’s your answer?”

“Oh, what the hell.” You placed a small kiss on his lips, and whispered against his parted mouth. “I’m in.”

And then he took you for another kiss.

Right then and there, you made the decision that would shape the weeks to come.  There you stood, staring down at the abyss that was Min Yoongi, wondering what could follow your jump. The air was thin and smooth as silk, brushed against your skin like the gentle caresses of butterfly’s wings. It was static and devoid of sentiment; phlegmatic; empty. Beneath your feet, only darkness. 

“Whatever this is,” you thought in a flash of reason, “it isn’t love.” 

And jumped. Fell.

The first three weeks passed by with little to no incidents, and you had started to believe you had found paradise on earth.

After you had accepted the man’s proposal for a miraculous getaway, the two of you made your plans as if it would be the last adventure of your lives — from the route that you would follow to the attractions you would see. Taking advantage of his free spirit’s memories, Yoongi made sure to highlight the best cities he had seen nearby, his face growing serious every time he looked up to meet your anxious gaze. He would speak smoothly then, following the rhythm of the melody only the two of you shared, and tranquilizing your negative thoughts promptly.

“West beauty, I want to share the world with you,” he would say, his fingertips touching the skin of your cheek as if he could write poetry on it. Yoongi’s voice was like a rich verse, a sublime rhyme that continued to echo within your soul. “I know it’s crazy, but I’m sure you'll love it. Just give me a chance.”

It was crazy, and you knew it. You felt as if you had been possessed by a recklessness that was completely alien to you — pushing you to pursue that insane road trip by the side of a man you knew nothing about, but yet that understood you so profoundly. Of course you were beyond worried — you had every reason to be — but, once again, you had long commited your first error, and your misplaced trust would take some time to fully disappear.

So you went forward with it. You came back home, invented some strangely believable story about meeting some college friends to your aunt, and packed your bags as adrenaline rushed through your veins, electricity sparking at your fingertips. You had spent your entire life following rules so thoroughly that the mere prospect of running away — for some time — with a man you barely knew was impossible for your aunt to even conjure. There was nothing holding you back from entering the most dangerous situation you had ever placed yourself in.

But oh well — some of the most unexpected blessings can disguise the most pernicious of curses.

Two days after your date at the waterfall, just as Sunday’s sun was starting to set, you met the boy at the Yellowside bridge — which connected the two parts of the town, split only by a slender river. Just as he had promised in a previous message, Yoongi had parked his cars amongst the veridian-painted trees, in a blind spot covered by bushes. It was a gorgeous afternoon: chilly, yet pleasant; silent, yet permeated by the whispering of leaves and the quiet crashes of the river’s water. There was a vague scent of flowers and humid ground mingling in the air, dancing along the singing of birds. It was perfect, after all.

Yoongi was leaning against the passenger side of his vehicle, eyes scrutinizing something on his phone. Behind him, the horizon was painted by thin brushstrokes of apricot and burning amber; setting the strands of his black hair on fire, shining like a golden aura around his angelic features. To catch him in such breathtaking landscape was an unique experience, so fantastic that your worries were silenced for an instant.

It didn’t take long for him to grasp the sound of your hurried footsteps against the dry foliage. “I’m here,” you said as he looked in your direction. Your hands were holding tightly to your backpack, and you felt like you carried the weight of the world in there. “Ready to go.”

In that simple sentence, you promised him everything that you had. And he accepted promptly.

Your partner in crime showed his gentlemen side that day — he opened the passenger door for you, then moved to place your backpack on the back seat, along with his own baggage. Yoongi’s car had the same scent as last time — strawberries, with a vague touch of mint.

The next instant, he was already sitting next to you and turning the ignition. “To infinity and beyond,” Yoongi claimed, closing the door with a loud exclamation. The sound resembled a gunshot to your arrhythmic heart, making it skip a beat. That was crazy. You were crazy. There was no way that could end well. “Let’s enjoy life together, west beauty.”

Nevertheless, as his car started to move, you didn’t verbalize any of your inner worries. A few minutes later, they were merely a ghost at the back of your mind — you came to the realization that the two of you had the world ahead of you, and it was yours to take.

In the progression of a few hours, the sky was painted by a deep shade of blue, then succumbed into a star-encrusted stygian. The roads expanded before you like paths into infinity, illuminated solely by the lights of his car — a small comet crossing the endless universe in respectful silence. On the radio, a slow song played on repeat, each melody decaying into the next one, dispersing its beautiful notes amongst the indoors air. With dreamy eyes, you followed the trees moving next to you, turning into a obfuscous blur of forms and sizes. A personal cosmos had opened itself for the two of you, and you adored the tranquility it brought along.

Three hours later, you arrived at the first of many motels. The purple luminescence of the neon sign ondulated on the surface of nearby puddles, a mystical aura walzed within every detail of that place. As you opened the passenger door and stepped into the cool air, you felt as if your entire life was opening like a flower in front of you.

In the strangest of ways, being on the run felt like home.

And so, you dove into it.

Before you could even notice, the days morphed into weeks, and the weeks into almost a month. Yoongi loved you kindly at first, taking his time to explore the nature that was born within your figure. He caressed your fingertips with endless delicacy, delighted in the honey of your tongue and drowned in your sweet soul, touching every crack, loving every wound. His hands were made of promises, his words were soft as silk and, together, they drew poems across your skin.

“I think that I’m in love with you, west beauty,” he would whisper against your mouth as the auric sunlight creeped through the cracks of the curtains, losing no time before dwelling in your kiss once again. Yoongi suspired against you, mind still slumberous, and limbs still intertwined around your half-naked figure. He was like the moon — mystic, lonely, overpowering. He controlled the tides of your ocean with endless delicacy, crashed against you and then retrieved back with tenuous kisses against your lips.

For those moments, you would feel free. You had convinced yourself, in a haze of impromptu decisions and impermanent pleasures, that you had fallen for him. You had sewed your mind in such way that you vehemently believed that you loved Min Yoongi just as much the moon loves the stars, like the clouds kiss the sun. You loved him like the Yellowside river’s water runs on, like the seasons pass, and you two were left with brown leaves and naked twigs — vulnerable and weak. You loved him like prismatic flowers blossomed during the spring, like earth embraces the cold droplets of the falling rain. You loved him like you. Like him. Like the two of you.

God, you loved him.

Yet, somehow, someway, you knew the two of you were not meant to last — so, you were left to whisper to him your deepest secrets, attempting to keep your head above water; your heart above desire, as you succumbed into the fathomless ocean that was Min Yoongi. You continued to fall for him, in between caresses, in between lamenting sighs; but, then, your every movement became coated by a thin layer of reluctance; the poltergeist of a broken heart beating inside the walls of your chest, banging against your ribs in unspoken pleas for mercy.

Those paranoid flashes of reason, however, did not last for long. Yoongi silenced your demons with the touch of his tender kiss against your lips, muted their whispering voices with the booming sound of clubs — asking for you to dance the night away, to be carried by the rhythm of freedom, to scream out in deserted roads and hear as your pain was washed away by the ice-cold winds of change. You did all of that for him: from the never-ending hours spent inside his vehicle to the constant moving between motel rooms, you accepted his words, took them as your personal truth, and allowed for them to guide you into a land where there were no problems in sight. A land in which he was your world, and you were his.

For some time, that was sufficient.

When Yoongi asked for more of you, there was no fiber in your being that even contemplated the idea of turning it down. As he kissed an invisible route through your neck, past the mountains of your breasts, and into the lines of your stomach, there was nothing within you that made you hold back the river of your own desire. In that muffled motel room, the only sound that pierced the static was the constant spinning of the fan’s blades, and your voice, tender as the vernal season. “Yoongi,” you mumbled against the skin of his neck, goosebumps spreading across your own. You wished to feel him so badly that it was consuming your soul, setting your mind on fire — there was nothing else that mattered. “I want you.”

And, heavens, only God knew how much he wanted you too.

Tracing the pattern from your clit to your entrance, Yoongi grunted as he felt your liquids running down his digits; listening to your soft sighs as he pushed past your folds, teasing his way in — but never fully doing so. For a few times, there was all that he did: brushing lightly his fingers from your opening to your clit, never applying the satisfactory pressure or entering you. You despised his patience sometimes.

In dissonance, as soon as he moved back his head and his hooded eyes met your own, needy ones, all the remnants of his self control were lost. He could tease you another time — then, he needed to have you.  

With a passionate kiss, the man took you in his arms and, with a strong pull, elevated your hips from the soft mattress; fingers not wasting a single second before pulling down the cotton of your underwear. He groaned against your mouth once he felt the sensation of your center against his hard, clothed member, pressing down just right.

An ambrosial taste of nectar was pouring form in between his lips, rushing through your veins, intoxicating your senses with its mephitic sweetness. Against your chest, you could perceive the fast beating of his own heart, resounding like drums inside your ears alongside a deep, rusty grunt of desire. “Baby,” he whispered — begged. “Let me have you, please.”

There was no need to ask, for you had already given him every sign of consent that he needed. Who would you be to decline such compelling proposal?

And so you gave yourself to him — again and again; until your legs were trembling and your weak lungs could not take in the dense air anymore. You gave yourself to Yoongi as if the world would reach its ending in the following morning; as if the pleasure of his enticing touches were enough for you to live on. You dove into the melody of his moans and whines; cried out in need as he prolonged your euphoria just a little bit longer; fucked you a little bit deeper; ruined you a little bit further.

In those moments, everything felt as marvelous as it could be.

Before you knew it, those instances had been incorporated to your routine. And, for that, Yoongi was dangerously creative. He would have you the way he wanted it, when he wanted it: he would fuck you mercilessly against the wall, take you in the hot tub at late hours of the night, would accompany you in your showers, making you beg for him with the right movement of his digits and the flick of his tongue.

You loved the way he looked then: his eyes so filled with flames; his breaths so raspy, so deep; his cheeks painted by a vague tinge of cardinal. Droplets of sweat decorated his abdomen and his forehead, shining around his opaque gaze as he took you deeper, rougher, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re all mine, west beauty,” he moaned out once, voice rotten by desire and certainty. “You take me so well, baby, I love you so much—”

He did, he really did. Yoongi, in all his breathless bliss, could only compare your image to the empyrean, cherubic beauty of angelic sculptures, embellished by the eroticism of forgotten nymphs. He adored the way your body — more specifically, your ass — moved as he fucked you so mercilessly from behind; jumping up and down on the motel bed at the will of his strong thrusts. “You like this, baby?” he asked in a hushed tone, fingers digging to the curvature of your waist. You cried out his name in a clear agreement. “Yeah? You like my cock? You like when I fuck you like this?”

“Yeah, oh my god,” you whimpered, turning your head on the pillow to look at him. God, your mouth was so swollen, you had been biting the pillow so hard you barely noticed it.

But Yoongi did. The dream of decorating such gorgeous, immaculate features — those lust-filled, cherry-painted lips he venerated so much — with the whiteness of his release made him thrust against you even harder. “You feel so good, you’re so tight,” he praised. It had become even more difficult to find the right words to speak now that his high was hanging like sword over his head. “You’re such a good girl, aren��t you? You’re so good.”

“Y-Yeah, Yoongi…” you cried out, hands holding tightly to the pillow as if it was the last fragment of reality that could chain you down to the delicious present of his actions. Your hair was disheveled, spread all over the mattress like a cascade. “Harder, please,” you requested in a whine.

Yoongi moaned again and again, opening his eyes just enough so you could perceive the way his irises shone in absolute concupiscence — he looked like something straight out of a daydream, a tempting demon lurking in the shadows of your desires; from the way his hair was gleaming in droplets sweat to his parted, gasping red lips. “Take it baby,” he said. Ordered. Once again, you did as he said, perking up your hips and feeling as he hit your sweet spot. “Yeah, that’s my girl, come on.”

Fuck, how he loved to have you that. Yoongi could cum just at the mere sensation of your wetness, the way you moaned and cried under his rough touches; fighting to reach your climax as his member thrusted in and out of your soaked center. He was so hard it was almost painful to endure, cock pulsating inside you as his hips slowly started to lose their precision, movements growing erratic, stained by pleasure.

His climax washed over him, breaking upon his cloudy perceptions and erupting on the tip of his tongue in a long, drown-out moan. Yoongi could make a vouch in the name of the stars, in those glorious times of victory and defeat, that you were the closest to heaven he would ever get; the bliss in your eyes could never be comparable to anything else that he had ever witnessed.

There was one detail, though, that needed to be taken in consideration: those had been just your adventures behind four walls, in the confinements of your neon-lit rooms.

Other times, you two wouldn’t even get to the motel, and had to make good use of his car. And that was your favorite time. In all honesty, you did not hate it one bit — in a way, you preferred it over the bed, or any other location he had ever took you.

“You know I can’t hold back when you tease me like this,” Yoongi said once, struggling to park his car in a nearby alley. For all he cared, he could put it right beneath an open semaphore and have you then and there, open and ready for him. He didn’t care if anyone saw it, frankly, it only made his job a bit more fun. “Can you stop with that? Fuck,” he complained.

You smirked, and your hand brushed against his clothed member once again; fingers delicately tracing the outlines of his erection. In his black pants, his cock throbbed in the thought of how you would feel around it, the concept so concupiscent that made him bite his lower lip in sheer desire. There was only so much he could take. “Stop with what?” you teased, clicking your seatbelt in anticipation — the black stripe dragged against your chest, pushing your low-cut blouse slightly to the side.

Lucky for both of you, he wasn’t in the right mental state to play those tempting games, and his head had been utterly focused on finding a right place to camouflage his chevy — the alley ended up being a bit broader than he first thought, so it made his torturous times a bit easier to endure, even if he was growing terribly annoyed at the constant, mocking movements of your hands against his arousal.

To be fair, Yoongi was a patient man, but he had been bothered by your presence far longer than that. Ever since he had seen you get out of the bathroom with that luscious short skirt, your body had been all that he thought about — the repercussion of the bar’s song had turned into white noise inside his skull, the faceless silhouettes of strangers could never compare to the way the fabric moved upwards as you danced, presenting him with appetizing glimpses of your ass in that white lacy underwear.

By the end of the night, when the two of you were departing from that overflowing establishment, he could no longer keep his hands away to himself. Now, Yoongi was patient, but he was no prude when it came to public displays of his desire — his touches lingered from the sides of your breasts to the curvature of your waist; moving down to squeeze your ass as his lips sucked on the flesh of your neck, placing red-bitten caresses all over your skin. The motel was just too far away, and he needed to have you at that very instant.

The second that his car was parked amongst the consolidated shadows of a nearby construction, Yoongi helped you onto his lap, your back towards him, hands moving up and down your exposed thighs, seeking for the cotton of your panties underneath your devilish skirt. With his pulse echoing like thunder inside his head, the boy stared in hidden fascination as he pulled your underwear haphazardly from your center, presenting him with a luscious view of your dripping sex.

Producing a low, satisfied groan, Yoongi took one of his fingers to your entrance, delighting on your wetness. “Won’t you look at that,” he provoked, voice deeper than usual. “It seems like there’s no need for me to play with you tonight.”

You bit down on your lower lip, pressing your ass against his erection as if to prove your unspoken point: you weren’t the only one who had been a bit carried away. But, hell, could someone blame you? The simple hypothesis of being with Yoongi inside his car was enough to send shivers down your spine, the images of past meetings flashing like a projected movie inside your mind. The position and the friction that his car gave you was just perfect, and the thrill of getting caught by oblivious citizens only enhanced your excitement.

Yeah, the motel could wait.

“Lean over, baby,” Yoongi requested in a whisper against your neck, his hands moving upwards on your chest, pressing your tits together. The contact was rough, showing you just how much he needed to have you.

Placing your hands over the wheel, you did as he requested, listening as the sound of his zipper sliced the silence of the closed ambient. All over the rain-covered windows, thin layers of fog covered the outside world, blending with the obfuscous luminescence of nearby signs, bleeding in geranium and sapphire.

As Yoongi pulled down his pants and you heard the sound of plastic filling the air, your voice resumed its speech. “Don’t you want to turn on the radio?” you asked. “I know how much you love fucking me to some good music.”

“I do.” His palms came in contact with your waist, pulling you body back down on his lap. Against your asscheecks, you could feel the touch of his cock, hard and ready for you. “But I love hearing you more,” he completed.

Leaning your head back, you placed it against his right shoulder. Through the curtain of your eyelashes, you watched as he undressed you, opening the buttons of your blouse one by one. “Yoongi,” you called. “You can do this later.”

Light as a feather, his lips came in contact with your exposed neck. “I can,” he agreed, opening the last one. His palms traveled from your stomach to your breasts, cupping them over your bra — the same white lacy underwear that was driving him crazy. You moaned softly at the sensation of his rough touches, your ass perking up against his erect member. “I know I can. But I love when you get like this.”

You swallowed dry. “Like how?”

“Like this.”

As if he had been expecting your inquiry, one of his hands flew to his mirror, and oscillated it towards the two of you. On the reflection, you could see yourself — cheeks flushed, half-parted lips and hooded eyes — and the eroticism that gleamed inside Yoongi’s eyes. You had discovered that he had quite the liking for mirrors when, by mistake, the two of you had received the honeymoon suite of a fancy motel, and ended up with a mirror on the ceiling.

But that was a different story.

“Baby,” Yoongi called you, pressing down on your boobs with a bite against your neck. Against your back, his erection throbbed against your skin, and felt yourself clenching in anticipation. “I’m gonna put it in, alright?”

And you agreed with a hum and raised your figure a bit, because that was all that you could do then.

Yoongi rubbed himself against your wet folds once, twice, feeling their moisture as a deep groan broke behind his teeth. At last, just when you’re about to complain about all the time that he was taking, you feel the lethargic, heavenly sensation of his cock sliding inside you, stretching you out.

Then it was your time to steal the spotlight. With a heavy exhale through your nose and your palms finding support on the wheel, you begun moving your body up and down, dwelling in the aphrodisiac sensation of his member inside you. Some strange way, it felt a bit more personal than your lust-covered mind had foresaw — with Yoongi whining and moaning against your back, inhaling your sweet scent with every slow rise and fall of your figure. Every time your absent-minded gaze flickered towards the small oval mirror, you would see him, with his mouth parted and eyebrows furrowed in absolute focus, accompanying the bouncing of your breasts as your rhythm increased in speed, the sound of your wetness filling his ponderations with lewd ideas.

His digits dug deeper onto your hips as he felt the approaching waves of his high, unexpected and merciless. “Oh yeah,” he moaned out, throwing his head back. Yoongi’s eyes were closed in endless bliss, the sound of his flesh hitting yours repeatedly was all that he could hear. Underneath his thighs, the leather of his car seat was sticking against his sweaty skin. “Take it deeper, baby, come on. Fuck my cock.”

Once again, you could not help but fulfill his request.

As his cock pounded in and out of you, his own breathing was growing heavy under the angelic characteristic of your form; reason long forgotten. “Just like that, yeah,” Yoongi spoke in a whisper. Neediness was plastered all over his face, gleaming inside his irises as they fell to the obscene movements of your body against his. God, you were everything he wished to have at that time; the movement of your hips against his was driving him to the edges of his sanity. “Fuck, you’re so hot, baby, I can’t believe you’re mine,” he disclosed.  

“Yoongi,” you whimpered out his name in a personal prayer, knees and thighs trembling as you felt your delight increasing by the second. Your mind had went completely black, hyperfocusing on the hypnotic, harsh thrusts of his cock in and out of you, the rolling of his hips against your own, fighting for more. The heat in your lower body was becoming unbearable, ready to come crumbling down at any given instant. “It feels so good, I’m—”

He groaned as he felt your walls tightening around him. “Can you come for me, baby?” he asked. The sobs and whines that left your lips were as addictive as nicotine, immersive as the song of a siren; you struggled to blurt out a prolonged, moan-like confirmation. “Yeah? Do that for me, baby.”

Of course you could — for Yoongi, you would go to the moon and back. Euphoria took over your senses as your orgasm washed over you, his name coming out in broken sighs in between your swollen lips, dissipating in the foggy atmosphere of his warm vehicle. Behind you, the man cursed at the way your walls pulsated around him, taking him just right.

Yoongi placed his hands on your ass, squeezing your flesh strongly as you kept sitting up and down on his erect member. The man, utterly overwhelmed, whined against your neck something that resembled the fragmented syllables of your name, his cock filling you up again and again as his limit fastly approached. “I’m gonna come,” he moaned out, throwing his head back against the seat. His abdomen clenched, his lungs produced a trembling exhale. “Fuck, just feel me, baby, come on.”

Even if the ghost of oversentibility had started to haunt your bones, you ignored the exhaustion of you limbs, and continued to fuck yourself with his cock, waiting for Yoongi to reach his high. Instead, you focused on the luscious way that his voice resounded all around you as he thrusted upwards, diving into the astonishing way you wrapped around him.

It did not take long for Yoongi to find his release, holding down to your hips as he did so. With a few terminal, spasmodic movements, he finally came undone, and let go of your figure for an ephemeral second.

Though, you knew that it would take a bit more than that for him to be fully satisfied.

“Look at that, what a mess.” Yoongi chuckled behind you, and his index finger met the path between your folds — you were so sensitive that you leaned forward, placing your hands on the wheel for support. The sound of wetness was lewd, but you loved it, and you loved Yoongi’s touch even more. “So much fucking cum,” he praised, breathless. “You take it all so well.”

Your lips were swollen from both his touch and the constant biting from your part, and they pulsated as you attempted to form a comprehensible sentence — with the afterglow of your orgasm still weighing down on your muscles, and his fingers tracing circles up and down your core, there was not much left for you to work with. “I should…” You swallowed dry, fingers holding tightly to the leather as he moved towards your clit. “I should clean up.”

“Why? We’re not done yet.” He chuckled behind you, the sound reverberating inside your bones; sending shivers down your spine. You knew that devilish tone like it was your second language, it was his way to telling you that the two of you would not be getting any sleep anytime soon. “Let’s get to the motel first.”

Of course, the fun was barely starting.

However, as much as those first weeks had been incredible, every sea of roses still had its thorns.

There were other, less pleasant times in which his presence wasn’t that perfect. Instances in which strangers at the bar would widen their eyes once they met his, or perhaps would whisper cautiously once your partner was recognized, their previous conversations turning into alarmed whispers, following the same melody as the hissing of water against burning charcoal. Your gut warned that something was wrong, that a piece of the puzzle wasn’t fitting, but you ignored it. Call it love, call it idiocy, even innocence — the point was that Min Yoongi had you at the palm of his hand, and even the biggest of red flags couldn’t wake you up from your enamored fantasies.

Well, at least not yet.

Hoseok [11:02pm] Hey, where are you? We’re worried, Namjoon said he couldn’t speak to you, and it’s been almost a month since we saw you.

-

You [09:38am] Hey, I’m out of town with a friend. I’m safe, don’t worry about it. Sorry I couldn’t answer sooner.

Hoseok [09:38am] Damn. When are you coming back? We need a to talk about a problem real quick.

You [09:43am] I don’t have a prediction. You’ll guys will have to figure that out without me.

-

With a low hum of approval, Yoongi slided your phone towards you across the white-painted table. “Nice one,” he praised. “Baby steps, I guess.”

You nodded as you inhaled deeply, fingers moving to lock your device again. In the background of the establishment, the ringing that signaled the arrival of another customer ressounded. “I’m really holding back to ask what it is, though,” you said, “what if they’re in trouble?”

He shrugged, clearly not worried at the prospect. His hair, crepuscular as a raven’s feathers, contrasted against the golden luminesce of the afternoon sun that came from the restaurant’s window — in a way, the place reminded you of Mercy’s and, combined with Hoseok’s messages, you only missed your friends further. “You’re not the only person in town. They’ll figure it out,” he spoke as his fingers traced the pink straw of his strawberry milkshake. “Besides, they waited two weeks, it’s probably not that important. Just ignore them.”

Unable to continue staring at the dark screen of your phone — you felt as if it would light up again at any given second — you turned it around, facing your pale yellow cover instead. “You’re probably right.” You sighed. You certainly did not feel as if he was, though. “This feels wrong, I don’t know. I’m not used to saying no to my friends when I know I can help them.”

One of his hands reached out for you, and the warmness of his palm met your own. It was bizarre: his expression did not hold the same amount of heat. “Hey, listen,” Yoongi spoke almost in a whisper as he leaned in closer to you, as if he had been sharing a secret. “I know you’re a very non-confrontational person, alright? I get it. But listen: can you imagine if people didn’t defend themselves ever? Because I don’t know if you’re aware, the world isn’t filled with good intentions.”

You licked your lips, trying to find the words to respond with. There were traces of vanilla stil hiding in your mouth, and the sweetness of it made you nauseated. “I know, Yoongi, but these are my friends,” you responded.

Once such a serene experience, now the mere holding of his gaze felt alien to you. You continuously felt as if you were being analyzed under a microscope, as if you tiniest of actions could be a reason for his disapproval to flourish again. “I know, baby,” he said back, leaning his head slightly to the side. “That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t take advantage of you.”

Your eyes flickered between the world outside and the fathomless expansion of his irises, trying to find a way out of that conversation. You hated when he talked to you like that, like you were a kid. “Your point?” you asked, rather emotionlessly.

He suspired. “My point,” he said, leaning back against his seat. His hand felt like fire against your own, burning your spirit to ashes. “is that there are bad things in the world, and we don’t run away from it. We face it, head high, even if we’re scared shitless, and we tell it to stick it right where the sun doesn’t shine. You can’t allow people to take advantage of you when they are fully aware of their actions, do you understand me? You deserve to value yourself more than that.”

As you were starting to learn, Yoongi had a tendency to monologue about the most tedious of subjects, verbalizing each word as if he was absolutely certain of its veracity — as if you were far too dumb to realize something so obvious. “That isn’t exactly nice of me,” you said.

“You can be nice without being used as a rug.” He took a slip of his milkshake, and it was finally over. Your vanilla drink was practically left untouched, and the ice cream was now a warm, thick liquid at the bottom of your tall cup. “You know that saying, ‘treat others like you’d treat yourself’? Yeah. I think you need to work on the second part, and internalize a little bit of that love towards you every once in a while. They’ll live without their helicopter mother around.”

You chuckled at that last part. His words seemed empty, but you still found yourself leaning towards them — damn smooth talkers. There was no other kind as manipulative as they were. “I’ll try.”

Yoongi smiled openly, victoriously. You had forgotten to look away from the eclipse, and now it was blinding you, muting your senses. “You better,” he verbalized, pushing his empty cup to the side. Every movement was choreographed, every sentence was practiced into a splendiferous delivery — now, the grand finale. “Because, you know, I don’t want you being all walked over by those people. You should, like, just block them at once. I can tell how their messages make you anxious.”

You smiled weakly, attempting to keep your own act together. “Thank you, coach. I don’t think they are, though,” you said. But you didn’t know anymore: Yoongi’s words always made so much sense. How could he be wrong when he was claiming to want the best for you? Your thoughts were a miscellaneous of excuses and torn-apart conversations, flying in circles, pathless and disoriented.

“You’re welcome, west beauty.” He winked at you, then placed the palms of his hands against the table, using it as a sustentation to get up to his feet. Yoongi’s figure, wrapped in that infamous black leather jacket, was now a vortex of twilight amongst a prismatic landscape, sucking all the light in, pouring nothing of it out. “I’ll pay the bill, just a second.”

“Alright.” You nodded, and watched as he walked towards the counter.

That conversation, however, left a sour taste on your mouth, and the faint touch of a bad feeling just at the bottom of your stomach. As if guided by an impulse you could not comprehend, your hands seeked for your phone in a rush of adrenaline. You turned around, and were met by a new cascade of texts from your friend.

-

Hoseok [10:13am] It’s important. You’re with someone from the bar, right? I can’t recall his name rn, but we have to talk.

Hoseok [10:14am] The guy that Joohyun was hooking up with was very alarmed when he found out that you had been seen with him. He’s not good news, I need to know that you’re actually safe.

Hoseok [10:15am] From what I’ve heard, he has fucked some people over, and now he owes them money for some weird job. The guy didn’t know much, but he knew it was bad, blood was spilled and shit.

Hoseok [10:15am] Namjoon heard some dark stuff as well

Hoseok [10:15am] His name’s Yoongi, right? Min Yoongi or something like that

Hoseok [10:16am] Ring me up when you can, alright? Let’s have a talk. I’m worried sick.

-

Your heartbeat increased once your eyes met every new word, fingers growing weak around your phone. It was as if Hoseok’s messages has shaken awake the worries that had been silenced within your chest, chained by the ties of denial. Once your story ended, a few weeks after that day, you would look back at that very instant and, in a bitter memory, would claim that it was when you begun to see beyond the good — and into the bad and the ugly — of who your lover really was.

“Ready to go?” Yoongi’s voice was piercing, making your heart skip a beat. You looked up at him with widened eyes, mouth slightly parted in a way to form words you couldn’t build. You were nervous. He noticed it. “Is everything alright?” he asked, suspicious.

You cleared your throat and placed your phone back in your pocket. “Yeah, sorry,” you said, forcing a timid smile. “Let’s move.”

Later, in an impulsive decision made at two in the morning, you deleted the texts you had received that afternoon. That was what Yoongi would have wanted. He would tell you that he was no longer that man, that you had nothing to worry about. Everything was going to be alright, and he was there to protect you, not hurt you. He would never do something like that. And, for the time being, you would believe in that.

However, as you would soon come to understand, Min Yoongi was a huge, disgusting  fucking liar.

Trouble started showing up eventually, and your make-believe paradise progressively transformed into inferno.

Every time Yoongi showed you a glimpse of his darker side, you overlooked it. You buried your preoccupations underneath the cold motel sheets, hoping they would never be uncovered, that the monsters underneath the bed would never come back to take what you owed them. However, there was a point that it reached dangerous levels, and you could not pretend as if everything was okay any longer.

It started gradually — minor discussions over stupid matters; bar fights, which caused a bloody nose here and there; stealing; reckless behavior on the wheel. One day he was stealing expensive champagne from local convenience stores, the next he was gifting it to you like it was his very own version of salvation, promising you he had bought it instead.  One day he was pushing you away and, the next, he was holding you tighter than ever before. It was emotionally exhaustive, psychologically torturous, to follow the harsh — sometimes unpremeditated — switches of his personality. You constantly felt like you were walking in a place filled with mines, ready to be exploded at any given second.

There were two occurences, though, in which you truly feared for your life. Moments in which all your excuses, all your justifications, fell flat in face of real threat. There was nothing you could tell yourself that would mask the true nefastus aura that surrounded Yoongi once he got into that wicked state of mind — he was just like any other reckless beast from the east side, and he had no worries for your well being. Whoever that version was, you did not love it.

The first one was at the parking lot of a club.

Yoongi had nurtured the awful habit of, just as the night was starting to get tiresome, he would disappear, claiming he saw someone he knew amongst the crowd or, if he was at the motel with you, you’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone. Just like all bad things in life, you managed to get used to it and, after the fifth time that it happened, your sadness had turned into a slight displeasure at the pit of your stomach.

More often than not, he would come back as if nothing had happened, and would not answer any of your questions about where he had been aforetime. That was what you had expected that special night, but neutrality was the last thing you received once he reappeared.

Like usual, Yoongi had vanished to talk to some faceless old friends, and you were waiting for him outside of a booming club. For twenty minutes you stood there, alone, leaning against the cold wall and watching as drunken groups staggered in and out of the booming construction — lovers holding onto one another; friends laughing loudly against the wind; or perhaps loners trying their luck for the night.

At some point, a man joined you outside, claiming he just needed to smoke a cigarette. “Rough night?” he asked.

“Rough month,” you responded, friendly. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend,” you said. If you could even call him that. “He usually takes his time when his drunk.”

He nodded, and continued the conversation. The stranger was particularly nice to you. He kept the dialogue somewhat casual, and maintained a respectful amount of space between your bodies. You were under the impression — which quickly got confirmed — that he only wanted a friend to talk to, and wasn’t trying to get anything else out of you. Comforting, the feeling allowed for you to relax under his presence, and you though, in an instant of bliss, that perhaps the long wait for your boyfriend wouldn’t be so bad.

More often than not, you were incorrect when the subject was Min Yoongi.

He came out of the club like a tornado just at the instant that you were laughing at something the kind stranger had said, and he opened the double doors with a movement far to rough for your liking. There was barely enough time for you to look at him, lips slightly parted in surprise, and to take in the uncharacteristic expression that had overtook his features, barely illuminated by the phosphorescent lights of the construction.

Yoongi was not sober, that you could tell. His posture was a little curved, and his eyes were not as white as you would like — besides, his forthcoming actions worked in the favor of your thesis.

He didn’t take long to jump into conclusions, for his vision and mental processes had been funneled by primordial emotions. “And who the fuck are you?” Yoongi spoke out in a groan, his speech slightly dragged. He looked directly at the other man, and took a step closer. “What is this?”

You swallowed dry, and tried to reach out to him. Next to you, the stranger threw his cigarette on the concrete. “Yoongi, it’s fine,” you said. He pulled away from your grip. “We were just talki—“

Now, Yoongi might not have been the biggest guy around, but he was certainly one of the fastest. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He swiftly walked past you and pushed the man away with all the force he had, stepping in front of you with determination bleeding from his red-tinged eyes. You didn’t know if he was drunk, if he had consumed something else, but, frankly, that was the least of your worries then. “Stop looking at my girl like that, you cunt,” he spat.

Your eyes widened, pulse increasing to a point in which you believed your heart would just give up at any point. Through the anemic clouds of nicotine-painted smoke, you saw as the other man’s gaze faiscated in anger, his hands curling into fists. “Yoongi, he wasn’t—” you started, but it was already too late. The other man’s punch had sliced through the air and hit your boyfriend directly on the nose, sending him to stagger backwards. “Yoongi!” You called out, horrified.

Still, he wouldn’t back away. With the animal gaze that overtook his caliginous eyes, you were absolutely certain he had taken some sort of drugs, for he barely touched the blood on his nostrils before he was charging forward at the stranger; looking as if he had barely felt the impact, even less the pain.

Everything that followed had been saved like a blurry sequence of events inside your head. You could remember Yoongi charging towards the other man, punching him straight in the face with a groan and then, even less than a second later, the stranger had charged against him, throwing the two of them on the asperous concrete. You had no idea how, but Yoongi had been able to throw his weight over the man, and rolled around his figure so he would be on top.

The second that he started throwing constant punches against the other guy, something inside of you screamed that you had to stop that before it was too late — after all, there was no one else around.

With a bravery that did not belong to you, your fingers hooked on the collar of his shirt and, with a force that was moved by your panic, you mustered enough strength to pull Yoongi up by a few centimeters. You were by no means strong enough to take his entire body away from the other man, but the pull seemed sufficient to make him lose his balance. “Stop! The two of you,” you cried out and, with another pull, Yoongi rolled to the side, getting away from him. You took the chance and held your hands out, each of your palms facing a different man. “That’s enough, come on.”

Much to your relief, the kind stranger seemed to agree. “This is bullshit, man.” He spat, staining the concrete with his blood. His face was covered in splashes of purple and red, and the scene was terrifying to witness. As he spoke, blood splattered out of his mouth, covering his teeth in a thin layer of maroon.“You’re fucked up.”

Yoongi breathed out, enraged. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he ordered. You wanted to help the other man just as much, but you were afraid of how Yoongi would react. “I know what pieces of shit like you want.”

The other staggered to get back on his feet and, for an instant, you thought he would fall back down. It was bad — very bad. “Whatever, dude,” he said, his speech slightly groggy. Running the back of his hand against his nose, a thick trail of carmine was imprinted on his skin. He groaned. “You’re fucking crazy.” Then, he locked eyes with you. “You should get out of… whatever the fuck this is. Before it’s too late.”

You swallowed hard, but did not trust your own voice to formulate a sentence in regards to that. “You… should call someone,” was what you said. “It’s not looking good.”

He nodded and, with a mocking grin, mumbled something you didn’t quite catch. You were worried sick for that stranger, but you couldn’t even show it. Next to you, Yoongi’s eyes were burning with the endless flames of his anger, following the silhouette of the man as he turned his back to the two of you and moved closer to the club. “Let’s get outta here,” he whispered, “That guy is coward enough to call the cops on me.”

Unable to think of anything else, you did as he requested, helping him to get back on his feet. Yoongi’s face was by no means as bad as the other guys, but his nose was bleeding and trailing red paths down his face and onto his lips; there were dark purple marks beginning to show around his cheekbones and jaw. His eyes were bloodshot, and you did not have the courage to ask him what was in his system — to be fair, you didn’t even want to know.

The two of you walked across the construction in absolute, sepulchral silence, following the path of your arrival. Yoongi didn’t want to pay for a spot — fifteen bucks an hour was absurd —, so he parked his car in an alley nearby, where he was sure no one would complain. He seemed to have calmed down throughout those transitory instants of quiessence, for even his respiration had taken a much more tranquil rhythm. You though, in a flash of assuagement, that he had come back to his normal, collected state.

Though, it wasn’t the right conclusion.

Before you could even react, you felt his hands holding unflinchingly to your shoulders, forcefully pushing you against the asperous, frigid brick wall of the alleyway. Your eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and horror, watching as his own, blood-colored gaze scrutinized every minor detail on your semblance. Yoongi’s red-stained mouth was curved downwards and his eyebrows were hanging low, twitching lightly as he bit back his fury.

With a hard-bitten groan, he placed a bit more of his weight on you. It didn’t really hurt, but his actions had chilled you to the core. Then and there, you could swear that he was able to murder someone. Perhaps he already did. “Fuck, don’t get in the middle of my shit!” He warned, fingertips digging to your shoulder blades. You could feel as his blood dripped down from his bruised knuckles and onto your exposed skin — the warm liquid seemed like a horrible forewarning. “You want to make me look like I’m a fucking pussy? Is that what you want? You wanna make me look like I can’t take a half-assed beating?”

Overtaken by trepidation, the words seemed to refuse to leave your throat. Your mind had turned into a blank canvas, painted by the scarlet and cimmerian shades of his devastating acrimony. You dream turned into a nightmare right then, paralyzing your members and soul. “No, I didn’t—”

Yoongi grunted. “You know what? Spare me of that bullshit. Doesn’t matter.” He interrupted, pushing you one more time before staggering away from your trembling body, his arms weighing down next to his fast-breathing chest. You were not sure if he was talking about the situation, or you. “Let’s go back. You fucking drive, I’m too wasted for that shit,” he groaned, and threw the keys your way. “If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.”

Which flawlessly ties into the second instance in which you feared for your life. It took place about two weeks later, when Yoongi had changed his mind about the dangers of driving under the influence, and swore he was more than capable to get you two from the bar to your motel.

Then again, Min Yoongi was a liar.

The car ruptured the night like a shooting star, passing by the tall trees in a blur of headlights and worried screams. The mumbling of the motor chilled you to the bone, shaking inside your chest like the drumming of a war; and the sudden swerving of lanes — which happened every time Yoongi saw an upcoming curve — seemed to be the last action that you would ever witness. He maintained the velocity much above the speed limit and, every time you asked him to reduce it, he would raise it even further just to delight in the way your panic increased.

Yoongi looked at the open road like he had been possessed, his unfocused eyes barely seeing something beyond his hooded eyelids. “It’s a highway, not a fuckin’ roller coaster,” he had complained, licking his lips. The car was impregnated with the strong smell of alcohol, and you thought you were going to throw up at any given minute. “Can you stop—“ He burped. “Fuck. Just stop screaming.”

Still, you were in under no condition to be rational. “Yoongi, slow this down!” You cried out in horror, fingers clenching to the leather of the seat. Your nails were already hurting because of how much they were being pressed down against the thick fabric, your heart seemed as if it was about to stop. Next to you, the half-open window sucked out your hair, blowing the dense summer air onto your face at full speed. “How much did you drink?”

You had the impression that the man tried to smirk, but he was too far gone to fully control the muscles on his face. Instead, the corners of his mouth vaguely turned upwards, his expression bordering on the one of a serial killer. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he told you as his fingers tightened on the wheel. Only one hand was guiding the car, for the other was hanging tightly to the — stolen — beer bottle he had brought along. “Shut up, damn, why are you so loud? Loosen up a bit. Shit.”

The wheel turned and there was a vague scratching of the wheels against the asphalt as he struggled to make a tenuous curve — you could already see the car losing its path and crashing against one of the thick pine trees, killing the two of you instantly.

Yoongi took his bottle to his lips and chugged the rest of it down, not hesitating for one second before throwing it out of his window with a crash you could barely hear. The white lights of the poles flashed over his features like a movie was being projected onto him, presenting you with a person you did not recognize.

“Yoongi, stop this car right now.” You banged your hand against the door, trying to get his attention. The motor groaned as the man pressed down on the gas pedal, making his stance known, and pushing your back against the seat with the new acceleration. Trees were passing by in disfigured blurs of black and brown, and you were sure you were starting to lose blood pressure because of the stress you were under — it wouldn’t be the first time you fainted because of panic. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die.” You cried out, breathless. “Please, Yoongi—“

Yoongi took the back of his hand to clean his stained lips, and then looked at your direction — you didn’t know if his attention on the deserted road would make any difference at that point. When he spoke out, the nauseating smell of alcohol burned down your throat. “As much as I want to right now, I won’t flip this shit over,” he told you with endless annoyance, his eyes filled with a mixture of disgust and petulance. You didn’t know who he was then, and the fright that you felt only increased once you met the eyes of that stranger. “But only if you shut the fuck up. Do that for me, princess, and you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Even against every nerve in your body, you did as he requested, and bit down on your lower lip. At some point, tears started wetting your cheeks, but you ignored them. Eventually, tough, the car began to slow down.

About ten minutes later, you two arrived at the neon-bathed motel, and Yoongi crashed in bed with a final cascade of curse words and complaints towards you. You only felt relief once you realized he was sound asleep and, even then, you could not rest for the entire night. You were terrified.

The last drop, however, was in the final night you two passed together.

Yoongi had mentioned that one of his old friends was in same town as the two of you, and asked if you would like to accompany him to a local bar, if you wouldn’t feel too left out, since he needed to have a private conversation with the man. As much as the requested was a bit offbeat, you accepted it regardless, for you felt it would’ve been better than to be alone in a small room with poor TV signal, and worries bubbling at the bottom of your stomach. It was better to be with him than to wonder where he was, and that you had learned the hard way.

The two of you arrived there a little past midnight, and were amazed by the slow movement — most of the tables were empty and there were, at most, fifteen other people, staff included, in that secluded ambient. Before you could even mention it, Yoongi briskly excused himself, said that he would be having his “important discussion” for some time, and claimed that under no circumstances were you to interrupt his exchange — unless, of course, it was urgent.

Out of alternatives, you turned to face the shelves decorated with prismatic bottles. As you walked towards the counter, throat arid as a desert, you thought about the night you met him under those auric christmas lights, when he swore he could give you everything and a bit more. Yoongi had made sure to show you — again and again — how your friends had been selfish when they left you behind to fulfill their own objectives, but he was doing precisely the same thing then.  

You were sure he would have a flawless justification hanging just at the tip of his tongue, though, as he always did. Yoongi wasn’t the biggest fan of being held accountable for his mistakes, and he wouldn’t start now.

With a disinterested expression hanging over her features, the purple-haired woman that worked at the bar moved closer to you. She held a piece of grey fabric in one hand and a cup in the other, and didn’t seem as if she was in the mood to make any friends. “What can I get you?” she questioned politely.

You licked your lips and thought for an instant. Behind you, two figures sat down, facing one another. “Just water is good,” you said, “thanks.”

She nodded and moved back to reach for your drink. It arrived much, much earlier than Yoongi did.

You sat there for some time, waiting as the night dragged along; filled by the exhilarated screams of embriagated customers and the constant buzzing of animated conversations. Exhaustion had overtaken your limbs, tingling on your fingertips and ruling over your mind by the time that one hour had gone by — and, with it, five glasses of water and two small trips to the bathroom. Maybe you should have stayed at the motel.

Lamenting the adventures you never got to live, you raised your gaze from the counter, and turned around on your seat. If you adjusted your posture and inclined your neck just enough, you could see Yoongi and another silhouette talking at the corner of the bar, completely immersed in a secretive subject. You thought about asking what it was about, but you were sure he would not share it — Yoongi was a man sustantained by secrets; a petulant monarch sitting in a throne of poorly constructed lies and enigmatic whispers.

Every time you looked at him you would picture a scene: the two of you trying to finish a puzzle, but there’s a piece missing. You don’t know if it’s with you, if you lost it, if you can’t find it. Or if it’s with him. If he’s hiding it from you. In a speck of courage, you would dare to take a look at him, meeting those eyes that are both everything and nothing at the same time. Empty as black holes, full as the brightest star. They push you like waves, then pull like the cold tides. There’s echo e and there’s muffling. There’s him. You don’t know who he is. Then you understand, once again, that the puzzle will not be completed, and you can only guess what that final piece would present. Perhaps one detail would change it all, perhaps it would have been precisely what you had always envisioned. You will never know. He hid it from you during all that time, and you doubted it would ever see the light.

Though, you soon would get an idea of it.

Behind you, a loud cough resounded throughout the establishment. “You saw him right?” One of the men asked, his voice so deep that, for an instant, you thought it was the same guy that bothered you in The Cave, months ago. The story was repeating itself, after all, in the most hypocritical of ways.

But no, you were too far away from home. It wasn’t him, and your friends were nowhere in sight.

The other hummed in concordance. “The Yoongi guy? Yeah. He got here with some chick I didn’t recognize.” He stopped once a sequence of deep, painful coughs ruptured his speech — you did not need to know him to be sure he was a smoker. “Fuck— Not that I expected it would be the same as last time, but ya know.”

“Yeah.” Another long pause. You felt as if your heart was just about to jump out of your chest; your fingertips were sweaty and quivering against the corner of the table. “You think they got him?” he asked.

“Nah. If they did, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be behind bars, where he fuckin’ belongs.” The other laughed. Paused. More coughing. “The guy knows what he’s doing around these streets, it’s not for nothin’ that he’s always on the run.”

The other scoffed at those words — as he spoke, clear traces of jealousy reverberated alongside his voice. “He thinks he’s some hot shit. One of these days we’ll find him dead in a ditch.”  Then, a chuckle. “Can’t say that I’ll miss him. He’s bad news. I feel sorry for the girl he dragged into this. I wonder if she knows.”

“She doesn’t, they never do. For sure. She should get the hell out befo—”

But you weren’t listening any longer. That had been the last drop.

In an impetuous wave of anguish and betrayal, you got out of your seat and looked around to find him. He, who had played you so effortlessly; he, who had completely ruined you with his omissions and imprudent actions. Negligence personified; hypocrisy in flesh. Min Yoongi, in his natural inhabitant.   

The man was the personification of Crystalfall — oscillating between the wickedness of the east and the utopian, artificial benevolence of the west side. You had been a fool to believe he was merely switching between extremes: Yoongi was both of them at the same time, and there was no way that you could have a touch of paradise unless you were ready to face the flames of hell.

You were not. Would never be.

Amongst the crowd, you saw him. Yoongi seemed to be in a heated discussion, speaking fervently with another man — his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth verbalizing poisonous words, head shaking to present his full frustration to the stranger. You wondered as he would punch him too if things got out of control; wondered if he would do something even worse. If one day you thought you knew Yoongi, that certainty had been too far for you to reach.

The other man ran one hand through his curly hair as you walked closer to them, disheveling his pale blonde strands with an anguished groan. He had deep violaceous marks under his eyes and, amongst the freckles on his skin, there was the obvious white line of a fresh scar. “All I’m saying, man, is that you have to get the fuck out,” he spoke with urgency, the same sentiment that gleaned inside his wide hazel eyes. Preoccupation fell like a stone at the pit of your stomach. “They know where you are, and they’re not being throw in prison for what yo—“

Yoongi saw you before he could finish. “—Hey, baby.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the man on his side. You knew him well to know that he was ordering the other to shut up before things got worse. “You’re good?”

Reluctant, you took an instant before responding — the stranger looked at you with cautious eyes, measuring your presence. You felt threatened by his rough posture, as if he could jump on you at any given instant. “I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s urgent.” You looked back at Yoongi with hollow irises, chest completely overwhelmed by a mixture of panic and disgust. “I heard some things about you and I… I wanted to talk.”

He opened his lips to respond, then seemed to take an instant to organize his thoughts — you could tell that he knew what it was about; the truth would be uncovered sooner or later, and it was time for him to pay his debt.

Yoongi sighed deeply. “Come on, baby,” he motioned with his head towards the exit. Beyond the wooden entrance, the night was darker than ever; merciless and algid. “Let’s continue this somewhere else.”  

The outside of the bar reminded you of the night you met him, the promise you made to meet him again. You should have never accepted his date proposal, you thought in a glimmer of betrayal and disgust, you should have listened to your gut and never got close to that awful place.

With heavy eyelids, you blinked lethargically, barely feeling the comfortable warmth of Yoongi’s hand at the bottom of your spine as he walked you out of the establishment. You were tired, and had been for as long as you could recall. That memory could trail back to a couple of weeks or a plethora of insomnia-filled days ― not even that certainty you could rearrange. Then again, exhaustion was a paradox of itself: you were too fatigued to even care. You just wanted to sleep. Everything else could burn to the ground, for as much as you cared.

Well, everything else but the reason why the two of you had left so suddenly.

Even turning your head seemed like a huge task ― so, as you spoke, you did not. You proceeded to look straight ahead, underneath heavy lids, waiting for his car to mysteriously materialize into focus as you two walked down the relinquished streets.“Yoongi,” you called out, “you have to tell me what’s going on. You keep protecting your secrets, I don’t know who you are anymore.”

He chuckled as if he had been expecting that inquiry for quite some time. His hand trailed the invisible path from your back to your shoulders. You had started to despise when he touched you there. “I’m not protecting my secrets,” he guaranteed, “I’m protecting you.”

You took a deep breath, measuring his expression — where you once saw everything, now there was nothing to be found amongst the traces of his celestial features. Yoongi was completely hollow on the inside. “And why the hell would you do that?” bitterness countered your speech as you spoke out.

Yoongi crooked his head to the side, looking at you with endless adoration. There was an instant, mercurial and tenuous as the midnight breeze, in which you actually considered that such emotion could be genuine. Though, as he spoke out, his voice came out with no inflection, no sign of it. He was a liar, as you were starting to figure out, but a bad one regardless. “Because I love you, west beauty,” he confessed.

But you didn’t believe that. If Yoongi had told you that before everything else — the reckless driving, the stealing, the violence — you were sure you would have been head over heels for him, convincing yourself that he was your soulmate, the one you were supposed to be with forevermore. You were naive then, but now… now you were just tired. “You don’t mean it,” you said.

He was unaffected by your words. “I do.”  His hand caressed your cheek, and you fought back the need to pull away — so, instead, you just looked to the side, trying to ignore the warm poison that dropped through his touch. Everything felt so fake now, so calculated. “Hey, look at me,” Yoongi requested.

“What?” You did as he asked. Looking into the depthness of his pupils, you thought, even if for an instant, that he could see your soul projected at the bottom of your irises — naked, stripped of pride. It felt pleasantly awful; horribly intimate. It was natural, in the oddest way imaginable. Yoongi knew who you were, but you could not say the same about him. “What are you looking at?” you whispered. His other hand moved to your cheek, then placed a string of hair behind your ear. “You,” he replied, now cupping your face.

You took a split second to examine his face. Yoongi’s eyes were obscure — tenebrous as the night sky, fathomless as the secrets that echoed within his head. When you looked at him, there was nothing but his  piercing gaze; no sound but the harmony of his low, whisper-like timbre. You were completely trapped by the event horizon of his venom-filled aura, held hostage by the tranquility of his hand against your skin. His gravity was too strong. You were being sucked in. You inhaled deeply, trying your very best to organize the catastrophe of your hurricane-like ponderations. “You always stare at me, you know that?” He pouted, leaning his head slightly to the side. “Is there a problem with that?” You did not respond, for you could not find an answer. “Do you even realize you’re doing that?” Yoongi smiled. “Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?” he threw back within a heartbeat.

In the rapid instant that took you to digest the depthness of his words, your mouth hung low. In the following second, you were pulling yourself together. “Of course, I’m a catch,” you joked, unable to take that unforeseen complement. You were never the best when it came to that, so irony was quite often the miraculous escape you went for. “You’re lucky to have me.”

But were you lucky to have him? It surely didn’t feel like it.

However, Yoongi’s words left his plump lips with every ounce of honesty he could possibly arrange, “Yes,” he whispered lackadaisically, leaning in. “Yes, I am.”

Before you could verbalize the thousands of sentences that bolted throughout your mind, every conceptualization ― no matter how big or small ― dispersed into white noise. Your lips touched and, for a moment, you swore you could taste the stardust that melted at the corner of Yoongi’s lips; the constellations that were built and destroyed by the low, feather-like sigh that reverberated against your mouth. The pressure of his kiss was not prolonged, but ephemeral ― and, just are you were starting to melt under its touch, he pulled away.

When you looked back at him, you suddenly did not recognize him anymore. You had to say that it was one of the most terrifying, mind-bending experiences to look someone in the eye and realize, like a thunder that ruptures the skyline, that their semblance had switched into a persona you could not comprehend. Yoongi’s eyes were empty, devoid of any feeling he had presented previously. Abruptly, he was the same man that drove his car so recklessly; the same that would overstep his alcohol consumption; that would take drugs, steal, and push you against a cold brick wall in a fit of jealous anger.

That self-destructing man coexisted alongside the one you had fallen for, and you couldn’t tell who was about to take the lead. “Let’s go back to the motel, alright?” He requested, placing his hand on your lower back once again. “We should have a talk.”

As you would soon discover, that conversation was nothing but the calm before the storm.

No one told you that the cupid’s arrow could hurt so much — that the piercing of your skin wasn’t desired, but an endless anguish to, perhaps, have your chance at a delightful love story. No one told you there could come a time in which you would repudiate it, and the anguish you would feel when pulling it off could be even worse than the way it hurt you aforetime.

Still, you were about to find out that falling out of love what much more difficult than it seemed.

The bedroom door closed behind you with a dry clicking sound and, for a moment, it was the only perturbation that filled the consolidated atmosphere of that motel room. At first, none of you turned on any lights, so the only source of illumination come from the outside neon signs — it came in stripes, casting their lines of turquoise and violaceous over the messy bed. Yoongi never ordered room service, he said it spoiled his privacy.  

“What was that about?” your voice resonated in the darkness, hesitant and rotten by agitation. At first, it found no answer.

Yoongi walked towards the bed with his head hung low, paying more attention to the motion of his feet against the pale pink carpet than the anguish that blossomed inside your chest. “Nothing,” he spoke in a mumble.

You took a step in his direction. “Yoongi,” you called again, this time more desperate. You were so tired of his secrets, of his half-assed excuses. “Stop it. Tell me what’s going on.”

He scoffed at the impatience that permeated your words, finding your nervousness to be a bit pathetic. In his mind, it wasn’t as if telling you something would make any difference at that point — it was still his cross to carry. “I owe money to some guys. Sue me.”

Upon hearing that forsaken confession, the clouds of anguish that circumnavigated your head exploded into nothingness — then, into outrage. Bitterness hung at the tip of your tongue, dripping out like a serpent’s venom in between your syllables. “Yoongi, you need to tell me what in the hell is happening.” You walked closer to him with heavy steps, even if they got muffled against the fluffy ground. “We can work on this together.”

Mercurial, the man moved around the room as if he already had his every act perfectly architectured — just like the night you met him. One second, he was standing by the bed and, in the next, he was getting on his knees and pulling his large backpack from under it. “We can’t. Not this time.”

“What do you mean? Why are you getting that?” the questions continued to pour out of your lips, even if you already knew what his answer would be. You were not half as naive as he thought you were: you just needed to hear it from his mouth. Closure what the minimum he could give you. “Yoongi? Talk to me, I’m not asking anymore.”

The man stood up with a long groan, and threw the object over the bed — it bounced twice, sliced by the phosphorescent lights from the outside. “God damn it, I—” He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. If you hadn’t been so monopolized by frustration, perhaps you would have been a bit more cautious at the words that you threw his way — after all, Yoongi had showed you countless times that he wasn’t the king of mature decisions. “I have to leave.”

Another step closer, and now you were right besides him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He threw himself on the mattress, shoulders falling in defeat. You couldn’t read his expression, it laid somewhere melancholy and disgust — not much different from your night at the highway. “I can’t stay anywhere around here, and I can’t take my car either,” Yoongi explained a bit further now, taking his time to measure his erratic words before they left the captive of his chest. “I have no money to pay them back. Not the amount they want, at least.”

You suspired, and sat down next to him, fingers interlaced over your lap. “So?” you voice came soft, in a whisper.“We can get more time.”

“This was my extra time.” He snickered, sarcastic; gaze lost on the thin blue lines that casted its brilliance over his fingertips — his knuckles were forever marked by bruises, decorated by marks of his past fights. Perhaps those scars had been there the night that you met him, you just never noticed. “In case you didn’t get it, I’m in no place to bargain. If I stay, they’ll murder me, or sell my organs in the black market so I can pay for what I owe them. Simple as that.”

You licked your lips. “Maybe we could—”

“—We couldn’t do anything. You’re annoying the hell out of me with all of these questions,” he interrupted, absentminded. Every time he got detached in such abrupt manner, you knew he was trying his best to control his anger.

Yet, you were in no position to care about his feelings at that point. “Yoongi,” his name came out weakly in between your lips and, for an instant, you asked yourself if you had even vocalized it at all, “look at me.”

He blinked lethargically and did as you requested. “What’s wrong?”

What was wrong is that you had made the mistake of thinking that he could change if you loved him hard enough, but that was clearly not the case. There was something sparking inside his clouded, luciferine eyes that told you everything you needed to know — he held no regrets. He was mad at getting caught, not at his past actions. “Tell me something. And don’t lie to me.” You placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath of palm. “What did you use the money for?”

Then, he did precisely what you expected he would: he lied through his fucking teeth. Yoongi got the checklist of his poor acting skills and crossed out everything that gave it away — the oscillation of his gaze towards the left, the flaring of his nostrils, and the licking of his chapped lips followed by a dry swallow. You knew him too well, you were no longer buying that cheap mask he used.

“It wasn’t anything illegal,” he verbalized with artificial tranquility, even if you could tell from the inflections on his timbre that he was, in fact, extremely bothered by your interrogation. “I was paying my friend’s rent. He was short… for the past six months. He was going to be kicked out.”

Liar. Min Yoongi was a fucking liar. You just needed one simple question to break the false placidity of his tone, and you could move on from there with much more facility — lucky for you, you knew exactly what would work.

“Why can’t you call the police?” You inquired, forging innocence.

Bingo.  

He raised his hands in a mocking prayer, looking up at the ceiling. “Why can’t I— because!” Yoongi exclaimed, his voice bordering on a scream. Once again, his demeanor switched faster than you could follow. “Fuck, don’t you understand? This money is dirty, this is from stealing and murdering, not honest work in a fucking farm. If the cops knew I was aware of that, which I’m sure they will figure out, I’ll go to jail. I’m guilty by association.”

Then you saw it: something else flickering inside his irises, perhaps a hint of guilt — not because of his past actions, but because of his current one. Yoongi was lying by omission. “That isn’t everything, is it?” You asked him, eyes narrowing for a millisecond. You were trying your best to keep your expression under control so he wouldn’t feel as if you were judging him — which you were, and rightfully so. “Did you do something else, Yoongi?”

Yoongi was delicate — but not the same manner that a butterfly is, or maybe a torn-apart flower. He was delicate as a missile, ready to detonate at any given second. And, at that instant, you had pushed the big red button. “We have to do what we can to survive, alright? It’s not the time for miss perfection to come out and judge a reality she doesn’t understand.” He threw at you, getting back to his feet. You had never seen him like that, so rough, so defensive. “I might have some blood on my hands, I might not, it doesn’t matter now. There’s nothing you can do about it, so it’s better if you don’t even know. I’m not that person anymore.”

Bullshit.

You inhaled profoundly. “If you just let me speak—”

“—There’s nothing to be said. Deal with it,” he interrupted, pointing at something behind you. “Hand me that shirt, do something useful for once.”

With a sigh, you did as he requested, even if you preference would be to choke him with that old, stained piece of fabric. “You’re just gonna leave me behind, I assume,” you spoke out with patience, teasing your way into every new word with endless nausea. After all that had happened, you didn’t know if you wanted to be around him anymore.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Shit got out of my control.” Yoongi ran one hand through his raven hair, disheveling it a bit further. He seemed to be thinking a billion things at the same time, for his speech came out in a wave of rapid words, barely any connection between them. Amongst the darkness of that motel room, he looked like a frenzied demon looking for another soul to feed off from; since, apparently, he had gotten tired of playing with yours. “By the way, before I forget, I need you to get my car and leave it by the bar we met. I’ll ask a friend to pick it up, and you can get a cab nearby.”

But you didn’t care about any of that — fuck, you might even set that piece of shit car on fire if Yoongi continued with that damn attitude. “When are you going?” you asked instead.

He cleared his throat, shoving his clothes into his backpack. “Tomorrow morning, the earlier bus they got.”

With a suspire, you got back to your feet, looking down on him. “Which is?”

“Old Mountain, 5:15am,” he responded. “I already checked and bought my ticket, don’t worry about it.”

“Of course you did.” You chuckled, humorless. Your chest was utterly empty, devoid of any sort of emotion, and your eyes had started to burn under a thin curtain of tears — you would break down at any given second now. “Before you went out to meet with your friend and decided I was a boring game all along, I assume. Something else you forgot to tell me? Maybe how I’m completely worthless for you?”

Yoongi groaned, allowing for his inner infuriated to drip past his lips. “Oh my god, can’t you shut up for one damn second? Let me think.” He placed one hand on the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out if there was something else he needed to do. “Fuck, I don’t have to tell you everything. Learn how to respect people. I didn’t think I’d be the one to teach you that.”

Oh, that was just rich. Talk about reaching limits — you had just flung yourself over yours.

“No, I cannot shut up, you fucking megalomaniac asshole,” you spat out ― shock value long forgotten. For an instant, you couldn’t recognize the roughness within your own voice, nor the way it curled around you like thorns, piercing your skin with gushes of adrenaline. You had been bottling up your emotions for too long now. “You were the one preaching for weeks about how I should stand up for myself, and now that I do, you’re telling me to quiet down? You’re full of bullshit, do you know that?”

Yoongi looked up to meet your gaze, slightly flabbergasted. Something told you that he didn’t expect you to throw the same rudeness back to him, and he didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. “You know that’s not what I fu—”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, I don’t give a fuck what you meant,” you threw back, chest bubbling up with fury. “So you can get your bag ready, and I can get mine, and we can both pretend as if we don’t mean anything to one another tomorrow. Seems alright?”

His eyebrows moved together, forming a frown. You hated how he was the one pretending to look so confused, when you were the one who had been taken away from the truth. “Baby, I don’t—”

You took a step towards the man that you once loved, moved by an anger that did not belong to you. “Don’t fucking call me that, you selfish little prick.”

Yoongi stood up from the bed, his fists clenching — regardless, you could see it in his eyes that his demeanor was vacillating, uncertain how to deal with your explosiveness. But of course he did not want that: he wanted you to be quiet, for you to be agreeable. He wanted you to feel bad for your empathy, to focus on the love that — supposedly — you could only get from him. Yoongi wanted you at the palm of his hand, and he didn’t want you to talk back. “What the hell do you want from me, you crazy b—”

Then, something broke inside of you.

Like a switch had been turned on in your mind, you recalled every horrible experience you had by his side — the drunk driving, the pointless discussion and violence, the emotional manipulation. You had never been important to him. He didn’t care. He didn’t love you — if he did, he would have never placed your life on the line, he would have never blamed your kindness for the evils of the world. Yoongi despised your altruism because he wanted you to normalize his nightmarish behavior, so you could think that, perhaps, it had been your fault for being too sensitive.

When, all that time, it has been his fault for being corroded by egoism; reckless, and self-destructive. Min Yoongi was drowning in his own sins, and he was pulling you down to the bottom with him by convincing you that you couldn’t swim.

“—Fuck you, Min Yoongi!” you almost screamed, tears accumulating at the corners of your eyes. For an instant, the man remembered your first night together, the diamond-like droplets that came from Crystalfall. “Fuck you for making me believe you were different, that you actually cared about me. Fuck you for using me, for taking advantage of who I am. You have no right to do all of this to me and then just drop me like I’m nothing, alright?” Your hands curled into fists, and you pushed them against his chest. You wanted to punch him until his rib cage caved in, and you could take his heart in your hands so you could see if it ever even liked you — if it could even beat at all. “You’re just like the people you criticize, you hypocritical son of a bitch. You can’t keep your fucking word!”

Yoongi raised his hands in a quiet surrender, trying to stop the advances of your punches. “YN, please listen—”

“You fucking listen!” You cried out, the last word morphing into a frail whine as his fingers curled around your wrists, pausing your movements mid-air. You were too exhausted to fight, and he was using no force to keep you still — he didn’t need to. “You can’t pay back the money you got, you can’t keep your fucking word to me, you can’t do shit. You’ve been lying to me since day one, haven’t you? You’re playing with me. All this t-time, yo-you’ve—” hiccups interrupted your speech, “Fuck!” you exclaimed, and pulled away, turning your back from him.

In an explosion of anguish that was utterly alien to you, you acted out in sheer despair. The closest object to you got the tides of your anger thrown directly at it, and, with a strong motion, you hit it with all the force you had stored in your bones. The lamp shattered against the wall with a loud exclamation, and it was the final dot your argument needed. The room withered into silence instantaneously, Yoongi’s limbs were frozen in time. Seems like both of you changed through your little adventure — weeks before you had ever met him, the mere idea of damaging property was outrageous for you.

Now, it was nothing but a shattered lightbulb, and pieces of old wood all over an ugly pink carpet. How poetic.

You sniffed. “Don’t worry about it. I have the money to pay,” you told him, voice bordering on a mumble. The flame of anger that had been motivating your speech was completely gone then, leaving behind a trail of white smoke and regretful decisions. You had never felt that empty in your entire life. “I don’t owe shit to anyone.”

The motel room was static for a breviloquent period, filled only by the constant blowfly-like sound of the fluorescent lights flickering over your head. You wished you could turn back time, that you could warn your former self to jump off that sinking ship before it trapped you beneath tempestuous seas, making you unable to breathe. You wished to tell yourself that Yoongi’s kiss tasted like a storm because he hid hurricanes behind his cool facade; that his touch was catastrophe personified, destined to break you down into utter pandemonium.

But you couldn’t. You could only fix your world from that point forward.

Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt his arms curling around your waist, pulling you into a tender hug. His chest, rising and falling rapidly, met your back promptly, Yoongi’s hair fell over your clavicles as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder. Some part of your foggy mind warned that he wasn’t trying to calm you down, but to make sure you would not leave him behind then.

“Yoongi, don’t—” You choked on your own speech. Your throat was dry, your nose was clogged. Nothing was right anymore, and his touch felt like it emanated venom. You wanted him gone, you wanted his atrocious touch far away from where it could corrode you. “Please, don't hug me, I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I’m so sorry,” he spoke against the curvature of your neck, his voice coming out muffled and weak against your skin. You could feel him his cheeks getting wet by crocodile his tears, but you could no longer buy any second of his pathetic little act. Every emotion you ever had towards him had been replaced by utter disgust; and every emotion he ever swore to have towards you had morphed into the nothingness he truly felt. “I can’t believe I did this to you.”

Until the last instant, he would play the victim. That wasn’t his story to tell. “You’ve ruined me, Min Yoongi,” your voice came out firm, like an order; a certainty. There was nothing more that he could take away from you, for all that was left was the same merciless willpower that he had once swore to uncover; the lack of compassion he so desired to achieve. You would not bend. Not for him.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispered and squeezed you tighter in that fake hug —  but his timbre already too far away for you to listen, his touches were shallow and his arms felt like snakes getting ready to suffocate you. It didn’t matter anymore. “I’m so sorry, please, forgive me— baby, I’m so sorry.”

And, for the first time since you’ve met the human-shaped catastrophe that was Min Yoongi, you didn’t have to look at him to know that he was lying.

You [04:23am] hey, hobi. sorry I’m messaging you rn, I can’t sleep

You [04:23am] there’s a lot in my mind

You [04:23am] i’m coming back home, alright? tomorrow

You [04:24am] tell the others to meet me at mercy’s, 3pm.

You [04:24am] i have a lot of stories to tell

-

You [04:56am] i miss you guys

When you would start to think about how much your soul has changed through it all, you used no words — but an image. You would think of an empty, cerulean-bathed cave, with cold, frozen waters and sharp stalactites. You’d think of an ongoing, periodic sound of something dripping, and the upcoming darkness of the corners you could never see. You would think of gelid emptiness, of deprivation and misery; of crystals made of ice, and of touches of white and blue. You would envision a place that dances between the omnipotent trepidation and the enchanting beauty; a place that is awfully human, yet remarkably devoid of any sort of compassion.

You fell in love with Min Yoongi — or, rather, who you thought he was. You feel in love with a man that was kind and loving, you held your hand as you were about to fall asleep, who caressed your hair as the morning sun slipped past the cracks on the curtains. You fell for the man you had seen at the bar, who took you to witness the beauty of Crystalfall, who promised a world in which the two of you could reign supreme. A man that would ask you to scream on a desert road so you could scare away your demons, not a man that would, instead, yell at you into submission, and shape you into a person you could never be.

You surely did not fall for who he really was. Never in your life would you love someone who put your own line so selfishly on the line, driving embriagated, refusing to slow down even if you begged for him to do so. You could never love someone that was so filled by jealousy that a mere talk with a stranger was seen as a threat; you would never find alluring the way he slowly pulled you away from your friends, convincing you that they weren’t good enough — no, they were far from perfect, but they would never do what he did to you. They would never ruin you, would never leave you behind to rot from the inside out.

When you were to come back to Crystalfall, you were sure they would be there for you, and Yoongi would be far, far away.

The previous night was spent with open eyes and fast-beating hearts. After Yoongi’s terrible attempt at an apology, you removed yourself from the room with a half-assed excuse, and said that you would come back later to help him pack — which you never did. In a state that laid between grief and indignation, you sat down outside, hugged your knees, and forced yourself to look at the neon lights of the motel’s hot tub, trying your best to find the answers you could never reach.

And, for the rest of the night, there you stayed.

You had been expecting for the monsters underneath your bed to crawl out of the shadows and take you down to a place in which demons could torture you forevermore, but you never considered the fact that, perhaps, the real monster had been by your side all along, toying with your emotions and sending you to the edges of panic. Once, you had compared Yoongi to the moon, but forgot to bring up his dark side — the piece of nothingness that could not be illuminated even by the brightest of stars.

You had been naive to compare him to anything but a black hole.

Yes, he had been raised in hell, had walked through a life of crime and was presented only with the worst that life could offer. But until which point could his past excuse his present? You had chewed on on that question for days on end, but still could not find a proper response to it. Some of your thoughts were utterly condemning, saying that it was all on him to blame; while another part of you leaned towards the other extreme, claiming he was merely a product of his twisted story, and needed just a bit of kindness to change his ways. You were sure the answer laid somewhere in the middle, even if you doubted you could ever fully discover it someday. If Yoongi had not passed through all of that, would he be any better? Perhaps he would have been worse? You could never tell. All you knew is that he would not be the one you met that somber night at The Cave, and certainly not the one you had fallen in love with. And those were the positive memories you chose to carry along with you at the day of his departure. You had not fallen in love with the man you drove to the bus station, all covered in blood stains and scars, with deep puddles of purple underneath his tired eyes, but the kind, charismatic man that had took you to the waterfall, who had adored you as if you were his own masterpiece.

You did not fall for a monster, and it wasn’t your fault that he changed into one.

“You have everything you need?” your voice came out soft as you spoke, stained by melancholy. Next to you in that claustrophobic car, Yoongi nodded slowly, his hair contrasting against the foggy, rain-encrusted windows. “Okay. Let’s move before you miss your bus.”

Just like the night before, that morning progressed in a quiet, phlegmatic blur of heavy hearts and discombobulated thoughts — from the instant you two took his bags from the truck of the car, to the very instant Yoongi checked his ticked one last time, pointing at the bus he was supposed to catch. Through all, you were trying to keep yourself together: you could cry later in the car, or maybe in the arms of your friends, but not then. Not in front of him. Not when you swore that your dignity would be the one thing left standing after he had ruined everything else.

You would survive. It was not the first time that someone believed that the world was about to reach for a catastrophe far too big for it to handle, only to continue living through the ashes and the smoke. Vivacity would come again — with someone else, somewhere else. Kinder times are always waiting ahead.

As he involved you in a warm hug, you felt your soul cracking. You knew, at some level, that the two of you were never meant for do or die: you could never last. “Goodbye, Yoongi,” you verbalized those words with care, paying attention to the sour taste that they left on your tongue. It wasn’t just a farewell, it was a promise to the stars. “Take care of yourself.”

Yoongi held you into that hug for a little bit longer. What once felt like a comforting touch, was now suffocating you into a reality you were not meant to face. “Goodbye,” he whispered back as he pulled away, then took a step behind. For a moment, there was only the low humming of the bus’ motor reverberating in between your bodies. “Let’s meet again someday.”

“Definitely.” You nodded. But you knew you wouldn’t — the two of you were toxic for one another, and some things were better left in the past. That, at least, was what you hoped would happen.

He placed his right foot on the first step of the bus, then turned back to look at you. Yoongi’s eyes were overflowing with despondency, and you were certain, even if for a mere, short-lived second, that he was going to cry. “I love you, west beauty.” The man spoke with endless calm, yet profound adoration. It was the last time he had ever said that to you. Perhaps the last one ever. “Stay out of trouble, alright? You deserve a better life than whatever I had to offer you.”

You hesitated for an instant — those words, once so inviting, now crashed like cold water against your skin. Fyodor Dostoevsky once wrote that “being in love doesn’t mean loving”, and that had been the sentence that was echoing in your mind ever since Yoongi told you he would leave. You were in love with him, absolutely and wholeheartedly, but you could not love him. You barely knew him, he was a stranger from the east, a formless shadow filled with acrid demons. If that was love, you didn’t want to be loved.

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you lied — you could do that so effortlessly now, and you knew that he was the one to blame. “Will you come back to visit me someday?”

He simply nodded, uncertain. He couldn’t promise that, and both of you knew that very well. It was for the best if he didn’t.

Just as quickly as Min Yoongi came into your life, he departed from it, crossing the midnight sky like a comet; leaving only a diaphanous trail of ice behind. One second he was there, looking at you against the cadaveric luminesce of the cloudy sky, and on the next instant he was turning his head and walking up the steps of that old bus, leaving you behind like your story never held any sort of significance. Maybe it didn’t — not for him.

The doors closed soon after, and you stepped away. The bus was a pale blue shade, a pale blue feeling; its motor’s purrs resonaning alongside the raindrops that started to pierce the skyline. Completely numbed by his departure, you could only watch as the vehicle trailed away with a loud vibration, grey clouds of smoke exploding in thin exhales on its back. The smell of burning gasoline was strong and merciless, and it felt as poisonous as the sentiment that begun blossoming at the basis of your throat.

With a final inhale, you turned your back to the man you once fell in love with, and started following your own path.

Your story began the same way it ended: with a poorly thought-out decision, and a promise of better days. For the lack of a better definition, Min Yoongi, in all of his despondent and reckless glory, became your event horizon.

And, once you crossed it, there was nothing left of who you once were.

[auckie]

just curious, why/what do you love about goblins so much?

this is such a long answer i didnt mean to type out but anyways its under the cut bc its an essay! sorry!

yknow, ive always liked them a bit but over the past year ive just been nutso about them and im not sure why. i used to hate fantasy! i definitely cycle through SPINs but its hard for me to remember when this one started or like, when i last had it. anyways, i think theyre neat for a lotta reasons! 

so there’s definitely a lot to be said about the fact that they have been used in incredibly antisemetic ways! as a jew, i have always had a fascination with the stereotypes used to make characters like shylock and svengali, two infamous, classic portrayals of greedy and devious jews. it’s this weird drive i have to take the bones of these characters (or just the tropes themselves) and craft them into a full, three dimensional person. I like to do this in the abstract with a lot of things and i refer to it as ‘applying physics to the absurd’. it’s the reason im so invested in side characters and humor in narratives, and probably why i am so into who framed roger rabbit! that movie literally takes absurdity, the very concept of it, and asks ‘what if we were to apply real world logic to this?’ Mixing cartoons and murder and then playing it out to the logical end makes for a very interesting and unique mood; it’s a funny but sort of dark movie that a lot of people remember seeing only as a kid, and being vaguely afraid of it. i LOVE that.

wow goblins are a great example of the fucked up jew trope. they try and sorta divert it to a jersey thing, but its pretty blatant what with their greed, obsession with banking and being referred to in canon as ‘grease balls’ and often having the whole jewface thing going on what with the foreheads and balding and noses. thankfully they dont have straight up yiddish accents but yknow, ny/jersey accents are heavily associated with jews so. im not making a stretch here believe me.

theyre not given a lotta attention in the narrative either, used mostly as little plot devices (need a trash mob? need a reason the horde has out of place tech? a quick way to get the player character into some stupid giant robot that will make this quest of killing 100 enemies go a lot quicker?) and for humor. but! they are SO funny and even if not major characters, theres a handful of good ones present in the lore. 

so, theyre throwaway jokes, bad stereotypes, and side characters? the PERFECT storm of traits to apply gravity to, in my opinion!

outside of wow, its still pretty much the same. in fantasy, goblins are generally just trash mobs or occasionally big bad guys, which is all fine and fun, but i like when characters, who by no means should be the focus of a story, happens to be the protagonist. its so refreshing and relatable and more interesting to me! its very rare to find media that uses them as an integral part of the story for any reason, let alone a positive one.

ive never been too good at projecting onto main characters. im jewish, latino, probably trans and gay, and like, also just a weird person in general i think, so growing up there wasn’t a ton of media i saw myself in. i was never able to relate to female leads, and male leads were always just standard white dudes so there wasn’t too much luck there. it was easier with cartoons featuring less realistic characters but even then! seeing a sort of…’minority’ group, especially one usually negatively depicted with either racist characteristics or just run of the mill fantasy logic (”these non human, somewhat poc coded creatures are inherently evil! theyre born that way and theyre too stupid to know better and throw spears and live like nomadic indigenous peoples and are bad to the civilized, white eurocentric human and elf populations! go kill them for gold before the pillage and plunder!) is just. its like HEY YEAH OK! its good! i love seeing it! love seeing the little guy represented! its like when the sidekick finally gets his own arch or episode, its always so much more interesting than the hero’s story! even if it’s short and lighthearted. not everything always has to be grave and intense!

but i also hate cheesy over the top soft shit yknow? theres this anime called ‘that time i was reincarnated as a slime’ or some shit, and ive seen pics of how they do goblins and i HATE it so much. i LIKE when goblins are little nasty green men with big noses and ears and no eyebrows who cant read and are twitchy and paranoid and eat rats raw. take THAT and give it weight! what if this gross little man were to get a whiff of the good life, huh? to see human society, and compare it to how he’s lived for all of 8 years in a dank cave where his da got his head smashed in with a rock yesterday– what would that do to this little goblin? 

but yknow, i could also just sum this up with the fact that i think theyre really cool and funny and neat. i also GENUINELY think they are so adorable. like, night goblins and skaven from warhammer, goblins from wow, any goblin or little gross dude really– i just honestly think they are so so cute and idk why. the sharp teeth! the green skin and slit pupils! the ears and noses and claws! i think the way people feel about baby monkeys and puppies is how i react to stupid little green dudes. i especially love when theyre like, mischievous and mean and like ready to jump at you and bite you bc that’s how i always feel. like that comic of the guy driving and then he thinks ‘penis’ and hunches his shoulders and smiles REAL nasty.

also, ever since i was little, whenever a character on a cartoon or in a movie was: short, green/blue, had a jersey/NY accent, i just. fucking IMMEDIATELY loved them. i have nooo idea why but i can think of like ten characters who fit at least two of these criteria off the top of my head who i was obsessed with as a kid. snap from chalkzone, bloo from fosters home for imaginary friends, zim, stitch! 

[rebuiltbionicle]

The Ignika

The Kanohi Ignika is an immensely powerful mask, one of the three Legendary Kanohi of the Matoran universe. The Ignika is unique among the three due to its own sentience and for it’s function to revitalise the Great Spirit in times of crisis. The Ignika was expelled from the universe, holding the spirit of Mata Nui at the onset of the Reign of Shadows and aided Mata Nui on his journey across Bara Magna. It still holds Mata Nui’s spirit, and is itself held in a cathedral by the new society.

Sometimes the Great Beings delved in the arcane, and there was very little material sciences involved in the creation of the Ignika. The general idea of the Ignika, conceptualised by all the Great Beings in conference, was fairly mundane, however the construction methods employed by Hieronyma and her team involved somewhat more chanting and burning of incense in secret magma chambers and ice chambers to really be called science.

As a consequence of its unusual creation, the Ignika had several unintended features, including sentience and the ability to “curse” individuals that touched it. Hieronyma was its first victim, and ended up bringing all objects around her to life. The Ignika was handled with extreme care thereon. The Great Beings debated where to place it, some arguing to place it in Metru Nui, some in Artakha or Karzahni. The prevailing option was to bury it somewhere hidden and obscure, where it could only be reached through great effort in times of crisis. This location was the centre of the Southern Continent. Its chamber was built at the bottom of an enormous flight of stairs, and the being Umbra created as its custodian. Due to its bizarre powers, the Great Beings were confident it would expand its chambers and create more guardians, which it did.

The Kanohi Ignika had two essential roles. Firstly, it functioned as a “defibrillator” to the Great Spirit, providing a jolt of energy that would renew the life of the Great Spirit in any time it began to die. This function required a mask wearer, and would consume the wearer with its use. The Great Spirit would begin dying some time after key infrastructure in the GSR was disabled; that infrastructure would have to be fixed if the Ignika’s life pulse was to work, or it would just be delaying the inevitable. The second role, in the event that Mata Nui was to perish, was to function as a euthanasia switch for the Matoran Universe. The death of Mata Nui would result in the slow loss of heating, lighting, power, and gravity for most of the universe, causing a long drawn out death for the denizens of the universe anyway, so the Great Beings created this feature with the intention that it would be a merciful alternative. This did not require a wearer.

The death switch was never activated, but the need to revitalise Mata Nui occurred several times over the universes history:

The Great Disruption: Caused by the destruction to Metru Nui in the Matoran Civil War. Reconstruction of the city was not quick enough to stop Mata Nui from the onset of death. The Ignika was recovered by a Toa team led by Toa Jovan and used by Toa Voyhlos.

The Great Decay: Caused by the killings and trade blockades on the Kestora, who were then unable to fix key components within the GSR’s superstructure until the Brotherhood of Makuta ordered the Kestora cooperated with. The Ignika was recovered by a Toa team led by Toa Suwar and used by Toa Odhuwa

The Great Draining: Caused by the fervour of mining energised protodermis, which was used as Mata Nui’s power source. Essentially, the peoples of the Matoran universe gave Mata Nui severe internal hemorrhaging. Much of the protodermis was dumped back where it came from. The Ignika was recovered by a Toa team led by Toa Waiku and used by Toa Uvnek.

The Great Cataclysm: Caused by the GSR crashing into Aqua Magna, causing untold damage to subsystems. Uniquely, the damage was not fully repaired until after the Ignika used, when the Staff of Artakha was used to “reset” the GSR to its functional state. The Ignika was recovered by a Toa team led by Toa Jaller and used by Toa Matoro.

The mask acquired legendary status and was sought after by many treasure hunters of varying nature, including the Piraka who sought it purely for materialistic concerns, and the Barraki, who hoped it would cure their mutated condition. These two groups were the closet ever to capture it, and for brief moments had.

After Toa Matoro had used it, the Ignika was not returned to its chamber as was supposed to happen. The Ignika was trapped in the inactive Karda Nui, lost amongst the swamps. The Ignika’s mind decided it was tired of its inert existence and formed it own Toa-based body, hoping to become a hero like those who had used it. It fought alongside the Toa Nuva against the Makuta, and was instrumental in awakening Mata Nui.

Unfortunately Makuta seized control of the Great Spirit Robot before Mata Nui. Mata Nui’s spirit was loaded into the Ignika, sharing with the Ignika’s rudimentary intelligence, and exiled into space. Gravity quickly pulled the Ignika down to Bara Magna. The nigh-indestructibility of the mask protected it from the friction and impact. The spirits of Mata Nui and the Ignika communed, and reached an agreement that Mata Nui had to be returned to the Great Spirit Robot. The Ignika produced a new body and allowed Mata Nui to control it. The Ignika’s spirit gave Mata Nui counsel and limited aid throughout their journey. Once Mata Nui’s mission was completed, Mata Nui’s spirit retreated into the Ignika again, and the mask was placed in the New Great Temple built by the new Spherus Magna society.

[weirdmarioenemies]

We haven’t talked about the Topmen yet?!?

Okay, I know my priorities have gotten seriously skewed, I could probably fill a whole week with posts on “enemies I’ve said we should cover in the future,” but as soon as I realized we did not have a post on the Topmen, I realized. I must right the wrong in this world. A Weird Mario Enemies post on ALL the Topmen is in order, and that is what you are going to enjoy today. All of this is below the cut, since this will probably be a long one!

Name: Spiky Topman

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

Starting off the bunch is the classic, Spiky Topman! There’s no regular “Topman,” I’m afraid, Spiky is as default as you get! So playing Super Mario Galaxy, as Mario “Jumpman” Mario, your first instinct might be to jump on enemies. But with Spiky Topman, that is a terrible idea, since I mean. Come on. I think we’ve established what happens when you jump on spikes in a Mario game! You lose health, which is very unepic!

Fortunately, Super Mario Galaxy also features an alternate way to defeat enemies, which is by spinning! Shake that Wiimote back and forth, and you will twirl around, knocking back any enemies in your way! But Topmen are also defensive, meaning that even just twirling into them will just knock them back for a second! My goodness, are Topmen truly just an invincible enemy?

Well, they would be! But apparently they also aren’t very smart! The entire Topman Tribe’s battle strategy is apparently building their bases around electric wiring or on flat platforms with holes in them, which can both be used to kill them easily. Knock a Spiky Topman in the right direction with a good ol’ spin, and BLAMMO! They’ll be either knocked into the void or just fried to death.

Spiky Topmen also appeared in Mario Kart Wii’s online tournaments, where you’d defeat them by bumping them off the edge with Triple Mushrooms! Unfortunately, this mode ended long ago, so this unique appearance of the Topmen has been unfortunately lost to time... I hope they can do this again in the future! I think Topmen would be a fun enemy with the anti-gravity mechanic! Let Topman drive a go-kart! 

Name: Spring Topman

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

And then there’s the Spring Topman! This Topman has no spike, which means that you can jump on it! But between its head and body is a large spring, enough to propel Mario high up in the air! You think you know what a jump is? Well, you’ve never jumped on a Spring Topman, then!

Spring Topman actually hardly counts as an “enemy” at all, since on its own, it can’t really hurt you. If it bumps into you, it just knocks you back a little bit! Maybe if there’s other obstacles nearby, it can bump you into those, but that’s not really Spring Topman’s fault! That’s just you being a little too reckless!

The main purpose for Spring Topman is good ol’ platforming challenges! You need to lure them to the right place, and jump on them at the right moment to get the necessary verticality you need in a level! Ultimately, if you mess up, though, don’t worry, after a few seconds, the spring will reset, and they’ll be right back to their old strategies!

Name: Topmini

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

I actually don’t know why I’m listing the debut of these enemies, since they’re all from Super Mario Galaxy, but I’ve gone 3/4 now so it’s best I don’t give up at this point. Topmini is just a little baby, but be warned, because sometimes, the babier an enemy is, the more dangerous it can be...

Or at least the more irritating it can be! Topmini spawns in small groups, all of which will come charging after you. While probably the least dangerous Topmen on their own, due to their easy method of defeat and lack of ability to deal damage, they can easily mess with you if you aren’t careful! They can also push you right into an obstacle, and since that’s also just you being reckless, they won’t be liable for your death! You don’t want that!

But you can just spin and they will instantly die, so I guess that makes them a LITTLE less of a nuisance.

Name: Topmaniac

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy

And here we have the head honcho at the top of the Topman Tribe, Topmaniac himself! So. You’re playing the Battlerock Galaxy, and you see every other Topman in the game. It’s boss time. The devs surely made a nice effort to have this guy just be a stronger version of the average Topman, right? Where you can only defeat it by spinning it, and jumping on top probably isn’t a great idea?

Nope! Topmaniac’s battle strategy is the exact OPPOSITE of the average Topman! He’s got spikes on the sides, so trying to attack him from there is probably a really bad idea. That being said, he has a big red button on his head. I wonder where you should jump! C’mon, Mario “Jumpman” Mario! You know what you gotta do! It’s time for that pounce!

After you jump on this guy’s head, then the spikes retract and you can defeat him like a regular Topman, but be careful, as if you aren’t fast enough, they’ll extend once again! That being said, Topmaniac isn’t very smart. I feel he should realize electric wiring shouldn’t be all around his arena, since that’s the only thing that kills him. He could just tear Mario to shreds with his spikes and call it a day, but he installs fences for what reason? Is it because it looks cool, Topmaniac?

I swear, these bosses sometimes could hire an architect to help out with their battle arenas...

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Coming into this, because the book is also giant- I mean, it’s a sprawling story. That was a great training ground for a lot of work we’re doing here. But, it’s the same philosophy. We’re leaning heavily on three really fascinating characters, who don’t really fully collide with each other until the end. You know, we’ve got Dan’s movie, we’ve Abra’s movie, Rose’s movie; and the way we braid those together and kind of bounce off of each other thematically doesn’t really bring those worlds together until our final act. And that’s a really fun structural difference for me. It’s me juggling three narratives, trying to find a good way to get ’em to collide properly. Hill House was definitely a great way to kind of flex those early and get ready for this.”

Rose is the film’s primary protagonist, the cunning leader of the True Knot and played by Rebecca Ferguson. While Rose will be just as terrifying on screen as she is on the page, Flanagan has made some changes to her cultish family. “We’re taking them in a bit of a different direction because they went for kind of the kitschy polyester, RV culture that I think might be funny if we were to kind of present that literally. And so, Rebecca and the cast really, kind of, helped shape this new, very weird, interesting and darker version of them that I think is going to be a pleasant surprise for a lot of fans of the book. Because, as cool as I thought it was in the story, these kind of silver-haired, plaid, geriatric vampires, it’s funny. And so, our cast is much younger because part of the appeal of that family for me is what if you can bring a family unit together like that with the promise of living young forever, which is I think at the heart of all vampiric stories.

But, aside from that, when they’re not doing that they really get to live and explore the world and amass wealth and go where they want and kind of operate completely outside the grid. And that family has its own weird little connections and hierarchies and she’s a very maternal figure with them in this, which is a little different than in the book. And the family suffers its own losses, it’s just, as viewers, we’re going to be like, ‘Yes! Good! Kill them please!’ So yeah, it’s its own twisted little family unit and the collision of these two families being kind of completely opposed to each other as far as interest is a really neat balancing act to play with.”

Of creating this twisted family and their predatory nature, the actors portraying the True Knot developed unique predatory movements with motion-capture performer and movement expert Terry Notary. Ferguson explains, “The True Knot, and Rose…for me, I’ve done lots of incredible characters, and I love them all, but there was something so familiar. I mean, the True Knot is a family, a gang of misfits basically. All the actors are misfits, and just so funny and geeky and weird and quirky. They’ve all been friends, and worked with Mike [Flanagan] before. So for us, when we were playing around, we had Terry Notary, the movement coach- he did a lot of characters in Planet of the Apes. He plays many of the apes. He did The Square, for example, with Ruben Ostlund as the guy who jumps up and does the weird table dance. We played around in our group to see what it’s like to be a sort of predator character. So everything that came around creating our connections within the Knot made this film for me.”Fans of the novel know that Ferguson’s character is known as Rose the Hat for that tiny little hat that stays on her head at an impossible angle. Something the actress became instantly fond of, “I think that’s something that is so brilliant with Mr. King as well. There’s the explanation of the hat, that it balances on the back of her head that questions the art of gravity. With the hat comes her history. It’s never really explained. In my own thoughts, it was passed on by the person who turned her, and that’s why it has such importance and gravitas. And it makes it a little more interesting, doesn’t it? And it’s a bloody good hat. The hat was a normal top hat. I said it was too high; it looked too goofy and silly. But the shape of it was incredible. So they cut out the middle bit, and put the top back on and made it shorter. I was going to steal it, but I didn’t.”

[kisaell]

In the Scions we Trust

So, I’ve been plucking my way through grinding the scions to 80 for that cute little title; and in hopes that there is some bigger reward waiting down the line…

Anyway, I just wanted to note down some interesting quirks of each of the Scions since … It’s a lot of runs to just get them out of each dungeon. It’s a long post, and has some spoilers in it~

Let’s start with the Disaster Twins (who I love with my whole heart);

Alisaie plays like a Red Mage, naturally. However, she drops the OGDC aether blades in favour of more powerful Vercures; should the healer fall, or the WoL get too low she will not hesitate to yell out, “I’ll handle the healing!” and use Vercure 3 to keep people alive. It’s a decent heal too. We all know how extra she can be, so on the first and second boss of a dungeon, should you have Limit Break ready, she will use it on pull. However, should the Limit Break not be ready, and it dings in the middle of the boss; she tends to wait until after her enhanced melee + Verholy/Verflare combo before popping it, so any melee WoL taking her along can use that time to pop it for yourself.

I personally didn’t encounter her dying to mechanics. She is a little ballsy with her placement, opting to get in a little extra damage if she can, but she performed very well whenever I took her with.

Alphinaud plays like a Scholar, no matter what his job title says. He uses his Moonstone Carbuncle rather than a fairy, which makes sense given he isn’t a Nymian-trained Scholar like the WoL can be. Moonstone Carbuncle provides some DPS as it attacks enemies on its own; it also provides a nice Damage up buff every 2 mins (it lined up with my Dancer burst perfectly, everytime).

As for Alphinaud himself, he offers the standard Scholar kit with Adlo shields and Lustrates when people fall low; he also uses Broil 2 for DPS between heals. He is also a little more cautious than his sister, often making sure to step out of AoEs unless he is caught mid-cast; he is unafraid to shield himself and take an AoE should he need to. 

Now we have the Father-Daughter combo;

Thancred plays like a Gunbreaker, because he is one. When I ran dungeons with him, I had not yet touched Gunbreaker, so I didn’t notice anything too off with his playstyle. He is quick enough to establish enmity and will face groups away from people if he can. One unique skill I’ve found is his Quick Slash, which is an AoE attack that also blinds any enemy it hits; it’s not often he uses it, seems to be a mob count thing given I saw it most often in Dohn Mheg with the Wasps.

Personally, he provided the quintessential tank role to the Scions. He held the enemies still, he bosses to either the middle or towards the exit and held them there. My only issue was found in, again, the 73 dungeon… Where he often tanked the final boss in such a way that poor Alphinaud got frogged more than once.

Baby Ryne plays like a Rogue with extra bits, why did Dadcred let a 12 year old have knives? Aside from Y’sthola, Ryne is perhaps the most unique in her kit; not only does she have a 20 second vulnerability up debuff with her Trick Attack (that she can use on every pull) but her unique version of Dream within a Dream - Called Artful Edge - puts a damage done down debuff on the enemy too. And if that wasn’t enough, she has a ranged attack in the form of the spell Banish 3; she only tends to use this after a close-ranged AoE forces her to step away from enemies and bosses. Something that is also neat, is that her Hide isn’t broken by her auto-attacking.

Ryne is again, second only to Y’sthola in terms of how cautious she is. I have yet to see her get hit needlessly when she can avoid it; double AoEs like the Forgiven Apathy’s Earthshakers confound her (like most Trusts) but she will try to only get hit by one rather than both.

Dungeons with Ryne feel a lot faster given how often she can pop that Trick Attack; she’s even uses the Limit Break once or twice which also speeds things up. Another interesting note is that she carries Phoenix Downs to resurrect fallen party members, should there be no one else that can. She is cute baby with a lot of support 10/10 would take her in more dungeons.

Now for Smart Squad;

Boss Ass Bitch Y’shtola plays like a Black Mage, but she has White Mage elements spells to remind you that she’s better than you in every way.

As mentioned, Y’sthola has one of the most unique kits of the Scions as of this moment; all of her spells are followed by the suffix “-of the seventh dawn” and enjoy such elements as, “Tornado”, “Foul”, “Fire 4” and “Water 4”; which as someone who also plays White Mage from time to time, makes me cry. I’ve not noticed her ever use leylines, but she does seem to have a very short recast Triple Cast - which she also pop swiftcast with and just churns out damage when she wants.

In my runs, I noticed that Y’shtola did very well to avoid unnecessary damage; and as we were told, she does pop Triple Cast to make up for lost damage when she’s dancing around AoEs. However, unlike what we were told; I’ve seen Y’sthola pop the Limit Break about as often as Alisaie does, although she will wait until a lot longer in the fight before she uses it. I think she’s mad at me because I looked at her ass in that one quest; hero, and thus LB, privileges revoked. ;~;

Urianger, he doth provide the support of one well versed in the Sharlayan art of Astromancy. Which ultimately means he plays favorites with the cards and waxes poetically about killing shit. Urianger uses Diurnal Sect, which means regens! However, he never uses Aspected Helios; just the regular one. The loss of sheilds can be felt in dungeons; when tanking for Urianger, the tank busters hit a lot harder than when Alphi had my back; but that’s to be expected. What Urianger brings, however, is two unique spells. Gravity of the Seventh Dawn is an AoE attack that puts slow and heavy on everything hit; very very useful when you have a lot of enemies plucking away at your HP; and… Death of the Seventh Dawn, where he literally just straight up kills something, and to be fair, he mostly uses it at 10% on trash but still that’s really wild that he has that.

As for his performance… Oh boy; if you thought Alisaie got hit by avoidable shit, you’ve never taken Uri into Holminster. Our Man of the Verbose likes to get hit by everything, which is fine because he can just Essential Dignity himself back to full but still! At least we know where Alisaie gets it from, haha…. 

And for the final wrap up;

If anyone is interested in doing the hell grind of getting all the Trusts to 80; I’d HIGHLY recommend you break them into two groups and level on set with a DPS and the other with a Tank. That will get you all of them 80 in only two sweeps of the gauntlet. 

Your rewards for doing so are;

Each Trust at 80 unlocks their old (SB) outfit; with Ryne getting her blonde look back.

And once they’re all 80, you get the Achievement “Bound by Faith” and the title “Trusted Friend”