#most ridiculous horizon boss fight to ever do it

[claudiaeparvier]

I finally beat Burning Shores

[jamaisjoons]

half a heart ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you and namjoon have always been the best of friends; who just happen to be in love and are refusing to do anything about it. 〞best friends to lovers. childhood friends to lovers. idiots to lovers.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: namjoon x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 19.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: empHASIS ON THE IDIOTS TO LOVERS, pining, god there’s so much pining, namjoon is the sweetest man and this fic will ruin all other men for you, slight jealousy, slight possessive!namjoon, soft dom!namjoon, big cock!namjoon, sub!reader, biting, marking, grinding, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple play, nipple sucking, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, riding, soft sex, i am in love with kim namjoon, some deep dicking because its not a sol fic for joon without this, creampie, slight cumplay

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: there’s honestly so much fluff in this and that is a testament to how much i love Kim namjoon papa bless,

⏤ thank you to my sweet beans @peekaboongi​ and @shadowsremedy​ for beta reading this for me ♡

⇥ part of the mixtape series

Decidedly, there have been many days in your life. Some happy, some sad. Some you remember better than others while others fade away into the back of your mind. Some are ingrained so deep in your mind that when you close your eyes, you can see every detail as if it’s currently happening. None, however, do you remember more clearly than the day you met Namjoon. It had been almost two decades ago; when you were five, and he was six. You remember being nervous - your parents had just moved to Seoul - and unlike your small port town of Yeosu, you had no friends, nor did you know anyone.

Seoul had originally felt like an adventure, but actually moving there had been a lonely experience. Tall skyscrapers dwarfed your form, and life moved as fast as its people - unlike your sleepy hometown. Thus, when your mother had brought you to the park, you’d clung to her skirt - too afraid to venture out and speak to anyone. Closing your eyes, you can still see the faded metal of the monkey bars, hear the tinkering laughter of children running around and smell the sweet scent of the Bungeoppang stall that was nearby.

It had all been incredibly overwhelming back then, and you’d only hidden further behind your mother’s legs. Until - you’d spotted a boy, as lonely as you. A fond smile curls on your face as you remember Namjoon’s little frame. With chubby cheeks, curious eyes, and dressed in little shorts and a bright red t-shirt, he’d sparked your own curiosity. Unlike the other children, he wasn’t running around, or climbing the slide, or even hanging from the monkey bars. Rather, he sat crouched on the floor, intrigued brown eyes staring intently at the bushes as he stuck his hand into the shrubbery.

Unable to stop yourself, and completely enthralled by his curiosity, you’d approached him hesitantly. The moment he had felt your presence behind you, he’d hushed you, his face twisted in concentration. His harsh shush had almost sent you running - scared that he’d yell at you for coming close to him - but instead, you’d stayed rooted to the spot - too engrossed in his actions. All of a sudden, he’d yelped in triumph and pulled out his hands.

Immediately, he’d turned to you and with the brightest smile - eyes full of wonder and the apples of his cheeks bunched together - he’d proudly shown you the little green frog he’d caught. And that one action - that one smile - had sealed it between the two of you. Ever since then, Namjoon had been your best friend. Woefully, to your utter despair, it turned out that his family lived a good forty-five minutes from you. But that hadn’t stopped the two of you - no. Still, every day, the two of you would meet up at the park and go on little adventures - Namjoon’s pudgy hand holding onto yours.

Nostalgia cascades through you as you continue mulling over your relationship with Namjoon. You’ve lived twenty-four years, and throughout the vast majority of it - Kim Namjoon has been your only constant. Even as you grew up, the distance had meant nothing to you; you’d always made time for each other. Your childhood had been filled with wild adventures and borderline ridiculous experiences: Namjoon dragging you out the comfort of your home so that the two of you could do whatever stupid thing his enigmatic mind could think up. Consequently, that very same enigmatic mind is the exact reason for your current situation.

It’s the middle of the night - the air cool against your skin, even with your large puffer jacket to keep you warm. Currently, you find yourself on the rooftop of your building and as usual, like most of your memories, Namjoon is beside you. Just a few minutes ago, he had burst into your bedroom. Carelessly, he’d thrown you your jacket before dragging you onto the roof of the building. Of course, you’d tried to protest, but you’d never been able to deny Namjoon. Not when he looked at you with those sweet, warm coffee eyes of his.

Thus, you’d let him - albeit reluctantly - pull you to the top of your apartment building.

Sitting on the bare, cold tile - you look at him expectantly. Mild annoyance twists your features; though, that’s more due to the chill of the wind, and your grogginess, than anything else. It’s nearly the end of summer: the foliage of the trees starting to fade from vibrant greens to tamer shades of bronze and gold. On the horizon, you can see the stark, vivid neon lights of Seoul’s skyline - the city still buzzing with life. However, in your smaller neighbourhood - away from the main bustle of the town, it’s quieter - darker.

The thick tarp of night blankets the sky: painting it midnight blue, and starks twinkle within its hold: scintillating like the clearest diamonds. Despite the ambient chill, you find yourself relaxing: your shoulders deflating imperceptibly. Knees pulled to your chest, you wrap your arms around your knees and stare at the sky. For as long as you’d know, you’d loved the night sky - its dark embrace nothing short of comforting. More than that, you loved the stars - you loved coming out at night and just drinking in their radiance; their distant coldness soothing your soul.

You’d always thought there was a certain loneliness to them. They look beautiful: glinting magnificently beside each other while they hover in the upper stratosphere. But you know better - each and every one of them are millions of light-years apart from the next - each more sequestered than the one before. Really, you know they have no sentience - and in fact, most of them are already dead: completely burnt out by the time you can view them. And you know they can’t feel their solitude: they’re nothing but burning clusters of gases and atoms - combusting in a breathtaking display of light. Nevertheless, it’s still something you take an odd comfort in.

“Why did you bring me out here, Joon?” you finally ask, turning back to your best friend. You watch him grin brightly at you, the deep wells of his dimples indenting in his full cheeks, but you know Namjoon. In fact, you know him better than you know yourself. Thus, you see the slight hesitant insecurity swirling in his usually soft,  brown eyes.

“You had a bad day- and it’s night time,” Namjoon replies, his voice a little hushed. With a deep sigh, you glare at him. It’s almost three in the morning, you’re tired and a little cranky. Of course, it’s not like he woke you up or anything - he’d seen that your bedroom light was still on and that you were sadly moping in bed, curled under the covers as you scrolled through social media. Mainly because he was right, you did have a bad day. Work had been exhausting, someone from your team had misplaced some important figures and your boss had yelled at you for it in front of everyone; completely embarrassing you, even though it wasn’t your fault.

Exhaling deeply, fatigue evident in your sigh, “Joon- can we not do this now? Whatever you want to do, let’s just do it some other time. I’m tired, I’m cold and I just want to go back to bed,” you breathe out. Immediately, Namjoon shuffles closer to you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he tugs you into his chest.

Petulantly, you keep your shoulders stiff - fighting his pull. However, when his calming scent: fresh cotton and soft floral notes - the mix of his fabric softener and lotion, wafts across your senses, you reflexively find yourself turning putty in his hold. Relaxing in his embrace, you let his strong arms envelop you, taking comfort in your best friend’s cradle. Instinctively, Namjoon places his chin onto your head, tucking you further into him.

Knowing you’re fighting a losing battle, “Joon,” you mumble wearily.

“Just give me a couple of moments okay? I promise you’ll love this. Let me explain - and if you still want to go to bed, we can, alright?” comes his soothing words. The dulcet tones of his voice fill your eardrums, his chest rumbling lowly under your back. When you don’t say anything, Namjoon continues, “You had a bad day, but it’s a clear night tonight. You love watching the stars.” There’s no real emotion in his voice - his mouth uttering the statements plainly. Not that it really needs any emotion - they’re all basic facts.

Seeing where he’s going with this, you sink further into his embrace. Trust your best friend to drag you out on a cool summer night, just to stargaze, because you had a bad day. You love him. You really do. Tiredness brushed aside, you wriggle in his hold slightly and tilt your head, so you can look up at him. Namjoon shifts, putting a little distance between the two of you as he looks down at you. His face is incredibly close, his breath fanning your lower chin: so sweet you can taste him on your lips.

“Are we just out here to watch the stars?” you ask, a light teasing inclination lacing your voice.

Namjoon hums lowly, before cocking his head to the sky. Arms tightening around you, his voice turns low - and deep - the shallow timbre of his voice easing your soul. “As long as I’ve known you, you have been in love with the night sky - and the stars. Especially the constellations, and their myths, and their stories…” Namjoon begins, his warm gaze trailing over the vast cosmos above you. Then, he pauses before turning back to you. His eyes are alight with tenderness and a slight streak of knowing mischief, “but you’ve never actually been able to point out any of them,” he continues with a low chuckle.

Hearing his words, you scowl slightly before playfully smacking his soft belly. Never being able to actually make out a genuine constellation - other than Orion, because really, that one was easy - had always frustrated you to no end. You’d tried - really, you’d tried - but every time you’d look at the stars, you’d get lost in its overwhelming expanse, and consequently, those bright clusters would blur together - like a pile of glitter dust.

“Did we come out here just so you could tease me?” you butt in, pout evident in your voice. Namjoon exhales heavily in amusement, before tapping his chin against your forehead.

“No- that’s just an added bonus,” Namjoon laughs. Scowl deepening, you stick your tongue out at him. Large hands skim down your body before twisting around your waist and pulling you further into his body, “I learned them for you,” he suddenly breathes out.

Pausing, your features twist into an expression of confusion, “huh? Learned what?” you question.

Namjoon’s fingers flex above your stomach, a sign of his nervousness. From your head resting below his chin, you feel, and hear, him swallow thickly. “I learned them - the constellations. I learned about their positions and how to locate them. Just so you can tell me about them,” he confesses.

Floored by his admission, you instantly jerk off of him. Turning around, you stare at him with wide eyes, your gaze trailing over his face as you take him in. Gazing into his soft mocha eyes, you can’t help but find yourself sinking into their depths. Two decades. You’ve known Namjoon over two decades, and yet - somehow his eyes are the same. You remember them clearly from when he was younger, the pools of liquid chocolate shining just as they did back then. If you were being cheesy, you’d liken them to the stars you love so much: the brown irises twinkling as if those coffee depths held the stars themselves.

Except - they’re not the same. Unlike the cold, distant light of the stars, Namjoon’s eyes are dynamically bright, wonderfully expressive, and so full of tender love and warm affection. Sometimes, they sparkle with curiosity - and other times, they glint with an enigmatic knowingness: as if he knew all the secrets of the world. Right now, there’s nothing but kindness, and earnestness in his eyes, mixed with a little hesitance, and just the sight of it has your heart clenching, overwhelming emotion welling up inside you. Throat tight, and mouth suddenly dry, your face crumples as you take in the sight of your best friend.

His muscles are completely relaxed as he sits on the concrete tile of the rooftop - strong arms now braced on the ground as he leans back. Silhouetted by the dark blanket that is the night sky, he somehow looks bigger, and with his dark hair falling into his eyes, and an inkling of nervousness painted in his tender eyes, your chest tightens. Swallowing thickly, you shuffle closer before laying your head on him.

Automatically, as if the movement were ingrained in his muscles, his arms wrap around you, and gently, he pulls you backwards - until you’re both laying down. One of his hands moved to rest under his head - cushioning his skull - while the other lazily curls around you: the gesture second nature to him. With your head on his chest, you naturally entwine your fingers with his, before laying it on your stomach. Staring up at the sky, you point at a random constellation.

“Which one is that?” you ask, pointing to a random group of twinkling orbs. You thinkit’s a constellation - but really, it could just be an obscure cluster of stars.

Namjoon laughs, his chest reverberating endearing under your head. “You know, it’s kinda hard to know which one you’re pointing to when you just point at a random spot,” he teases. With a pout, you let out a slight huff, making him laugh again.

“How about this - I’ll point them out, and you can tell me about them?” Namjoon asks. Nodding eagerly, your entire body buzzes with excitement.

“That one’s Hercules,” Namjoon says - pointing to the sky before tracing a series of complicated geometric shapes in the air.

Baulking, “no! Joonie- oh my god, pick a different one. Hercules is so boring- everyone knows his story,” you whine. At your words, Namjoon bursts into laughter - the slightly high-pitched sound causing your face to soften. Focusing on the sound, you let the light laughter wash over you, the sound putting you at ease.

“Alright, alright. That one is Cassiopeia. Tell me about her,” Namjoon says - moving his hand down and tracing a zigzag over some brightly coloured stars.

Eyes lighting up, “Oh she’s cool! Well- not really. She was a queen and she claimed her daughter, Andromeda, was more beautiful than the Nereids. As a result, Poseidon-” you begin, before going off on a tangent. Throughout the entire story, Namjoon pays you the utmost attention - listening attentively as you animatedly regurgitate one of the countless myths you’ve got memorised.

When you're done, he points out another one - Draco this time - and with a soft pout, you explain that Draco was part of Hercules’ twelve labours. However, rather than making him change, you begin retelling the myth. Through it all, Namjoon listens quietly, and eventually, you grow tired, your voice turning wearier and wearier as you begin mumbling.

You’ve only just finished recounting the supposed myth of Corona Borealis - commonly known as the Northern Crown, and how its story is tied to the myth of Theseus and the minotaur. When your voice trails off and quiet fills the atmosphere once again. Namjoon's hand is still entwined in yours, and lazily, you play with his fingertips - simply watching the night sky and how the stars slowly pass over you. Perfectly content with the stillness around you, you’re happy to sit and bask in the comfort your best friend offers you: his arm casually over your body and his steady heartbeat under your head.

Then, all of a sudden, “have you ever loved someone?” he asks. Freezing under him, you tilt your head to look at the bottom of his jaw. Briefly, you wonder what spurred on the question - it’s completely out of the blue. ���Sorry, it’s just- most of those myths had some sort of romance, and like, I was just wondering. You can ignore me,” Namjoon mumbles under his breath.

Sucking in a sharp breath, “I mean- I love you,” you choke out. Namjoon sighs, his fingers tightening around yours before you feel him shake his head.

“No- I mean like, have you ever been in love?” he asks, and from your position on his chest, with your head tilted up, you vaguely see the way his eyebrows knit in puzzlement. Pausing briefly, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and chew on it. That is what you’d meant. You have no delusions about you - you’re in love with your best friend. You’re not really sure when it had happened, but somewhere between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, you’d lost your heart to your best friend - and you’d never asked for it back. Nor did you ever really want it back.

Briefly, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings now. “I-” I have those feelings for you. It would be so easy - to just spill the words that have bubbled up at the back of your throat. However, you can’t bring yourself to do it. So, instead, “I guess,” you softly finish.

You don’t have to confess your feelings.

At least, not yet.

Soon, autumn rolls around the corner, and mid-October, you and your friends decide to take a much-needed vacation from both universities: Jungkook in his final year, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin all in their masters, and from work: you, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung needing to recuperate from the stress of office life. Thus, your entire group decided to pool as much money together as you could, and take a spontaneous trip. Though, with half your friendship group still being broke university students, your holiday spots were sorely limited.

Nevertheless, deciding a weekend trip was the easiest - and probably the cheapest. You and your friends find yourself in a cabin nestled in the woods near Seoraksan National Park. It’s a quaint location - privately owned by an old couple who’d bought it in their prime - surrounded by trees and a little neighbouring stream. However, the lot of you had yet to explore any of the trails. Especially considering its late evening - all of you only arriving an hour ago.

“Can someone come and help me for a moment?” Seokjin calls, his voice echoing from the kitchen.

From your seat on the sofa, nestled comfortably between Namjoon’s thighs as you rest against his chest, you look around the room. Jungkook and Taehyung are in the middle of what seems to be an intense game of Jenga, Hoseok and Jimin cheering them from the sidelines. On the sofa opposite the one you and Namjoon are occupying, Yoongi is practically falling asleep - and you know he needs the rest: having pulled a double shift at the radio station he works at. Noting the way you shift, Namjoon lets out a whine of protest, his bulging biceps tightening around you as he tries to keep you in his arms.

Laughingly, “Joonie- you need to let me go. I’m gonna go help Jin,” you say as you try wriggling out of his grasps.

Namjoon only lets out a grunt of protest, “I literally stopped reading because you practically crawled into my lap, and this is the thanks I get?” he grumbles in mock petulance. Exasperated sighs escaping your lips, you untangle yourself from his embrace - Namjoon finally letting go of you, albeit reluctantly. “You owe me for this,” he groans as he stares up at you. Rolling your eyes, you bend over to the book he’d dropped on the ground when you’d practically smothered him with your body, and playfully throw it onto his stomach.

“Well, go back to reading then, you big baby,” you laugh. Then, not waiting for his response, you skip towards the kitchen in order to help Seokjin.

Mid-dinner preparation, and from your position besides Seokjin, you see Namjoon skulk into the kitchen. He’s got his hands buried into the large pockets of his grey hoodie, a small pout on his face. Ignoring his presence, you turn back to Seokjin, nodding with laughter as he continues animatedly talking about an incident at his office.

“And then, he literally takes his fish soup - which smells off by the way - and eats it like nothing's wrong. Literally, sitting with his shoes off and feet up on another chair! Completely ignoring the fact that the entire break room smells like a fish market and as if Yeojin wasn’t just watching him with her jaw open,” Seokjin finishes.

Letting out a loud guffaw, “no! He didn’t, oh my god. What did Yeojin do after that?” you ask, as your laughing body leans into Seokjin.

Taking a seat by the kitchen island, Namjoon’s eyes wander over you and Seokjin - his eyelids narrowing slightly at how close the two of you are standing. Seokjin is leaning slightly into you as he stirs the pot, your own body braced against his in a fit of giggles. Stomach dropping to the pits of his abdomen, and with a slightly soured expression, “what are you laughing about?” Namjoon asks as he approaches you.

“Oh, Jinnie was just telling me about these two people in his office. They keep fighting and Yeojin pissed Minki off, so he decided to eat fish soup in the office - knowing she hates the smell,” you reply simply, letting out a little laugh as you remember the story. Namjoon frowns when he watches you smile easily at Seokjin, your eyes alight with carefree happiness.

Pout deepening, he slips his arms under yours before wrapping them around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Angling your head up, you look at him curiously before laughing, “you okay, Joonie?” you ask. Despite your question, however, you smile brightly and instinctively sink into his embrace. From beside you, Seokjin looks at the two of you in exasperation, and after giving Namjoon a pointed, knowing look, turns back to his own task.

Really, Seokjin muses to himself, Namjoon could not be any more obvious with his feelings - or possessiveness. In fact, neither could you - the two of you practically glued at the hips. For as long as he’s known you both, the two of you have been like this - and yet, you’re still somewhat oblivious to the other’s feelings. After another shake of his head, he sighs in exasperation again before continuing to stir the pot.

Namjoon hums, placing his chin onto your head, “hmm. Uhh... yeah, just wondering if I can help?” He slowly asks.

Snorting, “absolutely not. You’re too much of a hazard risk here. Just go sit with everyone else,” you reply. Swiftly, you place the knife down and wriggle in his arms: unwinding from his grasp. Then, bracing your hands on his strong chest, you begin pushing him out of the kitchen.

“What- no, I can help,” Namjoon protests the entire time you push him. However, you refuse to be deterred.

“Nope! The last time you did that, you burnt your hands trying to drain some noodles. I love you Joon, but you don’t have a lot of common sense in the kitchen. Just go read your book. Seokjin and I are almost done anyway,” you say as you finally shoo him away. Your best friend lets out a little huff, but does as you ask. You watch as he sulks off, dropping to the couch huffily before he crosses his arms and pouts quietly. Shaking your head, you turn back into the kitchen - ready to finish up.

As you’d said - in another ten minutes, you and Seokjin are done. You help Seokjin carry the piles of dishes into the living room - deciding to sit around the coffee table and eat. When you place the last dish, you turn around to your best friend - only to see that he’s still pouting. With his strong eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks slightly puffed out and plush lips pursed, he’s the most adorable expression of frustrated petulance you’ve ever seen.

Grabbing one of the pieces of fried chicken, you plop yourself down beside Namjoon. Sullenly, Namjoon turns away from you - even as you hold out the chicken as a peace offering. Watching his reaction, you bite your lip and place the piece of chicken back down onto the table. From beside you, Jungkook looks at the two of you curiously, a piece of tempura prawn already halfway into his mouth.

“What’s wrong with Joon-hyung?” Jungkook questions, pointing his chopstick at your best friend.

“He’s mad ____ kicked him out the kitchen,” Seokjin replies simply before slurping his noodles.

Ignoring them, you place your hands on either side of Namjoon’s cheeks and squeeze them together, you turn his face towards you. “Joonbug, I’m sorry,” you say as you look at him with large eyes and an exaggerated pout. The corners of Namjoon’s lips twitch, causing you to let out a cheer of triumph. “I saw that! You can’t be mad at me anymore,” you practically shriek.

“That’s not fair! You know you look ridiculous when you pull that face, how am I supposed to stay mad at you,” Namjoon bemoans.

However, you’re already shaking your head and loudly smacking your lips, “nope,” you reply - harshly popping the ‘p’. “Too late. You love me,” you continue.

Eyes softening, Namjoon nudges you with his shoulder before reaching for a piece of chicken, “Nah- I’ve just known you for so long, I can’t get rid of you,” he retorts.

“Oh please, we all know you love me,” you snort back. And then, without thinking, you reach over and smack a wet kiss against Namjoon’s cheek. Playfully, he pulls a face before rubbing at the wet spot on his cheek and wiping it on your shirt excessively.

Before you can reply, “Oi! Can we just eat without you two being gross for once?” Jimin cuts in - throwing a cushion at the two of you.

“Yeah dudes, some of us are trying to eat,” Taehyung chimes in.

Namjoon and you still all of a sudden, completely taken aback by Taehyung and Jimin’s words. Matching identical expressions of surprise plastered onto your face, you both sputter at the same time, “what’s the supposed to mean?” Hearing the synchronous, twin cries out outrage, you both blink owlishly before turning to each other.

Scoffing playfully, “That’s what we mean,” Yoongi chimes in.

Hours later, you and Namjoon sit up in bed. With the room swallowed by darkness - the room is merely lit up by the soft ambient lights of the bedside tables and the soft streams of moonlight peeking through from under the heavy cotton curtains. Buried under the covers, with the sheets tucked under your lap, you practically lay on Namjoon’s chest: relishing in the way his chest rumbles under your head. When Namjoon lets out a sudden high pitched noise, you can’t help but let out a peal of raucous laughter.

“Oh my god, J-Joon that was s-so bad,” you choke out, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Playfully pinching your side, Namjoon pouts, “hey! Personally, I thought it was a very good elephant noise,” he replies haughtily.

Raising your eyebrow, “in what world is that an elephant noise? It sounded like you were blowing a very bad raspberry,” you reply indignantly.

“Oh like you could do better?” Namjoon drawls snarkily. Jaw dropping to your chest, you look up at him in mock ire.

Then, eyelids narrowing playfully, you crook your elbow over your mouth. “Oh, watch me,” you reply - easily accepting his challenge. However, just before you can blow into the skin of your elbow - there’s a knock at the door.

Rather than waiting for the two of you to answer, Yoongi is already opening the door. The two of you wince, your eyes squinting as the stark white lights of the corridor break into the soft golden ambience of your bedroom. “Do you both ever sleep?” Yoongi mumbles as he shuffles into the room.

“Coming from you that’s pretty rich, Yoon,” you reply back, a playful grin on your face. Yoongi tuts, however, before he can say anything, he simply stops and takes in the sight of you. With your head laid on Namjoon’s chest, his body propped against the headboard, and the sheets comfortably draped around your bodies, you look the epitome of an old married couple; and he’ll never understand how the two of you aren’t together yet. Friends don’t act the way the two of you do - and even best friends aren’t as close as you both are. In fact, he knows if he were to take the covers off you both - neither of you would be wearing pyjama bottoms.

Choosing to ignore your comment, and how ridiculously at ease the two of you are together, “Yeah, whatever. It’s almost sunrise and we were thinking of going up the hill just outside Seoraksan Park and watching it, if you wanna join us,” Yoongi says as he scratches his ear.

“Wait- what? Sunrise? Already?” you ask, as you sit up in bed. Namjoon follows your movement, sitting up straighter as you both glance at the clock on the table next to your bed.

“Fuck, have we really been awake the entire night? How? What have we even been doing” Namjoon asks, turning to you with the most adorable look of perturbation you’ve ever seen. Not having an answer to his question, you simply shrug your shoulders. Staying up early into the morning was a common occurrence where Namjoon and you were concerned. Somedays, you don’t even remember what you’d talked about or what you’d done - you only knew that you’d spent the entirety of the night with him by your side.

“How the fuck do you not know the time? Or what you’ve been doing- you know what, it doesn’t matter,” Yoongi begins ranting only to stop. Taking a deep breath, he sighs, “Are you guys coming?” he breathes out.

Looking at Namjoon, you quirk your eyebrow at him. Yoongi watches as the two of you simply watch each other - and neither of you says anything, yet he knows somehow you’re both still having an internal conversation. Then, in a borderline creepy manner, you both turn at the same time and nod.

“Yeah, just give us a moment to get dressed,” Namjoon says as he pushes the sheets off of your both. Yoongi frowns, diverting his eyes immediately - because just as he’d predicted, both of you are dressed in just t-shirts and your underwear.

Exasperated sigh falling from his lips, and with a shake of his head, “Just meet us by the door,” Yoongi calls out as he exits your room.

Namjoon turns around to you, and with a quirk of his eyebrow, “What do you think is up with him?” he asks.

Shrugging, “honestly? No idea,” you reply.

Pulling your jacket closer around you, you shiver at the early morning chill: goosebumps prickling over your flesh as the crisp squall kisses your skin. Shrouded in darkness, the night sky looms over your group of friends as you carefully walk over the cobbled stone pathway. Large, slippery slates of stone litter the area: the boulders covered in a light sheen of river water from the stream nearby and leafy mosses poking through the narrow cracks between them. Considering this route isn’t exactly public - the grounds belong to the sweet couple who owned the lodge - the pathway isn’t as maintained as it could be - and all of you hold onto each other, keeping the other steady.

Namjoon’s hand firmly grips yours as he carefully steps over the rocks, and you know he’s using you as more of a support than you are using him, but you can’t help it. For as long as you’ve known him, Namjoon has been inherently clumsy; and constantly, you worry about his safety. Especially on excursions like this - the only light illuminating your path coming from the harsh flashlights of your phones. Nonetheless, your eyes glance to where your hands are linked, your heart fluttering at the sight.

His hand is large: dwarfing your smaller one, and warmth seeps from his skin towards yours: a smaller blessing considering the nippy air of the early morning. When he’s firmly stable on the boulder, he turns to you from over his shoulder. Even with the practically nonexistent lighting, you can still make out his face as he regards you with the brightest - somewhat sleepy - grin. The sight of him: lips pulled thin in a smile and dimples indented, paired with the way his frame is silhouetted in the shades of fall, has your heart clenching. Tightening your hold on Namjoon’s hand, you allow his strong frame to anchor you as you take another step forward - most of the other boys already ahead of you. Not that either of you mind, you and Namjoon tended to go off into your own world on walks like this anyway.

Eventually, the pathway morphs from slippery rocks to soft terrain. Reaching the entrance to the forest trail that apparently - according to the old couple - leads to a beautiful hilltop viewpoint, the eight of you gather around. Dawn’s twilight paints the sky - honeyed shades of topaz, rose and lilacs splattering across the night. The soft light finally illuminates the pathway, allowing you to see more clearly. Autumn is thick around you - the foliage emblazoned in colours of scarlet, amber and gold. Though, occasionally, trees with vibrant viridian and olivine foliage peek through the warm shades of fall. The ground is covered in dead leaves - the fallow litterfall cushioning the terrain, and crackling under your footsteps.

Beginning your descent down the winding trail - everyone breaks off into small groups: the pathway only wide enough to fit two people at a time. As usual, you and Namjoon find yourself at the rear end: your best friend stopping every now and then to snap a picture of the scenic landscapes around him. You love your best friend, you really do, but as he stops to inspect a rustling bush, you can’t help but sigh. Turning over your shoulder, your eyes widen as you realise that the boys have walked off further than you’d anticipated - however - before you can say something, Namjoon is already grabbing your hand once again.

“Did you see that?” Namjoon asks, a look of awed wonder etched onto his face. Eyebrows furrowing, you turn to where he’s pointing. Once again, the brush rustles, and when a chipmunk pops out, you take a surprised step back. It’s beady eyes take in you and Namjoon for a moment, and then it retreats back into the brush. “Wait- oh my god… There’s a hidden pathway! We should follow it,” Namjoon says ecstatically, his entire body vibrating with excitement. You’ve both been up the entire night, and with your walk, you find yourself growing tired. You know he is too. Yet, despite the sleepiness clouding both your bodies, his warm chocolate eyes practically sparkle; his entire aura buzzing with eagerness.

Biting your lip, you try to suppress your smile - though, you're sure your own look of excitement mirrors his. Desperately, you want to grab his hand and chase after the chipmunk - reminiscent of the days you’d do the same when you were children. However, you’re older now, and your friends have already walked off - and you really don’t want to get lost in a forest. Well you do, especially if it’s with Namjoon. But still, you need to be somewhat responsible. So, “Joonbug-” you try to reason, because really if you didn’t, no one would.

A knowing look on his face, “Moonbeam,” replies, his pet name for you dripping affectionately from his thick lips, “come on, it’ll be an adventure. There’s a little pathway here,” Namjoon says, as he reaches his hand out to you, the other pushing the bush out of the way. Instantly, you cave - because really, how could you say no to him - especially when you really don’t want to say no.

Placing your hand into his, “Alright, but if we get lost and Seokjin yells at us, I’m blaming you,” you reply cheekily. Instinctively, Namjoon’s fingers lace through yours as he tugs you towards the concealed pathway.

“I’ll just tell him you enabled me to do it,” Namjoon snaps back, a playful tone laced into his words. Then, without another word, he’s pulling you into the narrow pathway. Rapidly, he begins tearing through the trail, following the winding, narrow pathway as best as he can.

Your best friend is tall, and his legs are long - making his strides particularly lengthy - and you know anyone else would fall behind pretty quickly.

But not you.

No. You’ve grown up with Namjoon. You’re used to him grabbing your hand and running, used to chasing after him; and you’re used to keeping up with him easily. So, even with his long strides, and how quickly his feet slap the ground - you manage to follow him easily, your own toes just behind his heels. Colours of crimson, gold and honey blur past you, the crunching of leaves and the sound of your stomping feet mixing in a thunderous cacophony of sounds that fill the air.

However, you barely notice any of it. Rather, you’re far too fixated on your best friend. His hand is laced firmly in yours the entire time you chase after him - his long legs practically sprinting down the trail and after the chipmunk. Childlike glee exudes off of him in thick waves, and with the way his body bounces, his hair flopping as he runs, you can’t help the way your eyes soften. His large frame tears through the thicket of woods, the trunks whizzing past you while your own legs sprint as fast as they can.

Lost in Namjoon, you don’t notice him suddenly skid to a halt - at least, not until you’re crashing into his back. Steadfast, Namjoon braces himself - the two of you stumbling for a moment. Just in the nick of time, however, you both steady yourself: preventing you from falling over. Features scrunching in confusion, you look up at the back of his head in question.

“Joon, what-” you ask, only to halt when you peer over his large body.

Somehow, the hidden trail has led you both to a different viewpoint than the one the couple had told you about. Standing near the edge of the hilltop, you find yourself completely breathless at the view that greets your eyes.

At the top of one of Seokraksan’s many mountainous points, you can see miles off into the distance. Twilight slowly slips past, the sky indolently brightening with each passing moment. Dark shades of Prussian blue, indigo and plum soften into milder hues of lavender and azure; streaks of bronze and coral cutting through the sky. Stepping beside Namjoon, you both watch - in utter stillness, and awe - as the sun slowly rises over the skyline.

Thick beams of Aurelian gold peek over the horizon; illuminating the entirety of the ground with its rich sunkissed glow. Synchronously, both yours and Namjoon’s breath hitches. As the sun rises, the entirety of Seoraksan National park is lit up in the dazzling hues of daybreak. Autumnal trees of vibrant shades shimmer under its gleaming rays; the water from the narrow river that cuts through the park glistening in deep shades of cerulean and sapphire.

Turning to Namjoon, you can’t help but stop. Instantly, your breath catches in your throat and you find yourself at a loss for words. With the sun still rising in the sky, his entire body is silhouetted in a golden halo: the rays of light dancing enticingly around him. The autumn wind is light in the air, his hair gently billowing in the wind as sunlight filters through it.

And then he turns around.

Automatically, you suck in a sharp breath. With his face towards you, encased in the golden hues of daylight, you can’t help the overwhelming swell of emotions that crush you. Reflected in his warm eyes, are the golden rays of sunlight; causing the deep pools of coffee to twinkle with a certain mix of lightness and peace. The corners of his mouth are loosely pulled upwards, an easy smile painted on his lips. He stands with his hands loosely in the pockets of his oversized denim jacket, his shoulders completely lax as he soaks in the breathtaking scenery.

Swallowing thickly, you try to swallow the lump in your throat - but you can’t. Nor can you settle the beat of your heart: the muscle thunderously palpitating between your ribs. You don’t know what compels you to do it - but suddenly, you’re taking a step forward. And then another. And another. Until you’re right in front of him.

Namjoon watches you quietly - a light streak of curiousness evident in his eyes. However, that inkling of interest is overshadowed by the overwhelming emotion that you simply cannot decipher.

Nonetheless, the moment you’re only a hair’s breadth apart, you find yourself winding your arms around his waist. Instinctively, Namjoon’s hands drop from his pockets, his hands curling around your and encasing you in his hold. Then, before you can even think about it, or consider stopping yourself, you’re leaning on your tiptoes and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

For a fraction of a second, Namjoon’s eyes widen - his brain on the fritz as he feels your soft lips tenderly brush against his. The moment your lips touch, you feel a spark of electricity jolt through your body; your entire being coming to life as you buzz with excitement. Its sudden spark has you crashing back to reality, your senses finally coming back to you. As quick as it comes, however, and before he can react, you’re already swiftly pulling away.

The two of you stare at each in surprise, neither of you saying anything. You can still taste him on your lips, the soft petals tingling from when your mouth had tenderly caressed his. Licking your lips, dread floods through you as you wait for him to say something. However, he doesn’t. Instead, he stands completely rigid - his eyes glazed over and lips slightly parted.

When the silence grows terse, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me,” you quickly blurt out. Your words have Namjoon crashing back to reality, and he draws to his full height - an unreadable expression in his eyes. “I mean- I’m just tired, we’ve been up all night and I wasn’t thinking straight-” you try to explain. It’s a lie. You know it is - but hopefully, it’s a lie he believes. You had wanted to kiss Namjoon - desperately - because sheathed in the early morning light, you don’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful. Nonetheless - you’d rather not lose your best friend.

“Oh,” Namjoon breathes out, his plump lips forming a perfect ‘o’.

The fierce urge to pull him in for another kiss tears through you, but this time, you manage to suppress it.

“Oh,” Namjoon repeats, almost as if he’s trying to process your words. There’s something hidden behind the way the sound drops from his lips - but before you can dwell on it, he’s already speaking.

“That’s okay, we’re both tired,” Namjoon nods, a light, nervous chuckle escaping his lips. “It’s okay, it means nothing… right?” he finishes. Although, you can’t help but wonder about the uncertainty in his final word.

Nonetheless, “Y-yeah, you’re right,” you mumble out, trying to stifle the way your throat constricts. Anguish cascades through you, your chest turning numb. However, it’s for the best. As much as you love Namjoon, losing him would completely devastate you. Gulping heavily, you lick your lips, “we’re okay… right?” you ask, your voice straining slightly as you attempt to choke out the words.

Namjoon smiles brightly - though, you can’t help but notice how it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “When are we not okay? It’s you and me, ____. Joonbug and Moonbeam, remember?” he replies easily, his eyes squinted shut into crescented slits.

“Yeah… Joonbug and Moonbeam,” you repeat; a smile curling onto your own face. Even as your heart aches to be more. Then, the two of you go back to staring at the sunrise.

For the rest of the trip, you and Namjoon don’t act any differently. In fact, both of you pretend as if you hadn’t kissed by the sunrise: that you didn’t know how the other tasted after a sleepless night filled with nothing but each other.

Yet, neither of you can deny that something about your relationship has changed. Though, as dread settles in your stomach, you can’t figure out whether it’s a good or bad change.

Four months after your kiss, you find yourself on the sofa with Namjoon. Not much has changed about your relationship with him; in fact, there are only two things that have changed. One is the fact that your feelings for your best friend have grown exponentially, and more often than not, you find yourself lost in him: desperately wishing to feel his lips on yours or to confess the weight of the emotions you feel for him: the words at the tip of your tongue.

Nevertheless, you don’t. You can’t. Not after the way he’d reacted to your first kiss in the first place. Though, there are times you wish he’d reacted differently - wish that your relationship was more than it is. Like right now.

You and Namjoon are currently on the sofa, his head resting on your chest and arms loosely thrown around your waist as you hold him; the two of you watching Shark Tale together. Why he’d suddenly wanted to watch Shark Tale, you have no idea. Nonetheless, there’s very little you can deny your best friend - so when he’d wanted to watch the film, you’d easily given in.

Namjoon’s gaze is glued to the screen, his eyes focused as he lazily watches the TV screen. Your focus, however, is fixated wholly onto him. With the way he’s laid on you, his body practically smothering yours, you can feel the way his chest rises and falls above yours, and the faint thudding of his heartbeat. Instinctively, your hands find themselves in his hair - loosely twirling the thick, silken locks between your fingertips.

It’s at moments like these, that you wish you were more: wish that you could call out his name softly and press your lips to him. But you can’t; because the second reason your relationship with Namjoon has changed, is that he’s now dating someone. And you mean dating - because he has yet to introduce her to you as his girlfriend - and until he does, you refuse to call her that. Mainly because it leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

More than halfway through the film, and during the scene where Angie finally confesses her love to Oscar - really, you have to scoff - there’s an aggressive rapping at your front door. Before the two of you can even move, the door twists and slams open, revealing Oh Jihee. Why Namjoon had told her where the spare key to your apartment was hidden, you have no idea.

Indolently, Namjoon turns to the door, however, before he can even open his mouth to say anything, she’s already speaking. “What is happening here?” she asks, her eyes suspiciously roving over the two of you.

“Oh, ____ and I were just watching Shark Tale. Why are you here?” Namjoon asks as he slowly pulls away from you. The moment he’s off of you, the weight on top of your chest growing light, your stomach sinks in dejection.

Raising her eyebrow, she places her hands on her hips, “Because we had a date. That you’ve clearly forgotten about,” Jihee replies snarkily, throwing a scathing look towards you. You simply cock your eyebrow and scoff - it’s not your fault Namjoon forgot about his alleged date. Though, you can’t help the streak of happiness that flitters through you: he’d unknowingly chosen to spend time with you and not Jihee.

Namjoon pulls himself off of the couch and walks over to her. Then, pulling her into his arms, he presses a soft kiss against her temple. The tender gesture has you looking away, your features falling as despair settles deep within the pits of your abdomen. “Oh. Was that today? I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind. Let me go shower and get dressed quickly,” Namjoon softly apologises. Jihee’s eyes soften, and with an exasperated sigh, she nods.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she replies before kissing the corner of his mouth. Then, she beckons him away - leaving the two of you alone. As soon as he disappears into his bedroom, Jihee turns to you, her eyes narrowed into slits.

“What’s your problem?” she hisses. Cocking your eyebrow, you slip off of the couch and begin clearing the snacks from the coffee table.

“I have no idea what you mean,” you reply back coolly.

“Yes, you do. Why do you both always act like you’re a couple, when you’re not? I don’t like how comfortable you are touching my boyfriend,” Jihee seethes back. Your stomach sinks at the term, but you suppress your own sadness. It’s not like it mattered anyway - Namjoon was free to date whoever he wanted. He was your best friend. Just your best friend. Something you reiterate to her.

“We’ve been friends since we were children - it’s just how we’ve always been,” you shrug back simply.

“Yeah, well I’d like you to stop, I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t like your relationship with him at all,” she responds, her lips pursing into a sour expression.

Snorting lightly, “yeah, well, I don’t really care. He’s my best friend, he’s not going to stop being my best friend because you don’t like our relationship. And if you have a problem with it - you can take it to Namjoon. But you and I both know he won’t like that, which is why you’re saying this to me when he’s not here,” you retort easily.

Jihee splutters for a moment, “that’s not why I’m doing it,” she protests weakly. Though, neither of you believe that for a single moment, “besides- what do you know about what he likes. I’m his girlfriend,” she snaps.

A look of incredulity paints your face at that, and with a disbelieving chuckle, “you did not just imply that you know more about him than me, just because you’re in a relationship with him,” you say.

“And what if I did? We’re together, he would have told me more. Things he can’t tellyou,” Jihee replies - although, from her own uncertain tone, you both know she’s just grasping at straws. You’ve known Namjoon for two decades - that’s a long time. The onlyperson who knows more about him than you, is his own mother. And even then, you know probably just as much as she does.

“That’s a joke right. You literally cannot be serious. You know nothing about him. Nothing,” you spit back, your anger finally getting to you. Of course, your words are said in the heat of the moment, but you mean them - because they’re true. She knows next to nothing about him - especially since you know she forces her own opinions and personality onto him. Another reason you do not like her.

“I know things!” Jihee seethes back. Her voice is slightly shrill, and loud enough that you send a quick glance at the two spare rooms. Namjoon is in the shower - so hopefully- he won’t be able to hear this argument. Hoseok’s room is shut, and you can hear the soft tempo of his music coming from behind - so you’re not too worried about him listening in either.

Turning back to Jihee, you fold your hands across your chest and regard her cooly. “What’s his favourite breakfast?” you ask, all of a sudden.

“W-what?” Jihee stutters, a look of confusion colouring her features.

“You heard me, if you know so much about him, what’s his favourite breakfast?” you repeat.

“That’s easy. Poached eggs and toast - we go to brunch all the time, you know,” she replies haughtily.

“No. It’s any sugary cereal. In particular, he likes Lucky Marshmallows with extramarshmallows. Sometimes he literally saves all the marshmallows for last just so he can eat an entire bowl of them,” you reply easily.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jihee tries to cut in but you shake your head.

“For your one month anniversary,” you begin, internally cringing - really, they’ve only been together three months, so why she had wanted to celebrate a month, you do not understand, “you booked a seafood restaurant,” you continue.

“He likes seafood!” Jihee cuts in.

“Not as food, he likes them as pets - or to collect them - but he doesn’t like eating them. You constantly want to join him on his walks - but sometimes he needs to be alone,” you begin. You don’t know why you do it, but all of a sudden, you find yourself laying into her.

Sucking in a deep breath, you continue, “I know you met him at an art exhibition, and Iknow that he loves music, and art and philosophy and I know you share those together. But those aren’t the only aspects of his personality.” Briefly, you pause, your eyes slightly tearing up. However, rather than letting it get to you, you blink them away.

“Namjoon- he’s a huge dork. He’s more than those selective interests that you’ve singled out. He grows bonsai in his spare time and names all of them and speaks to them. He easily gets distracted by different animals - like frogs, or squirrels or chipmunks - and he always needs to stop and try to pick them up. He eats spoonfuls of sugar when he thinks no one is around. He loves cute things and buys more Kaws and Ryan or Brown plushies than a grown man needs. He can be whiny, and petty, and sometimes borderline childish but it’s who he is.”

Again, you stop, your chest heaving in the slightest from your sudden rant. You have no idea what overcame you, but the moment you’d started speaking, it had felt like a dam had burst. Jihee simply stands stock still, looking at you in disbelief. Letting out a deep breath, you run your fingers through your hair. “That is who he will always be and you cannot change who he is - or pick and choose aspects that you like. If you honestly want to be with him, if you have any feelings for him - you will understand that he is perfect the way he is. You should love him for who he is,” you finally finish. Desperately, you want to throw the words ‘Like I do’ but you can’t. Instead, you left them unsaid.

With your little spiel well and truly done, silence falls over the room. Jihee regards you coldly, her eyes glazed with passiveness, and her face an expression of stoic calmness. But then, she grits her teeth, and with a low voice, “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. Because he’s dating me not you,” she hisses out. Her words are low, barely above a whisper, and yet the heavy scorn tears through you. Her words cut you like a knife, leaving your chest numb and your heart aching with hurt.

Unable to say anything, you simply bite your lips. Fists clenched to the side of your body, your knuckles turn white and you simply stare at each other. Repeatedly, you open your mouth to argue - to say something - but you know she’s right. It doesn’t matter if you know Namjoon, or that you’ve been his best friend for over two years. All that matters is that he still chose her - that she’s his girlfriend.

Nonetheless, before you can say anything, Namjoon pops out of his bedroom - hair slightly damp and dressed for the day. Smiling gently at Jihee, he walks over to her before beckoning her towards the door. Jihee returns his smile, her eyes briefly flashing with smugness as she looks at you. Throat tight, you attempt to turn away. However, just as you do, Namjoon smiles tightly at you.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” he says, before guiding Jihee out of the apartment - leaving you alone.

That night, you sit on the couch - a fluffy blanket thrown over your lap - and Hoseok beside you, as you both idly flick through your phones. The two of you sit in complete silence, Hoseok laughing quietly and showing you a funny picture on his timeline, before turning back to his own phone. Time moves past slowly, and every now and then, your gaze flicks to the entrance of your flat, and you silently wonder when Namjoon will come home. Or if he was even coming home tonight.

Nonetheless, you don’t have to wait any longer - because, all of a sudden, the doorknob is twisting and Namjoon walks through. Eyebrows scrunching in befuddlement, you watch as he drags his feet into your apartment. Shrugging off his jacket, he stays quiet, his shoulders slumped as he kicks off his shoes.

“Joon? You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice as you sit up. Namjoon only hums casually, but other than that he doesn’t say anything. Dread flits through you, your stomach dropping at his lacklustre posture.

Then, “I’m going to go to bed, yeah?” he says, before shuffling into his room. His door slams shut softly, and you feel your heart sink into your chest. You simply can’t shake off the feeling that your argument with Jihee has something to do with Namjoon’s upset. Once he’s safely behind his closed door, you blink owlishly and turn to Hoseok, the two of you looking at each other in worry.

Gaze flicking to his shut bedroom door, “Do you think something happened?” you whisper lowly as you bite your lip in nervousness.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s about your fight with Jihee,” Hoseok casually replies with a shrug. Taken aback, you look at him in a mix of trepidation and confusion. His words had only confirmed your suspicion that it was something to do with your earlier argument.

“Do you think he heard?”

Hoseok sighs at your question. “Honestly, if I heard it over my music, he definitely heard it in the shower. But- I can’t say for sure. You’re going to have to ask him yourself,” he replies - almost diplomatically.

“If he heard then I don’t think he’s going to want to speak to me right now,” you point out. However, your words only cause Hoseok to scoff.

“Please, the day Joon doesn’t want to talk to you, is the day hell literally freezes over. When have either of you ever had an argument that has lasted more than a couple of hours?” Hoseok questions, his perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising slightly.

You open your mouth to respond, before pausing. Eyebrows furrowed, you struggle to try and remember a time the two of you hadn’t spoken for longer than a few hours. You and Namjoon fight, of course you do, however, they’ve never really been serious - and you’ve always made up eventually. The two of you just couldn’t bear to be apart. Seeing the dawning look of realisation on your face, Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle.

“Exactly. Just go speak to him - I’m sure you’re overthinking it anyway,” Hoseok encourages. Smiling gently at him, you nod and throw the blanket off of you.

Padding over to Namjoon’s room, you knock on the door tentatively. From behind the wooden frame, Namjoon grunts, and taking it as a sign of entry, you walk into his bedroom. The moment you see him, you bite your lip, your heart clinching in anguish. He’s sat up in bed, dressed in his pyjamas, and casually scrolling through his phone. His speakers blear music softly, faint acoustic beats thrumming through the quiet bedroom. Stepping further into his room, you call out to him softly.

“Namjoon… is everything okay?” you ask, shuffling nervously in place.

With a sigh, “Jihee and I decided it was best to stop seeing each other,” Namjoon replies. Blood running cold, you look at him in a mixture of shock and barely concealed hope. However, swiftly, you suppress them - you need to be there for your best friend right now.

Tentatively, “You broke up? Why?” you ask.

“We weren’t really together to break up, we were just dating,” Namjoon replies. Then, eyeing your apprehensive state in amusement, “you can join me you know,” Namjoon says as he pats the spot next to him.

Breathing out in relief, you quickly cross his room and join him on the bed. You shuffle in next to him, Namjoon automatically throwing the covers over you. Once you’re settled down, you curl your hands in your lap and turn to look at him. “Do you want to talk about it? You never answered why you broke up,” you point out, your voice low.

Namjoon hums before lolling his head back to rest against the wall. He stares at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing for a couple of moments. Then, “I heard your argument with her,” he confesses.

A sad smile curls on your face, and with downcast eyes, you stare at your hands. “I feared as much. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep or anything… I just- she didn’t seem right for you, I guess,” you admit. Because I’m the right one for you. The words echo in your mind, but again, you push them far back into your head. You do not need to dwell on that right now.

“Hmm. Well, you’re right. There was too much about us that clashed… which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But at the same time, I didn’t feel comfortable being myself around her either,” he says. “I’m not upset at you or anything by the way. If anything, I’m grateful. If you hadn’t said what you had, I probably wouldn’t have realised how unhappy I was with her,” Namjoon admits with a tender smile.

“I still feel bad…” you begin.

However, Namjoon cuts you off. “I didn’t have feelings for her. She’d seen me at the museum a couple of times and asked me out. I didn’t really notice until she came up to me,” he chuckles lightly. Your eyes soften at that. Namjoon is beautiful, and if anyone were to ask you, you’d tell them that he was the ideal man. With his soft, devastatingly handsome looks, and his tender heart and enigmatic brain, Namjoon is yourideal man. But he’d never really appreciated his own charm - he never really understood why women were so attracted to him. More than anything, he barely even recognised when women flirted with him. It was endearing, really.

“Why did you say yes, then?” you ask curiously.

Namjoon pauses at that. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes before turning back to the ceiling. He’d never admit it out loud, but the reason he’d said yes was because of your kiss, all those months ago. The moment he’d felt your lips on his, he’d been electrified and dazed - and for the first time in a while - his brain had completely shut down and he hadn’t been able to act. But by the time he’d processed it, ready to press his lips harder into yours and really taste you, you were already pulling away and apologising.

The very second your mouth had brushed his, Namjoon knew you were the one for him. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel the tingle over his lips, and your warm breath wafting over his chin. Contrary to your beliefs, Namjoon did, in fact, notice the attention girls paid him. He just didn’t care. Mainly because his heart already belonged to you. Admittedly, falling in love with your best friend was the world’s most cliche move - but he just couldn’t help it. No one compared to you.

So when you’d pulled away like that, he couldn’t help the way his heart had yearned for you, and he knew he had to at least try to move on. Which is where Jihee had come in. Nevertheless, no matter how much Jihee loved art, or philosophy, it didn’t matter - because she wasn’t you. She’s not you and he never really could stop comparing the two of you to each other. It wasn’t fair on either of you - particularly because he knew he’d never love anyone the way he loves you. And your argument with Jihee had only cemented that.

When he’d overheard your exchange, he’d been shocked. Of course, he knew that you’d known a lot about him, but having you admit so clearly and so boldly that she should love him for him - for every aspect that made him: the good and the bad. Well, it only had him falling deeper for you. So, when Jihee had bought up your less than conventional friendship, and how the tactility between the two of you made her uncomfortable - well, he’d known he had to end it with her there.

Not only because she’d been uncomfortable with his friendship with you - really, why had she ever thought he’d give you up for her? You’ve been in his life twenty years, he’d only known her around three months - but she’d also wanted him to stop being so physical with you. Thus, Namjoon had decided it was best for the two of them to part ways. Also because, well, he’s in love with you. But that’s neither here nor there - especially since you don’t feel the same way.

At one point, he thought you had. Nonetheless, after your kiss, he’s not so sure. And he’s not willing to risk your friendship either. You mean far too much to him to risk anything without any certainty that you felt the same way.

“Joon?” you softly call out, dragging him from his own musings. “You never responded,” you continue.

Biting his lips, “Just because,” he responds. No. He could not admit his feelings for you. At the very least, not now.

It’s the middle of August, when you find yourself in Namjoon’s family’s log cabin on Jeju Island. As usual, the family had decided to take their yearly trip to the island, and like every other year, you had been extended an invite by Namjoon’s parents. His family and you are currently gathered around the garden while Namjoon’s dad barbeques some meat. Your best friend stands beside you, the two of you idly chatting with his parents.

“So, ____, are you seeing anyone?” Namjoon’s dad asks all of a sudden. The question surprises you, causing you to choke on the piece of meat you’d just been swallowing. Namjoon’s mom looks pointedly at her husband before lightly patting your back. However, she can’t help but notice the way her son stiffens beside you, his gaze narrowed onto his own plate.

Managing to swallow the piece of meat, you turn to Namjoon’s dad, “No, I’m not Mr. Kim, why?” you ask. Namjoon’s dad simply smiles, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“I was just wondering. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, after all. I know Namjoon was seeing someone a little while ago, but Yunmi mentioned they broke up,” Namjoon’s dad answers casually. Both you and Namjoon stiffen at that. Momentarily, you look at each other before looking away.

“Dad,” Namjoon begins, but swiftly, you cut him off.

“Ah, well, I’m not. I just… haven’t met the right guy yet, you know?” you reply awkwardly. You have met the right guy, he just doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. At your words, once again the two of you glance at each other before turning away. Your ears burn slightly, and picking up your chopsticks, you place another piece of meat into your mouth. From beside you, Namjoon’s gaze shifts to you briefly, a flicker of yearning flitting through his eyes.

Namjoon’s mother stares at the two of you knowingly, a soft smile gracing her face. Really, for as long as she’s known you, she’s been hoping that you and Namjoon would end up together. Yet, for years now, both her and her husband have watched the two of you dance around each other; your relationship clearly more than platonic, and yet neither of you doing anything about it. However, she knows that somehow, eventually, the two of you would end up together. She knew the day Namjoon had come home - back when he was merely sixteen - complaining about the boy you had a crush on.

“Are you sure? There’s this nice boy I know, I can introduce you to-” Namjoon’s dad begins. Instantly, Namjoon’s head snaps up and he looks at his father in a mix of despair and betrayal. Next to him, you stand rigid, your ears burning with embarrassment.

Sensing your awkwardness, “That’s enough, Hongjoon. I’m sure Namjoon and ____ don’t want to spend their time speaking about relationships. Just grill the meat,” Namjoon’s mother chastises, her husband only sending her a knowing grin in response.

“Very well, very well. Do you want some grilled shrimp, Namjoon?” Hongjoon asks, holding out a skewer of prawns towards his son. Namjoon looks at his father in horror, and quickly, you’re taking the skewer from his dad.

“Mr Kim, Namjoon doesn’t eat seafood, remember? However, I’d be happy to have them. Here, Joon, you can have this beef- I won’t be able to eat the shrimp too,” you easily say, passing over your meat towards him. Yunmi looks at her husband, knowing full well he’d done it purposely, however, Hongjoon just sends her an innocent smile before turning back to his grill. When a giggle resounds through the air, she turns her attention back to the two of you.

“Joon, how do you manage to get the sauce all over you? Honestly. Here,” you chide. Then, picking up a tissue, you gently dab the corner of his mouth. Yunmi watches the way you lean into each other, Namjoon standing completely still as he lets you wipe the sauce from his lips. Her eyes flicking over her son, she can’t help but smile at the way he softly watches you - nothing but tender love and affection present in his eyes.

Really, with how often you both act like a couple, she has no idea how you aren’t together yet. Unable to stop herself, “isn’t that adorable,” she coos. Both of you still, your hand midway in the air while Namjoon looks at his mother in annoyance. “Sorry, sorry. It just reminds me of when you both were younger, and the two of you would play house,” Namjoon’s mother reminisces.

“Mom- why would you bring that up?” Namjoon whines, his usually deep voice slightly higher than usual. You don’t say anything, instead, just biting your lip fondly. You remember those days - when you and Namjoon would run around pretending to be husband and wife, with your stuffed teddy bear playing your son. Briefly, you send him a side glance, your heart constricting within your chest. For the longest time, you’ve imagined your future with Namjoon. Though, you know it will never come to fruition.

“Because, Namjoon, you used to always run around saying that you would eventually marry ____. It’s nice to see that your friendship hasn’t changed though, and you’re still close - even if ____ has to look after you all the time,” Namjoon’s mum says, smiling playfully at her son.

Ignoring her first statement, “Hey! I look after her too, you know,” Namjoon splutters in indignation.

That has you scoffing and playfully rolling your eyes. “Oh please, let’s not forget that I almost had to take you to the ER because you got your fingers stuck in one of those Chinese finger puzzles,” you snort back.

Namjoon’s mother blinks in surprise, and a smirk curling on her face, “did he now? ____, you have to tell me all about it,” Yunmi says. The two of you let out twin - borderline terrifying - giggles, Namjoon simply groaning and throwing his head back.

He’d forgotten how close you and his mother were - and that frequently, you’d gang up against him. Though, watching the two of you easily speak to each other, he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if it came at his own expense.

Jogging down the stairs from your room, you look for Namjoon. The two of you had plans to go on a walk along the beach, however, he had yet to come and find you. Thus, growing tired of waiting for your best friend, you decide to find him yourself. Softly padding to the kitchen, you briefly pause when you realise he’s in there with his mother. She’s currently chopping carrots, Namjoon sitting at the island with a cup of tea in his hands.

“I don’t see why you don’t just do it. Your father and I have said we support you multiple times,” his mother sighs. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, and you find yourself hiding behind the wall. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on their conversation, but you simply can’t help yourself. Besides, Namjoon’s mother’s words have you growing curious about their topic of conversation.

“I’ve already told you-” Namjoon tries arguing, but his mother cuts him off mid-sentence,

“Namjoon, you keep denying it, but your father and I have watched the two of you dance around each other for years. You cannot tell me that you are just friends. Friends don’t act the way the two of you do, you know,” Yunmi says pointedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Namjoon asks, his head cocking to the side. Your stomach flips as you realise that they’re talking about the two of you. Shuffling further behind the wall, you press your back towards it as you continue listening in.

“It means that friends don’t hold hands because it feels comfortable, or they don’t wipe sauce from the other’s lips, and they certainly don’t cuddle together while sharing the same bed. Which,” Yunmi begins, emphasising her word when Namjoon opens his mouth to argue, “is not something your father and I have a problem with, by the way. We both like ____, we’ve known her for a long time. We know you’ll look after each other and you’ll be happy together. So why haven’t you done anything about it? We just want you to be happy, Namjoon,” Yunmi finishes.

You bite your lips at her words, your stomach flipping in a mixture of hope and nervousness. Fingers shaking slightly, you hold your breath as you await Namjoon’s response. Then, you hear him sigh and you feel your world crumble around you.

“Yeah, but mom, it’s not like that. We’re not like that. We’re just friends,” Namjoon replies. Harshly, you press your teeth down onto your lip, chewing it so intensely you fear you’ll draw blood. However, it’s the only thing keeping you from letting out a sob. Namjoon’s words replay over and over in your mind. Of course, you always knew he’d felt that way - but having it confirming it so casually, has your heart breaking.

Not wanting to listen in any longer, you silently turn around and rush back up the stairs - being as quiet as you possibly can. Once you’re up the stairs, you enter the room you’re currently sharing with Namjoon before softly shutting the door. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat - your breath laboured as you try to stop yourself from breaking out into sobs.

Walking further into the room, you take a seat onto the bed before whipping out your phone. In times like these, you’d usually call Namjoon to comfort you - but considering he’s the reason you’re hurt - you know you can’t do that. So, instead, you quickly open your contacts and call the next best thing - Jung Hoseok. Pressing the call button by his contact name, you lift the phone to your ear. With the phone ringing in your eardrum, you quietly will him to pick up, urgently needing someone to speak to.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s sweet voice comes across the phone.

“Hoseok,” you breathe out.

“____? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Where’s Namjoon?” Hoseok asks, alarm evident in his voice as he hears the heavy emotion in yours.

“I’m fine… Somewhat. I just- I needed someone to speak to, and it can’t be Namjoon,” you reply breathily. Realising there’s no reason to panic, Hoseok calms down.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he asks gently. His sweet voice echoes through your ears, calming you down. Other than Namjoon - Hoseok was really the only one who could soothe you when you’re upset. “Just breathe in deeply, ____. It’ll be fine,” he continues calmly. Nodding, you take in a deep breath, the lump in your throat relaxing a little.

“I just heard Namjoon tell his mother that we’re just friends… and I don’t know what to do anymore. I- I thought I’d be fine just being his friend, but after that kiss, and then Jihee-” you begin, however, Hoseok cuts you off with a yelp.

“Kiss?! What kiss?” he practically shrieks, his shrill voice causing you to wince. Though, despite the situation, you find yourself laughing.

“Ah- I forgot you didn’t know. When we were at Seoraksan, when Joon and I disappeared, we kissed. It wasn’t anything major but-” you begin.

“Nothing major?! Dude, you kissed the guy you’ve been in love with for years. That’s pretty fucking major. What happened? Why aren’t you together?” he quickly fires off, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Can we not do this now? It just happened and then I pulled away and apologised-” you try explaining.

“You apologised? Why would you do that?” Hoseok bursts out.

Sighing in annoyance, “Hoseok! That’s not the problem!” you seethe. Your voice breaks through the phone with a hiss, causing Hoseok to quieten down on the other side.

“Oh- yes. You’re right. But I will be asking for all the details later. Anyway, why did you call? What happened?” he questions once again.

“I just overheard Namjoon telling his mother we’re just friends… and I don’t know if I can be here anymore. I- it’s so hard. Pretending that I don’t want to be more and that I’m not in love with him. I just- I don’t want to be just friends anymore and it sucks,” you reply, your voice heavy with emotion.

“Well, why don’t you just tell him that? Like, I’m pretty sure Joon’s in love with you too, you know?” Hoseok says softly.

Unable to help yourself, you let out a snort. “That’s really rich, Hobi. What the fuck am I supposed to say? Hey, Namjoon! I’ve been in love with you for years now and I want to be more than friends? Even though I just heard him tell his mother-” you begin ranting.

However, you stop when you hear Namjoon's deep voice tear through the bedroom: “You what?”

Blood freezing, your entire body goes rigid. The moment his voice registers in your eardrums, you whip around, your eyes wide as you spot your best friend. “Namjoon,” you breathe out heavily. Despair floods through you, your ears burning as you feel your stomach sink.

“Hoseok, I’ll call you back… I have to go,” you quickly say before hanging up. Then, turning around, you hop off of the bed, “Namjoon, it’s not-” you begin, your mind running a mile a minute as you try to think of something to say. Would you even be able to say anything? To salvage your friendship with him? Or had you just unknowingly ruined it all?

“Did you mean it? Do you love me?” Namjoon asks. Repetitively, like a broken record, the words play over and over in his mind - filling him with a mix of confusion, elation and relief.

“I- Namjoon,” you try, but Namjoon simply shakes his head. In an instant, he crosses the room - until he’s right in front of you. You jerk at the sudden movement, your neck straining as you look up at him.

“Did you mean it? Please, ____, I need to know,” Namjoon exhales deeply. Left reeling by the sheer emotion in his voice, the desperation, the yearning, the tenderness - you can’t help but blink, unable to figure out what any of it means. He looks down at you intensely, his warm brown eyes leaving you captivated.

Breathing heavily, you bite your lip. Then, gathering every ounce of courage you have, you throw caution to the wind. He’d already heard you anyway. “Yes. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember,” you confess - nothing but sincere earnestness present in your voice.

The minute the words leave your lips, Namjoon’s lips crash down onto yours. For a sliver of a moment, your eyes widen in shock, however, as quickly as it comes, it goes, and soon, your eyes are slipping shut.

Loosely, his hand moves to grip your neck, as you lift your chin higher - so you can press your lips harder into his - while your hands fist into his shirt. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his. Gasping at the motion, Namjoon uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. Indolently, his silky appendage swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it.

Electrified by his kiss, you moan into his mouth, your chin lifting higher as you press your lips harder against his. Mouths moving in tandem, you lose yourself into the intoxicating feel of his lips against yours. The soft petals of his mouth are soft, and as pillowy as you remember; albeit a little chapped, but you don’t mind so much. No - because the slight abrasion only adds to the feel of your kiss.

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. Further and further, you sink into Namjoon: his body pressed flat against yours, his saccharine taste coating your tastebuds, and his warm breath wafting over your face. You can’t help but find yourself drowning into him - his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Both of you lose track of time, your tongues gliding and sliding against each other, both of you consumed wholly by the other. Lost in your own selves, you feel nothing but each other - want to feel nothing but each other - and soon, the rest of the world fades into the background. There’s a soft ache in your lungs - your chest aching from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t care. No - right now, breathing is the last thing on your mind. In fact, the only thing you can think of is Namjoon, and the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours.

Nonetheless, eventually, your lungs begin to burn - the lack of oxygen searing through your chest. When the sweltering ache grows too much to be ignored, the two of you pull away - breathing harshly against each other. Your eyes stay closed as you gasp for air, both your breaths mingling together and circulating the air. Your lips are slightly swollen, and as you flick out your tongue to soothe them, you can’t help but whimper at the aftertaste of his essence on your mouth: the flavour only deepened by his breath fanning your face.

With your eyes closed, you still feel him linger around you - his calming presence washing over you and soothing your earlier hurt. Swallowing thickly, the two of you gradually open your eyes - coming face to face with each other. You’re still only a hairsbreadth away, his mouth ghosting against yours in tender brushes. Gaze meeting his, you search his eyes for something - anything - even just an inkling of the emotions you feel for him. And as usual, Namjoon doesn’t disappoint.

He smiles gently at you, the soft tip of his nose brushing yours as he repetitively presses affectionate kisses to your lips. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that?” he breathes out.

“W-What…? I thought- you told your mother-” you stammer out, confused by the entire situation.

“You’re an idiot you know,” Namjoon chuckles. Instantly, your face falls, ire rising in your chest. But before you can say anything, Namjoon shakes his head and presses his lips to yours, “I’m an idiot too. This entire time, I thought you didn’t feel the same - so I kept telling myself that we were just friends,” Namjoon admits. Then, he pauses, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be more either,” he confesses.

Your heart swells with happiness, a bright grin gracing your face. Then, you still. A sliver of confusion enters your eyes, and your features knit in the slightest, “but… that day in Seoraksan… you didn’t reciprocate,” you point out. Namjoon lets out a low, mirthless laugh.

“Is that why you pulled away and apologised?” he asks. When you nod, he just sighs and shakes his head, “I wasn’t expecting it ____, and by the time I realised what was happening, you were already pulling away and apologising. But- I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to pull you closer and kiss you harder. I wanted you that day, more than you’ll know,” he admits. Face crumpling with emotion, realisation dawns over you - the epiphany crashing over you like a pile of bricks.

Laughing, “we’re idiots, aren’t we? Have we been in love this entire time?” you ask, biting your lip to try and swallow down the smile. Namjoon matches your laugh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through your entire being. You close your eyes and let it wash over you, the sound bringing peace to your very soul.

“Yeah, we have. But- better late than never, right?” Namjoon chuckles.

Nodding eagerly, you let out the laugh that bubbles up in your chest, “I love you,” you confess once again.

Unhesitantly, “I love you too. So fucking much,” Namjoon responds. Then, the hand gripping your neck curls tighter, and he’s dipping his head down again.

Pressing his lips to yours again, you can’t help but sigh. It’s a little different than before - slow, with a lower undercurrent of urgency. Moaning into his kiss, you press yourself harder against him, your fingers carding into the hair as the base of his neck. Gripping the roots of his locks, you attempt to deepen the kiss, Namjoon lightly chuckling into your mouth when you whine in protest. Slowly, Namjoon pulls you backwards, stopping when the backs of his knees hit the bed.

Indolently, his large hands trace along your spine, his palms trailing along your covered flesh. Every single one of his touches sets your skin aflame with desire, heat settling deep within the pits of your abdomen. Taking a step closer, you moan into his mouth when you feel his hardening shaft against the soft of your belly - involuntarily grinding against it. Your movements cause him to let out a strained grunt, and breaking away from your kiss, he groans out your name.

Lust coursing through your bloodstream, you begin peppering kisses along the sharp outline of his jaw - your lips tracing the edge. Responsively, Namjoon’s hands drop to your hips, his hands splaying across your ass before pulling you flush against him. The two of you writhe together - your lower abdomen squirming against the outline of his growing bulge. Fists moving to curl around his shirt, your eyelids flutter as you feel him lightly palm at your ass - his fingers flexing and gripping the supple cheeks.

Your mouth parts open, and you let out a slew of breathy moans - heat pooling deep within your loins as you find yourself growing wetter. Dipping his head down, Namjoon buries his face into the crook of your neck - his pillowy lips tenderly roving over the skin. “J-Joon,” you stutteringly whimper, your eyes rolling back when he playfully nips your skin. Puckering his lips, he presses them to the sensitive spot just below your ear before sucking harshly. Responsively, a low mew resounds from your lips. In the wake of his kisses and light nips, you have no doubt he’s leaving hickeys over your flesh: mauve and rose marks blooming over your skin.

Sighing under him, “I want you,” you mumble quietly.

Namjoon runs his nose down the column of your throat before outlining the shape of your collarbone. When he reaches just below your chin - where your two clavicles meet, he bites down softly - making you whimper out his name. Lazily, he flicks out his tongue, the wet appendage gliding soothingly over your stinging flesh. Then, pulling away, “I want you too,” he mutters back. His cool breath fans against your flushed skin, the wet spot on your flesh evaporating, causing you to shudder.

“Then take me,” you groan back - nothing but want and earnestness in your voice.

The moment the words slip out, Namjoon’s fingers firmly dig into your ass, and then, he’s lifting you up. Yelping at the sudden movement, you quickly brace yourself onto his shoulders, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. You feel him manoeuvre the two of you onto the bed - until you’re both in the middle. Letting you go, he gently puts you onto the bed - and when your knees are firmly against the mattress he lets you go.

The two of you kneel on the bed; your hands tracing up his toned chest - feeling every defined muscle under his shirt - and towards his face. Cupping his chin, you pull him in for another kiss - desperately needing to feel his lips against yours once again. Automatically, Namjoon dips his head down, his mouth chasing yours as both your tongues begin gliding against each other.

Feverishly, your hands begin roaming over each other - hot lust clouding your minds as your kiss grows fervent with desire. Urgently, your hands roam over each other - Namjoon’s large palms pushing under the hem of your dress and over your bare thigh under he reaches the junction between your thighs. Boldly, he presses his hand to your panty-clad folds, and the sudden touch has you breaking your kiss with a surprised cry.

Soft whine spilling from your lip, you grind into his hand, your walls clenching as you feel him softly stroke your folds. The heat between your thighs is uncomfortable, and radiates so strongly that Namjoon can’t help but hiss - the knuckle of his thumb imperceptibly caressing your throbbing clit. Skin flashing with heat, you pull away from him briefly, and before he can even comprehend what’s happening, you’re gripping the hem of your dress and taking it off of you.

The moment your scantily covered body greets his eyes, Namjoon lets out a strained groan - his eyes roaming over your flesh. Your body is not new to him - no, in fact, he’s seen you in various states of undress at different points in your friendship. Nonetheless, it’s different now; your chest heaves as you gasp for air, and your heavily lidded eyes: gaze turbulent with lust. Intense eyes rove over your body, Namjoon practically drinking you in.

Growing wetter under his heavy stare, you feel your inner walls clench - your nipples twisting to hardness under the lace cups of your bra. “Namjoon,” you breathe out heavily. Wantonness thick in your voice, Namjoon quickly sheds off his own clothing - your mouth drying when you see the muscles of his biceps bugle as he removes his t-shirt. Cool air wafts over your heated skin and goosebumps prickle over your flesh, causing you to shudder. However, it only lasts a moment because Namjoon is swiftly pulling you flush against him,

Warm skin melding together, you cry out in pleasure when your hard nipples brush against his chest through the rough material of your bra. The friction sends spikes of lust straight to your core, a gush of wetness seeping through your pussy before soaking into the material of your underwear. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Namjoon runs his soft lips over your flesh; peppering kisses onto your skin. Meanwhile, his hands move back to grasp your ass - caressing and kneading the flesh in his large palms.

Your own shaky hands push between your bodies: trembling digits falling to the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans as you attempt to undo the button. Finally managing to pop the button, you desperately push the rough material of his trousers down his hips. When you struggle to remove them from you, Namjoon pushes you away. Flopping bonelessly onto the bed as you watch him rid himself of his trousers. When he’s left in nothing but his boxers, your mouth practically salivates.

As if magnetically drawn, your eyes instinctively fall to his hips, and you suck in a sharp breath at the sight. The defined ‘v’ of his hips leads to his boxer-clad shorts - his cock pressed to the side of his thigh by his tight underwear. Throat constricting, your eyes widen slightly at the shape of it - even through his underwear, he looks huge: the thick girth pressed against his toned left thigh. As you continue practically leering at him, Namjoon crawls over you. Instinctively, your thighs part, allowing him to crawl between them.

His hands brace on either side of you, the strong muscles of his arms twitch as he bears the entirety of his body weight on them. Arms shooting up, you run them over his naked shoulders before carding into his hair as you tug him further over you. A soft gasp slips from your mouth when his weight presses over you: his defined chest over yours and his hips pressing into yours in the most enticing way. Hands entwined into his hair, you watch the way the ambient light encases him in an amber halo, your eyes softening at the sight.

Straining your neck, you attach your lips to his once again, pouring all the love you feel for him into your kiss. Languidly, Namjoon’s tongue slides over your lips, the motion causing you to sigh. He’s sweet on your tongue; his honeyed essence bathing your tastebuds until he’s all you can feel. This time, your lips move slowly - mouths moving softly in tandem with each other as your tongues slide against the other leisurely.

Namjoon shifts above you - the movement causes his heated erection to brush against the thin, soaked material of your underwear. Reflexively, you buck into him - causing Namjoon to hiss. Shifting above you, Namjoon’s hands trail over your thighs. Then, hooking your legs around his waist, he’s suddenly flipping you over. Yelping in surprise at the abrupt movement, you fall into him; Namjoon’s arm loosely wrapping around your naked waist.

In your new position, he sits with his back against the headboard; your thighs straddling his hips. Namjoon’s warm hand indolently drifts down your waist, until it rests comfortably in the curve of your spine. Shifting into a more comfortable position, you sit on his lap - both of you groaning when your cores press together. Responsively, Namjoon bucks up into you, the action causing you to shudder.

“Namjoon,” you whine, your hips squirming over his.

“What do you want, baby?” Namjoon asks, his neck straining up to brush his lips against yours.

“I want you,” you reply easily. A smile curls on his lips, and playfully, he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. Sucking the soft flesh, he rakes his teeth over the swollen petal, making you sough into his mouth.

Simultaneously, Namjoon’s hands drop to your hips, and gripping them, he pushes your pelvis down - so that your wet, covered folds are flat against his cock. The movement causes you both to cry: you - at the intoxicating feel of his throbbing cock around your weeping sex, and Namjoon - at the wet heat pressing into his hardness.

“F-Fuck, Joon,” you mewl. Hips moving of their own accord, you begin grinding your heated cunt against his hard shaft. The skimpy material of your panties hinders nothing, and easily, you feel his cock - hot and pulsing, through the material of both your underwear. Namjoon’s hands trail to your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he begins moving you over him. Instinctively, the two of you fall into a synchronous rhythm, your hips writhing together in frantic movement as you lose yourself into your pleasure.

“God, baby, you’re so fucking hot… and wet. How are you this wet?” Namjoon groans - the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through the air. Fingers digging harder into your ass, he gyrates harder into you, soft grunts and pants escaping his lips as he feels your wet heat against his cock. “Fuck- that’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock - you feel so good,” Namjoon moans, his head falling back. The soft murmurs of his voice rip through the silent room, the sounds of his own pleasure intermingling with yours.

Your hands fall to his shoulders, and using them as leverage, you begin pushing your hips harder into his. With every brush of his cock between your folds, you can’t help but grow wetter - your toes curling in pleasure. Namjoon watches you practically bounce on his cock - the top swells of your breast rippling with each movement. Unable to help himself, he moves his hands to unclasp your bra. When you feel the elasticated band loosen, the strap falling down your shoulder, you move your hands from his shoulders - divesting the brassier off of you.

Breasts free, and swaying with every one of your movements, Namjoon finds himself entranced by the sight. From his position under you, he leans forward and wraps his lips against the right peak, pulling the hardened bud into his mouth and gently sucking. The moment you feel his plush lips around your nipple, you cry out his name. Pussy clenching around nothing, you whimper at the ache between your thighs.

“Fuck, Namjoooon,” you whine - drawing out the syllables of his name. Indolently, his tongue swirls around your nipple - tracing its outline over and over again, while he simultaneously suckles at it. His hands are back on your ass - holding the plump flesh in his large hands while squeezing and spreading them apart.

Pleasure seeps into your veins, and you begin grinding more feverishly against him. Short gasps of pleasure slip from your lips, the friction of your sodden lace panties and his cotton boxers slowly driving you wild. You have no doubt that you’re dripping now - the material of his boxers soaked enough to leave damp trails of your wetness onto the fabric. Your stomach twists - the heat inside causing your stomach to flip and turn with every one of your movements.

Hands braced on his shoulders, you dig your fingernails into the thick muscle - Namjoon grunting at the slight pain. When he unexpectedly bites down on your nipple, rolling the peak between his teeth - your cunt clenches painfully and you sob out his name. “M-More, please. I-I need more,” you whimper. Hearing the desperation in your voice, Namjoon takes pity on your form.

Hand slipping down between your thighs, you feel him push your hips off of his cock. A whine of protest slips through your lips, your walls clenching as they ache for the feel of his cock - however, your displeasure only lasts a few moments. Pressing his fingers against your folds, Namjoon lazily begins stroking his fingers through your covered slit - causing you to whimper out his name.

“Fuck- you’ve soaked through your panties, baby. Do you want my cock this much?” Namjoon asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. It’s all you can do to nod eagerly, you hips pressing harder into his hand.

“J-Joonie- more,” you helplessly mewl, squirming into his fingers.

Namjoon chuckles from under you, but gives into you. Pushing the gusset of your underwear to the side, his fingers stroke through your naked folds, causing you to hiss and drop your head onto his shoulder. Tenderly, Namjoon traces the outline of your folds - completely in awe of how absolutely sodden they are. He’s barely even touched your entrance, yet thick, filmy strings of your wetness coat the pads of his digits.

“God- I’ve dreamt of what your pussy would feel like - but I never thought it’d be this good,” Namjoon admits - his thumb moving to stroke your hardened clit. The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy bud causing you to buck into him, you cunt contracting around nothing.

Twisting your hand between your bodies, you push his boxers down all of a sudden. Abruptly, his cock springs out before the heavy length falls onto his lower abdomen. In an instant, your palm is stroking the thick length, your mouth watering as you admire his shaft. The velvet length is long, and incredibly girthy, and you have no doubt that he’s going to stretch you out deliciously. Experimentally, you wrap your fingers around before gently squeezing.

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your ministration - the action eliciting a short gasp from his lips as he bucks into your hand. Dropping his head to your chest, you feel him nuzzle the top swells of your breast, while he lightly presses tender kisses into your flesh. Between your thighs, his fingers rove further down your slit, until his digits are teasing your entrance. A low mewl falls from your lips, your hips writhing into his hand as you try to get him to push his fingers into you. God, you desperately need something to fill the ache.

“Joonie- want your fingers,” you murmur, not even bothering to hide the pout in your voice. Namjoon laughs lowly under you, and with an apologetic kiss to your sternum, his digits lightly push against the tight ring of your entrance. Fingernail circling your entrance - almost tauntingly - Namjoon relishes in the way it twitches for him: the tight rings clenching and unclenching involuntarily. Growing tired of his teasing motions, “Joonie, please,” you practically beg.

The ache between your thighs throbs with a vengeance, causing you to squeeze his cock. Hand stroking up to his tip, you take a moment to admire the bulbous mushroom tip. The head is sticky with precum, your thumb swiping over the slit, wetting the tip in his own translucent precum. Rhythmically, your hand begins pumping around the rest of his shaft - your fingers tightening around his girth intermittently.

“Sh-shit. Fuck, that feels good. God, your hand feels so fucking good,” Namjoon praises. He rewards your actions by deliberately pushing two fingers into you - your wetness allowing them to slide in with ease. Drawing sharp raspy breaths from you, Namjoon shallowly begins pumping them into you - never delving deeper than the first knuckle. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. Indolently, he pumps them - matching the pace of your hand stroking his cock.

Nuzzling into your chest, Namjoon breathes in your scent deeply, relishing in the comforting smell. It’s heavier this time - the smell of your arousal and sweat mixing in with your natural one. Yet, he doesn’t mind. Not when it smells wholly inebriating. “What do you want, baby?” Namjoon murmurs. His voice is low, dropping a couple of octaves, and the baritone sound thrums against your skin: causing goosebumps to flit over your arms.

Unhesitantly, “you,” you whisper back. Letting out an appreciative groan, Namjoon slides his fingers deeper into you. With a keening whine, you begin pumping his length harder - groaning in pleasure when his fingers inside you also pick up the pace.

“You’re so fucking - shit - tight. Can’t wait to feel you on my cock,” Namjoon breathily whispers. His words cause you to clench involuntarily - your hand tightening around his shaft. God, you don’t think you can wait any longer. You need to feel him inside you. Right now. Something you express to Namjoon.

“Want your cock- Joonie, please,” you implore, pressing your lips harshly against his.

Drawing away, “fuck, okay. Let’s get these off,” Namjoon says as hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. Shuffling away from him for a moment - the both of you quickly remove your last articles of clothing: leaving you completely naked.

With not a moment to spare, Namjoon wraps his hands around your thighs, before pulling you back onto his lap. Hastily, you throw your leg over his hip, straddling him once again. One hand on your ass, and other gripping his shaft, Namjoon strokes the velvet head of his cock through your folds: the tip dragging over your clit before catching on your entrance. You hiss at the heated sensation of his cock, your eyelids fluttering when you feel it press against your entrance.

When he’s firmly positioned at your dripping hole, you slowly begin lowering yourself onto him. The moment his head breaches your walls, however, you let out a deep, guttural groan. Completely doused in your wetness, his cock should slide easily into you - however, his girth is so thick that you can’t help but mewl in pain. Squirming over him, your breath turns laboured as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock - the ache of the stretch burning your walls, the pain mingling with pleasure.

“Fucking hell- how are you this- fuck- big?” you keen, your eyes screwing shut. Namjoon leans forward - the movement causing him to sink another inch into you and making you gasp. Dropping his head to your neck, he peppers comforting kisses into your skin while his hand soothingly rubs over your lower back.

Nonetheless, there’s pleasure mixed in the pain and you continue lowering yourself onto his cock. Inch by inch, you take him into you - his cock slowly opening up your walls around his unrelenting length. With every second that passes, you feel his cock drag deliberately against your inner walls - your cunt clenching rhythmically - and forcing you to feel every ridge and vein of his thick girth. Eventually, you sink completely down - your hips pressed against his - and his cockhead kissing the soft walls of your cervix.

There’s an intense pressure deep within your stomach - Namjoon’s cock throbbing erratically inside you. The feel of him nestled so deep within you has you sighing in pleasure. There’s still a dull ache - from how wide he stretches you out; your walls pulled apart to their limits - but pleasure soon replaces the stinging ache. Gradually, you adjust to Namjoon’s size and with an experimental swivel of your hips, you cry out in pleasure.

“God, your pussy is so fucking tight - and wet - shit,” Namjoon slurs - euphoric elation dripping in his words. Breath laboured, you begin lifting yourself over his cock, your back arching - pushing your chest into you - as you ride his tremendous length. With every flex of your thighs, you can’t help but cry out in pleasure. Not only is Namjoon’s cock thick, but he’s incredibly long too, his length just slightly curved: allowing his head to drag against that sweet spot inside you.

Large hands falling to your hips, Namjoon grips them tightly as he helps you move on top of him. Every movement has hot spikes of pleasure jolting across your skin, your toes curling in elation while your stomach twists and knots violently. The rapturous bliss of your impending orgasm calling to you, you begin bouncing your ass over him. Namjoon groans at the feeling, and unable to help himself, one of his hand moves to splay across the curve of your back - pulling you flush into his chest.

Skin melding together, your sweat acting as a glue, you lose yourself into the feel of Namjoon. Abruptly, your arms shoot out and you wrap them around his chest, your fingernails digging into his flesh as you hold him close to you. With his cock buried deep into you, and his head buried in the crook of your neck - Namjoon is all you can feel. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, your nose burrowing into the side of his head as you breathe in his calming scent deeply.

From under you, Namjoon fucks his cock upward - his thrusts pushing him deeper into you. The additional sensation causes you to whimper, your ass twitching as sheer, unadulterated bliss begins flitting through your bloodstream. You’re close - so close you can practically taste your orgasm; even if your mouth is completely dry from gasping his name over and over again.

Feeling your walls begin to pulsate erratically - the rhythm of their contracting falling out of sync - Namjoon knows you’re close. All of a sudden, he pulls you even closer to him - a feat you had considered wholly impossible, considering you’re clinging to each other - and then, he’s flipping you over. Squealing in surprise, you feel your body bounce on the bed, before Namjoon falls over you.

The entire time he moves your bodies, his cock stays buried deep inside your pussy - your walls involuntarily clenching around his shaft. In your new position, Namjoon’s entire weight is braced on one hand beside you, his other hand resting on your back - under your body - as he pulls your chest into his. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he grinds his cock into you. With your new positioning, every time Namjoon thrusts into you, his pelvic bone drags along your clit: making you cry out his name in pleasure.

“J-J-Joon, I-I-I’m c-close,” you stutter out, your back arching as you push your hips into his.

Nodding above you, Namjoon gasps and pants for air. “Fuck baby, me too,” he replies. Legs shooting out, you wrap them around his hips, and heels digging into the fleshy globes of Namjoon’s ass, you pull him deeper into you.

Slowly, yet fervently, the two of your rock into each other - chasing your own highs. You cling desperately to him, your arms still holding onto his shoulders as you writhe together. Then, needing to feel his lips on yours, you strain your neck and press your mouth to his. Instantly, his mouth opens, and your tongues begin lashing against each other leisurely - Namjoon’s intoxicating essence coating your tastebuds.

One of his hands twist between your body before you feel him stroke your clit. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips: your breaths heavily intermingling together. “Cum for me, baby,” Namjoon urges. His command, paired with the way his fingers dance across your clit, and how his cock drags against your sweet spot, has you careening off of the brink of pleasure.

Mouth falling open, your muscles strain as you choke out a cry of euphoria. Head lolling back, your back arches violently as you twist and contort in pleasure under Namjoon. Rapturous ecstasy ricochets through your entire body, your muscles trembling violently as you cum around his cock. Feeling your pussy tighten in a vice-like grip, your inner walls gushing with wetness as you milk his shaft, Namjoon lets out a deep roar. His own head falls onto your chest, and with a few more thrusts, he buries his cock as deep inside you as he can before he cums.

Through the haze of your pleasure, you feel Namjoon’s cock swell inside you. All of a sudden, his cock begins throbbing - and then you feel it. Rope after rope of thick cum shoots inside you, his seed filling up your inner walls and painting them white. His warm cum fills you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. Once he’s done, you feel him soften inside you - and slowly, Namjoon pulls out.

You whine in protest, your walls a little raw from his thick girth - and when he retreats completely, you can’t help but jerk: his head popping out of you. Instantly, his cum begins leaking out, causing you to mewl in pleasure - your entrance throbbing and only forcing more of his cum out. Namjoon sits back on his heels, both your chests heaving as you attempt to catch your breath.

From his position, his eyes drop to your pussy - a low groan of appreciation resounding from deep within his throat. Your legs are spread wide, and your pussy slightly gaping from where he’d fucked you open. But he’s more focused on how his cum leaks out of you, his seed dripping down your ass. Chest swelling with pride, he can’t help but let out a lazy smile.

Leaning forward, he presses one hand onto your inner thigh, while the other swipes two fingers between your slit, gathering up his cum, and pushing it back into you. You wince at the sensation, a low groan slipping from your throat at the sensitivity. Pressing a kiss to your knee, “We’ll have to clean you up,” Namjoon mumbles, even as he continues pushing his fingers inside you.

“Later, I’m tired,” you murmur back whinily. When the ache of oversensitivity gets too much, you bat Namjoon’s hand away before closing your legs. With a low laugh, Namjoon presses an apologetic kiss to your knee.

Then, he flops down next to you. Feeling your best friend settle next to you, you automatically shift in bed - turning and curling into his body. Instinctively, Namjoon’s strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into him. Hazily, your head still swimming in its post-orgasmic bliss, you feel Namjoon push your hair out of your face. You smile softly at the tender gesture, your smile widening when you feel him brush his lips against your temple affectionately.

“I love you,” Namjoon whispers.

Shuffling closer into him, you press your naked body into his. Easily, your legs tangle together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you.

Sleep already fogging your mind, “I love you too,” you mumble back. Then, after a short pause, “we’re together right…?” you murmur. Namjoon laughs at the slight slur to your voice.

Lazily, he picks up your hand, and entwining your fingers together, he brings them to his lips. Pressing his lips to each of your knuckles in a soft kiss, he nods, “we’re together, baby,” he replies. Sighing in pleasure, you nod happily before snuggling into him. Breathing in his scent, you let the mix of fabric softener, lotion and sweat waft over you - the cacophony of fragrances slowly lulling you to sleep.

Hours later, you and Namjoon wake up from your nap - just in time for dinner. With little giggles, you and Namjoon begin cleaning yourselves up - your face scrunching when you wipe the dried up cum between your legs with the damp washcloth Namjoon had given you. Walking over to your suitcase, you pull out a change of underwear, before slipping on your dress from earlier; Namjoon’s face falling when your body is hidden from his view.

“Why are you pouting?” you ask, throwing your hair into a ponytail as you turn around to face him.

“I miss looking at you, already,” Namjoon replies, an exaggerated pout on his face. Rolling your eyes playfully, you walk over to him and press a kiss to his lower jaw.

Then wrapping your arms around his neck, “Well, I miss looking at you too… but, we have all the time later tonight,” you say. Then, you grow quiet. Sensing the nervousness exuding from your being, Namjoon gently places his hands on your hips, before lightly caressing them in comfort. “And… for the rest of our lives,” you continue, the words leaving you in a single breath. There’s uncertainty in your eyes, because really, neither of you had spoken about what you are - you’d just fallen into bed after your confession.

Gaze softening, Namjoon drops his lips to your forehead. “For the rest of our lives,” he repeats - confident resolve heavy in his tone. His words cause a smile to grace your face. Beaming up at him, you draw onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then, pulling away, you take one of his hands into yours, and entwining your fingers together, you tug at him, “alright, come on. We need to go down for dinner before your parents come looking for us,” you say.

Namjoon nods, and the two of you slip out of your bedroom and back downstairs. With each passing moment, you feel dread pool heavily into your stomach. Nervousness grips your entire being, and desperately, you cling tighter to Namjoon - soaking in all the comfort your boyfriend - boyfriend! - offers you. Finally, the two of you step into the kitchen. Immediately, both of Namjoon’s parents turn to him - however, before they can greet you, they halt.

Instantly, their gaze drops to your entwined hands. Time moves past slowly - the seconds passing excruciatingly. The longer they’re silent, the more nervous you grow. Then, after what feels like aeons, Namjoon’s parents both smile.

Eyes twinkling with mirth, “well… finally,” Namjoon’s mother says, a knowing smile on her face.

a/n: thank you i love my man

⇥ Kofi | Masterlist

[whereflowersbloom]

Meet me at the horizon

Damian has spent nearly three hours inside the meeting room of one of the biggest companies of the Eastern Coast, Wayne Enterprises, the silence was strong after several hours discussing the approval of new projects, majority of them Proposed by Timothy Drake. Tim was a genius in Computer Engineering and Technologies, currently working with Lucious Fox. He just graduated and was already making money developing enterprise digital assistance apps and what not for the company. Unfortunately the silence lasted less than two deep breaths as the board directors, shareholders, his siblings and even his own father were exchanging goodbyes and handshakes, scheduling the next meeting already. His father had promised to take Helena shopping with Selina. His adoptive siblings stayed in the meeting room, deciding to have a much-deserved break, to catch up with their daily activities.

Damian frowned unconsciously, his head was throbbing with the surge of scenes in his head. The scenes he was so used to see in his dreams for the last nine months, but the last three months have been assaulting him any moment of the day, especially close to his eldest brother Richard. The meeting seemed to have opened a door to these dreams and this talk about opening an office in Jump city was making it worse. Jump City. He had the vague sensation he’d been there before...

Tim, Richard and Duke seemed to be too busy speaking about the next big game of Gotham Knights, the hockey team, to notice his troubled expression. They mumbled something about asking Jason to slow down from his intense sportbike racer life and watch the game all together. Damian didn’t bother listening to the rest, he was attacked by images of that younger version of himself in some kind of flashy vigilante costume fighting criminals.

“We should go to the game this weekend. The girl I’m seeing now, Kori said she was interested in learning about traditional sports. She’s been in Gotham for six months now. She’s very enthusiastic about cultural learning.” Richard suggested with a wide smile to his siblings completely excited. Eyes like wildfire lit with the spark of life. He hadn’t met Dick’s girlfriend but he looked happier than he’s ever seen him in years.

“Are you joining, D or you’ve got a date?” Duke asked with a teasing tone in his sardonic voice.

Damian did not retribute the smile his adoptive brother gave him, trying to mask his still throbbing head. He looked at him, threatening gaze was a subtle warning. He didn’t know why this was happening that day, but the talk about Jump City and Dick’s new girlfriend were just bringing more of those images. Most of them weren’t good ones. Gory, brutal, bloody. He liked more the ones that seemed to joyful. The ones with that girl.

“He barely seem to have time to meet someone. He’s a workaholic.” it was Tim who answered with an amused smile on his lips, masking an exhausted mien.

“At this pace he’s close enough to become a celibate monk.” Duke joked elbowing Tim lightly, who laughed in response.

“I tried to set him up with some girls, but I almost end up with a broken jaw.” Dick shrugged slightly as he told them with details how Damian had turned down Kara Danvers, Tim’s girlfriend’s best friend. Admittedly she was a nice-looking woman but not the one he desired.

Damian decided to ignore the moronic comments about his love life from his siblings.

Storming out of the meeting room without uttering a single word. They knew nothing about his romantic life. Tsk. A breath of fresh is what he required, lost in consuming thoughts about the girl.

People form the company knew him as the extremely professional boss that run his department with an almost iron fist, he was fair though, accepting the situation of people that worked under him, but he didn’t accept people trying to take advantages or lacking in his services. And he was indeed workaholic.

The media knew him as the ‘Ice Prince of Gotham’, the young heir that was always looking serious, with a cold aura around him, with no type of relationships or scandals so far. He didn’t have the bad boy aura like Jason, ‘chicks’ seemed to dig it as Duke would crudely express. He appeared distant of people out of his inner circle. However, women followed him like bees to flowers in order to collect nectar.

It was just his Wayne charm he couldn’t turn off, regardless of the situation. Like his father, Damian just attracted female attention like a magnet. But no girlfriend. He's had the odd fling here and there but nobody has ever really caught his eye and he's incredibly busy he hasn't the time to feel that maybe he's missing out. Until he saw her.

All his time, attention and passion have been poured into his work. Not that he loved it exactly but he's never been one to do things by halves. Of course he made time to spend quality time with his family, after all, little Helena was barely ten years old. Perky and tireless, too smart for her age if he added. EHis youngest sister.

He was also known in the sports world as one of the most skilled people on the art of the traditional sword fighting and martial arts. He didn’t know where this passion for sword fighting began, although he would bet all his money that it had something to do with his strange recurrent dreams.

 Although his life was satisfactory in his personal view, he always felt as if something was missing. He felt as lonely as the teenager in his dreams when the girl was not around him. She was missing.

Why this bothered him so much, he couldn’t find a logical reason that made any sense. It was just a simple dream, and that girl wasn’t much more than that. A dream. But why he felt that way? That need to look around every time he was in a place full of people hoping to get a glimpse of those shinning amethyst eyes looking at him like she did in his dreams with such profound emotion. Or his necessity to look for her around the world as if he was sure he could find her. She was etched in his bones, buried in down his bronze skin, burning in his chest leaving him out of breath. The images were flooding his mind again. More than absurd dreams, they were a recollection of memories...from a different lifetime perhaps.

They had something briefly, he gathered from the persistent dreams. It was intense, passionate. It was only something he could describe as love. But suddenly they parted ways, forced to be away from the other. They lost contact. The images were so vivid. They felt so real. A first last kiss filled with sorrow, powerlessness, genuine affection. It was carved into his mind until he memorized it. That moment. The warmth and scent of her breath put him in an hypnotic daze. Her lips parted softly, and he could taste faint traces salt from her tears when her soft lips pressed against his. He could feel lightning coursing through his veins, as if his entire world had been set ablaze only lasting seconds. Then it was gone. The ghost of a promise of a second chance. He’d grown tired of waiting for her to appear before his eyes. Every damn second felt like an eternity in itself. With every passing moment, his patience waned a little more and his heart sank a little further.

The haunting pain, endless longing, fear of losing her, the regret of leaving her behind first. They were all real. It was a silent torture.

At first, foolishly he believed these feelings would eventually fade and he would no longer be haunted by her phantom presence. Only memories he thought as he closed his emerald eyes. And her pale, heart-shaped, beautiful face flitted across his mind. Damian had spent his entire life being in control. But every time he met her in his dreams, he seemed to lose his grasp on his emotions, his life, and sometimes, even his destiny. He had to find her.

The wind howling through halls of old memories, piercing through solitude, skin and bone until there’s nothing but heavy emotions and melancholy. Walking with a heart that’s taken too many hits, never too fragile but refusing to be held in the hands of another’s that don’t belong to hers. In his chest remained an ache, a longing for what was or could have been. What he let slip.

“I am sorry we did not have time, Raven.” He mumbled almost in a whisper to nothingness. It felt like a heartfelt apology a thousand years too late. Maybe more or less. A lifetime too late. If their hearts and destiny were entwined surely they would find their back to each other no matter what. Damian carried that hope in his heart, always his constant companion. If He were to walk to the ends of the earth and waited for her on the horizon after the sun has set, would she be there? At the point where the land and sky meets. Could they be together once again?

Raven. The girl. He thought of her during the long hours between dusk and dawn, as he ate dinner alone or read next to the window. She was an ever present fixture in his mind and never more so than today. He considered what he might say to her once he found her, but what rational excuse could he offer to a stranger? He doubted she would find comfort in the ridiculous phrases he might string together about meeting in a past lifetime or those dreams. What if she had them too? If it wasn’t some breathtakingly realistic illusion and she was so where in this city or Jump City or anywhere else looking for him. It was silly to entertain such notions, he knew it well. But that didn’t stop his mind from wandering from time to time when he found a poignant passage of poetry that tugged at his heart, or a new book that fascinated him. She loved books how he knew that, he was not sure. What he wouldn’t give to have long days spent indulging their mutual passion for literature, poetry, history and ancient languages.

He’s been walking around for longer than he imagined, looking at his watch it’s last 6:00 pm. It was out of instinct or some magnetic pull forcing his body to look at the flower shop, whatever universal spirit or energy did it. He was thankful. The shop was tiny, a sliver of space between a cafe and bookstore, and would have disappeared into the surrounding stone and woodwork had it not been for the white and lavender exterior. Eyes quickly scanning surroundings. It was exquisite and untamed, thorny blackberry brambles mingle with fresh citrusy kumquats wrapped languidly around overhanging light fixtures for a wild, yet utterly magnificent and unique look. It had a three-panel glass window boasting an avant-garde display of blush dahlias, blizzard hydrangeas, soft purple lilacs, a mixture of green stems and leaves that balanced everything out. He had been here before but never spotted the shop. The shop was definitely new and if Damian hadn’t known this neighborhood so well, the faint smell of fresh paint would have given it away.

Her hair was a deep navy blue sprinkled with white, like starlight in winter. Her heart-shaped had matured beautifully, moonlight skin. She was a flashing star born with striking surreal violet orbs. She was holding astilbe flowers in white and soft pink. She set the flowers on the counter carefully, her fingers hovering in the space around them, like she wanted to guard them, to protect every petal from the possibility of being crushed. As if they were more than blooms of colour, like there were uniquely cherishable aspects to each one that is not present in the next. He could see that type of caring in her. This was his Raven. This can’t be real, Right? The world wouldn’t be this cruel to him, playing mind tricks on him. She was here. O

Damian thought of every slow-motion, heart-stopping, head-spinning scene in every romance movie or show or novel and how he’d always assumed they were stupid, nothing but rubbish. But here he was standing astonished literally staring at the woman of his dreams. Speak with her. Just hear her low and calming voice. That was all his mind would permit him to focus on, the single-minded determination to see her again.

He moved with driving purpose, his legs propelling him to go inside the little store and tell her everything about his dreams, recollection of old memories. The thought crossed his mind so briefly he scarcely dwelt on it, but that was how it had been for him in the months since dreaming of Raven. His pace slowed as he was stopped by the entrance door, opening it slowly, willing his heart to steady the gallop rhythm of its beats. The sun was shining brightly through the shop’s windows, soft classical music played through the serene and scented atmosphere.

The anticipation rushing through his veins felt like burning his tongue on Earl Grey too hot-tea a chilly rainy day, a dry mouth after sleepless night tossing and turning because other side of his bed looked too empty, trees in the park swayed and shuddered by the afternoon air before lighting fractures the sky and shakes earth, like he’s been waiting a million of breaths for this moment. In his twenty-one years of existence never experienced this wild and frantic emotion.

He swallowed around a very dry throat when he let the door swing shut behind him as his short, hesitant strides brought him directly up to the counter. Now they were face to face. Mustering the courage to say anything. Anything that dint make her think he was insane. But when his gaze met hers. Damian found himself awe-struck by the intensity behind familiar amethyst eyes. The stars couldn’t compare. The world and moon would crumble away. The sun would collapse into itself at this dazzling and glorious constellation that she was. Lilac pools hiding something mystic and ancient in their depth.

She leaned in closer to him in such a natural way, raising her head just to meet his. Her smile was sincere and expectant, pupils blown wide, but they’re focused, dark and determined, nearly drowning out the violet glint of her irises. His lips ached to reach for hers in a hungry kiss but refrained. Speechless, heart pounding in chest, peculiar fluttering sensation in his stomach, waiting for her to speak. Finally she took a deep and long breath before whispering. “Hello Damian. It’s been quite a long time.”

I rewrote this and hope you all like it. I can’t find it in me to update stories right now but have this short prompt. Specially written for @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @xaphrin @alerialblu @niahti and all my friends and readers. I’m so sorry some of you have been getting hate but we stand strong and together. 💜❤️❤️🥺🥺

@deep-in-mind67 @kallura-juniblade @bourniebna @timid-soot-sprite @deepbreadlover @tweepunkgrl @srose-foxfire

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Who Says You Can't Go Home - Chapter 7

Darkwing Duck (90s series) fanfiction

Sequel to my recent fanfic The Other Side of Me

Summary: Down on his luck, the Negaverse Launchpad crashes at Launchpad’s parents looking for help. Launchpad, who has avoided visiting his family since he started working with Darkwing, returns in a panic to ensure his double isn’t causing trouble. And then it gets awkward.

Chapter 1

***

Launchpad pulled up outside his derelict little shack. He left the Gator’s headlights on. The horizon was stained pink, but the colour was draining fast. “Negaduck, I’m here! I’ve got your answer… you bastard.”

“About time. I was getting bored.” Negaduck stood just around the corner of the shack, with his motorbike. The door to the shack was open; he’d been passing time checking out what was inside. Suddenly, Launchpad didn’t feel comfortable about his decision to stash flammable material on the McQuack’s property. “So, old buddy, what’s it going to be?” Negaduck reached into the holster on his motorbike and pulled out his chainsaw. He patted its side. “The old girl is primed and ready to go. She’s been itching for a little action.”

That damned chainsaw. He should have grabbed a better weapon from the McQuack’s hanger but it would only have made Loopey suspicious. Okay. The chainsaw. That was the dangerous part. Negaduck… Negaduck was smaller than him. Always had been. It was only because he’d been scared of what Negaduck was capable of that he’d let him rough him up, right?

“Tell me, old pal. Is she going to get to hack up Darkwing Duck? Or are you going to force me to cause some property damage, and maybe carve up any unfortunates foolish enough to get in my way?”

Launchpad slowly, carefully, lifted the crowbar from the Gator’s tray and tapped it on his open palm. “I’ve had to put up with Darkwing Duck whining and snapping at me for hurting his little brat all day. Let me smash in his skull. He’ll be much easy for you to carve up with a head injury.”

Negaduck’s teeth glinted in the Gator’s headlights. He threw his head back and laughed. “Launchpad, you’re back! Oh, to think I was happy to be rid of you. I forgot how much I missed watching you rage out on my lesser enemies. Sure, take a swing at Darkwing Duck. As long as you let me finish him off.” He turned his back to Launchpad and hefted his chainsaw back into its holster.

The terrible thing, Launchpad thought, as he swung the crowbar at the back of Negaduck’s head, was that those times running around their Saint Canard, causing havoc, even though some of the things they’d done now made him sick to the stomach, they’d actually enjoyed hanging out together.

The crowbar slammed into the side of Negaduck’s motorcycle. Negaduck darted back up and circled him. Crap. Launchpad put himself between Negaduck and the chainsaw. But, crap. He’d lost his advantage.

Just out of range, Negaduck chuckled. “You son of a bitch. You actually tried to trick me. That’s… so stupid.”

Launchpad gulped deep breaths, for the first time in months trying to coax out the rage, instead of crush it into silence. “I’m not… I’m not afraid of you anymore!” He yelled, and swung the crowbar.

Again, Negaduck swiftly dodged the attack. “Oh, you’re not scared? Please. You know me too well, you’ve seen me do too much. You know exactly what there is to fear. But if this is the way you want it - then come on! Fight me, you stupid lug!”

Launchpad swung wildly and the crowbar slammed into the dirt where Negaduck had stood a second before. “I’m not going to let you hurt the McQuacks!” Even against Negaduck, even with his not quite family at stake, it wasn’t as easy to let loose his darker side as it once had been. He needed it now! But all he wanted was to land a decent hit so this would be over.

Negaduck’s brows lowered. “You’re going to pay for this. And its going to hurt, buddy.”

Launchpad gathered everything he had inside him, and let it loose with a roar. The crowbar swung within inches of Negaduck’s chest, and tore right through the very corner of the shack. Launchpad stumbled under the momentum. Then Negaduck was on his back, hands around his neck, fingers digging into his throat. Launchpad swiped the crowbar behind him, but it clattered to the ground as he reached the limit of his reach. He grabbed Negaduck’s hands, trying to get his big fingers around Negaduck’s.

Negaduck’s warm breath huffed in his ear as his vision blackened. “Oh, yeah. I know just how to make this hurt.”

***

Launchpad gasped as something bit into his throat. It all but constricted his airway; he couldn’t breathe.

“Stand up properly, you idiot.”

In his dazed state, on instinct, Launchpad did as his boss instructed. The pressure on his throat lessened to a painful tightness and he gulped in a lungful of air. Launchpad opened one eye. The kerosene lamp he’d strung up was lit, throwing the dingy interior of his shack in shifting shadows. Dust drifted down from the ceiling and the roof creaked as he shifted his weight. His hands were bound tightly behind his back. A rope reached up above his head, taut, and tied off around the single support beam. Launchpad didn’t need to see where the other end was to know it was looped in a noose around his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Aw, shit.”

“You remember this, don’t you? You actually came up with this one. Even though you screwed it up the first time. Hah. Do you remember? You strung this guy up by the neck; made him stand on a crate. Told him you’d let him swing if he didn’t give you the information you wanted, then left him to stew. Well, he stewed alright. And he decided he’d make sure he never gave up that information, and here the guy torturing had given him such any easy way out. You came back and he had choked. And I walked in on you laughing because the idiot killed himself.” Negaduck shook his head. “Can’t believe I got angry with you over that. I may not have got the information I needed, but this… it needed a bit of work, but actually a rare flash of brilliance. Really stops them from squirming when you get around to carving them up, huh?”

Launchpad gulped. “What are you going to do to me?” There was plenty in this shack Negaduck could use. Plus the crowbar, Negaduck’s chainsaw, and even the battery in the Gator… and Negaduck was a lot more creative than he was. But as he started to sweat, Launchpad felt some of the tension leave him. Whatever Negaduck did to him, it wouldn’t be quick. Which meant he wouldn’t be taking that chainsaw over to the McQuacks. Gosalyn would eventually crack and tell her dad what was going on. It may not do him much good, but it would certainly give Darkwing the chance to protect everyone else.

In the light of the kerosene lamp, Negaduck grinned. “Oh no, old buddy. I don’t think something like that is going to work with you anymore, even though I always did go easy on you. No, you’ve gone too soft. And if there was one thing my good for nothing daughter taught me, it was the best way to hurt someone soft, is to hurt someone they care about.”

No. Launchpad felt a lump rise to his throat, pushing against the course rope, and tears filled his eyes. “Negaduck, you can do whatever you want to me, I won’t stop you, but leave the McQuack’s out of this.”

Negaduck snorted. “I’ve always been able to do whatever I wanted to you, and I certainly didn’t need your permission. Oh, what happened to you, old pal? You were the most frustrating, stupid minion, but damn, were you useful. And fun. What happened to the guy who’d cackle at smashing kneecaps with me?”

“I don’t want to be that guy anymore.” The tears spilled over Launchpad’s cheeks. He couldn’t hold them in, or wipe them away, and he’d never, ever, let Negaduck see him break down before.

“Oh, please. You were trying to smash my skull in moments before. And you would’ve enjoyed it. I get it, you had a nice little fantasy going on over here, but now its over. What did you do, tell them how mean I was to you? I bet you left out how much you enjoyed stringing people up like this and burning everything they loved. You’ve done a lot worse than I’ve ever done to you.”

“I’m not that guy anymore! I don’t want to be! If Launchpad and his ridiculously understanding family can, can just be so damn caring, then, then I can…”

“What you’re going to do is get that whole family killed. You crossed me, Launchpad. So now? I’m not just going after whoever gets in my way. I’m going to hunt those ducks down and hack them to pieces. It doesn’t matter what you choose to be, this is on you.”

“Negaduck don’t, I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, no. I gave you that chance already and you swung a crowbar at my head. You think I’m going to cut you down so you can do it again? No, buddy. I’m giving you a different choice. Believe it or not, I can still use you. Once all this silly happy family stuff is taken care of, maybe you’ll see things differently.” Negaduck booted over another crate, then stepped up on it to reach Launchpad’s height.

“Please don’t hurt them.” Launchpad choked over as sob as, almost gently, Negaduck brushed the tears from his cheek.

Negaduck tapped the crate beneath Launchpad’s with a foot, and not only made the crate creak but the whole shack too. “This things pretty flimsy. So don’t shuffle around too much. Or… do. You can sit here all night and have a good think about what I’m doing over in that house. If it gets too much, well, I’ve given you enough rope. But I’ll come back for you when I’m done, take you back home. Might still have to teach you a lesson or two before I can trust you again, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

Negaduck scooped up one of the containers of petrol. He shook his head, a grin splitting his face. “Oh, buddy. Just… hang in there.” He cackled as the door slammed behind him.

Moments later, a whoosh of flame when up outside. Negaduck’s motorcycle started up and tore away. Outside, the flames grew brighter, then the unfortunate Gator let out a bang and the whole shack shook. The kerosene lamp swung, dropped to the floor and smashed, then went out. The shack settled. The only light was the dying flames licking outside.

“No, no, no…” Launchpad stared up at the dark roof of the shack. The crate beneath him creaked, and he forced himself to still every bit energy in him that just want to lash out and tear everything apart. Negaduck was going to hurt the McQuacks. He couldn’t help. If he moved; he’d kill himself. So instead, Launchpad stood rigid with eyes squeezed tightly shut as tears streamed down his face.

***

“Drake Mallard is the king of board games! What’ve you got? Some strategy ought to properly showcase my talents.”

Birdie smirked as she dug through the cupboard and added another box to the stack in Drake’s arms.

“Of course, Gosalyn is the queen, so…” Drake winced. “Maybe she won’t be on top of her game tonight.”

Birdie fished out a roll of duct tape, frowned, and then put it on top of Drake’s pile. The stuff was everywhere in the McQuack’s house - the perfect repair material. Many of the board game boxes had their edges patched up with it. “I thought the whole idea was to keep her up a little longer? Not take advantage of the fact she took a bump to the head.”

“I’m not…” Drake rolled his eyes. “She’s nine. It’s embarrassing, alright?” He frowned at the topmost box. “Snakes and ladders?

“We’ve got Monopoly.”

“Not exactly the kind of strategy I was thinking of.”

“We mostly had games Launchpad could keep up with. Which, surprisingly, and I guess after working for Mr McDuck, seems to include Monopoly.”

Birdie wondered how Ripcord was going out there, talking to Launchpad. At least this time she knew his reluctance to communicate with his son had been a combination of Launchpad not being old enough, then leaving home, then… life just getting in the way. It’d be hard on her husband, but she knew he could work through it. Ripcord was nowhere near the dark place he’d been when he’d gone into his spiral working out how his plane’s engine had failed.

All those years ago, hauling him away from his maintenance manuals and strapping him into that plane had been a last ditch effort to save their marriage and get him to reconnect with his kids. Birdie had felt terrible. She could feel her husband trembling when she’d strapped Launchpad into his lap, felt him trying to catch her eye, and she’d focused on her son because if she’d actually seen Ripcord silently questioning why she was doing this to him, she couldn’t have gone through with it. Going up in a plane with Launchpad was something he couldn’t, at that point in time, physically do by himself. It was every bloody thing else he’d been carrying on with she’d needed to stop. And doing this to him would either snap him out of it or cause him to completely break. She’d just kept telling herself that he, deep down inside, wanted her help. If he hadn’t, there would’ve been no way she could have physically dragged him out there.

Surprisingly, it had worked. Ripcord had been white as a sheet when she helped him out of the plane, but then he’d sat down and played with Launchpad as he’d gone on and on without a breath about how much fun it had been. When he’d asked if his dad would come up with them again, Ripcord had said yes. And that night, when she and Ripcord lay in each others arms for the first time in months, he’d apologised to her, and promised he’d do better. And he had.

But Launchpad wouldn’t let his father blame himself. Birdie just didn’t know how the knowledge would hurt him, how he would react, or if it was even the best option to tell him. They’d never figured out if the crash and subsequent month in hospital had done any permanent damage. As far as Birdie was concerned, it didn’t matter. But Launchpad was an adult now, he had a right to know, and to figure out what that all meant for himself. She just hoped the knowledge wouldn’t confuse him, or cause him to question himself too much. She just wanted them to come back, so she could talk to her son, Ripcord too, and make sure they were all right.

But for now, board games would be a welcome distraction. Along with the other thing she had on her mind. She was certain now that Drake and Launchpad were not romantically involved with each other. Which left Birdie with only one other theory as to what her son and Drake Mallard were up to, and why they’d been so secretive.

The other Launchpad had told them their son worked for Darkwing Duck. Heck, Ripcord was probably talking to him about that as well. They were both going to have a heavy night. And that led to Birdie’s second theory. What if Launchpad wasn’t only helping Drake with his daughter and upkeep of his house? Now, if Drake was secretly Darkwing Duck… Launchpad was so involved with the family, it made sense. Besides, Drake was about the right stature too.

Drake peered around his stack of boxes. “Do you have cards?”

“Oh! Yes!” Birdie pulled out four packs and slammed them on top of the stack.

“Okay, you do. That’s a lot of cards.”

“I’ve got the perfect game; it needs more than one pack. But, so you like strategy? I guess a man like yourself likes to keep an active mind?”

“Yep yep yep, got to keep on top of my game.”

“What is it you do for work again?”

“Er…” Drake hid behind the stack of board games. “These are getting pretty heavy. I’ll take them to the living room before I drop something.”

Birdie was fairly certain he was blushing. Rip would have her head for teasing him like this. “Come on. With Loopey back from the hanger, four people will make this game the perfect amount of hectic.”

***

Drake honestly quite liked Birdie. She’d been helpful with Gos, and she understood how he could be equally parts concerned over and frustrated with taking care of his daughter. He’d been stuck watching both her and her childish cartoons, and it was good to have another adult to talk to. The Negaverse Launchpad didn’t count. He’d seemed on edge, and just wanted to hang around Gosalyn. Birdie had convinced him it was just because he felt bad. Stranger still, Gosalyn suddenly seemed to like him, and that meant Drake hadn’t had to entertain her for the whole day. It had been amusing watching Gosalyn bully the burlier version of Launchpad into getting her snacks. Until he’d caught on she was taking advantage of him. So the next time she’d asked him for something, he’d quietly gone and got a positively gigantic bowl of chips, then sat next to her and eaten the entire thing. So, not exactly like his Launchpad.

Birdie was easy to talk to. Most of the time. But then there were her random, absolutely unexpected and awkward questions she’d suddenly, out of the blue, ask him. He’d caught on she was doing it, but heck, he could not see them coming.

But cards were safe; it made it easier to avoid those questions. The Negaverse Launchpad had wandered off, which was possibly good, because Drake wasn’t sure how aggressive he’d get if he got competitive. And the card game Birdie quickly taught them was just a little bit violent.

The game was like solitaire, except everyone played onto the same stacks of cards in the middle of the table and everyone had their own, complete, deck of cards. Which meant you had to fight to get your cards onto the table before someone beat you to it. Birdie and Loopey had practically slapped each others hands on more than one occasion in their rush to beat the other to play the same card. Once you emptied your pile you yelled “Hell!”, apparently the louder the better, which usually resulted in everyone else pelting their remaining cards at you. And that made it extra fun when you had to sort out four separate decks for the next round.

Gosalyn should have loved it. Drake fully expected her to ‘accidentally’ slap him. But she kept climbing up on the couch and looking out the window. At least she wasn’t drowsy, or he would’ve started to worry about the bump she’d taken. But still.

“Gos, you’ve got like three cards you can play,” he tried.

Loopey slammed a card down onto the table.

“Make that two.”

Gosalyn played only one of the two cards, then shuffled slowly through the deck in her hands. Something was going on. Drake needed to talk to his daughter. But ‘hell’ was not the most conducive card game for having a proper conversation.

“Hell!” shouted Birdie, in accompaniment to her last card slamming down.

“Damn!” Loopey flung her remaining hand into the mess. She slumped back into the couch, arms folded, and huffed.

The sky outside lit up, and not quite a second later the bang of an explosion hit the house. The windows shook and rattled. Gosalyn leapt up on the couch. “Oh, no, Launchpad.” Drake was certain she did not mean his sidekick.

Birdie stood up. “Oh, no. What’s he gone and done?”

“What the heck was that?” said Loopey.

“Launchpad… not your brother… I knew we shouldn’t let him play with all that flammable stuff. But he needed to vent, I thought he knew what he was doing…”

Drake shot to his feet. “You’re telling me he has explosives out there? Gosalyn was out there with him. You told me he was safe!”

“He doesn’t have explosives.” Birdie gulped. “That we know of…”

Gosalyn grabbed Drake’s hand. “Dad, you can go check on him, right?”

Drake looked into his daughter’s wide eyes. This wasn’t just the Negaverse Launchpad’s pyromaniac streak acting up. Something else was going on, and Gosalyn knew what it was. “Oh yeah. I can check on him.”

“You’ll be alright out there? I mean, you do this sort of thing a lot, right?” Birdie asked.

Drake eyes narrowed. “Do you really think now is a good time?”

Birdie raised her hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Can you just check he’s okay?”

Gosalyn rushed out of the living room ahead of him. When he got to the front door, she was nowhere to be seen. She came rushing from the spare bedroom and shoved his Darkwing costume into his arms.

“Gos!” Drake grabbed the bundle and hugged it to his chest. “Don’t let Birdie see this. Wait… why do you want me to go as Darkwing? What were you two doing out there?”

Gosalyn dragged him out the front door and grasped his hands. “Dad, Negaduck’s here. He followed us from Saint Canard. We saw him when we went out to Launchpad’s ugly old shack.”

“Negaduck… wait, what did… jerkface have to say to him?”

“His name’s not jerkface! Launchpad thought I was unconscious the whole time they were talking. He wanted Negaduck to leave, and he was really, really scared. Negaduck threatened to hurt the McQuacks, and Launchpad went out there tonight to stop him, and he didn’t want anyone to find out, and he made me promise…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. He’s not a bad guy.”

“He’s just trying to protect the McQuacks because they’ve actually been nice to him. Unlike Negaduck. He was horrible to him, Dad. Even when he was supposed to be his sidekick. What if he’s hurt him?”

Drake whipped his cape about his shoulders and pulled Darkwing’s hat onto his head. “Don’t worry; I’ll find him. You go back inside with Loopey and Birdie.”

Gosalyn scowled.

“I don’t have the Ratchatcher. I’ll move faster without you, and get to help Launchpad quicker.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll make sure Loopey and Birdie are safe.”

Drake sighed. “That’s my girl.”

He headed for the faint glow of the fire on the horizon. Oh yeah, he was really missing the Ratcatcher. The frustration of having to walk, along with the thought of Negaduck being here, causing trouble, made Darkwing grit his teeth. He’d come all the way out here for Launchpad, because his sidekick really, really needed to see his family. Negaduck had no right to be here, threatening them, and Darkwing wouldn’t let him anywhere near them.

Despite now having to come to the rescue he couldn’t work up any anger at the Negaverse Launchpad. He could understand trying to hide Negaduck’s presence from the McQuacks. They shouldn’t have to deal with this sort of stuff. And he’d managed to convince Gosalyn he was alright. That certainly counted for something. Taking on Negaduck himself was still immensely stupid. If he didn’t want to scare the McQuacks he could’ve at least come to Darkwing for help. But then, Launchpad had taken on his double by himself too. Stupidly heroic, but mostly just plain stupid.

Twin lights lit up the road ahead and the roar of an engine grumbled towards him. Darkwing stopped and shaded his eyes. It was just so dark out here and the headlights were blinding. In the city, there was always plenty of ambient light to see by. Man, he was really out of his element.

And then the lights were upon him.

“Oh. Crap.” Darkwing dove to the side as the motorcycle roared past. He could feel the rush of air as it passed within inches of him, and whipped up his cape and wrapped it around him. It rolled him up and tossed him aside.

Darkwing fought with his cape. It’d done him right up in a bundle. “Darkwing Duck will not be defeated… by… his own… cape!” Darkwing fell out of the mess and face-planted into the dirt. “Ow.” He lay there for a moment. Partly to let his head stop spinning, partly out of embarrassment.

Negaduck. The motorcycle was heading straight for Loopey and Birdie. And Gosalyn. Darkwing hauled himself to his feet. His head still spun. And in the darkness, he suddenly wasn’t sure which direction the house was.

***

Chapter 8

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Hello Internet, welcome to GAME THEORY, where instead of putting a joke here I want to ask you a question. It's time to talk UNDERTALE.

Now I don't think I've ever gotten this many requests to cover a theory, (no requests times no requests is still no requests.) Anyway, across my tumblr dashboard, NO ONE has asked for this. And honestly, I'm disappointed. True loyal theorists will know that Undertale is my favorite game of all time.

Undertale is a game where every character, from goat mom to grind fodder has a sympathetic design and a unique personality, motivations, goals, fears. Whether you're saving or slaughtering them, the game makes you feel something every time you enter an encounter. But to me, one character stood out amongst all the rest. SANS. A skeleton named after the font, Comic Sans. ANYWAYS, Sans is, well, there's a lot of mystery around this guy. And before we get into it, let me put up a very special spoiler warning: UNDERTALE is a game best experienced blind. So if you haven't played it, pause your reading of this and come back after you've finished. I PROMISE YOU, I PROMISE you won't regret it. Alright, so everyone out of the pool and ready for the adult swim? Good. Because I'm feeling pretty determined to get to the bottom of Sans' mystery. So just to recap for those of you who haven't played the game and ignored the SPOILER WARNING, or just need a refresher, Sans is one of the two skeletal brothers who appears in the game. His partner is Papyrus, a loud, goofy trap lover also named after a font. But in the world of Undertale their origins are a big question mark. All you really know is what's given to us by a shopkeeper in Snowdin, who explains that Sans and Papyrus, quote, “just showed up one day and asserted themselves.” Weird, right? What's more is that, well, Papyrus is just kinda the goofy sidekick. Sans is much more complex.

He likes fart jokes, but he's also incredibly powerful and deadly serious. Not only is his boss battle the hardest in the game, he's one of the only characters who has knowledge and power over space and time. He can take shortcuts around the world through ridiculous routes. Even is walking through walls. He also acknowledges that he's only one of infinite versions of himself, making self-aware commentary of the various timelines that you've played through in the game. He can even count the number of times he's killed you. He acts like an arbiter of this world, passing out judgements on the player's actions in the game, even explaining the secrets of EXP and LOVE, or EXECUTION POINTS and LEVELS OF VIOLENCE, just to clarify. In short, he just doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the world of monsters. But then, what, or who, is he? Well, the idea that he doesn't belong in the underworld seems to be correct.

The evidence seems to point to the fact that he WAS, in fact, formerly a surface dweller. In the true pacifist ending of the game, as the group looks out onto the horizon, Papyrus asks Sans about the giant ball in the sky. Sans says, quote, “we call that the sun.” This is important because A, the usage of the word WE, and knowledge of the sun shows that Sans has a kinship or knowledge with other humans, and B, that despite he and Papyrus both being skeletons, or, supposedly, brothers, and apparently appeared in underworld at the same time, they CLEARLY have two very different histories. Why would Papyrus not know the name of the sun but Sans would?

We get further clues to Sans' origins as we hear him say multiple times he wants to "go home" or "go back." He says as much during his dinner date scene at the Mettaton hotel. He notices that the player wants to go home and says, quote, "I know the feeling." He then continues, "maybe sometimes it's better to take what's given to you." As though he ended up in the underworld by accident. AND in a genocide run during his boss fight he says, quote, "look, I gave up trying to go back a long time ago." End quote. And before you say he means going back to the surface world, that's clearly not the full story. His very next line of dialogue is, "and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore either." Key word here is “EITHER.” Yes, he seems to hail from the surface and wants to go back, but based on his dialogue he no longer considers it his home. It's as though the surface world he once knew is gone, as though he's from a different time. It's pretty intriguing. So we're left with a being that appeared out of nowhere, presumably from being from the human surface, but from a different time period, who seemingly has the power to teleport. That's a lot of questions and not a lot of answers.

But here's where things get REALLY interesting. Sans has a hidden workshop that takes a fair amount of searching to find. You could say it takes a lot of DETERMINATION to unlock. Anyways, obligatory determination references aside, as you start to look for this easter egg Sans gives you a key to his room and says "it's time you learn the truth." After some searching you find the workshop which contains items that leave even more questions. A photo album featuring Sans and a bunch of smiling people you don't recognize, a badge, blueprints with illegible handwriting, and a broken machine hidden behind a curtain. In the latest update, one more detail was added. A hand-drawn picture of 3 smiling faces with the words “don't forget.”

So, what does it all mean? Well a lot of Undertale theorists have been linking these details to a feature to a character named W.D Gaster. A ghostly character who never truly appears in the game. Honestly, covering him is a theory all unto itself, and probably one best saved for another day. Even still, none of the Gaster theories I've seen have been able to explain all the details. In particular, the photo album, and the badge. And that's what kept nagging me as I researched Undertale. A badge? That one in particular really stuck out to me. Why would such an oddly specific item to be hidden in the huge easter egg of a room? Something that supposedly reveals the truth about Sans? Badges just aren't important in Undertale. Then it hit me. What if this badge isn't from Undertale? What if this badge is from a completely different series? And was, in fact, the most important badge in the history of gaming? One of the Iskall patreon badges.

Now, for those of you wondering what I'm talking about, the Iskall Patreon Badges are a pivotal item from Iskall’s patreon. You know, the one on Hermitcraft. Anyway, the Iskall Patreon Badges are a really important part of Iskall’s character. So I asked myself; what if the badge in Sans' drawer was ONE OF THOSE EXACT badges? Well first off, it made Undertale connected to my favorite youtuber, thereby making it even COOLER, but that's still a pretty big logical leap. I needed more. Let me tell you, as I started looking, more and more pieces started to fit into place.

In Hermitcraft Season 6, there are three Architechs. (This was before Stress joined in season 7.) These 3 were Iskall, Grian and MumboJumbo. And what does Sans happen to have in his other drawer? A photo album with pictures of Sans with people you don't recognize. Of course you don't know them, they're not characters present in Undertale. And note the word that's used here, PEOPLE you don't recognize. Not underworld monsters. So that's 2 items oddly linked to the Hermitcraft series.

But then, how do the blueprints and broken machine fit in? Well, in the final stretch of Hermitcraft, Iskall is the only one who hasn’t died since the Demise game, so he sells his own body to the highest bidder. Except, it comes with a cost. Everyone is poor. As a result, and with the help of ImpulseSV, the Architechs (minus Mumbo,) are forced to finally kill Iskall, ending his streak since the beginning of demise. I watched this episode in 2020 and I'm not ashamed to admit that when I first saw this scene, I cried. It's DEVASTATING.

Iskall says goodbye to his friends, his co-workers, this character you've grown to love and care about is suddenly promising to sacrifice his life. For all he knows, there is no possibility of him being able to come back after his Demise. It's this incredibly dark departure in the final moments of what was otherwise a fun, quirky, and colorful Season 6.

So what does all of this have to do with Undertale? A LOT, actually. But the first thing you need to know is that the hermits are known for their, let's say, unique written linguistic style.

That would explain the illegible handwriting on the blueprints. And the machine? I think a broken infinity portal is behind that curtain. Now that may seem like a stretch, but it actually explains a lot.

If Sans wound up in Undertale via whacky infinity portal hyjinx, it could provide a reason for why he's a skeleton. He used the machine as organic matter and suffered the consequences. Not killing him, but turning at least a part of him into a pile of bones. That could also explain why Sans has given up hope for going home. Remember the infinity portal is a time machine. By being in the underworld, he's not only in a different place, but based on how he talks, he's also in a different time, with no hope of travelling back to the time he came from. This could theoretically happen. It turned Scar into a wizard and completely disintegrated Welsknight, so the rules are… Flimsy at best.

But the crossovers between Hermitcraft and Undertale continue. In Grian’s episode, (EDIT IN TIMESTAMP) he mentions he’s amazed that Iskall only escaped his demise with a lost arm. He says Iskall had “a lot of determination to not die for real,” and that he’s going to continue to study this. Seems awfully similar to the same experiments happening in Undertale around the trait of determination, no? Especially since so much has shown that Sans was a key player in those experiments.

But I'm sure you also want physical evidence right? Well don't worry, because I have plenty. Take a look at Iskall and Sans side by side. Iskall’s left eye is replaced with a diamond loupe. Sans’ left eye glows blue when he’s mad. Both have extremely chill yet are known for their jokes and, dare I say, laugh.

In short, we have some incredibly strong proof that the Hermitcraft Cinematic Universe, (HCU) is somehow connected to the Undertale world, which brings us back to our initial question, WHO IS SANS?

Well, what if we took it one final step and said that Sans happened to be Iskall from Hermitcraft? Sent through the Infinity Portal at the end of season 6 to go to Season 7, carrying an Iskall Patreon Badge and his photo album. Not only do all the items in the workshop suddenly fit, but so does Sans’ behavior.

Remember, Sans can seemingly travel extremely quickly. And Iskall just happens to have an elytra, a device that allows people to travel hundreds of metres extremely quickly. This even explains why Sans bleeds when you finally hit him. He is, or at least, WAS, a human.

Oh and finally, Sans shares two out of five letters with the name Iskall. That's just a fun one. I thought it was worth mentioning.

But if there was any doubt, we have to look no further than the creator's previous work. Toby Fox, the man behind Undertale is actually DocM77, the creator of every hermit (besides Scar.) Now, if Toby Fox, the creator of Undertale, is also DocM77, creator of Iskall, we know they will most definitely share a universe. Which brings us back to Undertale. 2 faces, with “don't forget” written on it? It's Iskall, trying to remember his 2 friends. In short, Undertale is a continuation of Toby’s version of Hermitcraft Season 6, with Iskall never being able to get home, adopting the name Sans. The pieces all just seem to fit. Now all we need is an appearance from Ethoslab and we’ve got ourselves a true sequel.

But hey, that's just a theory. A GAME THEORY! THANKS FOR WATCHING!

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Peter’s Spooder Island

Summary: Peter has anew game that he just can’t put down. Tony begrudgingly allows his favorite spiderling to teach him how to play and then maybe gets a mild addiction of his own. Or: Peter and Tony Play Animal Crossing

Alternate title: Animal Bossing

Warnings: None

Tags: Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Precious Peter Parker, Animal Crossing: New Horizon… …

Word Count: 2605

Link to Post on AO3: Peter’s Spooder Island-happyaspie

 “Hey, Pete?”, Tony said as he crossed the room to find his kid sitting hunched over a Nintendo Switch instead of doing what he’d said he’d come over to do.   "I thought you were here to work on your web-shooters.“

Peter nodded his head, never looking up from the screen.  "I was.  I finished that a little while ago.  One of them was just jammed up and I didn’t have the right tools to fix it at home.”, he replied, waving his hand vaguely towards the small magnetic screwdriver set that was still sitting on the corner of his work-space alongside his newly unjammed web-shooter.

“Okay…”, Tony returned, still somewhat confused by the lack of actual work getting done.  Typically if the kid was in the lab he was busy doing something.  Even if it was just messing around with the box of scraps that were kept in the corner for his benefit alone.  Admittedly the boy had been known to finish his homework at that desk, too but never had he ever seem him sit there just… playing games.  Not even on his phone.  “Well, if you’re done with that, do you want to help me work on this prototype for the conference we have coming  up in June?”

Still fully engrossed in the game in his hands, Peter hesitated.  “Uh… yeah.  Just… just hang on a second, Mr. Stark.  I’m almost done here.”, he said, glancing up momentarily just to make sure that he wasn’t going to get in any sort of trouble but all his mentor did was roll his eyes and walk away.  Taking that as an invitation to finish what he’d started and join the man at his workstation later, he turned back towards the screen

However, as time passed, Tony quickly realized that the kid wasn’t making any sort of effort to finish up anything.  Rather he looked fully invested in his game and had clearly lost track of time.  “Okay, kid.  You said a second and it’s been over twenty minutes.  What gives?”, he asked as he crossed the distance that had been between them.  “What are you doing on that game system that’s more important than working with me?”

“Huh?”, Peter questioned before everything registered all at once.  He’d not realized how long he’d been sitting there.  “Oh.  It’s not like, important, important I was just playing Animal Crossing… If I catch one more fish I’ll have enough Nook Miles to buy bigger pockets.”

“Come again.”, Tony replied with a quirk of his brow.  “As simple as all of those words are, they don’t make any sense in that order, kiddo.”

Peter looked up at that and smiled.  “Yes, it does.  Look, I’ll show you.”, he replied before changing his position so that Tony could look over his shoulder.  “It’s part of the game…”, he began to explain, going over the various things that he’d mentioned while finishing up his tasks.  “…and now I can go visit another island that might have cooler stuff on it, like cherries or some sort of crazy flowers or something.”, he finished and looked up towards his mentor who looked no less confused than when he’d started.

“This is it.  This is what’s keeping you from taking advantage of my workshop?  Virtual currency, and an annoying raccoon?”, Tony inquired with a huff.  

“Tanuki.”, Peter responded without missing a beat, though he understood the confusion.  

“What?”, Tony returned with a shake of his head.  

Peter looked up at his mentor with a serious look on his face and repeated his reply but with a bit more of an explanation this time.  “He’s not a raccoon, Mr. Stark.  He’s a tanuki." 

"That is neither here nor there, kid.”, Tony said with a roll of his eyes and then pointed towards the Nintendo with a sigh.  “Why don’t you pack that up and come help me with getting this concept off the ground.  We need a  prototype by the end of the week if we’re going to stay on track.”, he stated and stood there with his hands on his hips for several seconds while he waited for the offending game system to be tucked out of sight.

From there, they worked side by side on the design work and Tony thought that would be the end of it for the day.  Except, the moment they had finished dinner and settled onto the couch for their typical Friday night movie, the kid had the Nintendo back in his hands, clicking away.  “I thought I asked you to put that up.”

“You did but I didn’t know you meant for rest of the day.”, Peter said with a frown.  Usually, the man didn’t care if he texted his friends or played games on his phone, he wasn’t sure why playing a handheld- video game system was any different.  “Besides, it’s night time now and I want to try and catch some tarantulas.”

“Tarantulas.”, Tony flatly replied before his tone took on a hint of amusement.  “Of course, you would want to catch a bunch of spiders.  I guess that makes sense.”

“It’s not like that, Mr. Stark.”, Peter laughed.  “They’re worth like, eight-thousand bells and I want to be able to pay off my loan.”

“Can’t you do that later?”, Tony asked but he’d already sort of resigned himself to a movie-less evening.  The kid was all kinds of hung up on playing games and what was most annoying about that was that it wasn’t even a good game.  He would have happily engaged with the boy if it had been something a little more… action.  Racing, fighting… anything but that.  

“The store closes at ten and I won’t be able to sell them.”, Peter said, already turned back to his game.  Then an idea struck and he grinned at his mentor who had sat down beside him. “Hey!  How about we put it up on the TV and then you can watch.”, he suggested.  Tony waved a hand haphazardly towards the television in response.  

For a while, Tony sat and watched Peter skip around between fishing and trying to catch spiders.  Laughing when the boy ended up being bitten by one because being bitten by spiders just seemed to be a thing with the kid.    Then, as time passed he started to lose interest and began to doze off in the corner of the couch, only to be woken moments later by the teenager nudging him in the arm. 

When it looked like his mentor was no longer interested in what he was doing on screen, Peter considered turning it off and putting on a movie instead.  Then another idea came to mind and he smiled. “Hey, Mr. Stark, do you want to play?  We could make you your own character and everything.”, he said with fervor, half-expecting the man to decline but when he was met with a grumbled, ‘fine’, he was elated despite the man’s lack of enthusiasm.  

Once Tony had the controller in his hands he was quick to make it through the setup, Peter prompting him the whole time.  That worked out for him because with the kid sitting right there giving him sept by step instructions he didn’t have to listen to the squeaky little voices speak what sounded like gibberish to him.  Then he finally made it to 'Spooder Island’, the name giving him a second’s pause before rolling his eyes.

“Awesome.  Next, you get to pick where you’re going to put your tent.”, Peter said with a smile just as the man had started reading what amounted to a tutorial.  

Tony hummed in response as he squinted his eyes at the words and then scoffed.  “He’s going to charge me for a tent?  It’s a tent.  I’m going into debt over a tent.”, he stated with what sounded like legitimate annoyance much to Peter’s amusement.  

“You can play that off pretty quickly with Nook Miles.”, Peter eagerly replied.  “You just need to DIY a fishing pole and a bug net.  You’ll have to find some sticks to make them and then you can use the workbench in my house to make them.  Then you can go fishing and stuff to earn miles–”

“–One thing at a time, kid.”, Tony interrupted with a chuckle as he continued to skip through the majority of the dialogue.  “Where do you want me to put this stupid tent.”

Peter smiled and gestured towards the right of the screen.  “My house is over by the beach.  We could be neighbors.”, he animatedly proclaimed as he continued to give the man directions towards a viable spot to set up camp.  Soon after that, he was happily explaining how to find sticks, make tools, fish and track down insects.  

After spending a good thirty minutes walking up and down the beaches and rivers patiently waiting to catch fake fish, Tony sighed.  “This is the most tedious thing I think I have ever done.  How is this fun?”, he asked as he rubbed his hand down his chin.

“I dunno.  It just is.”, Peter replied with a shrug of his shoulders and then absolutely lit up as the man caught another fish. “Ohh!  That’s a good one, Mr. Stark!  It’s worth three-thousand bells!”, he shouted as he bounced in place.  

“I thought I was trying to get ’Nook Miles’.”, Tony asked with a quirk of his brow.  

“Yeah, but you’ll want bells too.  You’ll see.”, Peter countered with a smile just as the notification of Nook Rewards popped back up in the corner.  “Look!  You’ve got more Nook Miles!”

As the night passed Tony began to get more and more into the game.  He’d finally worked out the controls and was getting better at knowing what things needed to be done in order to obtain currency.  Then finally, he was able to save up the necessary number of  Nook Miles to pay of his tent and cheered as he took off to pay off his loan.  “Ah-ha!  That’s it.  Paid off with miles to spare.”, he added with a smile that quickly faded once Peter had prompted further interaction that led to another debt. “Now he’s going to charge me for a house?  Why didn’t he just offer to build me a house, to begin with?  This is ridiculous.”, he grumbled but that didn’t seem to stop him from playing.  It was quite the opposite really because never once did he ever even offered to give the controller back to Peter.

As the hour grew late, Peter started rubbing his eyes and eventually laid down across the couch as his mentor continued to make progress.  Then when he was sure he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer he gave in and sat up.  “I’m going to bed, Mr. Stark.”, he yawned.

“Sure.  'Night, Kiddo.”, Tony replied, never taking his eyes off the screen.   

Peter stood at the threshold between the living room and the hallway for several seconds expecting to see the man start to pack up the game but he didn’t.  Finding that more than intriguing, he tilted his head to the side and asked, “Are you staying up to play?”

It was then that Tony realized that he’d been sucked in and had to pause momentarily to come up with an excuse as to why he’d not automatically turned the stupid game off when Peter had said he was going to bed. “Uh… no. I was just going to finish this up.  Then I need to get back down to the lab and go over we started earlier.  Make sure it’s up to speed”, he lied.  There was nothing to go over.  He just wanted the kid to go to bed so that he could continue the game without feeling like a moron. 

“Okay, well, I’ll see you in the morning then.”, Peter returned with a knowing smile before turning towards his bedroom door, wondering how long it would be before Tony would be buying his own copy of the game.  

The answer to that question ended up being 'the next day’ when it occurred to Tony that Peter would be taking the game back home with him.  His plan had been to purchase the game after Peter had left for the day but then the kid had questioned him, at breakfast, about what all he’d done on the island after he’d gone to bed.  Once he’d inadvertently replied to that, there was no denying anything.  So, with nothing to hide, he’d ended up having his own island set up before his mentee had even left the building.  It was fine though, everybody needed a good stress free way to spend their free time and maybe this was his.  

The rest of the weekend was spent redoing everything he’d already done on Peter’s island on his own.  It went much quicker the second time around but even still, he’d not really counted on exactly how much time he would actually put into it until Monday rolled around.  He’d gotten up with the intention of checking his calendar to see if he had anything pressing to do that day but as he was sipping on his coffee, the Nintendo laying on the side table in the living room caught his attention.  He figured that spending a few minutes in the game wouldn’t hurt and carried his mug into the other room.

Sometime later, when Pepper came into the penthouse with her arms crossed over her chest he startled just slightly. “Tony?  What are you doing?  You’re supposed to be getting ready for a board meeting.”, she’d said, gesturing towards where he was lounged across an armchair wearing pajama pants and a tank top, playing the Nintendo.

Glancing up for half a second, Tony nodded his head and pretended like he hadn’t completely forgotten that work existed.  “Oh.  Yeah, yeah, I know.”, he said with mock assurance.  “Just give me a second.  Filbert wants me to catch a pill bug for him and if I’m lucky I’ll find the money rock in the process.”, he added in a rush and then dropped his gaze back down to the screen in his lap.

“What are you talking about, Tony?”, Pepper asked with a smiled that would have turned into a laugh if she wasn’t so pressed for time.  The meeting was supposed to be starting in less than half an hour and it didn’t look like the man had even considered getting dressed yet, let alone showered.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”, Tony, grumbled towards the screen before looking up with a deep sigh. “Look, I’ll see you at the meeting, alright.”, he continued but made no effort to get up from where he was comfortably seated with his legs dangling over one side of the large chair. 

Pepper stood there and watched the scene before her for an entire two minutes before rolling her eyes because the man hadn’t moved a singular inch in that stretch of time.  It was as if he’d already forgotten she was in the room or that he had anywhere to be.  It was clear that she would not be seeing Tony at that meeting but she supposed that wasn’t anything new.  He was often skipping meetings to do one thing or another, though it had never been because of a video game before.  She could only assume that had to do with Peter and laughed a little.  The two of them were two peas in a pod.  Then she shook her head and turned towards the door still smiling. “It’s fine Tony. I won’t hold my breath.”

———-

A/N: I was in the middle of writing a new chapter for Parenting Peter when this idea was mentioned to me and I had to write it because it was funny. My family has been takings turns playing it since the day it came out. 😂 It’s a good distraction!

[cheriesjubiles]

please don’t look under the read more i’m just testing

Can you imagine a world where we're all represented by a font? Huh, I wonder which one I would be? sees Arial Too straight. No! Not in that way! Just, straight, as in unexciting. sees Badaboom Too.. uh... Deadpool.... BROADWAY! Now that's the one! Now THAT'S the one! Hello Internet, welcome to GAME THEORY, where instead of putting a joke here I want to ask you a question. If your personality were represented by a font, what font would you be? Take a moment and put your font in the comments. I'm really curious to see what everyone has to say. Maybe find a couple new cool fonts to use. I'm getting bored with ol' Calibri 11. And with that out of the way, it's time to talk UNDERTALE. Now I don't think I've ever gotten this many requests to cover a game. Well, except for FNAF. And I suppose FNAF 2. OH and there was FNAF 3. Wait a minute, should I be worried about something here? Anyway, across the board on YouTube, Reddit, and Twitter, you all have wanted Undertale. And honestly, I'm glad you brought it to my attention. True loyal theorists will know that Earthbound is my favorite game of all time. So a self aware RPG in a similar style, WHOA MAN, it's like a gift from the indie gaming heavens. Undertale is a game where every character, from goat mom to grind fodder has a sympathetic design and a unique personality, motivations, goals, fears. Whether you're saving or slaughtering them, the game makes you feel something every time you enter an encounter. But to me, one character stood out amongst all the rest. SANS. A skeleton named after the font, Comic Sans, hence all the font references at the beginning of the episode. If you haven't played Undertale I'm sure that was a really weird opening. ANYWAYS, Sans is, well, there's a lot of mystery around this guy. And before we get into it, let me put up a very special spoiler warning: UNDERTALE is a game best experienced blind. So if you haven't played it, pause the video and come back after you've finished. I PROMISE YOU, I PROMISE you won't regret it. Alright, so everyone out of the pool and ready for the adult swim? Good. Because I'm feeling pretty determined to get to the bottom of Sans' mystery. So just to recap for those of you who haven't played the game and ignored the SPOILER WARNING, or just need a refresher, Sans is one of the two skeletal brothers who appears in the game. His partner is Papyrus, a loud, goofy trap lover also named after a font. But in the world of Undertale their origins are a big question mark. All you really know is what's given to us by a shopkeeper in Snowdin, who explains that Sans and Papyrus, quote, “just showed up one day and asserted themselves.” Weird, right? What's more is that, well, Papyrus is just kinda the goofy sidekick. Sans is much more complex. He likes fart jokes, but he's also incredibly powerful and deadly serious. Not only is his boss battle the hardest in the game, he's one of the only characters who has knowledge and power over space and time. He can take shortcuts around the world through ridiculous routes. Even is walking through walls. He also acknowledges that he's only one of infinite versions of himself, making self-aware commentary of the various timelines that you've played through in the game. He can even count the number of times he's killed you. He acts like an arbiter of this world, passing out judgements on the player's actions in the game, even explaining the secrets of EXP and LOVE, or EXECUTION POINTS and LEVELS OF VIOLENCE, just to clarify. In short, he just doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the world of monsters. But then, what, or who, is he? Well, the idea that he doesn't belong in underworld seems to be correct. The evidence seems to point the fact that he WAS, in fact, formerly a surface dweller. In the true pacifist ending of the game, as the group looks out onto the horizon, Papyrus asks Sans about the giant ball in the sky. Sans says, quote, “we call that the sun.”

This is important because A, the usage of the word WE, and knowledge of the sun shows that Sans has a kinship or knowledge with other humans, and B, that despite he and Papyrus both being skeletons, or, supposedly, brothers, and apparently appeared in underworld at the same time, they clearly-- uuuGGHH take two CLEARLY have two very different histories. Why would Papyrus not know the name of the sun but Sans would? We get further clues to Sans' origins as we hear him say multiple times he wants to "go home" or "go back." He says as much during his dinner date scene at the Mettaton hotel. He notices that the player wants to go home and says, quote, "i know the feeling." He then continues, "maybe sometimes it's better to take what's given to you." As though he ended up in the underworld by accident. AND in a genocide run during his boss fight he says, quote, "look, i gave up trying to go back a long time ago." End quote. And before you say he means going back to the surface world, that's clearly not the full story. His very next line of dialogue is, "and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore either." Key word here, is EITHER. Yes, he seems to hail from the surface and wants to go back, but based on his dialogue he no longer considers it his home. It's as though the surface world he once knew is gone, as though he's from a different time. It's pretty intriguing. So we're left with a being that appeared out of nowhere, presumably from being from the human surface, but from a different time period, who seemingly has the power to teleport. That's a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. But here's where things get REALLY interesting. Sans has a hidden workshop that takes a fair amount of searching to find. You could say it takes a lot of DETERMINATION to unlock. Anyways, obligatory determination references aside, as you start to look for this easter egg Sans gives you a key to his room and says "it's time you learn the truth." After some searching you find the workshop which contains items that leave even more questions. A photo album featuring Sans and a bunch of smiling people you don't recognize, a badge, blueprints with illegible handwriting, and a broken machine hidden behind a curtain. In the latest update, one more detail was added. A handdrawn picture of 3 smiling faces with the words “don't forget.” so what does it all mean? Well a lot of Undertale theorists have been linking these details to a feature to a character named W.D Gaster. A ghostly character who never truly appears in the game. Honestly, covering him is a theory all unto itself, and probably one best saved for another day. Even still, none of the Gaster theories I've seen have been able to explain all the details. In particular, the photo album, and the badge. And that's what kept nagging me as I researched Undertale. A badge? That one in particular really stuck out to me. Why would such an oddly specific item to be hidden in the huge easter egg of a room? Something that supposedly reveals the truth about Sans? Badges just aren't important in Undertale. Then it hit me. What if this badge isn't from Undertale? What if this badge is from a completely different game? And was, in fact, the most important badge in the history of gaming? The Franklin badge. Now, for those of you wondering what I'm talking about, the Franklin badge is a pivotal item from the Mother series. You know, the one with Earthbound. Or, maybe you don't know that one either. Uh, you know, the one with Ness from Super Smash Bros? Yeah well, Ness is from Earthbound, and Earthbound is the second part in this larger Mother trilogy. Alright? Good. Anyway, the Franklin badge is a really important part of that series. It gets its start in the very first game and carries through the whole trilogy, saving your life multiple times in the process. It's SO important that nintendo has made it a staple item in the Smash Brothers series. So I asked myself; what if the badge in Sans' drawer was THAT EXACT badge?

Well first off, it made Undertale connected to my favorite game, thereby making it even COOLER, but that's still a pretty big logical leap. I needed more. Let me tell you, as I started looking, more and more pieces started to fit into place. At the end of Earthbound you're given a photo album, covering your adventures throughout the game. To me it's one of the best, most satisfying endings in gaming to look back on your journey in picture form. And what does Sans happen to have in his other drawer? A photo album with pictures of Sans with people you don't recognize. Of course you don't know them, they're not characters present in Undertale. And note the word that's used here, PEOPLE you don't recognize. Not underworld monsters. So that's 2 items oddly linked to the Mother series. But then, how do the blueprints and broken machine fit in? Well, in the final stretch of Earthbound, Ness and his 3 friends must travel to the past in order to have their final battle against the evil alien Giygas. To do that, Dr. Andonuts (remember him, by the way, he's going to be important later) with the help of the science geniuses Apple Kid and Mr. Saturn, create what's known as the Phase Distorter, a machine that allows people to travel through time and space. Except, it comes with a cost. It can't transport organic material. As a result, the young heroes must put their souls into robotic bodies to use the machine, and thus, save the world. I played this game back in 1997 and I'm not ashamed to admit that when I first saw this scene, I cried. It's DEVASTATING. Doctor Andonuts says goodbye to his son, these characters you've grown to love and care about are suddenly promising to sacrifice their lives. For all they know, there is no possibility of them being able to come back home. It's this incredibly dark departure in the final moments of what was otherwise a fun, quirky, and colorful RPG. So what does all of this have to do with Undertale? A LOT, actually. But the first thing you need to know is that Mr. Saturns are known for their, let's say, unique linguistic style. That would explain the illegible handwriting on the blueprints. And the machine? I think a broken Phase Distorter is behind that curtain. Now that may seem like a stretch, but it actually explains a lot. If Sans wound up in Undertale via Phase Distorter, it could provide a reason for why he's a skeleton. He used the machine as organic matter and suffered the consequences. Not killing him, but turning at least a part of him into a pile of bones. That could also explain why Sans has given up hope for going home. Remember the Phase Distorter is a time machine. By being in underworld, he's not only in a different place, but based on how he talks, he's also in a different time, with no hope of travelling back to the time he came from. But the crossovers between Earthbound and Undertale continue. When you speak to Apple Kid at the end of Earthbound, he's blown away by the astronomical odds of Ness overcoming Giygas, saying that he's going to continue studying the trait called courage, in order to harness its power. Seems awfully similar to the same experiments happening in Undertale around the trait of determination, no? Especially since so much has shown that Sans was a key player in those experiments. But I'm sure you also want physical evidence right? Well don't worry, because I have plenty. During one of the endings of Undertale, we see Undyne and Alphys hanging out on the beach on the surface world. A beach that bears a lot of similarities to the tropical resort location named Summers that you play through in Earthbound. In fact, the geographic layout of the surface bears some striking similarities to the world of Mother. When Undertale's crew of monsters are finally able to reach the surface and look out over the earth, they're met with a beautiful sunset falling across the landscape of a tall mountain, a large city, and a sandy area adjacent to water. Notice the sun's reflection to indicate water, and a lack of trees in this middle section here, hence the sand.

Well, in Earthbound you have the big city of Fourside, complete with skyscrapers, which you reach via a desert that just so happens to be adjacent to some water, and to the east, the mountain in Onett where a meteorite lands on Earth. I always called it Aw-nett. But if that's not clear enough for you, Mother 1, Earthbound Zero, Earthbound Beginnings, whatever you want to call it, it's had a lot of names, had a map laying out the same geographic landscape. A tall mountain to the east of a large city, separated by a desert, with all of it up against a coast. I don't know about you, but to me it seems like there's a definite connection between the world of Eagleland (Eagleland? Again, unclear how its pronounced.) between the world of Eagleland and the surface world of Undertale. But the strongest physical connection, one that definitely unites these two franchises, comes from none other than Papyrus himself. He wears a custom-made costume known as his “battle body”. But if you look really closely at the design on the armor, you'll notice some markings on the chest. Is it just a throwaway detail? Ohoh NO, that right there is an exact match to the ones that appear on the chests of Starmen, the most iconic enemy of Earthbound. And look at the way he stands! I always thought it was awkward until i saw the two characters side by side. Papyrus’ curved arm and hand is a DIRECT match to the curved arms of the Starmen in the Mother series! In short, we have some incredibly strong proof that the Earthbound universe is somehow connected to the Undertale world, which brings us back to our initial question, WHO IS SANS? Well, what if we took it one final step and said that Sans happened to be Ness from Earthbound? Sent through the Phase Distorter during a test of courage, carrying the Franklin badge and his photo album and his trusty backpack. Not only do all the items in the workshop suddenly fit, but so does Sans’ behavior. Remember, Sans can seemingly teleport. And Ness just happens to have the PSI ability to teleport. Now look the way Sans always stands, hands in his pockets, directly facing the camera. It's a very similar stance to how Ness is depicted standing in most marketing for the game. It even explains why Sans bleeds when you finally hit him. He is, or at least, WAS, a human. Oh and finally, Sans is only one letter removed from being an anagram of Ness. That's just a fun one. I thought it was worth mentioning. But if there was any doubt, we have to look no further than the creator's previous work. Toby Fox, the man behind Undertale, had previously worked on a Halloween hack for Earthbound. But this just wasn't a simple reskin. The Halloween hack tells the tale of Dr. Andonuts after the events of Earthbound. Remember, I pointed him out? He's the one who made the Phase Distorter. In Toby Fox’s version of the story, we see that after Giygas' defeat, the souls of the kids never return home. Instead, by going to the past to defeat Giygas, they create a new timeline that they're stuck in. As a result, Jeff never reunites with his father Dr. Andonuts. And Dr. Andonuts goes crazy with guilt, because HE’S the one responsible for creating the time machine, and extracting the souls of his son and his son's friends to send them back to what he assumes was their death. In his mind, he's killed 4 kids. And in Toby Fox's game, he's lost his mind trying to deal with that guilt. I'm telling you, this hack is DARK. that said, you see a lot of Undertale in this game. The appearance of Amalgamates, the first use of the awesome song Megalovania, the prototypes for Flowey? And the theme of having the choice to be nonviolent in an RPG, SPARING your enemies. But then why's all this matter to the theory? Well, remember, in Toby Fox's version of the story, the kids don't come back. They're stuck in the past, with no hopes of getting home. Just like Sans. And, in the hack, one character is oddly missing, with no explanation as to why. NESS. Presumably in this timeline his soul is in a different place than his 3 friends.

In short, Undertale is a continuation of Toby’s version of Earthbound, with Ness never being able to get home, adopting the name Sans, and accompanied by Papyrus, a former Starman, an alien force able to speak English and still equipped with his armor, and signature posture, but without any knowledge of earthly things... like the Sun. The pieces all just seem to fit. Now all we need is an appearance from Pokey/Porky and we’ve got ourselves a true sequel. But hey, that's just a theory. A GAME THEORY! THANKS FOR WATCHING!

[veridium]

“Saving Face”

I was commissioned by my dear friend, @bitchesofostwick, to write for Cullen and Ellinor -- this time, in the Inquisition universe, which is a first for me! I have had a bit of time with them as awkward and adorable College students, so this was a great and fun challenge to draw from her amazing story, A World Alone. I highly suggest you read it if you have not already!

Isabella gave me a lot of creative room to take an idea and run with it, so I am delighted to share it. Thank you so much for commissioning me!

                                                         -- -- -- 

Summary: Sera challenges Ellinor to a game of strict focus and discipline. In the process, Ellinor discovers that while may be a nearly infallible player, but not when it comes to certain participants and their...rather silly, childhood memories. 

Ship: Inquisitor Ellinor Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford

                                                           -- -- --

It is a game, or so Sera claims at the beginning of it all. Now, she is far from sure. If she was not worried of looking like a sore sport -- which she typically could care less about, but today, things feel different -- she would opt out. Only, it’s the principle of the thing: so simple a game. Or, “game.” Try not to laugh, or smile, while someone is telling a ridiculous story. Ellinor can certainly win, she never laughs. It is one of those things that hurts feelings and also provides a point of pride: “I laugh!” and also “no one can make me laugh if I do not wish to.”

Maybe that is how she gets caught up in this ordeal. For whatever rhyme or reason, she must win. 

She makes it through five consecutive rounds of torture. Sera instigates, but the first story is one Ellinor’s already heard a half-dozen times. About a scuffle in Denerim where a man giving her trouble ends up hooked on a tavern banner pole, breeches up and arse crested, as she describes. A fantastic tale, but not new. Sera is impressed, but it only provokes her more, so she tells a second one about a bard who tried to drink out of their mandolin. Then, another about a mysteriously unnamed rogue who --

“Sera, I said don’t speak of that ever!” Ellinor cuts in just before she’s damned. The scowl is sincere when she says it. 

Sera, snorting as she chuckles, grips even tighter on the ankles of her crossed legs. She’s sat across from her on the bench chair, outside the tavern. Cassandra passes by in-between stories one and two, quickly decides it is something she wants no part of, and departs before Sera can ask to play. Luckily, just as Ellinor is about to turn it into a sparring match to defend her own honor, Bull’s shadow overtakes them both. 

“Heard from inside, something about a bard on a banner pole?” he asks, swinging his axe in a circular motion as if he’s come to train rather than tease. 

Ellinor smiles slightly, but then quickly covers her ass: “Pause, Sera! To explain!” she says before turning over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s some kind of game. Sera said so. I’m still unsure about whether it is, or just something she’s got me tied into the pass the time.” 

“Oh, sure, blame me, right,” Sera gripes, “all because I have the bright ideas besides mopin.’”

“I was not moping!”

“Right, you were doin’ one better. Daydreamin’ about--”

“Fine, fair enough, I was moping,” Ellinor gives in once again to save face. Shit.

Looking on, Bull clears his throat with a knuckle to his mouth, side-stepping away. “Boss, you have an angle. It’s not the cheeriest one, but it works. Don’t get too worked up about it.”

Ellinor gives a slight sigh, and rests back in her seat, knees spreading. “I’m not. I just want to make clear that--”

“Eh! I don’t wanna argue about it too much, it’ll only make you cross and make my turn harder!”

“Then maybe you should think twice before picking a fight,” Ellinor retorts, biting back a grin that betrays the concern. Fortunately Sera doesn’t seem to notice as she squints her eyes into space, hooking an arm under her knee. She has to have enough stories to narrate a damn lifetime. Bull withdraws completely, heading for the dummies. Talk about a work up.

“Sera, maybe you should just admit defeat. Where are the rules about how many attempts you get?” Ellinor presses, elbows cocking back on top of the bench backrest. She rests a boot toe-up, heel digging into the damp soil as she waits for another round. 

“No, no, no,” Sera refuses, “there’s nothin about turn numbers.”

“Well, maybe there should be.”

“Why? You breakin’?”

“No! My concern is the other--”

“Agh! Perfect! Cully!”

Ellinor blinks so fast it nearly pushes her off balance, as all of the sudden a blank stare to the ground and her shoe becomes a frantic blur. “Cull--”

“Over here!” Sera is now waving, and what’s worse, she’s waving toward a man in crimson and steel and fur who looks awfully like someone she would call “Cullen.” Could there not be other people by that name in this entire Hold? Apparently not. Certainly not the kind who would look at her and Sera and think, of course, I must become involved in whatever irresponsibility they are sharing. 

Across the yard he is holding a report, while two subordinates withdraw from his presence, making it aptly timed for someone to get his attention. Apt, meaning terrible. The heat in her gut and her face start to compete with one another for which will cook her from the inside out first. 

“Sera, no,” she hisses out the corner of her mouth, posture rounding forward. “You can have all the turns you want, I quit, I--”

“No shit!” Sera then waves at her, like a pesky couple of bees, “Cully! Yeah, you! Get over ‘ere.”

She should have known she would be this way. She does know. She knows better than most anyone. But the way Cullen walks over, as if he is both cautious and curious -- in the way only he can be -- it’s clear Ellinor is not the pinnacle of knowing anything resembling “better.” Just him, and the way she’s oscillating from contained to confounded. 

When he is but a few yards from them, and Sera is fidgeting with anticipation, he speaks. 

“Er, yes, Sera?” he delays before the second part. “...Ellinor?”

Ellinor slides back even further until the bench creaks from the pressure, and decidedly turns her look to Sera, more as refuge but also resentment. “Sera, for the love of…”

“We’re playin’ somethin’. It’s good for your focus. Or, Ellinor’s focus, right now. Can you make her laugh?”

Cullen unsurprisingly pauses, wherein his face becomes a more similar shade to the fabric in his armor. Ellinor can only imagine how much she, too, matches; yet the appearance also endears her. Which can only mean one dangerous conclusion: if he says yes, he will be right. 

“I, ahem,” he says, throat raspy with unprepared answers, “what sort of game requires that, Sera?”

“Simple: the game for her is keepin’ a straight face. The game for us is ruinin’ it. Make sense?”

“If I am to be honest, no. Not really.”

It is Sera’s turn to pause and be befuddled, now, as her gaze switches from them both. Ellinor is still fastened on her like a sailor would a star on the horizon, lest she fall prey to the creatures swimming beneath her feet. 

“Come on, you don’t got stories?”

Ellinor bites the side of her lip. “Everyone has stories, but we don’t have to--”

“Then--”

Cullen intervenes, less apprehensive: “I’m afraid I don’t, as it were. Not any that come to mind. I’m afraid I will have to leave you to the task.” He’s polite, not dismissive. Even still, the decline is another instance of complicated emotion; it spurs Ellinor to finally look up and see his expression. He has his hands on the pommel of his sword, in a similar surveying shape as he would take before the war table. 

Damn.

“We understand, no, really,” Ellinor tries to smooth it over before she can even understand what she’s trying to smooth over. Is it Sera’s disappointment, or her own? Is it the fear that he’ll think she was in on this, or that she wanted him to be involved? He looks at her and grins softly, breaking the first and ultimate rule of the ‘game’ even though it isn’t his to lose. It’s only hers. Fuck all. 

“Both of you are no fun,” Sera huffs, tucking her legs underneath her completely now. “Fine, more victory for me,” she concludes. 

Ellinor allows herself to breathe. As she does so, Cullen backs away cordially. 

“I trust you will do well with the challenge,” he kindly says to Sera, nodding to her before looking at Ellinor one final time. “I hope this proves beneficial to you, Ellinor.”

“I do not plan on it,” she replies before thinking. It makes his grin flinch a bit broader, before he turns around fully. “Farewell, Cullen”

Only when she hears Sera snicker more does she realize the last part was too soft to be across the distance between them; it is also too sentimental-sounding for the light of day. Renewed in both her self-preservation and pride, Ellinor looks back at Sera, her eyes narrowing with hostility. 

“Sera.”

“What? It was in the rules.”

“What blasted rules?!” she yells, hands out and fingers grasping the air like they had claws, “are you going to keep making them up on me, trying to get me to crack?”

In the face of her fury, Sera only shrugs. 

“I see,” Ellinor exhales. “You’re not the only one who can make rules, then. New rule: no new contenders in the middle of the game.”

“Rule’s rejected.”

“What?”

Sera makes herself busy, or busy-looking, checking one of the calluses on her toes. “For rules to be passed you gotta have everyone agree.”

And that is how the Inquisitor comes to win twenty full rounds of the laughing game running on sheer spite. 

--

Later on that evening, another council meeting concludes, and without many prying eyes Ellinor’s singular confidence has rebounded. Josephine and Leliana leave the war room first. She notices the same stature of red and iron, and slightly curling hair across the slab of wood with scattered coins, pieces, and papers. Nothing inspires stoicism like deliberating how to save Thedas. Not everything is a game. 

Despite this, Cullen stands by like before; it makes her concentration ever-so-slightly bend from the spread of work and obligations. 

“Inquisitor.”

Trying to maintain her preoccupation -- or at least the semblance of it -- she only glances. “Y-yes?” 

“I, ahah,” he hesitates. “There was a time, many years ago, where I helped Mia practice cutting and trimming hair. Or rather, helped, by being an involuntary being her subject for her...attempts. Once, she sat me down in her room and began cutting short, but every time she cut, she would become more cross. Apparently my hair was not cooperating, and so she kept trimming it into line. Sadly there’s only so much hair to cut before...well,” a sorry chuckle leaves his chest, “I had no chance to see before Branson came into the room and started to laugh. By then, it was too late.”

Ellinor had pulled herself up to stand straight, incrementally hanging more and more on every word. What was the purpose of this? 

“I...um,” she swallowed, arms folding. “What...what had happened?”

He looks more savvy as a trace of brightness, however tempered, casts in his eyes. His eyes then lower to the table. The smile lines on either cheek deepen. “Unfortunately, save for one part at the back, she had cut down most all of it. Branson collapsed to the floor laughing, and Mia took it as a terrible insult to her skills. But even she admitted later...well, years later, that it was ugly. I was no more than five, maybe six years of age, and all the hair I had to show could be kept in one tie all-together. The rest took months to return.”

Brows raised, Ellinor placed the side of her knuckle to her mouth. “So...so they made you keep the part she had not cut tied up?”

“They did not make me, she insisted and I being young and eager to impress my older sister obliged. She said it was the one part she got right.”

“A...a ponytail...with everything else short?”

“So short my head became burned by the sun if I stayed out under it for too long.”

“And...and when it was down…”

“You do not even want to know what it was compared to when down.”

That is the last straw. Shoulders lurching, hand pressing harder on her mouth as the edges of her lips spread to either side, Ellinor is undone by the mental image. A small, round-faced little boy with a tuft of curls on the back of his little head, running around and chasing after his big sister. Still looking for love and approval through loyalty, even when that loyalty does him so dirty. A hum, innocent but involuntary, bubbles in her throat: a hum of charmed humor. 

Her eyes and his unbroken only make it worse, because the way his are emboldened by the sight of her, if even for just a moment, makes it all the more slippery. Slippery for the grip she has on composure that is infamous and yet not infallible. 

“You...y-you…” she says, breaking through the subtle chuckling, “you looked like one of those fluffy...fl-u--”

“Lap dogs, yes,” he says, his smile straining, “you could say that.”

“I am just...I was not meaning to…”

“No need to retract, Inquisitor,” he says, “I know better than to believe that”

Her chuckling grows to where she uncovers her mouth and smiles. “I--forgive…”

Once again, he denies with a shake of his head. “Neither would I trust that apology.”

She goes on for a moment, getting it out of her system, while he stands by. As she calms she notices there’s a bit too much coolness to him. Not nearly as much blush or self-consciousness as she would expect in his vulnerability. Something...pleased. 

“What...what on earth are you,” she tries, taking a couple breaths to pace herself, “what has got you so smug?”

He doesn’t reply at first. Rather, he looks off and walks steadily around the perimeter. When he is on her side, he does not stop to face her. He only slows his pace toward the direction of the door. 

“Oh, nothing,” he says like a mention of unimportant detail, “I just won after only a single round, is all.”

Her jubilance turns to sour defeat, as does the taste in her mouth. Her eyes go wide. “But...b-but…!”

“Careful, Ellinor,” he says over his shoulder, halfway to the exit already. “You might make the score worse for yourself than it already is.”

Her face is hot from a different emotion now -- at least, mostly. If she cannot deny the way he prevailed, she definitely cannot deny the visceral nature of hearing her name in the sting of defeat. 

“Agh! No, that is not the end of it!” she exclaims, boots loudly hitting the floor as she goes after him. And, to her credit, it most definitely is not the end. 

Later on, through the hall leading to Josephine’s office, a scurrilous and acidic “that is not what the rules state!” can be heard amongst salty but stuttering voices. Whether or not such a dispute ever truthfully took place is left to rumor. 

[crazy-loca-blog]

Personal Thoughts On Open Heart

When I first tried Choices, I said “I used to read this type of books (in paper, of course) when I was a kid, so let’s give it a chance… 5 minutes and then I’ll uninstall it”. And here I am, about 2 years and 45 books (and a lot of diamond purchases) later. But I never, ever felt so attached to a book as I am to Open Heart. I even recovered my forgotten Tumblr account, just to read stuff related to the book because I missed Dr. Ramsey and associates from Saturday to Thursday!

So I was just thinking about the final chapter (insert broken heart emoji here) and how there are lots of things that are still unsolved (and will probably remain unsolved or we would have like a 3-hour long chapter). It even made me think that this book was so successful that instead of shortening and rushing things (something that has been happening a lot in PB lately, let’s be honest), they may be trying to do the opposite, that is, to drag and delay some stuff as much as possible so they have plenty of interesting content for book 2 (and book 3?) as well.

I guess when the book was first released, most of us assumed the series was going to have three books, one per year: the first one would be about the competition, the second one about the MC joining the diagnostics team (after winning the competition, of course) and the third one about the MC finishing the residency and, of course, the wedding. But after the massive success of Open Heart and the lots and lots of things we want to know about every single character in this book, I’m beginning to wonder how many questions will be answered in chapter 17 and how many things will be left unsaid and unknown until book 2 arrives. So I had to make a summary a draft a list a long post the longest post I can think of now regarding the things I think will happen in the near future… or the things I WANT to happen in chapter 17 and in book 2 (or even afterwards, fingers crossed so we can get a book 3)…

The hearing: I’ve been trying to think about how things will go in chapter 17. For some reason, I think the tricks Ethan talked about when we saw him before the hearing are related to that empty chair the MC noticed in chapter 15. We know that the chair belongs to Naveen, so probably when he retired, that spot was meant to be Ethan’s. Also, we all saw Ethan quitting… but did he “officially” submitted his resignation to the board or was it just a verbal thing? I’m pretty sure that PB would have given us a scene with him taking his stuff out of his office, but that didn’t happen hasn’t happened yet. Also, we know there are 8 chairs, so my guess is that after 7 votes our MC will be losing the case… and that’s the moment where Ethan will come to the rescue to submit the 8th vote and make things even. So will there be a cliffhanger at the end of book 1? Who knows… part of me would love it because it would be a different and unexpected ending (we already know we don’t need a closure because we’ll be having a second book)… but I don’t know if I can wait months to discover what happened in the end. It would also be nice to see some type of unexpected plot twist during the hearing, as for example Aurora testifying for us or the snake Landry publicly recognizing that he sabotaged the MC, putting in danger the patients and ruining the MC’s reputation among the nurses.

The competition: since the snake’s Landry’s episode, we haven’t heard much about the competition. As Jackie said, with Naveen and Ethan out of the picture, there isn’t even a diagnostics team to join, so that made me think that PB is not even going to try to finish the competition in book 1, they’ll carry it to book 2 (Two books covering only the first year? That would be awesome, as it makes me dream of more than 3 books on the horizon… “a girl can dream”, said certain MC in chapter 10).

The hospital: Naveen is retired (and we still don’t know if he’ll live)… Ethan quit… Harper hates her current job. I’m guessing that book 2 will be all about chaos in the administration of Edenbrook. And for some reason, I can see Declan Nash and the contract that Ethan had to sign involved in all this mess (I’m guessing Panacea Labs will be our real PITA in this series).

Backstories: we know so little about our friends/LIs lives outside the hospital and about their past! We know that our beloved and hot smart ass Ethan (insert heart emoji here) doesn’t have a good relationship with his family, but we don’t exactly know what happened there. We also know that there might be something about Bryce and his family, and that’s why he decided to be as far from them as possible. We know about Elijah’s childhood and his parents being on medical debt, but it would be huge to be able to learn more about the difficulties he must face every day as a person in a wheelchair. We are just getting to know Aurora and how hard it is for her just to be herself because of her family name (I’d love to see her kicking some asses and showing everyone that she’s there because she deserves it, not because she’s Harper’s niece). The only thing we know about the MC is that there is a brother somewhere in the universe. But we still don’t know anything about Landry, Jackie, Sienna or Kyra’s past, so I expect to have a book 2 full of backstories.

The new roommate: that will have to be solved by the end of chapter 17 or in the first chapter of book 2 (because we have to pay the rent!). I definitely don’t want the snake Landry our old roommate to return to the apartment (does anyone want it that way, actually?) and I definitely see Bryce as the natural choice to fill that spot, I don’t see any other option.

The patients: of course we’ll keep receiving new cases in book 2, but I’d love to see PB giving some special treatment to Kyra. We do know that her fight is a long one and I’d love to see the MC right next to her every step along the way not only as her doctor, but as her friend. I’m still not sure if she is a LI or not, but I wouldn’t like her to be one or to become one in the near future. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but right now I see the Kyra/MC relationship being the equivalent to the Dolores/Ethan relationship and even though I don’t want this to happen because it breaks my heart, I may see the same outcome in both cases, especially after Ines told Kyra that her survival chances were ridiculously low (insert broken heart emoji here).

New LIs: OK, so most of us have already chosen our fave LI (team Ramsey for life here… my heart, soul and body belong to him, please don’t let my boyfriend read this) so probably book 2 will be the one where we will make things official and become more serious about our relationships (especially if you’re dating Bryce, Rafael or Jackie… it took less than 2 chapters for Ethan and the MC to look like a married couple already so I think there isn’t anything to discuss there). But we definitely need at least one more LI and it has to be a female. My votes go to Aurora (I can see it like the Becca/MC relationship in TF series) and Sienna (just because she’s the sweetest!).

New relationships: again, now that we all are dating our fave LIs and living the honeymoon phase, what about some of our friends and LIs that received a “thank you, next” answer from us? We’re already shipping Elijah/Phoebe (even though they are not in a serious relationship yet, I can totally see him moving to her apartment at some point in book 2) and Sienna/Danny (like please PB! I’d be so happy if by the end of book 1 they go on a date! I need that thing to happen like NOW!). I’d personally LOVE to see Bryce dating Harper… I can totally see him dating an older woman (and of course I can see Harper having a hot toy boy in her life) and they’d be such an unstoppable power couple! We know he admires her a lot professionally speaking, but taking things to the next level would be like living the Ethan/MC love story all over again (except that I don’t think Harper sets boundaries as Ethan did tried to do). I’m also hoping for Ines and Zaid to confirm during chapter 17 if they are a thing or if they’re just friends… I think most of us ship them and a lot of people assume they’re already in a relationship as they’re seen together like everywhere… maybe we’ll have to play matchmaker once again in book 2? And if I have to choose some type of crazy match I’d say Aurora and Jackie. Can you image how they’d flirt? We wouldn’t even know if they are throwing shade or complimenting each other, but they’d love each other in their own twisted way.

Gossiping sessions with Sienna: this is simple: I always knew Sienna was going to become our bestie sooner or later, and I’ve been dreaming about a gossiping session with her since she told us she wanted to know every little dirty detail about that trip to Miami (has anyone written a fanfic about that conversation? that would be so awesome!). Please PB, just make it happen!!

Ethan: last but not least. No matter if he’s your LI or not, this man is a topic by himself. You just can’t deny he’s one the best characters that Choices has created so far (if not the best one… his character development is just amazing) and that he’s the main reason why we are so obsessed with this book. I’ll focus on him as a LI as well because that’s the route I took. I’m really hoping to see him returning to Edenbrook this week, after saving Naveen (please PB, give Ethan a break and let Naveen live! He’s had enough suffering already!), saving our MCs ass at that hearing and recovering his confidence as an attendant. If he returns, his biggest conflict in book 2 has to be how to be able to keep a relationship with the MC and being our mentor and our boss at the same time. He is madly in love, so this will be a constant struggle! There is also what I call “the Harper factor”. The reason why Ethan and Harper broke up was because she became his boss. Now Ethan is facing the same situation, but he is taking Harper’s place as the boss. How will she react? How will he explain to Harper that he’s doing exactly the same thing they used as the excuse for their breakup a year ago? Will we have another Harper/MC tense interaction in book 2 where they both will talk about Ethan? I’m seriously waiting for it to happen. Despite this, I’d love to see a kind of hidden relationship between them (I don’t remember PB doing that before) until they can’t just hide it anymore because it’s too obvious or because someone caught them (let’s face it, both the MC and Ethan fail miserably when they try to hide their feelings). I think something like this could work in this very specific case because no matter who your LI is, our MC tends to be a super private person and I don’t know if after all the things that happened in book 1 we would want to keep being the favorite topic in the nurses’ gossiping sessions. Wedding bells? Of course, but not yet… I even think the engagement may take place in book 3 (if we get there). Will we meet Jenner? I don’t think so, at least not yet (insert broken heart emoji here). A few days ago I realized that if you didn’t do the diamond scene or if you didn’t choose the option where Ethan talks about Jenner, you have no idea that he has a dog. Just do something about it, PB!!!!

[diveronarpg]

In fair Verona, our tale begins with VIVIANNE SLOANE, who is THIRTY-SIX years old. She is often called VOLUMNIA by the CAPULETS and works as their UNDERBOSS. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

TW: CHILD ABANDONMENT, VERBAL ABUSE, POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION

It is not often that one confronts the sins of their past – most people run from them, hiding from the demons that are sure to follow. But everyday young Vivianne Sloane was forced to look her sins in the eye, UNFLINCHING and indifferent. Her parents made sure she knew the different ways in which she had offended God, the dinner table becoming the young Sloane’s torturous confessional. However, when it came time for the forgiveness of her sins, she was consistently reminded that there was no such thing that could be found in her parents. What she had done to make them loathe her, she did not know. Maybe their own parents had treated them much the same way, and they did not know to be gentle with their child, to teach her ways of tenderness instead of SPITE. They rebuked her and ridiculed her, their verbal knives digging their way under her skin until she was sure that they would draw BLOOD. So, for Vivianne, the only way to survive the slaughter that occurred each night was to become immune to it. For the thirty minutes she spent at the table, she tucked away whatever feelings she had so deeply that it was doubtful she would ever be hindered by them again. It made going to church and looking at Christ crucified, the one who had died for her sins, much easier.

When they died in a car accident, she made sure that each of her tears at the funeral seemed GENUINE. Each one sparkled and glistened with both real and artificial sorrow. Vivianne quickly established herself as the head of the Sloane household, glad for the opportunity to make her parents’ company into something more. Little did she know, however, that her father had set up precautions so that his one and only heir, the DISAPPOINTMENT of the family, would not be able to do much. The board of directors threw her out as if she did not carry the last name of Sloane. They took everything from her, save for her pride – no, they left that to be wounded. Her name was in the tabloids for weeks, speculations abounding as to why the daughter of one of the richest men in Italy should be cast out as brutally as she was. What had she done that was so disappointing to her family? What lascivious acts were committed that had shamed the Sloane name? The answers were just as rude as the questions, but her parents had taught her well. The dinners of pain and agony, of abuse and bitterness, had prepared her well for this.

What her parents hadn’t prepared her for was MOTHERHOOD. But what else was to be expected after a brief night of passion? Still, she wanted the child; if only because she was certain that finally, she would have a family to call her own. With the pregnancy came a means of motivation. To be a mother with little means of providing for her unwanted child was embarrassing, especially when she was still attached to her family name. But she refused to give it up as much as she refused to give up her unborn child. She utilized it to her advantage, the formidable name still carrying authority whenever it was thrown around. Vivianne met with Cosimo and put herself at his mercy, surprised to find herself ACCEPTED into the family with open arms. Not even Cosimo Capulet could turn away a pregnant woman who had enough willpower to make the king of Verona sit down and hear her out.

This same woman raised her son to be a warrior once she gave birth to him. She was never taught mercy, so she was never able to teach him the meaning of the word either. Perhaps it was for the best too, for naught 12 years later, when life in Verona had grown particularly dangerous, she made the choice to send her son away and rip herself out of his life for good. She sent him to relatives in South Africa, convinced as she was that they would make for better examples than she. As for herself and Cyrus, they were together one day and separated the next, and she never looked back. Instead, she focused her energy on the only thing that was left: ambition. She fights for Cosimo’s cause — each one of his soldiers becoming a part of the family that she never had, their brutality and ferocity something tried and TRUE. Now that there’s a war on the horizon, isn’t it fitting that everyone be ready to draw blood?

JULIANA CAPULET: Pseudo-child. Perhaps the reason she found it easier to bond with Juliana, was that the responsibility was never hers to bear. There was no expectation to fail, no guilt either - not like her relationship to Cyrus. It wasn’t her intention to be anyone’s parent after sacrificing motherhood so that he could have a better life. Something drew her to Juliana nonetheless. She was there for Juliana when her mother had passed and the child had shown her nothing but contempt. The fact that the child hated her made Vivianne like her all the more — there was something to be admired about the way that she fought so gently. Not with physical brutality or cold-hearted contempt, it was with simmering words and with tears in her eyes that the poor child fought against the world. It was so different from the only way of fighting that Vivianne have ever known, that she would have hated it had it not touched her so. Though the other Capulets may have their doubts and the whole world may be against her, Vivianne knows that this is another Capulet boss that she would be willing to die for.

HALCYON SANTOS: Confidante. The willpower that Halcyon possesses was enough to garner the respect of Vivianne — a respect that is hard-earned. She remembered the day that the woman came to her, jaw set and eyes ablaze with ambition. Vivianne had opened the door for Halcyon, and she had walked through with her head held high. Little did the dark beauty know what she would be walking into and Vivianne watched as she, predictably, floundered. Eventually, she grew so sick of it that she showed Halcyon the ropes — to let such ambition go to waste would be disappointing. But somehow or another, this one moment of mercy became a friendship, one that Vivianne — oddly enough — does not regret. Halcyon has, time and time again, proven to be resourceful and cunning, claiming that Vivianne often inspires her to be so.

ALEXANDER RALLIS: Rival. There was one point in time where she had thought of Alexander as weak and unmotivated, a floundering fool that was better suited for a lesser position, for she believed him to be something predictable and generic. But he surprised her by taking up Alvise’s mantle, acting as underboss when she knew he didn’t have it in him to be. She hopes that he will surprise her, that he will earn her respect as a rival. For now, she will watch him as closely as she would any Montague — for they’re all the same, more or less. They’re all destined for damnation and failure at some point or another; they’re all destined to give way to the Capulets once they realize they’ve made a grave mistake of picking a fate. But who knows? Maybe Alexander will be the one to lead the doomed Montagues to their ruin.

CYRUS SLOANE: Son. Even dogs mourned when they left their young – and mourn she did. A piece of her died when she put him on the train that day, and yet when the flesh of her flesh cried for her to come back, his pleas fell on deaf ears. It was the right choice, she was convinced; she couldn’t escape the rot and the crime, but she was determined that Cyrus would. Mama, mama, he cried after her, small hands reaching for her while tears ran down his face. It was a voice she never thought she’d hear again in the sanctuary of her city’s streets – a voice she fought tooth and nail to banish. But the God of Verona is a vengeful one, and despite her attempts to sway Cosimo against inducting her son, all she was left with was the empty victory of a compromise: that Cyrus be an emissary, far from harm, rather than an expendable initiate. Now, when she hears it, the title of mother sounds more like a curse than something associated with love. Reconciliation is on the tip of her tongue, but she knows that they fall upon ears of stone, as his own cries once did. But the scourge of Verona better make amends fast – faster, that is, than the knife that will likely end up in her back. Or, better yet, piercing her heart.

Vivianne is portrayed by MARION COTILLARD and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TAKEN by LINA.

[thimblus]

Pegasus

"Remind me why we're out here again?" "I already explained it to you three times. How much did you have last night?" "More than I should have. Just... run it through one more time.".

Jack sighed at his older partner as he rubbed a hand over his face; maybe not the wisest move while driving, but he figured the road was clear out to the horizon anyway, and it was just a back country road to a house in the middle of nowhere.

"Apparently Jerry felt something off with the house just walking nearby." Benson frowned from the passenger seat. "Then why isn't Jerry handling it?" "It's his brother's family. You know the rules; emotional investment weakens resolve, and he doesn't have much of that in the first place." The car's tires rumbled against the gravel as Jack guided it off the paved road, sun glare stinging against his eyes. "Speaking of which, the rest of them are totally inert. So we're on secrecy protocol."

Benson groaned, shaking his head as he squinted in the sunlight. "'Course we get stuck with these yokel assignments. Probably just a stray minder tripping the tiny strings Jerry manages to put out."

"Maybe," Jack said, almost too quietly to hear. "But still, we've got to give it a look at least. We'll stop by that diner we passed on the way in after, on me." Benson grunted in grudging agreement, idly adjusting his tie and rumpled grey suit jacket back into place. Jack wondered if the older man had come off as being so... unkempt, or if it was a look into his own future.

Shaking his head, Jack pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and flicked the keys out of the ignition, tucking them into his pocket as he got out. Benson's door slammed shut across from him. The house was a fairly large one, a looming shadow against the afternoon Kansas sun. The windows were open to let the breeze in, curtains fluttering gently in time with the waves of the grassy plains behind it.

"We're pest inspectors, by the way. Jerry told them he saw some rats around and convinced them to have some people come in to check, so that's what we're going with." Jack adjusted his own tie into place as he approached the door, Benson shortly behind - the old man had gone quiet. Both of them could feel it now, of course; the intangible sense of dread practically radiating from the house.

And yet, unlike most places that gave off such an aura, something differed inside the storm. Something was fighting. With a deep breath in, Jack knocked on the thick oak door.

It opened barely a moment later, and it was all Jack could do not to recoil from the immediate sense of conflict rushing out from inside. Physical walls and barriers couldn't completely hold back mental auras, but they could still mitigate it some. It took him a moment to refocus on the woman in the doorway. "...inspectors Jerry sent?"

Jack nodded quickly, and the woman beckoned them in. "We didn't see any rats, but Jerry was so animate about it, we let him make the call just to get him to calm down. He gets so frantic."

It was hard to focus. Everything seemed fine on the surface, but the place was in chaos mentally; hatred and desperation surged through every door. Jack's bones itched with the need to flee, despite his attempts to fight down the urge and find the source. Benson, meanwhile, pressed forward quickly, the sense of purpose in his stride a harsh contrast to his usual careless demeanor - straight towards the stairs in the hallway behind the entry room.

"You're dressed a bit odd for pest inspectors. Going to impress the rats with those suits?" Jack spared a glance at her. Jerry's sister-in-law, presumably. "Ah. Local business, the boss has an odd sense of distinction and propriety." Only half a lie - their leader did like putting everyone in formal wear for assignments, for whatever reason. "Anyway, we'll just be looking around; don't mind us."

With that, he hurried off after Benson. The pit in his stomach only grew with each step. As he rounded the corner on the stairs, he could hear his partner's soft, but gruff voice speaking to someone unseen. "And who wins in those nightmares?"

A little girl's voice answered. "Pegasus. But she got hurt, and she's... slowing down."

Benson was nodding as Jack entered the room. The old man gave him a look he hadn't seen before - one that told him in no uncertain terms to keep quiet. Then Benson turned back towards the girl.

"And what happens when she loses?"

The girl seemed to shrink back on herself. "Bad things. It'll do bad things if it beats her."

Benson sighed, settling his hand against his knee. "Can you show me where the monster goes? In your dreams?"

She hesitated for a long moment, then nodded and scurried off down the hallway. Benson dropped back to walk beside Jack as the two of them followed, speaking under his breath. "Girl's got a construct. Strong one, too."

Jack blinked. A construct for such a young child? Imaginary friends were common enough, of course, but most were simple ideas; they had no power. If she'd managed to mold a true being out of hers already, then either it had attached itself to her of its own accord, or she was going to be a ridiculously strong will herself. This was Jerry's family? Hadn't he said the lot of them were inert?

"So much for being a stray minder." Jack sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to block out the growing rage, the indignation and malice flooding every fiber of his being. The girl came to a stop in front of another stairway leading up, and simply pointed at the crawlspace door above. "It comes from in there," she said.

Benson nodded and started up. "Well, don't you worry. We'll take care of it, and Pegasus can rest." Jack was less sure - but still, he started up behind Benson all the same. The girl watched, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. As his hand came to rest against the doorknob, Benson spared a glance at Jack. "Get ready. She probably doesn't have a good hold on it, so we might end up fighting both her construct and today's baddie."

Jack could only nod, gritting his teeth as he visualized his shield.

The door creaked open easily under Benson's gentle push...

And all of a sudden, the world was a flood of deep, blood red, fighting against a shining blue.

-

It took almost an hour to shatter it; the daemon today was easily the strongest one Jack had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Then again, that title seemed to change with almost every other assignment these days.

Benson took it even worse than he did; Jack had a feeling that the old man had pushed himself a bit further than he should have, trying to keep its focus off of Jack, or - God forbid - the girl. Strong though she may have been, unfocused strength would have been worse than simply being inert. In the end, Benson had had to go out to the car after the daemon was finally destroyed, leaving Jack to explain to the girl.

"Is the monster gone, now?" She tilted her head as she looked up at Jack, the armpits of his suit soaked in sweat from the exertion of the battle. The house itself was undisturbed, of course; the fight was entirely mental today. No cursed objects or manifestations. He nodded slowly as he replied. "It should be. How old are you?"

"Seven and a half."

"You're very talented. You and Pegasus both. Listen; you're going to see a lot of scary things while you're growing up. Some of them won't mean anything by it; some might want to hurt you. If you ever see something that Pegasus can't fight off easy, I want you to give us a call." He handed her one of their cards, wincing to himself as he noted the sweat soaking the corners. "Don't let your mom see that, either. She won't be able to see any of it. We'll come again when you get older, when you'll understand better. Until then, don't pick any fights you can't win, alright?"

The girl nodded slowly. Jack stood with a sigh. They'd have to have someone keep watch on her - even despite what he told her, children weren't the best at following long-term instructions like that, and someone as strong as she was would undoubtedly draw predators and parasites, looking for challenge or stolen strength.

Still, there was nothing they could do but wait and hope for her right now. She was waving goodbye in the windows when they left; Jack could almost see, in his mind eye, the gleaming blue of wings stretched protectively in front of her.

[davidmann95]

Some Kingdom Hearts future thoughts

Have to get ‘em out! Went into some thoughts with my psuedo-review of III, but I’ve got others and stuff worth expanding on. I’ll put them under the cut since it clearly goes into spoilers, except for my boldest, most controversial guess: along with being announced either this year or next (since Kingdom Hearts has never reached the end of a calendar year after a release with nothing on the horizon) I think Kingdom Hearts IV is going to be a 2022 release. I recognize that sounds like an intensely generous timeframe, but I have several reasons:

1. Above all else by far: once again, Square Enix and Disney are going to be on Nomura’s ass, nose to the grindstone, to get him to start delivering these on a consistent basis again. Do you think they’re looking at Kingdom Hearts III topping sales charts and thinking “well, it sure was worth the wait”, or do you think they’re going “gosh, these are some nice sales, sure would be nice if it came out years ago and we had a bunch more similarly-selling titles by now, let’s try and aim for something closer to that in the future”. Especially-especially since Nomura and the actors aren’t getting any younger and the series is at a point where the core fanbase for the franchise as-is is going to be the primary target rather than new audiences, which means it has to wrap up in a timeframe where that’s still a viable market. So rapid, priority development and few if any more spinoffs. I mean, not as if there’s really a handheld platform for them to be on anymore.

2. My understanding (and this is going somewhat into the technical side of things, so I’m going thirdhand here based on what I’ve heard from others) is that the lifecycle of the current console generation isn’t going to run out for quite a bit yet, so they can reuse a lot of the assets and whatnot from III.

3. A big deal was made about Dream Drop Distance coming out on the 10th anniversary of the franchise, and given 20 is a much wilder number for this series than most equivalents when it’s about a single cast of characters going through a single story, I can’t imagine they won’t want to push that as at least a similarly big deal.

4. Finally, when things don’t go as catastrophically off the rails as III did, these games seem to have a fairly consistent 3-4 year development span (even III, once they announced the beginning of development in 2013, would have come out 2017-early 2018 if not for switching from Luminous to Unreal Engine), and for the reasons I listed above I think this is going to be on the speedier end of that.

* Firstly: the main discussion I’m seeing at this point regarding IV is “it’s gonna be a Kingdom Hearts/The World Ends With You/pseudo-Final Fantasy Versus XIII crossover!”, and I really expect and hope that isn’t the case. Not that I’ll be pissed if it is, I’m sure it would still be rad, but it strikes me as both unlikely and the lesser outcome. I don’t know that I see the powers that be diverting resources in one of their biggest cash cows towards a sequel to one of their minor games - one that’s already been in Kingdom Hearts, meaning its inclusion here wouldn’t reasonably be a huge enough deal to base a lot of the full story on - and a way to reimagine another project. And for that matter it strikes me as conceptually small-scale given the setup. Nomura went with a name in Yozora that doesn’t just have the bent meaning of Sora’s name but actually literally sounds like him, went with a setting that aside from the one cameo sign mainly screams to viewers “Sora’s suddenly in the real world, holy cow”, and unless I entirely misread it Verum Rex was presented as a total self-roast in Toy Box. It doesn’t strike me as spot-the-reference (even though that’s 100% in there) nearly so much as establishing a tonal contrast to Kingdom Hearts.

I joked initially about this being a Flash of Two Worlds! (linking to a description for non-comics readers who are here because I tagged Kingdom Hearts)/’Kingdom Hearts goes to war with its own gritty fanfic’ setup, but...I actually suspect that’s pretty close to what’s going on here? This seems like a send up of Final Fantasy’s relative self-seriousness and over the top Super Cool characters, as a contrast to Sora’s goofy open-hearted sincerity and optimism. It’s the Secret Movie aesthetic that some want not just more prominent but as the actual main tone of the series morphed into an entire universe all its own, and Sora, out of place, has to find his way through and back home even as the real threat mounts, and probably has to save this world and get through to its heroes who aren’t likely prone to grinning through off-the-cuff monologues about the heart. That is not only entirely my kind of ridiculous meta jam, it feels like a logical next step for the series: if the first trilogy was in part about growing up, the next (and I suspect last, as the Master of Masters and his Foretellers have been set up as the primordial antagonists of the entire mythology and this is where they’re coming to the fore; my old theory of Eraqus being the big bad of an intermediary trilogy looks solidly shot to hell) could very well be about reaching adulthood, in which case it makes sense Sora would have to pass through a near literal fire of Adolescent/Adult Cynicism.

* Speaking of where Sora ends up: I kinda doubt he’s literally dead, or that if he is it’ll last past the opening of the game. They’ve already made a big theatrical production of Sora dying twice now, the second time in the most literal way possible and just a few hours prior to this, so while third time’s the charm I think there’ll be more to it than that. The again common thing I’ve been seeing is that he’ll have to play the Reaper game to win his life back (not something I’m much familiar with but I think I’ve got the basics), but again, while it’ll certainly be part of the game I don’t think TWEWY is going to be the big thing here (like they’d really make that a bigger deal than the Final Fantasy elements have been), and he just dealt with the afterlife and had to essentially play a game to win his soul back, and this wouldn’t even be a game he’s unfamiliar with. My impression is he’s incorporated back and whole - if likely powered down from the ordeal to justify him being back at level one - and the mystery is less whether or not he’s truly alive so much as how he ended up here and how to get back.

* On the other end of things - and I realize it’s a risky prospect to suggest after her getting a shockingly small role compared to everyone else in III was the damning weak aspect of its otherwise basically perfect finale - I think this is where Kairi is actually going to start to come to the forefront. She and Riku would be at the head of a search that everyone would be a part of (they were there when it happened, they know death is negotiable in their world, and they’re good people who all owe him), her especially since he’s her boyfriend - they may not declare it outright but there’s clearly no ambiguity between the two of them as to their situation anymore - and the one he sacrificed himself for, and she’s out there fighting now even if she’s inexperienced. And Riku seems like he’s going to end up lost himself on the search, leaving her behind as the sole Destiny Trio representative. So even if she isn’t a playable co-lead I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one going on a more traditional Kingdom Hearts adventure searching with the rest while Sora and later Riku deal with the genre mindfuck. On the bright side if nothing else, she’s died twice now too and they’ve both been presented as dead in a “maybe this time for real” way for a finale, so while again third time’s the charm, I figure she and Sora are relatively bulletproof from here on out.

* Speaking of Riku, while this seems more like an old-school proof of concept trailer from I and II rather than the more recent actual scenes, meaning his appearance might well change just as Kairi was different in I’s Secret Movie than she really was in II, it’s very notable that he hasn’t aged at all. So likely instead of another tragic I to II scale timeskip of Sora being lost from his friends, it looks like IV will be picking up immediately and the search for him won’t take long to succeed. Also speaking of Riku, I seem to see people thinking he’s with Namine now? Not that that seems impossible, but while the scene as a whole is romanticized in that it’s basically a princess being carried away by chariot to her happily-ever-after, it reads to me less as an actual romance than Riku fulfilling his ‘brother’s promise. Though if Square/Nomura does want to really get into romance with the next trilogy, since Sora/Kairi is locked down maybe they’ll just say fuck it and do a whole Riku/Namine/Xion/Roxas Love Square situation.

* Actual prediction rather than analysis of evidence: I suspect this is the last major time the Destiny Trio is going to be split up, at least in the searching-for-each-other, not-knowing-if-everyone’s-alive sense. I was the search for Kairi, II for Riku, and now IV for Sora - that cycle looks to be completing. Wouldn’t be surprised if V and/or the finale was finally the three of them as the adventuring party as fans have wanted for so long, with III as the grand finale to Sora/Donald/Goofy.

* It seems early to predict the main villain, but at the same time everyone was accurate in assuming a Keyblade-wielding Xehanort would be the final boss of the trilogy circa 2006, so I’m gonna go ahead and say Xigbar/Luxu is gonna be the end-all with IV. The Master of Masters is still the end of the road, and perfect for it because he’s a real-world normal savvy guy who can manipulate this world of straightforward classical adventurers with ease, while Sora at the opposite end of the scale is silly and sweet even by that world’s standard. But Luxu addresses the same ideas in a way that’d be perfect for this game in particular as it seems to be set up, he’d be the villainous connective tissue as this game moves from one trilogy to another, and he has the dangling personal thread of the ‘reward’ he suggested was coming for Sora. Or hell, since now it looks like she’s at least somewhat privy to what’s going on, maybe Maleficent will finally step back up.

EDIT: Ooh, just remembered, speaking of what Xigbar says to Sora, his Olympus conversation also predicts Sora’s fate? The whole “if you leap in to save somebody, you might just end up in the clutch needing to be saved yourself” lecture, i.e. the premise for IV. Maybe his teach isn’t the only one privy to future events?

* Not both, they’ll wanna space it out, but I’m like 70% sure this is where Marvel or Star Wars are gonna happen.

* Finally, while I’ve heard speculation that the Mystery Star is one of the Foretellers or the person who died in that Union X game, I don’t think she’s one of them given it’s a new voice actor and she cites a name Sora knows. More likely she’s ‘Subject X’ (I went ahead and looked up the Secret Reports, haven’t gone back and done all the bonus challenges myself yet and won’t I imagine for some time), who does seem to be from that time but is I think someone new.

[doodlefox-beta]

ｂｕｎｇｕｓ

can you imagine a world where were all represented by a font? What font would I be? Hmmm, no, not Arial, that's too straight. No! Not in that way! Just, straight, as in unexciting. Too uh, deadpool.... BROADWAY! Now that's the one! Now that's the ONE!!! Hello Internet, welcome to GAME THEORY, where instead of putting a joke here I want to ask you a personal question. If you're personality were represented by a font, which font would you be? Take a moment and put you font in the comments. I'm really curious to see what everyone has to say. Maybe find a couple new cool fonts to use. I get bored with old calibri 11. And with that out of the way, it's time to talk UNDERTALE. Now I don't think I've ever gotten this many request to cover a game. Well, except for FNAF. And I suppose FNAF 2. OH and there was FNAF 3. Wait a minute, should I be worried about something here? Anyway, across the board on YouTube, Reddit, and Twitter, you've all been wanting Undertale. And honestly, I'm glad you brought it to my attention. Truly loyal theorists will know that earthbound is my favorite game of all time. So a self aware RPG in a similar style, WHOA MAN, it's like a gift from the indie gaming heavens. Undertale is a game where every character, from goat mom to grind fodder has a sympathetic design and a unique personality, motivations, goals, fears. Whether you're saving or slaughtering them, the game makes you feel something every time you enter an encounter. But to me, one character stood out amongst all the rest. SANS. A skeleton named after the font, comic sans, hence all the font references at the beginning of the episode. If you haven't played undertale I'm sure that was a really wierd opening. ANYWAYS, sans is, well, there's a lot of mystery around this guy. And before we get into it, let me put up a very special spoiler warning: UNDERTALE Is a game best experienced blind. So if you haven't played it, come back after you've finished. I PROMISE YOU, I PROMISE you won't regret it. Alright so everyone out of the pool and ready for the adult swim? Good. Because I'm feeling pretty determined to get to the bottom of sans' mystery. So just to recap for those of you who haven't played the game and ignored the SPOILER WARNING, or just need a refresher, sans is one of the two skeletal brothers who appears in the game. His partner is papyrus, a loud, goofy trap lover also named after a font. But in the world of undertale their origins are a big question mark. All you really know is what's given by a shopkeeper in Snowden, who claims that sans and papyrus just, and I quote, "showed up one day and asserted themselves." Wierd, right? What's more is that papyrus is just kinda the goofy sidekick. SANS is much more complex. He likes fart jokes, but he's also incredibly deadly and much more serious. Not only is his boss battle the hardest in the game, he's one of the only characters who has knowledge and power over space and time. He can take shortcuts through the world on ridiculous routes. He even is walking through walls. He also acknowledges that he's only one of infinite versions of himself, making self-aware commentary of the various timelines you've played through in the game. He can even count the number of times he's killed you. He acts like an arbiter of this world, passing out judgements in the game, even explaining the secrets of EXP and LOVE, or EXECUTION POINTS and LEVELS OF VIOLENCE. In short, he just doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the world of monsters. But then, what, or who, is he? Well, that he doesn't belong in the underground seems to be correct. The evidence shows he used to be a surface dweller. In the true pacifist ending of the game, as the group looks out onto the horizon, papyrus asks sans about the giant ball in the sky. Sans says, quote, we call that the sun. This is important because A, the use of the word WE, and knowledge of the sun, shows that sans has a kinship or knowledge of other humans, and B, that despite he and papyrus both being skeletons, and BROTHER, and apparently both appearing in the underworld at the same time, the clearly have two very different histories. Why would papyrus not know the name of the sun but sans would? We get further clues to sans' origins as we hear him say multiple times he wants to "go home" or "go back." He says as much during his dinner date scene at the mettaton hotel. He notices that the player wants to go home and says, quote, "I know the feeling." He then continues, "maybe sometimes it's better to take what's given to you." As though he ended up in the underworld by accident. AND in a genocide run during his boss fight he says, quote, "look, I gave up trying to go back a long time ago." End quote. And before you say that means going back to the surface world, that's clearly not the full story. His very next line of dialogue is " and getting to the surface doesn't really appeal anymore either." Key word here, is EITHER. Yes, he seems to hail from the surface and wants to go back, but based on the dialogue he no longer considers it his home. It's as though the surface world he once knew is gone, and as though the surface he's from is from a different time. It's pretty intriguing. So we're left with a being that appeared out of nowhere, presumably from being from the human surface but from a different time period, who seemingly had the power to teleport. That a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. But here's where things get REALLY interesting. Sans has a hidden workshop that takes a fair amount of searching to find. You could say it takes a lot of DETERMINATION to unlock. Anyways, obligatory determination references aside, as you start to look for this easter egg sans gives you a key to his room and says "it's time you learn the truth." After visiting the workshop you find some items that leave a lot more questions. A photo album featuring sans and a bunch of people you don't recognize, a badge, blueprints with illegible handwriting, and a broken machine hidden behind a curtain. In the latest update, one more detail was added. A handdrawn picture of 3 smiling faces with the words “don't forget.” so what does it all mean. Well a lot of undertale theorists have been linking these details to a feature to a character named w d gaster. A ghostly figure who never truly appears in the game, honestly covering him is a theory all unto itself, and probably best saved for another day. All of the gaster theories i've seen haven't been able to explain all the details. A photo album, and the badge, and that's what kept nagging me as i researched undertale. A badge? That one in particular stuck out to me. Why would such an oddly specific item to be hidden in the huge easter egg of the room. Something that supposedly reveals the truth about sans. Badges just aren't important in undertale. Then it hit me. What if this badge isn't from undertale? What if this badge is from a completely different game? And was infact the most important badge in the history badge in the history of gaming? This franklin badge. And for those of you who are wondering what i'm talking about, the franklin badge is a pivotal item from the mother series. You know, the one with earthbound, or, maybe you don't know that one either. You know, the one with ness from super smash bros? Yeah well, ness is from earthbound, and earthbound is the second part of this larger mother series. Good? Yeah, well anyways, the franklin badge is an important part of that series. It gets its start in the very first game and carries through the whole trilogy, saving your life many times in the process. It's SO important that nintendo has made it a staple item in the smash brothers series. So i asked myself; what if the badge in sans drawer was THAT badge? Well first off, it would make undertale connected to earthbound, thereby making it even COOLER? But that's still a pretty big logical leap. I needed more. Let me tell you, as i started looking more and more pieces started to fit into place. At the end of earthbound you're given a photo album, covering your adventures throughout the game. To me it's one of the most satisfying endings to a journey. And what does sans have in his other drawer? A photo album of people you don't recognize. Of course you don't know them, they're not character present in undertale. And note  the word that's used here, PEOPLE you don't recognize. Not underworld monsters. So that's 2 items oddly linked to the mother series linked to the mother series. But how do the broken machine and blueprints fit in? Well, in the final stretch of earthbound, ness and his 3 friends must travel to the past in order to have their final battle against the evil alien giygas. In order to do that, with the help of dr. andonuts (remember that, he's going to be important later) along with science geniuses apple kid and mr. saturn, create a machine known as the phase distorter, a machine that allows people to travel through time and space. Except, it comes at a cost. It can transport organic material, as a result the young heroes must put their souls in robot bodies in order to save the world. I played this game back in 1997 and i'm not ashamed to admit that when i first saw this scene i cried. It's DEVASTATING. Doctor andonuts says goodbye to his son, these characters you've grown to love are suddenly promising to sacrifice their lives. For all they know, there is no possibility of them being able to come back home. It's all a very dark departure in what was otherwise a fun, colorful, and quirky RPG. so what does all of this have to do with undertale? A LOT, actually. But the first thing you need to know is that mr. saturns are known for their, let's say, unique linguistic style. That would explain the illegible handwriting on the blueprints. And the machine? I think a broken phase distorter is behind that curtain. Now that may seem like  a stretch but it actually explains a lot. Sans wound up in undertale via phase distorter, it could provide a reason for why he's a skeleton. He used the machine as organic matter and suffered the consequences, not killing him, but turning at least a part of him into a pile of bones. That could also explain why sans has given up hope for going home. Remember the phase distorter is a time machine. Based on the way he talks, he's not only from a different space but from a different time, with no hope of travelling back to the time  he came from. But the crossovers between earthbound and undertale continue. When you speak to apple kid at the end of earthbound, he's blown away by the astronomical odds of ness defeating giygas. Hes going to continue studying the trait called courage, in order to obtain its power. That seems awfully familiar to the experiments happening in undertale around the trait of determination, no? Especially since so much has shown that sans was a key player in those experiments. But i'm sure you also want physical evidence right? Well don't worry, i have plenty. During one of the endings of undertale, we see undyne and alpyhs hanging out on the beach of the surface world. A beach  that bears a lot of similarities to the tropical location summers that you play in earthbound. In fact, the geographic layout of the surface bears some striking similarities to the world of mother. When undertales crew of monsters are finally able to reach the surface and look out over the earth, they're met with a beautiful sunset with a tall mountain, a big city, and a sandy area adjacent to water. Notice the sun's reflection, hence the water, and a lack of trees in this middle section, hence the sand. Well, in earthbound you have the big city of fourside, complete with skyscrapers, which you reach via a dessert that just so happens to be adjacent to water, and to the east, a mountain on onett where a meteor hits earth. I always called it onett. But if that's not clear enough for you, mother 1, earthbound zero, earthbound beginnings, whatever you want to call it, it's had a lot of names, had a map laying out the same geographic landscape. A tall mountain to the east of a large city, separated by a desert, with all of it up against a coast. I don't know about you, but to me it seems like there's a definite connection between the world of eagleland (eagleland? Again, unclear how its pronounced.) and the surface world of undertale. But the strongest physical connection, the one that definitely connects these two franchises,  comes from none other than papyrus himself. He wears a custom made costume known as his “battle body” but if you look really closely at the designing on the armor, you'll notice a few marks on  the chest. Is it just a throwaway detail? Ohoh NO, that right there is an exact match to the ones that appear on the chests of starmen, the most iconic enemy of earthbound. And look at the way he stands, i always thought it was awkward until i saw the two characters side by side. Papyrus’ curved arm and hand is a DIRECT match to the curved arm and hand of the starmen. In short, we have some strong proof that the earthbound universe is somehow connected to the undertale  world, which brings us back to our initial question, WHO IS SANS? Well, what if  we took in one final step and said that sans happened to be ness from earthbound. He hopped through the phase distorted as a test of courage, carrying his franklin badge, a photobook, and his trusty backpack. Not only do all the items in the workshop suddenly fit, but so does sans’ behavior. Remember, sans can seemingly teleport. And ness just happens to have the ability PSI teleport. Now look at how sans stands, hands in his pockets, legs out, it looks very similar to how ness is shown on most of the marketing for the game. It even explains why sans bleeds when you hit him. He is, or at least, WAS, a human. Oh and finally, sans is only one letter removed from being an anagram of ness. That's just a fun one. I thought it was worth mentioning. But if there was any doubt, we have to look no further than the creators previous work. Toby Fox, the man behind undertale, had previously worked on a halloween hack for earthbound. But this isn't just a simple reskin. The halloween hack tells the tale of dr. andonuts after the events of earthbound. Remember i pointed him out, he's the one who made the phase distorter. In toby fox’s version of the story, we see that the souls of the kids never returned home instead, by going to the past to defeat giygas, there stuck in a new timeline. As a result, jeff never reunites with his father andonuts. And dr. andonuts goes crazy  with guilt, because HE’S the one responsible for creating the time machine, taking the souls of his sons and his sons friend to what he assumes aws their death. He's killed 4 kids, and in toby fox's game, he's gone crazy with guilt, trying to deal with that. Im telling you, this hack is DARK. that said, you see a lot of undertale in this game. The appearance of amalgamates, the use of the awesome song megalovania, the prototypes for flowery? And the theme of being nonviolent in an rpg, SPARING your enemies. So why is this important to the story? Well, remember, in toby fox's version of the story, the kids don't come back. They're stuck in the past, with no hopes of getting home, just like sans. and , in the hack, one character is oddly missing, with no explanation as to why. NESS. presumably in this timeline his soul is in a different place than his friends. Which brings us back to undertale. 3 faces, with “don't forget” written on it? Its ness, trying to remember his 3 friends. In short, undertale is a continuation of toby’s version of earthbound, with ness never being able to get home, adopting the name sans, and being accompanied by papyrus, a starman, with knowledge of english, his armor, and his signature posture, but without any of his memory of human things, like the sun. The pieces all just seem to fit. Now all we need is an appearance from Pokey/Porky and we’d have a true sequel. But hey, that's just a theory. A GAME THEORY! THANKS FOR WATCHING!

[galadrieljones]

Gaming: About Me

I saw @starsandskies do this, and I was bored, and it looked fun. So here we go!! <3

favorite game from the last 5 years?  ‒ Dragon Age: Inquisition, Horizon: Zero Dawn, The Last of Us, Rise of the Tomb Raider

most nostalgic game? ‒ Skyrim. I know I have characterized it before by saying it feels more like a place I used to live for a little while than an actual game I used to play.

game that deserves a sequel?  ‒ :nervous laughter: DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION. Also, I think that after the ending cut scene with Silens, Horizon: Zero Dawn would do awesome with a sequel.

game that deserves a remaster?  ‒ I kind of would love a remaster of Dragon Age: Origins.

favorite game series?  ‒ I am terrible at series. I don’t make it through them very often. But I would probably say Dark Souls. Even though I, myself, have only played a teensy bit of the original, I’ve watching my husband play all of them, the first two multiple times, and the games are just breathtaking and bizarre, and I love the sort of hidden capacity of all the stories and different locations, how hard we have to work to put the pieces together and understand what’s going on in the world. It’s extremely challenging on all fronts. I wish more games would trust their players as much as Dark Souls.

favorite genre?  ‒ Fantasy RPGs. But I also really love these super immersive choice and consequence adventure games like Life is Strange. I would really like to play Until Dawn, but I’m super nervous lol. It looks scary af. I like any games that complicate the point of view of the player, particularly via morality scenarios. I feel like that is when games are at their best. This is a part of why I love The Last of Us so much.

least favorite genre?  ‒ Probably science fiction in space? I have a hard time getting into any space text, tbh, unless there is a BIG human component, and a lot of themes that make the setting feel more like a metaphor (ie: Battlestar Galactica). Like the Mass Effect games, for example, while I think they have some good characters, bore me after a while, in terms of their aesthetic (don’t kill me lol). But I DO really like the sort of loopy space scifi you see in series like Borderlands and Halo. I think those two series are pretty genius, and their POVs are unique.

favorite song from a game?  ‒ Can it be from a game trailer? Ellie’s version of Through the Valley, for sure, from the teaser for The Last of Us, Pt. II

I also really like “I Shall Rise” by Karen O from Rise of the Tomb Raider.

favorite character from a game?  ‒ Joel from The Last of Us [painful sobbing], and Solas from Dragon Age: Inquisition [more painful sobbing]

favorite ship from a game?  ‒ Solavellan, baby. Give me all the god angst.

favorite voice actor from a game?  ‒ Troy Baker...how is he at once so sexy and so dorky? No one will ever know. The perfect man.

favorite cutscene?  ‒ The final cut scene of the Winter chapter from The Last of Us:

I love this scene for so many reasons, but honestly my favorite part is right at the end, when we see Joel telling Ellie something before they leave the restaurant, and we don’t get to know what it is. Like it is just between them. This moment is incredibly private and intimate and just beautiful to witness, particularly given its context.

favorite boss?  ‒ I really enjoyed the final fight with Konstantin in Rise of the Tomb Raider. I feel like it was somehow inspired by Ellie’s battle with David in The Last of Us (which I’d say is my favorite but it’s actually just too terrifying and I dread it). Like Ellie, in this fight, Lara has been stripped of her guns, bow, and general defenses, and she must sneak around a slowly deteriorating setting while using mainly her environment to win the battle. She has to toss cans and bottles around to distract Konstantin, and then sneak attack him. It is time-consuming and very intense. There is also a distinct and terrifying predator/prey dynamic at work in both scenes, and at some point, like right at the end, it shifts. This feels very realistic and immersive. Granted, I sympathized with Konstantin, which made the ending of Rise of the Tomb Raider all the more powerful, whereas I thought David was bona fide scum of the earth and deserved exactly what he got and more.

first console?  ‒ Super Nintendo

current console or consoles?  ‒ PS4 and XBOX ONE, though mostly it’s been the PlayStation lately.

console you want?  ‒ We have talked about getting whatever the newest Wii is? We don’t need it lol, but like, Super Mario Galaxy is THE BEST. Also, Zelda.

place from a game that you’d like to visit?  ‒ Maybe Skyhold? I love it there. I want to hang out with Cole on the battlements.

place from a game that you’d like to live in?  ‒ Skyrim. Particularly the Whiterun Hold. I know it’s an awful place, but it’s so exciting and pretty and it would be so easy to just be an NPC, living out your simple life in Rorikstead, waving hello to the heroes as they pass through.

ridiculous crossover that would never happen but would be super fun?  ‒ I don’t tend to think in these kinds of terms. But I think it would be interesting if Sene Lavellan was sent to Skyrim as the Dragonborn lol. There would be a LOT of “What the fuck” moments. FUS RO FUCK YOU DRAGON PRIESTS

book that would make a good game?  ‒ There’s this terrible but extremely addicting horror novel called The Ruins about a bunch of idiot college kids that trespass on a cursed Mayan ruin while on spring break and get slowly consumed by these carnivorous vines that grow there. I that it think would make an awesome like, choice and consequence horror survival game.

show/movie that would make a good game?  ‒ From Supernatural: Dean in purgatory, having a bromance with Benny the vampire while trying to escape and get back to his baby brother would be an awesome video game FOR SURE. BENNY! DEAN! Oof.

games you want to play?  ‒ God of War, The Last of Us, Pt. II, Life is Strange 2, Shadow of the Tomb Raider, the Uncharted games. Seriously I am booked through 2020 bye

have you gotten 100% completion in a game?  ‒ Lol. Never. I am the opposite of a completionist. I tend to go through games only making decisions and doing shit that feels organic and immersive in the moment. I actually skip a lot. But I tend to replay games often, so I think I see most everything over time.

have you cried over a game?  ‒ hhahahhahahahahahhahhahahahhaha. I just cried rewatching that cut scene from The Last of Us. I am hopeless. I cry in EVERY game I play.

tagging @thevikingwoman @wrenbee @ladylike-foxes @hidinginthehinterlands @kaoruyogi @buttsonthebeach @ellstersmash @a-shakespearean-in-paris @vinegartits @ithun and any one else who wants to do this!! Tag me if you do.

[forlornmelody]

Videogame Meme

Got tagged by @drellvhen! You’re all about to find out exactly how small my videogame library is. Hold on to your butts.

Tagging @valiantfartpanda, @commanderduckling, and @whatmyhobbiteyessee, if you’d like to share.

Favorite game from the last 5 years?

Um...so, here’s the thing. I’m so not current on games XD; The most recent is probably Mass Effect 3, and conveniently, it’s my favorite.

Most nostalgic game?

Sid Meier’s Pirates. Was my first PC game. I’ve sunk (heh) a lot of hours into it. Yeah, the storyline is so-so. But BLACKBEARDS FLAMING HAIR AT SUNSET IS MY AESTHETIC. I would love to play it in VR if that ever became an option.

What game deserves a sequel?

Eh...I think most of the games I’ve liked are part of franchises? But I wouldn’t mind a DLC where we get to see what happens to the Milkyway after the Reaper War. Mostly I want to see Shepard get out of that dusty rebar hell and into a proper hospital. Maybe a reunion with their LI. Is that too much to ask!? (Or like a cut scene where the crew finds out what happened to Shepard depending on the ending you chose.)

Game that deserves a remaster?

The only thing keeping me from going back to Dragon Age Origins and romancing Zevran properly is the poor graphics and fighting mechanics. That and the endless dungeons. I wouldn’t mind a remaster of ME1 either. Or you know....some extra, queer romance options for the whole trilogy? Just sayin’

Favorite game series?

Uh, come on now. I think it should be obvious at this point ;)

Favorite genre?

RPGs.

Least favorite genre?

Battle royale games. Waaaaay too stressful for me. At least when I lose against a boss 15 times in single player no one has to see my defeat.

Favorite cutscene?

The Citadel DLC when Shepard meets their clone for the first time. Shepard’s reactions the ENTIRE time. Oh my goodness. And the clone’s sass.

Favorite character from a game?

I can’t pick Shepard? Well, then. Jack Nought from Mass Effect has one of my favorite story arcs. And I’m still bitter about Brynolf in Skyrim not being a canon LI. Even though the Old Nord word for “spouse” literally means “personal shopkeeper.”

Favorite song from a game?

I love the entire Mass Effect trilogy soundtrack, but the song that starts playing when Shepard activated the crucible? That’s the one I’ll play by itself.

Favorite ship from a game?

I kind only have feelings for Bioware romances. Sooo...for canon romances: Zevran x Femwarden and Femshep x Kaidan from Mass Effect. (Honorable mention for Shrios.) And I love me some non-canon rarepairs. Soooo many.

Favorite voice actor from a game?

JENNIFER HALE OWNS MY SOUL.

Favorite boss?

Clone Shep. Having your own powers used against you!? They’re the only one beside Shepard (depending on class) and Tela Vasir that can biotically charge. (Banshee don’t count.)

First console?

Never had one. My first gaming PC was as 2005 Dell desktop with Windows XP.

Current console or consoles?

I have two laptops. One is....a 2010 Acer with native Windows 7 (and now Windows 10 *sobs*) I use it to create new OCs without having to overwrite my current playthrough.

And I do my actual gaming on a 2018 Acer Nitro. It niiiice. Even if it has Windows 10.

Console you want?

I’m pretty content with my new laptop. But I wouldn’t mind having some variety of PlayStation so I can play Kingdom Hearts.

Place from a game that you’d like to visit?

The Citadel.

Place from a game you would like to live in?

Thessia before the Reaper Invasion. The amount of eezo in the atmosphere won’t give me tumors, right? Riiiight?

Ridiculous crossover that would never happen but would be super fun?

The miscreants of Legends of Tomorrow time travel to 2186 and help Shepard fight the war. Actually, with the way they write that show, this crossover idea isn’t *that* implausible. 

Book what would make a good game?

Erm...I know Cassandra Clare is problematic, but I would *love* a video game based on the Mortal Instruments. Lots of action, and romance fit for an RPG. But like. I’d want it to be based in that *world*, not based on the books themselves. So I can romance whomever the fuck I want.

Show/Movie that would make a good game?

Uh.....Atomic Blonde? Maybe Ocean’s 8? I don’t watch enough shows or movies XD; 

Games you want to play?

Well, now that I have a laptop that *can* play Andromeda, that one for sure. And I’m super interested in Life Is Strange, and it’s mostly @commander-hot-pants‘s fault. I should also uh...play that Assassins Creed game I have on Steam. Unity, I think? It’s the French Revolution one.

Have you gotten a 100% completion in a game?

If I like the game, yeah. The only one that I can think of that I didn’t was Fall Out New Vegas. Kinda drove myself into a ditch with that one. 

Have you cried over a game?

Cry? No. But Thane’s death scene makes me tear up every time. And the first time I played the Horizon mission? I felt like someone had broken up with ME. That was when I knew I was hooked. I was grieving for a week after finishing the trilogy for the first time. But that may be because I finished right around Trump being elected. Gross.

[outofcalms-archived]

[soulmate au + noctis] 17. the one where your soulmate’s name is on one wrist and your enemy’s name is on the other and you have no clue which is which.

Soulmate AU Prompts || Still accepting!

    ‘Parables’

    Ah,yes, she’s heard the accounts most of her life—all the islandershad, passing them down through the generations. Told in the form offabled stories—or so she would consider them to be—in an effortto instill patience and invoke prudent judgment. And while sheunderstood it, once she came of age, it was difficult not to becomeslightly jaded when the innocence fell away. Considering them nothingmore than ‘old wives’ tales’.

    Thenotion that your future relied on a choice between two people withwhom you may, or may not know? One you’re fated to spend eternitywith, while the other threatens your existence?

    Ridiculousin the eyes of a young woman, but as a child, nothing had sounded so intriguing.

     Butthe day came when child-like endeavors falls away, leaving youaccountable for yourself. Eager to strike out on her own, in searchof a destiny tailor-made for herself, she departs the tiny islandthat’s been her home for the better part of a decade; thebittersweet sentiment taking hold as Besaid becomes nothing more thana speck on the horizon.

     ❝So,didja hear?!❞

    ❝It’skinda hard not to—everyone’s buzzing about it and whywouldn’t they? It’s not every day the leaders step downoff their pedestals to mingle with the ‘common’ folk.❞

    Shetries her utmost to purposefully disregard their clashing opinions;all, too, aware that it will eventually come to that—it alwaysdid. Busying herself by placing discarded books back in theirrightful place. Why were people so careless?

    ❝Yunie!❞ Inserting herself betweenher cousin and the lining rows of worn tomes that lined the walls. ❝You’re into this kinda stuff, right? You gottabe excited they’revisiting…❞

    Stuff…?

    Sure,politics were mildlyintriguing, but onlybecause of how it affected those around her. She didn’t activelypartake in discussions or campaigns. Nonetheless, leave it to Rikkuto try and win her favor in a debate between herself andPaine—despite her reluctance to choose sides.

    ❝It’sinteresting…sort of…I guess?❞ A slight shrug was given as sheside-stepped Rikku, determined to finish what she’d started. ❝Butaren’t you and uncle Cid—I thought you really weren’tinterested?❞

    ❝I’mstill not!❞

    Blanching at the thought; as if it was blasphemous for Yuna toentertain the idea to begin with.

    ❝Thenwhy are you theonly one that seems excited?❞ Paine’squick to jump to Yuna’s defense. ❝It’s just another day, Rikku.With a few stuffy politicians in tow.❞

    Thecomparison garners a few stifled chuckles from herself, though shewould later chalk it up to the stirring dust along the spines of thebooks. Truthfully…she agreed with both ofthem—almost equally. While excited to see what sort of news theleaders would bring, the idea that it would stir an otherwise normalday seemed the morelikely approach. Perhaps a bit more traffic than usual, too?

    ❝Yeah,but have you seen MaesterRegis’ son?❞ Rikku quipped, nudging her cousin playfully alongher side. ❝I hear he’skinda easy on the eyes, eh?❞

    ❝What?No love for Maester Jyscal’s son?❞ Paine’s retort came fullyloaded—dripping sardonically with a roll of crimson hues. ❝Wellwe know who the shallowone of the group is.❞

    ❝H-Hey!❞

    Still,she says nothing in return. Silence—her smartest remark. Of courseshe’s seen them. Who hasn’t?Even if she didn’t occasionally follow the countless addresses ordebates, anyone who teetered along the cusp of the age ofaccountability knew who they were. Aware of their prominence. NoctisCaelum and Seymour Guado,respectively—both next in line to lead in their fathers’ stead.Even if there were those who weren’t well versed in the hierarchyof Spira, the chances that their names hadn’t come up in casualconversation amid the masses were an improbability.

    ❝It’sreally not a big deal—they’ll probably be absorbed in meetings.On the off chance they’re escorted around the city, you can bet noone will be able to get close enough to see them up close, so Iwouldn’t hold your breath, Rikku. It’s going to be justanother…ordinary day.❞

    Yes,another humdrum day, but a particularly busyone.

    Shecouldn’t recall the last time their library had seen so many faces;old and new alike, though she surmised the treating of high-rankingofficials had been the culprit of such fuss. Yet,resilient as ever, she’d managed to survive the high-volume ofpatrons. Though, begrudgingly,more titles were littered along tabletops and every other surfacearea equipped to hold them.

    Really…didno one know how toreplace that which they took?

    One-by-onehad they been slipped back in their proper place, climbing down fromthe ladder for the last time. Thankfully, as calves bore the burn ofsuch a strenuous workout. It’s well beyond closing time, knowing ashower and bed called out her. Yet, as she crosses the main hall onelast time, a lone book catches her attention, prompting a deflatedsigh to free itself.

    ❝I’lldeal with you tomorrow,❞ Picking it up with everyintention to leave itforgotten for the night on her desk. ❝Even if it doesbother me…❞

    Butbefore she can do so, the rattling of keys within a lock startlesher, turning sharply to see her employer ushering a handful ofunfamiliar faces inside the confines of the library. Brows furrow,glancing up at the clock that hung above the entrance; confirmingwhat she already knew, ears strained to pick up on hushedconversation, only to jolt to attention as they were lead in herdirection.

    Theparty closing in, she squints cerulean and emerald hues, fighting thedimly lit atmosphere in an effort to make out who they were. Shethought nothing of her fixated stares, at least until theyslowed—stopping at the behest of her boss—extending a briefintroduction to which nearly left her speechless. As if choking onher words to Rikku in the days prior, there stood both young menbefore her; each equally suave and cordial in their formalities.

    Twohands extending to commemorate their meeting.

    Stunned,she moves to reciprocate, yet her speechless daze is marked by aresounding thud that echoes in the stillness. The heavy tome sheholds drops unceremoniously to the marbled floor at their feetleaving a bright rosy hue torise against fair cheeks. All three of them—Noctis, Seymour andherself lower to pluck it from the ground, each set of hands fallingto opposite sides; awkwardly rising with hands still attached.

    ❝Um…t-thankyou—❞ Chords meek, bearing the sheepishness she feels for havingbeen so careless. ❝It was a pleasure to have met you both.❞

    Andthough painfully shy, each of their eyes meet, lingering mere secondsbefore beckoned to follow her superior. It’s only when they’reout of earshot that an audible sigh pushes between frowning lips;humiliation rising to tinge her visage as she turns to place the bookatop her desk.

    Perhapsin light of what transpired, a burning sensation registers againsther wrists, yet its not enough to derail her immediate thoughts.However, warped pages brings a brow to quirk—a faint grimacedenotes the ache she feels. Slender fingers move to open the bookscover in an effort to straighten those same worn pages, quick tocatch the contents held within: educational verses regarding manylegends and stories of lore throughout Spira.

    Theparables.

    Happenstance,she assumes, albeit…surreal.

    Homeat last, her belongings are quicklycast aside in light ofthe troublesome and exhaustive day, shedding her cardigan without asecond thought. With frazzled nerves beginning to calm in the solaceof solitude, the burn felt earlier came back with a vengeance; as ifscorned by her previous lack of attention. Hands grasp at thethrobbing sources, wincing uncomfortably, yet it fades shortlythereafter.

    Curiositybeckons. Reluctantly turning palms up to greet her grimace.Surprisingly, upon each wrist she bears names that had not been therebefore. Faintly—barely visible as they closely resembledflesh-toned scars. In an effort to make out what they say, hurriedsteps were taken, arms rising higher toward a light. Indeed, twonames lay etched into fair skin.

    Uponher left wrist, Noctis.On the right, however, Seymour.

    Asoft hitch in her breath as memories flit to the surface. Anechoing rasp of the crone from her childhood resounds internally,further coaxed into disbelief at the revelation. The many fabledstories she spoke of, ramblings?

    ❝Ah,the innocence of youth. Hold on to it, child. Before long, you’llbelong to another, yet clarity will elude you. One will devote all hehas, while the other will seek to extinguish your fire. Be wise inyour decision.❞

    Andthough she wanted to refute the old woman’s madness, the proofstood plain as day. One was meant to uplift, while the other soughtto hinder.

    Howwas she to distinguish the two…if they were mere strangersin passing?

    Perhapsa question for the ages.