#need to have it here because one time i was convinced it was a tumblr post & searched high and low for it.
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this tweet rearranged my brain chemistry I think about it every day
#mike talking#need to have it here because one time i was convinced it was a tumblr post & searched high and low for it.#mash#m*a*s*h#mash 4077th#beejhawk#hawkeye pierce#bj hunnicut#alan alda#mike farrell#shoulder to shoulder
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sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible
#trying to keep it together so bad because i already know the problems and solutions and whatnot but i cannot do anything#i desperately just need to do something. accomplish any task. actually several would be nice. but i cannot stand just letting life go by#while i watch other people have the things i want. or even metaphorically living my dream like. that should be me why am i settling for thi#i hate even talking about this because i feel so stupid when i know it's not even a real tangible problem and that i actually DO have real#problems to tackle and the ability to do so but i'm choosing to be upset over the stupidest things i could possibly be sad about#and i can't even be sad about it in a normal way i'm cycling through like several different reactions to smth that isn't even real#or if it is real i literally do not have tanglible evidence for it one way or another like i'm driving myself insane for no reason#i can't even get catharsis because all i'm doing is digging a deeper hole for something i never should've gone back into in the first place#because i KNOW how i am i KNOW how i react to things and i still chose to do it lmao.#and i continue to choose to go through this shit instead of actively trying to change my life because... i'm lazy? and stupid? idk#negative self-talk isn't gonna get me to do anything either so let's just say i'm feeling particularly unmotivated like usual#i hated being a teenager but i really do miss when all my problems just amounted to 'someone was mean to me on tumblr today :(' or i failed#a test in chemistry or something. like i yearn for that simplicity becasue at this point all i'm doing is ruining my own life LMAO#i'm too scared to live i'm too scared to die so i just sit here and fantasize that life could be amazing if i wait#and i'll magically get everything i've ever wanted if i just wait long enough. and i know it isn't true and i still wait for it to happen.#because honestly like. i think deep down i am just convinced i will fail at anything i do when that shouldn't be what scares me.#what scares me should be never even allowing myself to fail because i never tried to do anything at all with myself or my life#like. wake the fuck up. get off your ass and put in the effort. learn some skills. gain independence and stability and discipline and do it#just live please i'm begging you just live so i can be happy don't i deserve to be happy... why am i not letting myself be happy#i'm literally keeping myself trapped in this negative feedback loop ON PURPOSE because teehee shiny toy#and it doesn't matter if the love is real it doesn't matter how i feel like i'm just using it as a distraction i can't say it's motivation#because it's barely motivated me at all. i have to start being realistic. 25 & just realizing you actually have to participate in your life#anyways. i've cried i've agonized i've pictured killing myself in 30 different ways. i think the only way i'm gonna feel better is#to just actually try this time without giving up. wish me luck
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when I was around twelve I used to sit at the family computer and send hatemail to a white french dude named Jacques who was a self proclaimed communist on Tumblr. This was back in the day when you didn't need a blog to send anon hate. I had no real beef with him but I just didn't like his tone. used to send him "SHUT UP Jacques" periodically. and he'd answer every single one of my asks like "who is this?? show your face or I'll fucking kill you" and I'd be like "now now, that doesn't make sense, jacques" all haughty and he'd get so fucking mad at me. One time he posted a selfie and I sent him an ask claiming I was a psychologist and that his hair parting suggested that he wasn't a communist at all. and he took it deliriously serious and went off on a 2,000 word rant. I can remember going to stay at my grandparents over that weekend, so I didn't even respond to the rant until I came back. I could've chosen to end it there, but when I returned, I sent him another ask which was like "psychologist here again: if you were a communist your hair parting would be in the middle. evenly distributed. All behavioural signs point to someone who doesn't take their own values seriously." and he went ballistic. really swearing at me. all caps type beat. he never turned the asks off, btw. which always made me wonder if he didn't know how to, or if he didn't want to cause he was convinced he was fighting a war, and this action would ensure he lost it. anyway this went on for weeks until one day I completely forgot about him like he was some kind of childhood imaginary friend I'd conjured up in my loneliness. but yesterday I happened to recall the whole scenario, because my buddy was like "remember when you were twelve and I came over to your house, and you showed me on the computer how you'd been terrorizing this random French guy for days on end. And you were laughing like fucking crazy. and I said it wasn't funny because he probably had problems, and you were like 'oh.' and you looked a bit guilty for a second, but then you went and got a grapefruit from the kitchen and threw it out of the second story window at my kid brother, who was playing in the street, and then you started laughing again?" Well. when she put it like that, needless to say I felt bad. so Jacques if you're out there I'm sorry I was such a little shit. you had totally normal hair, and you only wanted people to share stuff. If it's any consolation I know every day of my life that I'm probably going to hell for the sick things I have done
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Feel like a fucking zoo animal
#watch the freak have a mental breakdown! what fun. anyway-#like i just writhe and suffer and have nowhere to put all this anguish and the people in my life r just like damn. that's crazy. anyway#and it's not like anyone owes me their care or compassion and i know other people got their own shit going on#but its hard not to be resentful when you are your own comfort always#i get people dont got energy all the time especially when dealing with their own shit but i feel like there isn't a point in time where i#would ignore my friends in distress. i always reach out. even just to say i love them. even just to say im here if they need an ear.#nobody does that for me#am i toxic? do i complain too much? am i selfish?#i feel selfish.#i feel enormous guilt just for wanting someone to reach out or say something kind.#i feel nauseous that i want and need someone to say something and show they care.#i try not to pester. i demand nothing. you can not speak to me for months and I'll just wait for your return#I'll post on tumblr or instagram and write in my journal because i have no one and nothing and im sure that does get old#but i have NO ONE???#friends ive had for years and none of them reach out or say anything. none of them have the energy to even have a conversation#and i get it like your friends arent your therapist and you beed to speak to someone m#i HAD a counsellor and shes not here anymore. im on a waitlist. i occasionally do drop ins. i got nothing else#i feel fucking crazy because im convinced I'm a toxic sack of shit for all this but i also feel you should be able to talk to your friends#n e ways#delete later probably
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I've been astonished by how much people seem to love my weird and experimental project held together by duct tape and string, especially since so much of it flies in the face of the way I've been taught publishing is supposed to work. The conventional way authors survive online is to release books for sale as frequently as possible - whereas I've been focusing on giving each project as much time as I can, and releasing them slowly (so far I've done a Dracula-inspired novel.) Iâve been making the sort of transgressive queer writing that mainstream publishing is too nervous to touch right now, and I've been giving it away in my newsletter for free.
I want to keep telling stories for free, forever. Only there's one problem: I'm going to need A Lot more subscribers to my newsletter. I have just under 5000 readers right now - Iâm going to need at least double that.
Conventional wisdom also says that Tumblr is a dead end, but I'm convinced that this is one of the last places on the internet that capable of fostering real, counter-cultural queer expression - precisely because we are so often left out and forgotten by the mainstream. Half the reason I'm on this website is because of the culture of absolute resistance to advertising. Unfortunately, that also makes my job here rather hard. If things continue to go well, between Patreon, sales of special editions, and a couple small ads, I think I can just about get away with doing this. But I need your help.
If you're someone who's hungry for good stories and:
⧠You're sick of being sold superficial, safe, and sanitized queer stories that shy away from genuine expressions of socially unacceptable desire
⧠You see sexual freedom as inseparable from queer liberation, and you want to see that explored in metaphor via a vampire seducing a priest
⧠You want to read modern queer fiction that's aware of the deep and rich history of queer culture
⧠You want to help foster a project that would create new avenues for underground and transgressive forms of queer expression
Then you should subscribe to What Manner of Man! It's sexy and boundary-pushing and kinky, with fire in its veins.
If this works, I'll be able to take on bigger and more ambitious projects than I ever have before (it's mad scientists next, and I have some pretty mad ideas!)
Thank you for your time! Reblogs deeply appreciated.
#original post#what manner of man#dracula daily#writers on tumblr#writblr#dark academia#vampires#priest kink
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Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?"- Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia (Pt.1 !) (Pt.2 Here!) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. ALSO SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 7 IN SILVER Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. I had to break Diasomnia into 2 parts because I exceeded tumblr's character limit. I have favorites I guess :/
This man is a child masquerading as an adult. As in to say that he resists any illogical emotions until they bottle up and explode. The traditional pathway for finding a life partner typically follows: stranger -> acquaintance -> friend -> crush -> lover ->partner. You know, as it normally goes when bonds form.
Sebek....is not a textbook case in this regard. His path is a bit more customizable
stranger -> person he is forced to interact with -> acquaintance of Lord Malleus -> Acquaintance of Lord Malleus that Sebek approves of -> Friend that Lord Malleus approves of -> Repressed Crush -> Acquaintance that Sebek avoids at all costs -> Acknowledged crush -> Acknowledged crush that Lord Malleus approves of -> Respected individual with mitigated interactions -> Courting -> awkward situationship -> lover -> awkward situationship (with better communication) -> spouse
Enough said.
This process isnât as complicated as it may seem on paper. While there are many steps, Sebek is fortunate enough to have people in his life willing to force commitments onto him. It also helps that he has blind trust in a select few. This makes him a bit naive and easily influenced. A boon in the right hands, and a bane in others.
In short, Sebek is emotionally constipated and only acts when thereâs a driving force. Otherwise he just gets frustrated. This is extremely apparent at two stages: ârepressed crushâ and âawkward situationshipâ. Scratch that. Three stages.
Beginning at ârepressed crushâ - Sebek realizes that he likes you when you ask about how his training is going. He happened by your dorm during his morning jog, and was more than happy to go off on a tangent of the strict regimen developed to forge a perfect knight.
Except thatâs not what you wanted to hear. You were more interested in his health and how he was enjoying himself rather than how his work was benefitting Malleus.
His heart fluttered, as if a shock of electricity thrummed through his body. Having never felt this before, Sebek mistakes it for a lapse in his strength and runs off at a much faster speed than before. Forget a light jog, he had enough energy to run 500 laps around the school track.
Donât you get it human?! You were distracting him! His body was at rest too long. Now shoo, youâre hindering him from doing his duty.
He represses these budding romantic feelings and âmisinterpretsâ them as deviant behavior. He even goes so far as to blame it on âuseless hormonesâ and convinces himself that itâll pass. He spares it no thought until his pining becomes apparent to everyone except for himself
Que the driving force. Despite Sebek believing otherwise, he does have friends and his entire love-life can be credited to their affectionate stupidity.
Simply put, Ace takes every chance to seamlessly flirt with you whenever Sebek is around. Not in a subtle way either - he's making some risky comments and trying to eat up every moment of your time. The others in your year are well aware of what he's doing too. Deuce thinks he's being unnecessary, but also agrees that Sebek needs a push so he lets it happen. Epel has his gripes with Sebek, but admires him for his manly tenacity. So he's 100% in support of giving an extra push and even tries to copy Ace. Except... yeah, he's pretty bad at flirting so he gives up after one try. Jack is against it at first, not wanting to hurt your feelings in the process but gets talked into it after seeing you get salty over Sebek being distant. Ortho, bless his innocent soul, thinks of it as a fun experiment. Lil guy just wants everyone to be happy.
You have no idea though, which is great because all of Ace's attempts fail hardcore. Sebek and his chivalrous ways (jealousy) won't stand by if you're being constantly bombarded with 'unwanted' romantic affections.
Nevermind that you don't seem to be taking Ace seriously at all. It is still not proper behavior! It would be a stain to his Lord's image if Sebek knowingly let Malleus' beloved friend endure such a hardship.
Every time Ace makes an attempt, Sebek shuts him down faster than you ever could. You have no idea how he does it, but Sebek is always around when it happens. The timing is honestly creepy....until you catch on to what's happening because the Ramshackle prefect isn't a dumdum.
"So....prefect, how about we go get dinner together tomorrow? Just you and me, what do ya say?" Ace slides into the seat to your right during breakfast. He leans in on his fist, eyeing you with a mischievous grin that crinkles the heart on his cheek. Just as he does, Sebek occupies the seat at your left and pushes Ace back with his palm.
"Do you ever rest?! They will do no such thing, now eat your meal before it runs cold. The chefs worked too hard for their efforts to be wasted by a delinquent!" Sebek answers on your behalf like clockwork. This event was not an uncommon sight to anyone, neither was Sebek failing to control his volume, so no other student paid the show any mind.
Normally you'd let them spit a few words at each other before returning to their own devices. Yet letting this continue just felt cruel, especially knowing that Ace was doing it to get a rise from your friend. Although Sebek wasn't innocent in the matter either
"Alright - Ace, would you knock it off? You don't even like me that way so quit messing with my head. I thought you were better than this," you say in between bites, side-eyeing your friend with a disapproving glare "And you!" you turn to Sebek, "I can answer for myself. Why do you even care? It's not like you're in charge of my love life. Just because someone wants to date me doesn't make them a delinquent...sheesh"
Why...why does he care? Sebek short circuits at your scolding, opening and closing his mouth to rebuttal yet coming up with nothing. Angered by his own turmoil, he grabs his meal and goes to sit with others from his dorm.
Stupid human. How dare you be so haughty and ungrateful? He was just protecting you from....from, what exactly? It's not like you going out with Ace would impact him in any way. It's not like you were in danger or upset with his advances. If anything. he was doing a good job at keeping your relationship professional for the sake of his liege!
Go ahead and date that childish hooligan for all he cares! Sebek won't be there to protect you when you're lost, or lend you a scarf on cold winter days. Ace can be the one to call you before bed every night, and keep your yearbook photo on his desk. Possibly keep his favorite candid photo as a bookmark for his diary, not that Sebek would know anyone that keeps a journal. He can have your birthday written in his calendar with a heart drawn around it, and have your picture in his wristwatch. He can set alarms to know when your classes end and walk you home. He can worry when you're sick and listen to your obnoxious prying....he can receive all your affections, and have your loyalty. Listen to your silly ramblings and receive those random 'i just thought of you' presents that Sebek always has a dilemma over what their purpose serves
You can be Ace's headache, and Sebek's heart will be lighter for it. These attachments he's formed were a lapse in judgement and will never be allowed again.
...
Sebek asks his lord for permission to court you. The next morning Malleus wakes to find the devotee bowed outside his bedroom, forehead attached to the floor and hands laid flat on the ground in reverence. Sebek proceeds to begin a long rant about how he's succumbed to his inner demons, and that he has sinned for letting another in his heart - Malleus cuts him off, happy to see love blossoming and interested to watch it all play out. He tells Sebek to take good care of you, before leaving. Meanwhile Sebek is sobbing at his lord's blessing
Once he's gathered himself, Sebek runs to your dorm and pounds on the door with fervor despite the early hour
Grim shakes you out of sleep, grumbling something about an 'annoying bastard' at the door before flopping back in bed. He shoves two pillows over his ears and tells you to fix the problem. That's when you hear the thumping, it's relentless and somehow sours your mood beyond what you thought possible. Mornings were not meant to exist on the weekend. So with an irritated groan, you slip on a robe over your pajamas and answer the door. A fist pauses in the air, moments from striking you. Sebek freezes momentarily, his body going ridged before coughing into his fist. A light blush dusts his cheeks.
âG-good morning, human. I apologize if I've disturbed your sleep, but I have an important announcement that cannot wait any longer" Sebeck studders, focusing on the door pane instead of your disheveled morning appearance.
âAlright" you sigh, resigning yourself to his whims, "what is it?"
Sebeck bows at the waist. "I am in love with you. Please accept my affections."
And so the motions continued on. A most unconventional pairing - possibly the hottest topic of the school year, in the words of Cater Diamond - was formed. Sebek was cautious of Ace at first, their previous spats leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. When he found out the truth, he was both appalled and grateful. So much that he scorned all his friends for weeks on end for pulling a stunt like that - but also thanking them. He apologizes for calling Ace a delinquent, and his heart changes a bit in response to their 'unique' display of care. Their intentions were good, and in the end it worked out. So he can pardon the indiscretion.
Life goes on until your relationship forms an 'awkward situationship'. The first time is brief. As it is with most cases of young love, the binding force that ties you to them crumbles. On earth it is highschool. In Twisted Wonderland it is NRC. Sebek knows where he's going - to serve the Draconias . The grey area is what you plan to do...because as much as his affections have grown, Sebek isn't willing to give up his dreams for you.
He's astonished when you decide to follow him to Briar Valley. He doesn't even have to breech the topic - arrangements were already being made without his input. You wouldn't be staying at the palace against his Lord's wishes. Instead a small cottage was built at a safe distance from the main city. Close enough for you to visit the castle, and far enough for you to feel comfortable and not out of place.
Seeing you taking his wants into consideration alters Sebek's perception of your relationship. You truly were lovers, and not a passing 'hormonal induced fling'. You loved him, and it's here when he truly begins to consider a forever. It was like the time when he first called your name, no longer calling you by 'prefect' or 'human'. He had done it many times in private, yet doing so to your face altered his brain chemistry. He loved the way your name rolled off his tongue, and the way your attention became his at the call.
Which leads us to the third and final major block-aid. Years have passed, and Sebek's well grown as an established knight for the Draconia family. He works alongside Silver, and many other comrades in arms. Everything is exactly as he dreamed. Malleus has become a beloved, strong king. Sebek is respected, and you are thriving as well. He didn't have much faith in your ability to last alone - it's not that he doubts your abilities, but he did doubt his people. When you first moved to Briar Valley Sebek was well aware that there were many like his past self - fae with a hatred for humans. He worried you would struggle to fit in.
Yet you surprised him. The tensions did exist against your kind, but you managed to card a space for yourself in Briar Valley with ease. You didn't even work in the palace, instead choosing to work towards becoming a children's teacher and work towards helping future generations of fae feel comfortable around humans.
His family adored you - with his mother in particular fawning over how Sebek fell down the same pipeline she did. His father offers you both advice on being an interspecies couple - and Sebek actually found himself listening.
Huh. Character growth. Is this what it's like to mature?
All is perfect, yet not. Sebek is forced to confront this when news travels that a human was attacked on their way to the palace. The dread that coursed through his veins was unlike anything Sebek's felt in his entire life. Under Malleus' rule, humans were slowly becoming more prevalent in Briar Valley. They hadn't mentioned your name specifically, but he jumped the gun.
Against his better judgement, Sebek abandons his post and rushed to the city's clinic. The injured human wasn't you, thank the seven, but the dread lingered. So he ran to the school you taught at and practically barged into your classroom. Luckily it was empty as the day was near end. Sebek hadn't known that yet still behaved recklessly.
He rushed to your side, talking faster than your brain could keep up with while checking over your body. He flipped topics like a teen trying to pick a college major - scolding you for worrying him, blubbering gibberish about how you'd no longer be allowed to walk alone, and myriad of other things.
Sebek was so shook, that he completely forgot about his knightly station. Malleus didn't punish him for abandoning his post. Not like it mattered, considering Sebek was already doing ample damage on his own. The realization hit him like a stone punch to the gut - there was a threat to his liege, and instead of focusing on apprehending the criminal he chose to find you.
Malleus' power or his dismissal of the matter meant little in the overall picture. Sebek failed. He's ashamed beyond belief.
and yet, he can't help but wonder what ight have been. What if you were the one attacked and he chose to stay? He would have failed you in that scenario.
He's surprised to find that the prospect his failure hurts just as much - if not more. His lord is powerful, and there are many to serve him. Your last moments could have been spent in a cold medical bed, surrounded by strangers. Fading away and taking Sebek's dreams with you.
............
Ah. Since when had that word become plural? His dream was always to serve Lord Malleus. Now there are more - he wants a family, and he wants to go to that play you were organizing with the valley's children next weekend. He wants to become a greater knight to protect the city that houses all the people he cares about. Again, plural. Lilia, Silver, his siblings and parents, all the human and fae who are loyal subjects to his most revered. You, and your decedents to come.
It's frightening. How valuable one's life can become. His always belonged to the Draconia bloodline to do with at they pleased - now Sebek's in pieces. Is he truly worthy of being a knight if he cannot give his whole heart?
He doesn't blame you for this. In his youth Sebek might have tossed your relationship aside in a heartbeat - that, or he might've demanded Malleus dismiss him and send him to repent in exile or whatever. Sebek has a problem with embellishing with dramatics.
BUT... he's more mature now. Mature enough to realize that maybe he can have his cake and eat it too.
So, he asks Lilia for advice. At this time the general merely lazes around the castle like a bat on the wall - acting as an advisor and observer. Surely he'd know what to do.
"There is nothing wrong with sharing a heart amongst many. If anything, the toughest decisions make us stronger. The more you have to lose, the stronger you will become to protect"
Preach it grandpappy. Lilia wants to see his grandkids so stop the slow burn already.
It's deja vu because Sebek wants to propose as quick as possible. Just like when he confessed, the man nearly runs to your home on impulse. You can thank Lilia for your proposal not taking place at 3am with your door being broke in two (Sebek is much stronger than he was in his teens, and sometimes miscalculates his strength).
Instead, Sebek finds himself anxiously clutching a ring in his pocket the following week. It was the night of a school play you were hosting - one he was looking forward to since you were so proud in your work. Ergo, Sebek felt pride as well by default.
How unfortunate that he can't focus on the show. With his mind reeling so much, it's taking all he has to sit quietly in the audience. His eyes follow your movements as you direct the kids, and for a brief moment you smile at him from the stage.
Zap. Alright. Don't clutch metal when you're a living thunderbolt. Duly noted. If anything the jolt of pain brings him back to reality.
When the play ends, and all the children have gone home with their families, he finds you back stage sweeping confetti. His plan was to congratulate you, and take you to a nice restaurant where he could do this properly.
Except he can't wait. When you turn around from putting the broom away, he's already taken a knee and holding the ring out. Those diligent gold iris' not pulling away for one moment, as he holds the ring out between two fingers and his other hand placed over his heart as if taking an oath.
"Before you say anything - You have sacrificed time and time again for my happiness - my efforts are insignificant in comparison. I have taken your patience for granted like a spoiled juvenile. There was a time when I found this kindness of yours unnecessary. I thought it a distraction - a test of my strength to fulfill my destiny. I see now that I was foolishâ
Sebek pauses, grinding his teeth together in regret and anguish.
âI had not known fear until you. I have more to lose now than ever before. Last week I abandoned my post - my purpose- In that moment, all I could think about was if youâd been attacked, then my life would be over. You make me lose all sense of logic and reasonâŚso I demand that you take responsibility and marry me!â
{A gold band with an obsidian base. Gold and silver flakes are sealed atop the obsidian plate using resin. Very practical, yet charming nonetheless. Humans typically wear matching bands, yes? Sebek sees no purpose in getting separate designs since the point is to show proof of partnership. He needs a practical shape that will not interfere with combat, yet also wants it to be an aesthetic choice. Sebek could care less about looks, but if heâs going to give you a ring then it will be the best possible option to match to your worth}
Silver is beautiful like still ocean waters. He's breathtaking - literally and figuratively. With the beauty of a fairytale prince, personality of a wise knight, and deadliness of the deep sea. It's easy to be sucked in when Silver seemingly has no flaws. So easy that at one point there were rumors of him being a living doll, created by the fae to be a perfect solider.
These perceptions all rely on his outward appearance: the knight in shining armor. Albeit so, being so perfect almost makes him unnoticeable. Compared to his rowdy peers with quirks and notable personalities - Silver truly is a doll. Like the complacent child praised for being more mature than their siblings. He is as easily forgotten as he is admired.
Some would say that this is a flaw in itself - because no one is naturally perfect. No one is so complacent and calm at birth. It's simply a desirable flaw. One that hurts him, yet has ben praised by others.
Silver is strong. Silver is diligent. Silver is beautiful. Silver is breathtaking and yet not the showstopper - like gold. Gold brings warmth while silver is cold. Imperfections in gold give it character, and can be seen as art. Imperfections in silver are seen as unsightly scratches.
Silver knows this, yet doesn't want to be gold. He doesn't deserve to be gold.
Silver doesn't deserve anything. He has already taken so much simply by living. He has a world to be grateful for, and not enough time to repay his debts.
He is content being Silver - if he could then he'd be copper. Lesser. Yet he is Silver, a reminder of the blood he carries.
He will remain unremarkable yet dedicated. He will dedicate everything to his family and friends - do whatever he can to break free of his sleeping curse and help others. He will give until he cannot give anymore. Then he will give more, to repay all he has received.
....For as much as he is content with this life, Silver still envies gold.
You are beautiful like a new dawn. Ushering in each day with a vibrant display that commands attention. People instinctively admire you despite the risk of hurting their eyes. You heal the world naturally, and help others simply by existing. People take you for granted, because inevitably the moon will rise, and the cold will inevitably return.
You were bathed in golden light. This Silver noticed the moment he laid eyes on you. He couldn't tear his eyes away.
Silver envies gold.
........
You envy Silver. His calm, his family, his dedication despite being limited by his crippling drowsiness. Out of the students from Diasomnia, he was the one you lingered towards more often than not. The freshmen revered him for his skills, and he was a true gentle soul. You at first couldn't believe that he was Lilia's son - how did such a kind boy come from a rambunctious tease? Revelations of his past brought much to light, and now you couldn't think of him being anyone else.
Silver was loved like the first snowfall. He had a family that loved him dearly, no matter how short his time with them would be. He was raised to bring happiness to others, and protect their hearts using his demure temperament.
Silver was modest, and silver glistened when you'd expect him to the least. As the wind caressed his hair during an afternoon siesta, or sparks lit in his eyes while swinging his sword. How the horses nuzzle his side after equestrian practice, showing full trust and affection. Even in the sweat dripping from his brow, shining as he easily finishes a set of push ups.
Yet nothing struck your heart more than the melancholy he'd emit when no one was looking. How quickly he'd fade into the background, only popping in when necessary or if someone gave him note. In these moments Silver gleamed brilliantly, yet a shadow put out his shine.
You thought the melancholy inviting. It felt so natural, so real. Except you believed it balanced dangerously between despair and serene. The larger question being which side would he evidently fall towards.
.........
Silver admires gold.
He couldn't stop the pull. He just couldn't. Not with how you seemingly watch him when no one else does. Who wouldn't feel special? With the way you take note of things he normally wouldn't think of, and recklessly delve into helping others with no regard for yourself. Whether you desire the trouble is beyond him - the matter is that you see every issue through. There isn't a soul who doesn't know of the ramshackle prefect.
Perhaps this is his torment to endure. To get a taste for what he could have been, and willingly be tied to it.
Silver stares into a vanity mirror, his expression neutral despite the growing emotions inside. A slightly tattered sheet is tied around his neck like a bib, covering his front and part of his back. A shiver runs down his spine as you comb through his hair, deftly trimming the edges with a pair of kitchen scissors with the precision of a professional. A shiver runs down his spine every time your fingers linger against his scalp, either from tucking stray strands or combing through layers with your fingertips.
Your expression is stern, eyes intensely focused as you cut around his ear, afraid to nick him in the process. He finds the expression adorable yet bites his tongue. Silver couldn't think those thoughts. Not when you offered to do this out of the kindness of your heart.
Nonetheless, his heart thrums. If it were possible he'd think the organ about to pop out at any moment.
"Finished!" you smile in satisfaction and tussle Silver's soft locks for good measure. In one fell swoop, you undo the knot around his neck and pull the makeshift apron off of him. Silver nods, a slight smile teasing the edge of his lips. He stands from the chair and steps over any hair on the floor, reaching for the broom to clean before you could think to. "Thank you. I no longer need to schedule with a barber. This will save much time," In truth he had no intentions for a haircut. Either himself or his father would trim the ends once they started interfering with his sight, but he was too busy as of late. You were the one to notice how his bangs hindered his vision, and offered to help. Silver couldn't bring himself to deny your kindness. "You really like it? Hehe. Y'know, maybe I should start a shop on campus? I only started doing this since there aren't any affordable salons....maybe with it I can finally afford to fix the guest room!" you cheer and prattle on about all the different possibilities. Occasionally you'll ask for Silver's input, or even give an off hand compliment about how he was the perfect 'test subject'. Your company is intoxicating, he realizes. Talking with you is as easy as drinking water. Before Silver realizes, night has fallen and you've fallen asleep on the couch. Despite his better judgement, he finds himself wandering the Ramshackle door. He compulsively cleans up the mess you'd both left behind during his visit, doing the dishes from dinner and rearranging things here and there. As he does so, Silver notes all the little improvements around the dorm. It feels more like a home than a school building. Then again you do live alone. He wonders how often you host visitors, and if you unknowingly ensnared them just as you've done to him. He covers your shoulders with a blanket and steps outside under the moonlight.
Itâs cold.
...............
You wake up the following day to find all the windows shut, your living room clean, and a warm blanket covering your shoulders. Your eyes peer around for silver, yet turn up empty.
Of course. Silver has a dorm to return to and people that would miss him if he returned late.
Shuffling around the silent dorm, the rickey old floorboards creek underneath your weight. In manufactured motions, you brew a cup of tea and pour it into the only well-used cup from the cabinet.
As your cup brews, you sit at the table with the blanket still clutched tight over your shoulders.
The tea goes cold, yet you are warm.
................
Silver loves gold.
but silver and gold don't mix. The question always is: silver or gold? When deciding a piece of jewelry to match your skin tone, people will ask 'silver or gold'? The metals are not meant to mix because they clash. It's an outfit catastrophe.
Yet, Silver cannot help but wonder. As he lays with his head in your lap and the sun and silence coaxing him to slumber - what if an outfit existed to compliment both silver and gold?
"Silver..are you sleeping again?" you tap his cheek with one hand, and his eyes open instinctively. Despite his drowsiness he will always look for you. Yet right now he's never regretted the magnetic pull more. With the sun casting a golden overcast, you peer down at him from above with tender eyes typically reserved for one's child. Your glow is breathtaking, and he cannot help the sinking feeling in his stomach that he is unworthy. With such gentle hands combing across his scalp and eyes that look upon him so tenderly - he is afraid to steal your warmth. And yet⌠"You are beautiful," Silver lets it slip, his hand reaching to brush against your jaw as if under a spell. He feels unnervingly calm. Not in his usual way, where he is constantly observing and playing a game of mental chess. This is a true calm, and he knows now that this is a point of no return.
Silver is beautiful like a still ocean. You are beautiful like the rising sun. When combined, a perfect image is formed just waiting for an artist to stumble upon it.
Against his wishes, the world has granted the child of dawn another gift. The gift of true love. 'True love's kiss will break the curse' and while it is childish to believe so in this case, Silver does so wholeheartedly.
When with you, the days pass like minutes. He wants nothing more than to forgo need for sleep, if only to work harder towards becoming a man worthy.
Silver envies gold for it's effortless demand for love, yet he no longer wants to be gold. He no longer wishes he were born copper.
Gold loves silver, so Silver he will be.
And with time, both Silver and Gold will be ground to dust regardless.
He thinks of this on a winter evening while holding a ring up into the moonlight. It's cold outside, yet he doesn't mind. The chill atop his nose does nothing but tinge it a lovely rosy color.
He looks through the windowpane into a home masquerading as a school building. His reflection is familiar yet changing rapidly in comparison to his family. The years have aged him, yet not by much. Silver is stronger, his soft jaw a bit sharper. His bangs have grown long again, it would soon be time for a cut. Perhaps he'd enlist a 'barber' after relocating back to the castle in briar valley.
Inside you sit at the couch, sipping from a well-used mug with Grim on your lap and watching cartoons. Silver's bag rests on the armchair, unzipped with nightly necessities spilling out the side. A slightly newer baby blue mug sits on the coffee table, with steam evaporating into the air as it waits to be used.
Silver smiles, walking towards the door and walking inside. Heat warms his cheeks and he is calm.
"I know I am unworthy of you, the thought plagues me to this very moment. Yet I cannot help but love you - like wishing on a star yet knowing deep in the depths of your heart that miracles are made not granted. I've received many, so I would know. My father gifted me life through love - and with you I understand how it is possible. I cannot imagine life without you. I promise this, I will cherish you and protect you for as long as you allow it. Would you marry me?"
Months later a ceremony is held in a secluded forest, in the yard of a cottage where a child first learned love. As an adult, he joins his most precious in matrimony, offering his sword to be sworn faithful.
You are beautiful like the first breech of daylight - and for once, Silver is happy to be a man of dawn.
Silver and gold.
Silver and gold.
Everyone wishes for silver and gold.
How do you measure it's worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
{A ring forged from a silver band, gold leaf embellishments, and a moss agate core. Enough said.}
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#diasomnia#sebek zigvolt#sebek zigvolt x reader#silver x reader#twst silver x reader#silver vanrouge#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland scenarios#twst imagines#I FREAKIN FINALLYT FINISHED THIS SERIES
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Unexpected Arrival
Dean x reader
Word Count-3490
Warnings- SMUT, fluff, language, sub!Dean
Summary- Dean thinks Y/N will be gone for a few more days on a hunt. What will she find when she comes back early to surprise him?
A/N- This fills the square "What happened to your hair?" for @jacklesversebingo. Also, a big thank you to my amazing beta @pink-sparkly-witch. Thank you for the encouragement and great feedback on my fics.
This has been on my Patreon for a few weeks. If you'd like to join and get access to my ficus weeks before they come to Tumblr, you can join my Patreon here. I have multiple tiers with different perks starting at $3 a month!
Y/N was exhausted. Sheâd been on a hunt for over a week that shouldâve taken three days. All she wanted now was to get back to the bunker, back to Dean. It had been one of the few times they had hunted separately, and sheâd missed him terribly. He and Sam had been out on their own hunt because she had wanted to take a slight break, but that changed when another hunter called, needing help to eliminate a werewolf pack. So, thatâs why she was now tired, frustrated, and wanting nothing more than a hot shower and cuddling with her boyfriend.Â
The closer Y/N got to the bunker, the more her tension seemed to ebb away. As the miles raced away under her tires, she couldnât help but smile a little. Just the thought of getting closer to Dean with every minute that passed helped with her frustration of being gone so long. He thought she would be gone a few more days, but luckily, she and her partner had found the pack and decimated it quicker than anticipated. Sheâd thought about calling and letting him know she was returning but decided to surprise him instead.Â
Finally, the bunker was in her sights. She sighed in relief as she made her way to the garage, parked her car, and got out, stretching her sore and aching muscles. She threw her duffle over her shoulder and began the trek to the war room, hoping that Dean would be there, wanting to see the surprise on his face when she walked in. But, as she took her first steps into the room, he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Sam stood there, his own duffle slung over his shoulder.Â
âHey, Sam,â she greeted, âAre you heading out?âÂ
âHey, Y/N,â he returned her greeting, âYeah, Jody needs help with a vampâs nest.âÂ
âDonât you ever take a break? How long have you guys been back, anyway?âÂ
âWe got back a couple of days ago. Iâve had time to rest,â he chuckled at her worry. She was always making sure they were taken care of.Â
âOkay, just please be careful, and let us know how itâs going. Do you know where Dean is?â Â
âHe said something about going to watch a movie and relax. Heâs been looking forward to you coming home. You know how Dean is; he wonât outwardly say it, but he really missed you,â Sam smiled, patting her on the shoulder as he walked past, heading for the garage.Â
âI missed him. Thatâs why I didnât call. I wanted to surprise him,â she exclaimed gleefully. The thought of his excitement at seeing her made her stomach swim with butterflies.Â
âHeâll definitely be surprised. Iâll see you when I get back. It shouldnât be more than a few days.âÂ
âBe safe,â she told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he left, leaving her alone in the war room.Â
Once Sam was gone, she threw her things on the war room table, stretching her muscles again before she started her journey down the hall to her and Deanâs shared room. The excitement of knowing they had the bunker to themselves for a few days put a pep in her step. She was going to try to convince Dean to take this time to spend it together. No hunts, no outside distractions. Just the two of them lounging around, watching movies, spending long overdue quality time together. It wasnât often that they were the only ones home. Sam was rarely not there with them or in the front seat of the Impala on their hunts. So, she wanted to take full advantage of the time they could have together the next few days.Â
As she got closer to their room, the thoughts of everything they could do while alone made her want to giggle like a little girl. She loved that green-eyed hunter down the hall more than she could ever describe. It had taken a while, but she finally managed to get him to fully let her in and open up to her in ways that he hadnât with anyone else, which made her love for him grow exponentially. But all thoughts ceased as she got to their doorway. The sound of a grunt coming from the cracked door made her stop in her tracks. Was he okay? Was he in pain? She rushed the last few steps to the room, peeking in, but what she saw froze her in her spot. Dean was lying in their bed, hand under the sheets, head thrown back in ecstasy.Â
âYes, Y/N, God, it feels so good,â he groaned, his hand visibly stroking his hard length.Â
She couldnât help but stare, the sight making her weak in the knees and that familiar heat growing between her legs. The sound of a woman moaning brought her back to the present. For a split second, her heart dropped, but then she realized it was coming from the porn he was watching. Her eyes broke from Dean to the screen, and what she witnessed gave her an idea.Â
âSo, how much does it turn you on to watch her be in control?â she questioned seductively, announcing her presence and making Dean jump in surprise.Â
âY/N! I-I, uh, how long have you been back?â he stuttered, quickly moving his hand away, flustered that he had been caught.Â
âLong enough to see that youâre having a pretty good time there, handsome,â she quipped, turning her eyes back to the screen where the woman was clearly dominating her partner, âBut you didnât answer my question. How turned on are you to see a woman being dominant?âÂ
âI, well, uh,â he continued to stumble through his words as he reached for the remote control to turn off the movie.
âUh uh. Leave it on,â she demanded authoritatively, slowly stripping off her flannel as she moved closer to the bed. She watched as he quivered at her tone. âNow, answer me.âÂ
âIt turns me on,â he mumbled quickly, barely audible.Â
âOh, come on,â she chastised, now down to her underwear as she stood beside the bed, âYou can do better than that.âÂ
âFine, it really turns me on,â he said sheepishly, eyes cast down, not wanting to see her expression at his admission.Â
She smirked, her tiredness ebbing away and turning into a burning desire for the man sitting before her. If that turned him on, she would give him something heâd never forget. But she had to make sure it was something he wanted. Theyâd always been good about trying new things, but only if both were up for it. So, placing her fingers under his chin, tilting his face to look at her, she smiled down at him.Â
âYou want me to do it? Want me to dominate you?âÂ
âAre you serious?â he asked, his cock twitching at the thought that one of his secret fantasies may be coming to life.Â
She grabbed his face between her fingers a little roughly, pulling his face closer to hers as she leaned down to look into his eyes, âDo I look like Iâm joking?âÂ
Before she knew what was happening, he had her pulled down into his lap, his mouth covering hers in a bruising kiss, his tongue swiping against her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She let him run the show for a minute, but when she felt him start grinding his hips up against hers, she pulled away, making him whine.Â
âNow, hereâs how itâs going to go. Youâre going to listen to what I tell you, and if you disobey, I stop, understand?â she stated, watching his pupils dilate, almost completely taking over the emerald green of his eyes.Â
âYes, I understand.âÂ
âYes, what?â she asked, grabbing his hair, tugging harshly, his body shaking with want.Â
âYes, maâam!â he exclaimed excitedly. She was going to ruin him, and he was all for it.Â
âGood. Now, you can touch me only when I say you can, and you cannot touch yourself at all. Are you sure you want this?â she asked one more time, ensuring he really wanted this.Â
âYes, I want it. Y/N, I promise Iâll tell you if itâs too much,â he smiled up at her. She always worried about him and his well-being. Thatâs one of the many reasons he loved her.Â
âAlright. Then get ready to have your mind blown, big boy,â she winked, slowly beginning to grind down against him, his hands instinctively grabbing her hips.Â
âWhat did I just say about touching,â she scolded, moving off his lap and standing beside the bed.
âIâm sorry! Itâs just instinct! I wonât do it again!â he almost begged. He wanted, no needed, to feel her against him again.Â
âDeanâŚI have to punish you for that. Maybe youâll learn to listen.âÂ
âNo, please, baby. I need to feel you. God, Iâve missed feeling you,â he whined, reaching out to touch her but remembering and pulling his hand back, dropping it in his lap.Â
âShh, babe. Youâll feel me, just not right now. Now, scoot up,â she motioned for him to move so she could sit behind him on the bed as she removed the rest of her clothes. He obliged, but not without a pout.Â
âAhh, are you pouting, Dean? Good boys donât pout. Donât you want to be a good boy and get the rewards they get?â she whispered in his ear as she ran her hands down his arms, moving over to his abdomen, making his muscles tense and then release.Â
âYes, God. Iâll be good,â he grunted as she scraped her nails up and down his stomach.Â
âThatâs what I want to hear. Now, lean back,â she instructed him to lean his body back against hers, his head on her shoulder as her hands continued to roam.Â
âBabyâŚâ he began to utter his pleas, but she moved her finger up to his mouth to quiet him.Â
âYou hear that? Do you hear the sounds sheâs making? Does that turn you on, Dean? Will you let me use you to make myself feel that good, huh? Let me ride you until I come so hard, squeeze around you so tight,â she whispered in his ear, nudging his head to look at the movie, his breath hitching in his throat as her hands moved all around where he wanted her to touch him. It was tortuous, but he couldnât deny that he was turned on more than he had been in a long time. The thought of her using him to get her pleasure made him hard as a rock. He couldnât contain the loud moan that escaped him.Â
âThatâs it. Let me hear you, babe. Such a good boy for me,â she cooed, feeling his body shiver with need. It made her want him even more, her body reacting. She ground herself against his backside, needing friction. âYou feel how wet I am, Dean? Damn, I canât wait to feel you inside me, filling me up so good, filling me up the way only your big cock can.â
âY/N, baby, please! I canât take anymore. I need you so bad. Please, pleaseâŚâ he began to beg, the need to feel her wrapped around him, controlling all his senses.Â
âAlready begging? Does my good boy need me, need to come for me?âÂ
âYes! I need you so bad. Iâve missed you and how you feel. Please, baby,â he pleaded, fists clenching the sheets beside him, her hands still teasing him, âIâm not going to last if you keep teasing me!â
She smirked at his desperation. What she wasnât going to admit was that seeing him that turned on and begging for her was slowly chipping away at her restraint. Being away from him and not feeling him for over a week made her body thrum with the need for him, too. She slid from behind him and motioned for him to scoot back against the headboard. Once he was positioned where she wanted him, she climbed back into his lap.Â
âIâm going to give you what you want, Dean, but remember, hands to yourself until I say otherwise. Got it?â she made sure the rules were clear as she slowly ground herself against him, his tip catching her swollen clit, bringing low moans out of her.Â
âNo touching, got it. Just please, sweetheart, stop teasing me and let me feel you,â he groaned as the feeling of her pussy, warm and slick, grinding against him slowly drove him insane.Â
âThatâs not how this works. You wanted me to dominate you, right? That means you get what I give you when I want to give it. Understand?â she said, pulling his hair, causing his head to tilt back to look up at her.Â
âYes, yes, I understand.â
âYes, what, Dean?â she smirked as she rolled her hips again and watched his eyes roll back.Â
âYes, maâam! God, Y/N, youâre killing meâŚâÂ
âOh, but what a pleasurable death it will be,â she moaned in his ear as she lifted herself, grabbing his cock and lining it up with her entrance, dropping down to take all of him in one motion.Â
Dean couldnât stop the scream that tore from his throat as he felt her heat surround him suddenly. He had to twist the sheets tighter in his grip to prevent his hands from grabbing her hips, making her bounce on him fast and hard, but he had asked her to dominate him, so he had to follow the rules, even though he thought it might be the death of him.Â
Dean shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. It was taking all his willpower not to finish before her. He had never been dominated like this before, and he loved it. The feeling of her tight pussy taking him to the hilt, and the sexy moans leaving her as she chased her end, were driving him mad. He wanted to grab her hips and help her move against him, but he knew he couldnât.Â
Y/N watched Deanâs eyes flutter shut, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the sheets, his teeth indenting his bottom lip as he sucked into his mouth, trying to contain the many noises that wanted to bubble up and out of him, but she wasnât having that. She pulled his lip from his teeth with her thumb, his eyes shooting open from the contact as she began to grind slowly in his lap.Â
âNo, Dean. No keeping quiet. Let me hear all those beautifully sinful noises I plan to draw out of you,â she told him as she began to move faster, the sexiest whimper sheâd ever heard leaving past his lips, âYes, thatâs it, thatâs my good boy. Iâll have you screaming my name before Iâm done.âÂ
âGod, Y/NâŚy-you feel so damn good. R-riding me so fucking good. Please, let me touch you. I need to touch you,â he begged, the restraint of not touching starting to become too much.Â
âDoes my good boy want to touch me?â she felt his whole body shudder at the praise, making her smile. Had she known that praising him would get that kind of reaction, she wouldâve done it much sooner, âOkay, Dean. Since youâve been good, you can touch me.âÂ
As soon as the words left her mouth, his hands were on her hips, his grip almost bruising, his hips meeting hers as he pulled her up and down on him. She ran her hands into his hair, grasping it in handfuls as she continued to ride him hard, making him moan loudly. The sounds he was making made her clench around him, which, in turn, made him moan loudly again. It was a cycle that was quickly driving them both towards their ends.Â
âSweetheart, you gotta hurry. I canât hold it much longer,â he growled through clenched teeth, the vein in his neck protruding out in his effort to hold back.Â
âBe a good boy and make me come, then,â she demanded, her legs starting to shake with the exertion.Â
Dean reached down between them, rubbing her clit in harsh circles as he thrust up into her as hard as he could. He knew she was getting close as he felt her begin to flutter and clench around him even more. A few more circles on her nub, and she was gone, falling over the edge, screaming his name as one of the most intense orgasms she ever had rushed through her. He grabbed her hips, pistoning up at a faster pace for a few seconds before her orgasm triggered his. He stilled deep within her, shouting her name as he shook all over, filling her up.
She collapsed against his chest, his hands instinctively running up and down her back slowly. They sat there silently, trying to catch their breaths for a few minutes before Y/N giggled. The motion of her body moving made him hiss. His softening length was sensitive from one of the strongest orgasms heâd ever had. Y/N sat up abruptly, making him groan.Â
âOh, God. Did I hurt you?â she asked, her eyes wide with worry.Â
âNo, sweetheart, Iâm fine,â he chuckled, âIâm just a little sensitive, and when you started to laugh, it made you move on him. And I do believe heâs down for the count for a while.âÂ
âAre you saying that little Dean isnât up for playing anymore?â she laughed as he rolled his eyes.
âOne, donât call him that, and two, yes, heâs done for the night. Sweetheart, you damn near killed me,â he groaned as she started to wiggle in his lap, teasing him. He helped her move from his lap to sit beside him on the bed.Â
âSo, I take it that means you enjoyed it?âÂ
âEnjoyed it? Y/N, baby, that was indescribable. Iâm just sorry I didnât ask for that sooner.âÂ
âWell, Iâm happy I could be of service,â she stood from the bed and curtsied, causing Dean to burst out in full-body laughter.Â
âYouâre something else, sweetheart,â he whispered, pulling her closer and kissing her hard, âNow, how about we talk about the roles being reversed sometime?â
âYou want to dominate me?â she asked, putting her finger on her chin like she was contemplating, âI do believe thatâd be fun.âÂ
âThen weâll have to make plans for that, but first, Iâm fucking starving. Letâs go to the kitchen, make us a snack, and then we come back here and watch a movie.âÂ
âAnother movie?â she questioned with a smirk, gesturing to the TV where the porn was still playing.Â
âDamn it, woman. A real movie, not the sexy kind,â he huffed, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV before slapping her on the ass, âNow, about that snack?âÂ
She laughed as they threw on their pajamas and made their way down the hall toward the kitchen. As they got closer, a sound made them freeze. Dean motioned for her to get behind him as they tiptoed around the corner, their bodies relaxing when they saw it was just Sam.Â
âHey guys, Jody called as I was about thirty minutes from here and told me they had taken care of the nest, so I didnât have to go after all." He was explaining why he was there when he stopped and stared, âWhat happened to your hair? You look like Sonic the Hedgehog.âÂ
Y/N couldnât contain the fits of laughter. She was doubled over, holding her sides as Dean looked on with his best bitchface. Her hands pulling on his hair had made it stick up in all different directions. Sam spoke again as she finally started calming down, sending her into another fit of giggles.Â
âYou know what, I donât want to know. From the looks of you both, I know why, and now I wish I could bleach the image from my mind.âÂ
âWell, Sammy,â Dean smirked, pulling Y/N to his side, âWhat can I tell you? I aim to please.âÂ
âExcuse me. Who was doing the pleasing this time?â Y/N grinned, poking Dean in the chest.Â
âOh, God. Iâm going to my room. I donât want to hear this!â Sam groaned, leaving the kitchen.Â
âBe glad you werenât here thirty minutes ago, or youâd have heard plenty!â Y/N shouted at his retreating form as she and Dean started cackling.Â
Sam groaned again as he walked away. A thought crossed his mind as he heard them continue to laugh as he made it further down the hallway.
âIf I didnât love them, Iâd go back in there and stab them to death,â he mumbled to himself as he walked into his room and slammed the door, hoping he wouldnât hear anything else from them the rest of the night.Â
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popular!riki x fem!reader
in which after many of your protests, your friends manage to convince you to go to your school prom, reminding you you don't need a date to have fun, and you even believe them for a second â until you are left alone at your table, with no one to talk to. Fortunately, your close friend shows up right in time to show you prom can be funny after all.
wc 2.8k
warnings none (me thinks) except for kissing
⪠izzy adds... I wrote this a year ago on my wattpad account but thought it would be nice to bring some riki fluff on my tumblr too :)) This is only vaguely proofread!
âI donât want to go,â you whined, grabbing a hair tie from your table before turning to face the group of girls sprawled on your bed again. âI am serious. First of all, I donât have anyone to go with, and second of all, I donât have a dress either,â you explained your reasons when you notice the looks on your friendsâ faces.Â
âBut you have to go! Prom is so much fun!â One of the girls exclaimed, ready to argue with you. âIt might have been fun if someone asked me to be their prom date,â you mumble, sighing. âOr if you guys were still in school. I donât want to go alone!â You complained.Â
Honestly, you didnât care much about not being asked out for prom. What bothered you more was that none of your friends would be there with you. You were the youngest in your friend group, and with all the girls being a grade above you, it meant there was no one you could talk to.Â
âPeople are blind. I donât get why no one asked you out.âÂ
âItâs whatever. I am not going anyway,â you repeated, sitting on your bed between the two eldest. âEverything got far worse after you left. The girls in my class keep laughing at anyone who breathes. I donât need them making fun of me because I donât have a date.âÂ
âYou donât need a date! You can go alone and dance with whoever you want! I swear prom is super fun!â Your friend kept trying to convince you. âAnd I already finished your dress,â your best friend joined the conversation, making all of you look at her. âWhat? Really?â Your eyes widened.Â
She had decided to study fashion design after finishing high school, and she had been promising you she would make a dress for you since the first semester started, but you knew she was busy, so you never paid much attention to it, thinking she wouldnât have time for it.Â
âWhy havenât you shown us earlier?!âÂ
Your best friend unlocked her phone, scrolling through her gallery to find a picture. âI thought I told you about it before. And I wanted to bring it tomorrow to see if it needs fixing,â she shrugged. âHere it is,â she turned her phone towards you so you could see first, showing it to the rest of the group afterward.Â
It was a long midnight blue v-neck piece with a fitted bodice and a sweeping skirt, and you absolutely loved it. Even though you always preferred pants and shorts over a dress or skirt, you could see how much work she had put into making it for you. Seeing the dress made you feel a sudden wave of excitement. You wanted to wear it as soon as possible.Â
âYou are so good!â The oldest gasped. âItâs nothing,â your best friend chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. You knew she was proud of her work, too. âIt really does look gorgeous, though,â you assured her, still in awe.Â
âWell, now you just have to go.â You sighed, âAlright, Iâll go, but you guys have to promise weâll get an ice cream and sleep over at mine after it.â The girls grinned, agreeing immediately.Â
âĄâ¸â¸Â
You looked into the mirror again, fixing your hair with a smile. Even though you didnât feel super excited to go out alone, you must admit, you felt pretty tonight. The dress your best friend designed fit you perfectly, and once you put your hair up and let her do your makeup, you found yourself looking forward to the dance more.Â
âYou look stunning,â your best friend assured you, her smile so genuine she might also make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. âShould we go?â She asked, offering you her arm. You giggled, wrapping your hand around her arm and leaving your room with her.Â
âNo boy will be able to resist you tonight.â You couldnât hide your smile as you heard your best friend, your confidence slowly building up. You nodded, following her to her car.Â
Your confidence, however, dropped down again as you ended up alone at your table, staying the only one not dancing.Â
You ended up sitting at a table in the far corner with a few of your classmates, looking around the place as soon as you sat down. You must say, they did a great job with the decoration. âI am going to get something to drink. Do you guys want anything?â One of the girls asked, putting her handbag on her chair and looking around the table. One of her friends stood up, too, saying she would go with her when their other friends asked for drinks.
You just watched them, not saying anything. They werenât your friends. Honestly, you barely knew them, so you didn't want to bother them with getting you a drink. It felt awkward sitting there with them, but there was nothing you could do. It wasn't like it would feel any less uncomfortable at the other tables.Â
Half an hour later, the dance floor was already occupied, with almost no space for any more pairs. You saw a few of your classmates here and there dancing or sitting at their tables and talking to their friends, but you didn't dare to walk up to any of them.Â
So you ended up sitting alone at your table, watching everyone else enjoy themself while you had nothing to do. You knew you shouldn't expect much when you didn't have a date, but you got your hopes up when you talked to your best friend, and now it made you regret coming here after all.Â
You shifted in your place, staring at the almost empty glass of coke you got earlier. Playing with your straw, your thoughts drifted away to your friends again. To your actual friends, not just your classmates. You remembered how your best friend would laugh at the stupidest things whenever she was around you and how the eldest in your friend group would always talk about her boyfriend, to the point it annoyed all of you.Â
You sighed, closing your eyes for a quick second so tears wouldn't fall down your cheeks. You just wanted to be with them.
âHow come you are here alone?â You opened your eyes upon hearing the familiar voice, quickly blinking to make all the possible tears disappear before they could even show up. âI thought I was too late,â he mumbled so quietly you almost didnât hear him. Almost.Â
âItâs weird that none of the guys here asked you for a dance yet. They are missing out,â he grinned, sitting on a chair beside you. âHow long did it take you to learn those lines, Riki? Do you go around asking every girl?â You teased him but couldnât hide a smile.Â
You watched him, taking a proper look at what he was wearing. All the boys had a specific dress code: formal pants and a button-down. A vest or a suit jacket were optional, so most of them werenât wearing them. But he was. He had a black vest on his white button-down, and you could swear he looked better than ever before. It was somehow attractive seeing a man wear a vest even though he didn't have to.
You knew he was attractive. You would be a fool to deny it when all the girls in your grade and the grade under you had a crush on him at one point. But still, it felt as if your eyes had opened only now.Â
âNow seriously. Why did you reject everyone? I thought you wanted to dance tonight,â he questioned, looking around the place. You shrugged, looking the same way he was, âNo one asked me yet. I didnât get the chance to reject anyone.âÂ
You had met Nishimura Riki last year for the first time. You were running through the school hallway late in the afternoon, being one of the last students still in school. Lessons ended more than an hour ago and you had lost track of time while studying in the school library. It was a pure fate that the two of you met, really. You werenât planning on stopping. If anything, you almost sped up to get out of school as soon as possible to catch your bus, but you ended up slowing down instead when you heard your favorite song coming from one of the classrooms.Â
You glanced inside, wondering who was stupid enough like you to be still hanging out in school at this hour. That was when you saw him dancing in the middle of an empty classroom to your favorite song. Back then, he obviously had no idea it was your favorite song, and you had no idea it was one of his, too.Â
He noticed you standing at the door and froze, a sudden wave of embarrassment brushing over him. He turned the music off immediately, watching you apologize for interrupting. You felt as embarrassed as he did but didnât move right away. You lingered in the silence, keeping eye contact with him until you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. You apologized again, running off before he could say anything. It was a chaotic first meeting, but you still managed to get stuck in his head.Â
You didnât have a proper conversation with him that day or any of the days prior, but you started greeting each other in the hallways since then, exchanging small smiles or glances from across the room.Â
It went like so for weeks, with neither of you walking up to each other to actually say something. You didnât know his name, and you assumed he didnât know yours either, but you still found yourself looking forward to seeing him between your classes.Â
And not so long after, when your best friend wanted to introduce you to her boyfriendâs friends, you finally got to hear his name. You stuck together with Riki most of the afternoon, only exchanging a few words with his other friends. It was Riki who your eyes landed on, unable to look away as you found yourself getting lost in your conversation.Â
You considered him your close friend since.Â
Riki looked back at you, confused if you were telling the truth or joking. âNo one asked you for a dance?â You shook your head at his question, looking down at your glass again. âI swear everyone is blind,â he shook his head in disappointment. âYou look amazing today,â he assured you. âYou look amazing all the time, actually,â he mumbled, making your cheeks turn pink. âThank you,â you muttered shyly.Â
He hesitated for a second, encouraging himself before he stood up. âDo you want to dance?â Your name rolled on his tongue so easily, as if he had said it a million times before. You smiled, looking up at him again. His hand was reached towards you, and he averted eye contact. For the first time in the year you knew him, you saw him without his usual confidence, and it might have been making you more nervous than him. Everything about him tonight made you nervous. The way he stood, talked, and dressed. It all made you weak in the knees.Â
You carefully took his hand, already worried your hand was sweating. He looked you in the eyes again, holding your hand properly as he took you from the table. The current song was ending, but he still had the next one and hopefully a few songs after that, too.Â
Riki awkwardly waited for the song to end before looking at you again as he heard the last line. âWe are going to kill the next song,â he proclaimed, making you giggle.Â
âHow about something slower for our pairs this time?â His eyes widened, terrified, as he looked at the DJ. Everyone cheered for him, but Riki couldnât. Not when he wasnât sure what you would think about dancing with him to a slow song.Â
He glanced your way again, his eyes scanning your face and trying to see if you were still up for a dance. You looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out the same thing. Eventually, you decided to take the first step and put your hands on his shoulders. He stepped forward, making it easier for you to reach him before he placed his hands on your waist, a sheepish smile on his lips as he looked at you with nothing but love.Â
It wasnât a secret to many â actually, he was pretty sure everyone except for you knew â that he had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. Since he saw you in the hallway, with your hair tucked behind your ear, he couldnât stop thinking about you, and it has been getting worse and worse ever since. And seeing you so close now, trying to keep eye contact with him even though your cheeks were getting hotter the more you looked at him, only made him love you more.Â
âWe canât really kill this dance,â you mumbled with a smile, trying to ease the atmosphere so it wouldn't get awkward. He chuckled, nodding before he leaned down to you, stopping once his lips reached your ear. âBut we can be the best-looking pair.â His words sent shivers down your spine, making your cheeks turn redder than ever before. You stepped closer again, laying your head on his chest so you wouldn't need to look him in the eyes.Â
You nodded, slightly squeezing his shoulders. âThank you,â you mumbled. âFor dancing with me tonight.â You looked up for a second, assuring yourself he heard you. You had underestimated his visuals, you realized. Now that you were standing so close to him, your bodies touching, seeing him bite his bottom lip at what you said in the purple lighting above the dance floor has made you go crazy.Â
You felt girls looking at you, trying to murder you with their stares, but you didnât mind. You couldnât even think about them when you had a handsome boy right in front of you. Especially when you knew his eyes were on you only.Â
Your eyes widened in question when you heard your name leave his lips, questioning what he needed. He hesitated for a moment before moving his right hand from your waist to your face, lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger. You were too pretty for him to be able to think straight, no matter how much he tried. âPlease donât kick me for this,â he whispered, leaning down again, this time connecting his lips with yours.Â
You moved your hand to the back of his neck when you felt his lips on your, pulling him closer to yourself. You were both aware of people staring your way, whispering about god knows what, but you couldnât care less. This was your moment.Â
Riki grabbed your hand again, exchanging one look with you before he took you from the dance floor, rushing to the main hall outside where you all left your jackets before. You didnât question anything and followed him, keeping your eyes on your intertwined hands. âMy things are still in there,â you reminded him, having no idea where he was heading. He didn't answer anything, though, not looking back for even a split second.Â
As he stopped in the middle of the hallway, finally looking at you again, you realized he was looking for a quieter place without so many people around. Honestly, you didnât care where you were. He could take you anywhere, and you would go with him. Because all you could think about at the moment were his lips.Â
âIâd kiss you again if your lips werenât so high up,â you mumbled, creating a grin on his face. He pulled you closer again, leaning down so you could do as you wished. âI thought we were just friends,â he whispered against your lips, making you shiver once again. The look in his eyes, combined with his deep voice would be the death of you soon. You were sure of it.Â
âYou kissed me first,â you reminded him, breathing on his lips so he could get a taste of his own medicine. âSo maybe we arenât really just friends, pretty boy.âÂ
âDefinitely,â he agreed, his hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed you again, this time with more passion, making sure you could feel every last bit of his love on your lips.
â§Ë°. izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae â§Ë°. want to get notified? join taglist here!
#nishimura riki#riki nishimura x reader#enha#â§Ë°. jakedustry â§Ë°.#enhypen#ni ki#engene#enhypen niki#enhypen ni-ki#ni-ki#ni ki x reader#ni ki fluff#riki x reader#riki fluff#riki nishimura#enhypen riki#nishimura riki x you#x fem reader#â§Ë°. jakedustry writes â§Ë°.#â§Ë°. enha industry â§Ë°.
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Welcome to Something Eternal: A Website Forum in 2023 wtf lmao
It's 2023, and a single belligerent rich guy destroyed one of the primary focal points of uh...global communication. Tumblr is, shockingly, kinda thriving despite the abuse it gets from its owners, but that I will call the iconic refusal of Tumblr users to let Tumblr get in the way of their using Tumblr. Reddit killed its API, removing the functionality of mobile apps that made it remotely readable (rip rif.) Discord, our current primary hangout, has made countless strange choices lately that indicate it has reached the summit of its usability and functionality, and can only decline from here as changes get made to prepare for shareholders. (NOTE: WROTE THIS POST BEFORE THEIR MOBILE "REDESIGN" LMAO)
The enshittification is intense, and it's coming from every direction. Social media platforms that felt like permanent institutions are instead slowly going to let fall fallow incredible amounts of history, works of art, thought, and fandoms. It kinda sucks!
A couple years ago, I posted about a new plan with a new domain, to focus on the archiving of media content, as I saw that to be the fatal weakness of the current ways the internet and fandoms work. Much has happened since to convince me to alter the direction of those efforts, though not abandon them entirely.
Long story short? We are launching a fucking website forum. In 2023.
If you remember In the Rose Garden, much about Something Eternal will be familiar. But this has been a year in the making, and in many ways it's far more ambitious than IRG was. We have put money on this. The forum is running on the same software major IT and technology businesses use, because I don't want the software to age out of usability within five years. It has an attached gallery system for me to post content to, including the Chiho Saito art collection. It has a profile post system that everyone already on the forum has decided is kinda like mini Twitter? But it is, fundamentally, a website forum, owned and run and moderated by us. We are not web devs. But we have run a website on pure spite and headbutting code for over twenty years, and we have over a decade of experience maintaining social spaces online, both on the OG forum, and on our Discord. Better skilled people with far more time than we have can and will build incredible alternatives to what is collapsing around us. But they're not in the room right now. We are. And you know what? Maybe it's time to return to a clunkier, slower moving, more conversation focused platform.
You're not joining a social media platform with the full polish of dozens of devs and automated moderation. Things might break, and I might need time to fix them. The emojis and such are still a work in progress. Because e-mails no longer route in reasonable normal ways, the sign-up process instead happens within the software, and has to be approved by mods. Design and structure elements may change. Etc. The point being, that the forum isn't finished, but it is at a place where I feel like I can present it to people, and it's people I need to help direct what functions and things will be in this space. You all will shape its norms, its traditions, its options...choices I could try to make now, but really...they're for us to create as a group! But the important stuff? That's there. Now let's drive this baby off the damn lot already!
Come! Join us!!
PS. As always, TERFs and Nazis need not apply.
#revolutionary girl utena#shoujo kakumei utena#rgu#sku#empty movement#utena meta#fandom stuff#fandoms#expect a somewhat spicy atmosphere#empty movement has always had deep something awful roots#and i expect the migration back to a forum will bring with it some of that more spicy attitude#also lol henry kissinger is dead god that rules
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Overload
Pairing â Xu Minghao x Reader
Summary â An outing with your coworkers quickly left you spiraling and all you want is to be home...
Genre â fluff, established relationship, idol!au
Warnings â anxiety, sensory overload, alcohol mentioned
Word Count â 1.3k
Rating â pg-13
A/n â The setting is quite literally what i went through yesterday so this is me just working through my weekend... pls bare with me :((
Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by Šsoo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!
Going out with your coworkers was something you regularly did. You were a good team, not everyone had the fortune of being able to say that.
You also liked going out with them, however often times, you found yourself overwhelmed by everything around you. It was when suddenly your social switch flipped and everything became to much for you.
The music was suddenly to loud, the crowd of strangers kept getting bigger and the pushing was constantly making you lose your balance. At one point your knees even buckled and you had to hold onto your drunk coworker who kept yelling a jumbled mess of the lyrics to a song you could recognize over her shrill voice that made your ears ring.
You winced involuntarily as another stranger pressed you against the bar as he tried to make his way through the crowd. Flinching slightly you tried to keep the tears threatening to spill over at bay, not wanting to cry in the middle of a bar or in front of your coworkers.
Swallowing harshly, you blindly reached for the stool where you knew your jacket would be and quickly tried passing one of your coworkers who looked as you with a questioning head tilt.
âIâll be out for a minute!â you yelled over the loud music only to receive a nod in return.
Rushing out and running into more people then you would have liked in the process, until you reached the door.
Cold air engulfed you, chills running down your spine and a few deep breaths later you could feel your racing heart already calming down a bit. The alcohol running through your blood made your mind a bit fuzzy and your skin that was until a few seconds ago tingling uncomfortably now sporting goosebumps because of the cold.
You felt already way calmer then just before, sitting down on a bench just a few meters away to collect yourself.
You didnât want to go back inside, even if you had fun earlier that night but now, you just wanted to go home.
You wanted to get rid of the make un your face, the glitter in your hair and the sweat clinging to your hairline only to fall into the arms of your boyfriend and not move a muscle for the rest of the night.
It was barely even 10:30 pm but your team had been parting since shortly after 7 pm and you were tired! You huffed quietly, not knowing if you wanted to hear the complaints of your coworkers about leaving already when 2 of them suddenly sat down beside you.
âAre you okay?â Carrie asked, slightly slurring out the words while Yurin giggled and clung to her shoulder.
Giving her a short nod and a, in your opinion, forced smile that you hoped she believed in her drunk state. Seeing her like that you suddenly felt significantly more sober then before.
âYes, I just needed a minute. You two can go back in Iâll be fine here.â You nodded, hoping that you didnât need to explain to them what was going through your head. That might be a dick move but what could you say, explaining what you felt was exactly your forte.
âYou sure? We can stay with you for a while until you want to come back insideâŚâ
You shook your head, telling them that it was okay and that you would text in the group chat if something were the matter.
They were unsure if they should follow your request, it was night after all but then they went back when they were convinced that you were fine out here alone.
Relieved to be alone again you checked your phone.
10:42 pm
You could just leave and text the chat that you were going home, but then you would probably have to answer a few questions on Monday.
I might be coming home soon â send 10:43 pm
Typing bubble appeared and vanished again.
Something wrong BÄo Bèi? â received 10:43 pm
Want me to pick you up? â received 10:44 pm
No no, itâs fine you should be resting! I just- donât know â send 10:46 pm
TypingâŚ
Iâll wait for you â received 10:47 pm
It was simple, but butterflies still erupted in your stomach.
Yes, you wanted to go home. Now!
A text to the group chat and you were on the way.
Thankfully the bus station wasnât far and so you sat in the bus towards Minghaos apartment barely 10 minutes later and 15 more and you punched in the code to open the door.
The Tv was running quietly in the bedroom and the soft glow of Haos bed side lamp through the gap was a sure sign that he was already in bed.
On soft soles you went directly into the bathroom where your pyjama was still hanging over the side of the tub from this morning.
You took a fast shower, tub now sparkly and you clean you finished of your skin routine before getting dressed. The clothes you were wearing before, carelessly thrown to the floor, waiting to be thrown into the laundry the next day.
âHeyâŚâ was what you were softly greeted with by your boyfriend who had his glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hands. He looked unbelievably soft swallowed by the fluffy comforter in pillow and quickly you crawled in on the other side.
He put the book aside and took his glasses of so he could comfortably wrap his arms around your tired form.
âhi.â You murmured back, face hidden in his chest.
You felt his hand running down your spine soothingly, causing you to melt against him.
âTired?â he hummed.
You nodded.
âDid something happen BÄo Bèi?â
You looked up, eyes meeting his loving ones and you enjoyed the press of his plump lips against your forehead.
âNothing bad, at some point I just felt like I needed to get out of there. It just-â
âGot to much?â
âMhmm, there were so many people who kept pushing to get past us, the music wasnât my taste after a while and if I ever have to hear my coworker sing again I will throw something! Seriously, my ears are still ringing!â
Minghao snorted at the last part.
He knew how you sometimes couldnât handle your emotions well, always there by yours side when you had a hard time understanding them so this wasnât the first time this happened. For you, in those moments, you felt like you had to escape the situation, your skin crawling as touch got to much, the noises surrounding you getting to much and every social interaction became a burden suddenly.
He was actually quite proud that in those moments you like to search for an escape in his arms.
To know that you considered him the place for your ship to seek safety from the storm in, that filled him with immense pride. You could have gone to your own place after all.
âAigoo my BÄo Bèi, sounds like you had an overload⌠how are you feeling now?â
âBetter now that Iâm here.â You smiled as you blinked at him sleepily.
Haoâs ears turned red and you giggled at the sight.
âYouâre still blushing at this? After all this time?â You teased with a kiss to his now healed collarbone before nuzzling back into it. He shivered at the touch.
âYou little-â his finger poked your side in good fun and you squealed in surprise.
Yes, this felt right again.
#k labels#k vanity#the8#xu minghao#seventeen#the8 x reader#the8 x you#the8 x y/n#xu minghao x reader#xu minghao x you#xu minghao x y/n#minghao x reader#minghao x you#minghao x y/n#seventeen imagines#xu minghao imagines#minghao imagines#the8 imagines#divider by saradika
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Elemental (M) Pt. 1
Author:Â kpopfanfictrash
Genre:Â Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy
Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)
Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that youâre different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasnât changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, youâve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.
Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isnât just any love, either, heâs the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.
A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself donât make sense anymore.
Rating:Â 18+
Warnings:Â death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse
NSFW Warnings:Â oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play
Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)
Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)
[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]
Magic, to you, has never been a boon.
Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.
Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You arenât sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.
Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dadâs magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.
You canât say that you blame them â not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.
Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriendâs apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe thereâs some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.
Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.
A pep talk, you think. Thatâs what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you canât manage a single step.
Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.
Again, you remind yourself youâre doing the right thing and again, this doesnât help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant whatâs right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.
You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people wonât like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.
He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you havenât given Jungkook every part of yourself.
Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved⌠difficult.
Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, youâve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesnât prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.
The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.
Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isnât about you. Jungkook will hate you â thereâs nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring heâs safe.
Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or â more accurately â worked at.
Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierreâs Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.
Pierreâs is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner â Pierre â werenât a massive asshole. Now that you donât work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit youâve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.
A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didnât arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.
Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.
âWhoa, whereâs the fire?â he joked.
You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.
âNo fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,â you said and tried to move past.
Pierre didnât release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.
âYes?â you said, impatient.
Pierre didnât respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. âNothing,â he said carefully. âBe careful out there tonight.â
Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierreâs notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didnât fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.
By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.
Grabbing another tableâs dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.
âVanessa?â you said, adjusting your grip. âWhatâs going on?â
Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. âSorry,â she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. âI wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.â
Your stomach sank. âPissed⌠at me?â
She nodded, another dark curl escaping. âSomething about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,â she said at your expression. âBut you know how he is.â
âYeah, I know,â you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. âOkay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.â
âNo problem,â she said and stepped out of your way.
You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.
Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.
Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadnât been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.
Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.
Well, he liked every part except one â and you were working on telling him that.
Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.
Pierre stared down his nose. âFollow me,â he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.
He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. âY/N,â Pierre said, his voice dropping. âAre things okay tonight?â
âYes,â you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.
âThen why, exactly, are you fucking this up?â
Your jaw tensed. âI wasnât aware I was doing so,â you said carefully.
âThe napkins?â Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. âHow many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.â His expression darkened. âWhat makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!â
You shouldnât have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet â
âThere was no name in the book,â you muttered.
âWhatâs that?â Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. âI hadnât had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me itâd happen. Of course, she wasnât taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyoneâs jobs and making them harder.â
At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.
Of course, there were explanations for Pierreâs accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and â he didnât make a reservation for his friends.
Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.
âI apologize,â you said, not meeting his gaze. âIâll do better next time.â
Pierre sniffed. âSee that you do,â he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.
Heaving a small sigh, you turned â and froze where you stood.
Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.
For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.
Jungkookâs gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierreâs outburst, which meant youâd have to explain. Youâd have to explain to Jungkook â the only person whose opinion you cared about â why you allowed other people to walk all over you.
Heâd start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? Youâd have no good response. Not because you donât get mad, because you do. But because you donât ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.
Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.
Pierre isnât so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise youâll talk to Pierre tomorrow.
None of it would be true, and you didnât want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldnât stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.
Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you donât think thatâs it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. Itâs not that you donât feel, itâs that you cannot.
When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.
That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesnât know youâre an Elemental.
You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still arenât sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you havenât had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isnât something you use if you can help it.
Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.
Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.
Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying heâd return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.
You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewomanâs voice floating into the house.
The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then â your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.
For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.
Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.
She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your auntâs voice blast on speakerphone.
âNonsense,â she was saying. âYour husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!â
âI know.â Your mom blew her nose. âBut now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. Theyâre saying maybe he⌠made the hurricane. Itâs this new mayor,â she said, frustrated. âHe hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says ââ
âOh, no.â Your aunt sounded furious. âDonât you repeat a single word that hateful man says.â
âHe has a point, though,â your mom said, her voice low. âDid you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldnât listen, and now ââ
âWhen was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?â
âGod, no!â You watched your mom straighten. âBut there are people saying⌠awful things.â
âSome people arenât worth listening to.â
âI know.â Wearily, she exhaled. âTheyâre talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.â
Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You werenât aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judithâs relief. She thanked you repeatedly.
Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, youâd have thought he broke his arm.
Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.
Magic is dangerous.
Your momâs words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical â that meant you were dangerous, too.
Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.
She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.
You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. âThis will be good,â she said, her voice cracking slightly. âA fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.â
Except for the person you actually were.
Her meaning was clear, even if she didnât say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didnât want to use magic, you didnât have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.
Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!
Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!
Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!
Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your momâs presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didnât mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic â the opposite of how you wanted to feel.
Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and youâd have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised youâd do better but by the time you realized school wasnât for you, you had moved no less than six times.
Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.
Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.
There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.
Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.
For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.
Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrinaâs face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding youâve never forgotten.
Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the townâs water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you â or Katrina?
Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day â your fastest exit ever.
The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.
When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.
For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you â imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.
Since then, you havenât let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.
Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if youâll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe youâll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.
Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. Thereâs no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, youâve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.
As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.
Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldnât go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting youâd deal with things in your own time.
Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkookâs walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds â within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.
Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.
âIâm sorry,â he murmured into your hair. âItâs just⌠I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know whatâs best. Iâm sorry I doubted you.â
His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth youâd hidden for some time.
You were in love with Jungkook.
No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldnât. Someone who liked everything about you â even the parts you werenât brave enough to admit.
Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkookâs slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.
Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why heâd commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.
Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasnât your first kiss and prayed it wouldnât be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.
Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.
Ever since you met Jungkook, youâd held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.
About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, âmy place?â against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.
The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling â into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldnât seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.
When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.
Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then â
The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.
Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.
You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain heâd moved too fast, but you assured him he hadnât. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant â too much maybe, although you didnât say so out loud.
Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldnât control your magic around Jungkook, youâd have to end things.
Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.
Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since youâve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, youâre terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, youâve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.
Until last night, you thought youâd been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why youâd been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.
Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.
The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.
Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere â it was in you, around you, in Jungkookâs walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.
Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.
You had to leave. Now.
Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.
âI â Iâm sorry,â you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. âI need to go.â
Jungkook stared, frozen in place. âIâŚâ Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. âWhatâs going on? Did I do something wrong?â
Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you werenât certain how much longer itâd hold.
Your magic wasnât something you wanted Jungkook to see.
Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didnât follow, for which you were grateful.
Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded youâd talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.
Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldnât save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.
With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you âgirlie,â their water glasses shook.
It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierreâs friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.
Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.
You went still.
For so long, youâve hidden your magic to protect others. Youâve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled â and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.
At him, not on him.
You didnât trip. Didnât throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.
Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest â a friend of Pierreâs, at that.
Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.
The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.
Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better â maybe you wouldnâtbe fired, after all â when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.
âYou!â Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. âY/N â pack your things! Youâre done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out â now!â
A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadnât mentioned pressing charges, and you didnât want to stick around long enough to find out.
Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.
Things had reached a point you couldnât ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didnât deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierreâs friends were awful, but you couldâve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.
Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldnât seem to be around without incident.
That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another personâs safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.
Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didnât have to get hurt in order for that to happen.
Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if heâs home and then â
âHello?â Jungkookâs voice crackles over the speaker.
Leaning in, you press 316. âHey. Itâs me. Y/N.â
A weighted pause, and then â
âCome in.â
The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, âok,â in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldnât be thrilled to see you.
Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.
âItâs just me, Bam!â you say, and he stops.
Bamâs howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.
âBam, out of the way,â Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.
You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.
Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. Heâs dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasnât moved aside, blocking you from entering.
Uncertain, you straighten. âCan I come in?â
Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what youâre about to do.
Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. âI canât stay too long,â you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.
Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose itâs earned. You should probably get used to it.
âY/N.â His jaw works. âWhatâs going on?â
Deciding honesty is the best policy â up to a point â you force out your next words. âI think we should break up,â you say in a rush.
With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.
âWhat do you mean?â His head tilts. âLike, you want to take a break?â
Steeling yourself, you shake your head. âNo. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.â
A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.
He doesnât seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.
âWalk me through this,â Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. âI donât follow. Why are we breaking up again?â
The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldnât make this easy on you. âWeâre not good together,â you say, only to correct yourself. âI mean, Iâm not good for you. Iâm not in a place where I can be in a relationship.â
He comes to a stop. âI can wait, Y/N. I donât mind.â
Reaching for you, Jungkookâs brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.
âI mind, though,â you force yourself to say. âI canât ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. Thatâs not fair to either of us. Itâs too much pressure.â
The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you arenât sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.
âI wonât pressure you,â Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. âTell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? Itâs fine if we donât have it.â Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. âI just want you to be honest with me.â
Somewhat manic, you shake your head â and then nod.
Sex is a part of the problem, but itâs not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasnât an issue, but your past partners werenât Jungkook.
Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, youâd lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.
Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.
âSeriously, Y/N,â Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. âWhatâs this about? I can tell somethingâs on your mind.â
He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. âIs it work?â Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. âIs there⌠some reason you canât quit? You can tell me, Y/N.â
An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him â well, heâd end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but canât seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.
âWork isnât the problem,â you say at last. âItâs us, Jungkook. Or â itâs me. I donât want to be together anymore.â
Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.
Heâs never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.
Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. âI donât believe you,â he declares. âThis is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What arenât you telling me?â
âIâm telling you everything,â you say, panic rising. âAnd this isnât out of nowhere! Iâve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this â well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!â
Jungkook stares back at you, heated. âYeah, I guess so.â
The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.
âRight,â you exhale. âWell, I should go ââ
Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.
Jungkookâs gaze intensifies. âI donât believe you,â he murmurs.
Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, youâre the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.
A knife in you twists, knowing youâre a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.
His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkookâs brows deepens, noticing as well.
âYouâre not listening,â you blurt. âI canât see you any longer, Jungkook. Itâs in your best interest, I promise â I canât do this. Itâs too much.â
Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.
Jungkook follows close behind. âWhich is it, then?â he demands. âYou want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?â
Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkookâs hand on your shoulder. Caving, you donât fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.
Heâs too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.
Jungkookâs gaze flicks to yours. âYou keep saying youâre no good for me,â he says, his voice low. âBut what if I donât care? Donât I get a say in this decision?â
The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.
âIâm sorry,â you blurt, your hand searching behind you. âI have to go.â
Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.
The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkookâs apartment.
Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.
Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.
Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.
Jungkook will never forgive you for this.
The thought banishes all the rest. You canât say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isnât.
Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isnât home, so you arenât forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you arenât sure you can without breaking down.
Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesnât let up the entire night.
âTell me again.â Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. âWhy did you have to end things with your boyfriend?â
Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. âYou know why, Seokjin,â you grumble. âNot all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.â
âYou could be, though,â he says, pointing with his spoon. âIf you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.â
âI am not running.â
âNo.â Seokjin lifts a brow. âYouâre cowering, which is far less attractive.â
âIâm not cowering, either.â Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. âIâm wallowing. Big difference.â
Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.
âI canât be too hard on you, though,â Seokjin says as he cleans. âYou did get fired and dumped in one day â thatâs pretty rough.â
âDoes it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?â
âIâll allow it.â He opens the dishwasher. âBut only because really, you didnât want to break up with Jungkook. Youâve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you â something I highly disagree with, by the way, but canât fault you for feeling. Itâs too sad.â
âThanks,â you mumble, and close your eyes.
Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasnât been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.
Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.
Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.
You donât care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. Youâve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then thereâs Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.
He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.
Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. âYou owe me new plates,â he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. âHey â you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?â
âThatâs⌠a tornado, Seokjin.â
âRight.â He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. âWell, something to think about!â
Months later, Seokjin still doesnât understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and heâs again at a loss.
âListen.â
Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.
��Oh, no.â You grimace. âWhat now?â
Seokjin raises both hands. âNothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. Iâm sorry â did I say mistakes? I meant, âlearned life experience.â Through mistakes.â
âWas there a question in all that?â
âNo question.â Loosely, he gestures. âJust wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know Iâm only taking your money because you insist. I donât need it. This place is already paid for.â
âOnly because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.â
âListen.â Seokjinâs smile turns slightly sinister. âIf they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, thatâs on them. Not me.â
âFair enough,â you sigh and sit back. âBut seriously â thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.â
Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. âYou knowâŚâ
âNo,â you say, automatic.
His right brow lifts. âYou donât even know what I was going to say.â
âYou were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.â
âOkay.â Seokjin shrugs. âMaybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N â why not?â
Weary, you exhale. âBecause every time I try to paint, I get this⌠block. I canât explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now⌠I donât know. I canât seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.â
Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. âHow long has this been going on?â
âDonât know â a few months?â
âNot long after you started dating Jungkook.â
Staring at Seokjin, you realize heâs right. Thatâs exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.
âI donât want to talk about him,â you declare with a shake of your head. âRight now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.â
Seokjinâs lips twitch. âLet me know if the order changes. I know a guy.â
Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your momâs name. It isnât that you donât want to talk. Itâs that if you do, Jungkookâs name will come up, and youâll be forced to explain why you two arenât together. Right now, youâre managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You arenât sure what will happen if youâre forced to confront it.
Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.
Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. âDonât answer it,â he says, walking past. âWhenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.â
Seokjinâs not wrong. Your mom means well â really, she does â but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience itâs better to answer now.
âI know,â you sigh and stand up. âBut if I donât pick up now, sheâll just keep calling. Hey,â you say, pressing answer. âOne second, mom.â
Ignoring Seokjinâs sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.
Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. âHi, mom,â you say, lifting your phone to your ear. âSorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?â
âOh, you know,â your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. âSame old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather thereâs some flooding by you. Hope youâre alright!â
Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what sheâs really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding â an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesnât have to know that.
Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. Youâre debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.
âI know you havenât had a slip in years,â she continues. âBut if thereâs another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off â thatâs what happened to Beckyâs nephew, she said.â
Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your momâs best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. Sheâs the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on â and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.
âOh?â you ask. âI never noticed.â
âItâs true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommateâŚâ
Annoyance spikes in your stomach. âHis name is Seokjin, and Iâm an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.â
Seokjinâs mom could be saying that, but she wouldnât because Seokjinâs mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.
âOh, Y/N.â Your mom sighs. âItâs not the same.â
âWhy not?â
âWatch your tone,â she says. âIâm only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldnât be more different.â
Your mom isnât wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but youâre the one at risk of hurting others â not him.
âSeokjin is a good guy,â you say tightly. âHeâs letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.â
âAnother job?â Her voice pitches. âWhat happened to the job at that restaurant?â
Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. âUm⌠I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.â
âOh. Well. Thatâs too bad, Y/N, Iâm sorry. Itâs probably for the best â you donât want to be working for someone you donât respect, right?â
Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. Itâd be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesnât want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.
Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. âIâve been trying to paint,â you say. âIt hasnât been going well.â
âNo?â
You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.
âYeah,â you admit.
âWellâŚâ Your mom draws the word out. âWe always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.â
âI know, mom.â
âActually,â she adds, her excitement growing. âMaybe this is a sign. Y/N â what if this means your powers are weakening?â
Your entire body goes still. âWhat?â
âYes!â she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. âYou always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your⌠well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. Iâll have to ask Becky.â
Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.
âYou donât need to do that,â you blurt. âIâll research it myself. Actually, I should get going â I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.â
âOh, yes â good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. Iâm sure someone could help you update your resume â or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.â
âThanks,â you say, although it absolutely does not. âThatâs a nice offer.â
âHave a good day, honey â I love you!â
âLove you, too,â you say before hanging up.
Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, itâs felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they arenât you.
Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.
Passing him by, you eye this warily. âIsnât that your third pot this morning?â
âAnd?â Seokjin reaches for his mug. âYouâve had three cups yourself.â
âTouchĂŠ,â you sigh, collapsing on the couch.
Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.
Staring into the drink, you say, âThanks.â
Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.
A stab of envy goes through you, although you know itâs irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but youâve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you canât even do that.
Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.
Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.
âFar be it from me to dole out advice.â Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. âBut I think youâre going about this the wrong way.â
Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. âWhatâs the right way, then?â
His head tilts. âI donât know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. YouâveâŚâ Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. âYouâve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.â
Silently, you wonder whether heâs right. For too long, youâve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesnât comfort you, and you have no response.
After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you canât help but think about his earlier comments â could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. Youâve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.
With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isnât your friend. You arenât sure it ever was.
Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.
Missing Jungkook is painful.
It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesnât make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.
Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, heâd end with something he liked about you.
His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin youâd attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.
When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.
Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. âHi,â you say, mustering a smile. âIâll have an iced americano with rose syrup.â
âGot it.â The barista barely looks up. âThat all?â
âUh-huh.â
âWant a receipt?â
âNope.â
âCool.â She nods. âThatâll be ready soon at the end of the counter.â
Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.
Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what heâs wearing, whether heâs blocked your number yet from his phone.
A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself â enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, thatâs for sure.
Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldnât call it breakfast if â
Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesnât fade, and youâre forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.
Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasnât finished, which means that youâre trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesnât just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.
Jungkook does this when heâs nervous. Likely, heâs playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.
âJungkook,â you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.
He nods. âHey.â
Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. âWhat are you doing here?â
Jungkookâs hands go deeper, if possible. âGetting coffee. Is that allowed?â
Your lips press together. âSure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What Iâm asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, youâre not awake before noon.â
His expression is inscrutable. âCouldnât sleep.â
âAh.â
The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why youâre quiet but canât tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that itâs possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee â itâs possible, but unlikely.
At last, Jungkook exhales. âAlright, fine. I wanted to see you.â
âY/N?â
Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.
Itâs not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once â unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.
âDonât you have anything else to say?â
His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.
âLike what?â you ask.
âLike, I donât know.â His brow furrows, frustration obvious. âAnything, Y/N.â
Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how youâre going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.
Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.
âIâm sorry you came all this way,â you say in a murmur.
Youâre nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.
âY/N, please,â Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.
Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.
You tear your gaze away. âI donât know what you want me to say, Jungkook.â
âI want to know if you were serious about breaking up.â
Heâs still holding your elbow.
You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you canât look away. Romeoâs line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.
In the background, a tea kettle whistles. âI meant what I said, Jungkook,â you say, forcing yourself to speak first. âIâm not good for you.â
A muscle in his jaw feathers. âBut why,â he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. âI donât understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?â
A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.
âNothing,â you say, one hand on his arm. âYou did nothing wrong, Jungkook. Iâm just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.â
âBut why not?â His gaze sharpens. âEverything was fine between us until Sunday.â
âEverything was not fine.â
Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. âWhen you say you canât be in a relationship⌠what youâre really saying is you canât be in a relationship with me.â
âWith anyone,â you correct, although you arenât sure thatâs the truth.
Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time youâve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.
If you canât have Jungkook, you donât want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you canât now, you doubt youâll move past this crippling fear.
âYou keep telling me that,â Jungkook says, growing heated. âBut Iâm the one youâre breaking up with, so itâs a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you donât like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.â
A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You havenât told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.
âPeople in my past hurt me,â you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. âThatâs part of it, but not all.â
âWhatâs all, then?â
Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.
Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured â the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.
Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it wouldâve been your fault.
Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, heâd look at you that differently.
âYou see?â you blurt, and he glances in your direction. âEveryone around me gets hurt. I canât hurt you, too, Jungkook.â
Shoving open the door, youâre halfway outside when his words reach your ears.
âThatâs the thing, Y/N,â he says softly. âYou already have.â
The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.
âThis canât be a coincidence,â you mutter, staring through the window.
The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.
Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.
One crappy interview, even two, and youâd understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.
It wasnât that you hadnât gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.
âHey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?â
Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.
You donât recognize him; certainly youâd remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.
âUm, yeah,â you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.
He smiles and nods. âI thought that was you. Listen â I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.â
Concerned, you straighten. âUh, okay. What was he saying?â
âHe was talking to your old boss â Pierre? Apparently, heâs calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if itâs the same story for everyone, or if heâs making up shit up in the moment.â
Your jaw nearly drops. âAre you serious?â
âYeah.â The guyâs smile turns wry. âIâm assuming none of itâs true. You donât look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Canât be too careful.â
âRight.â You pause, then shake your head. âI didnât steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him â on accident,â you add.
Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. âWow, Iâd love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,â he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. âIâm Wooyoung.â
âY/N,â you say as you shake. âSo. Pierre is calling people?â
Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. âYeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasnât sure whether youâd want to know, but figured I should.â
You push yourself to stand. âI do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.â
âNo problem.â Sheepish, he glances down the road. âI should actually get back if I donât want to lose my job. Delivery,â he explains, nodding towards his bike. âNeed the extra income.â
âMakes sense,â you say, forcing a smile. âGood luck.â
Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. Heâs checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, itâs instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, youâd say yes, but in every life, itâs hard not to want Jungkook.
Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, youâll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.
Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if theyâre hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. Youâre so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.
Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.
Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.
Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space â a shop thatâs two-fold, you realize now that youâre inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. Thereâs a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.
âCan I help you?â someone asks, stepping into your path.
Blinking, you focus. âUm, no â thank you! I was just looking.â
âOf course!â The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. âThatâs what weâre here for. If you do change your mind, let me know â weâve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.â
âClasses?â
âMhm.â Crossing her arms, the woman nods. âMostly still life and figure drawing, but weâre hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?â she asks, sounding hopeful.
Immediately, you stiffen. âNo. At least, not right now.â
Her lips twitch. âNot sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are canât come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,â she admits with a laugh. âMight borrow it the next time the muses arenât singing.â
You canât help but grin. âExactly.â
Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. âMy name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. Theyâre the one teaching right now.â
âOh,â you say, somewhat wistful. âThatâs nice.â
âThanks.â Her smile widens. âSo, what was your preferred medium? You know, âback whenâ you were an artist.â
You canât help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, itâs a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.
âWatercolors,â you admit. âAnd my name is Y/N.â
Her eyes brighten. âWeâve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,â she explains, gesturing at herself. âAnd Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.â
âWow,â you say. âThose are very different.â
âYou donât say.â Taryn laughs. âMicah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught beâ hang on,â she blurts, her eyes going wide. âDid you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?â
Your cheeks heat. âYeah, thatâs me.â
Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.
âIs this you?â she demands, thrusting this in your face.
Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.
âYep,â you admit. âThatâs me.â
Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. âYouâre amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldnât capture the right feeling.â
Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. Youâve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although itâs nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.
âSeriously.â Taryn shakes her head wryly. âIf you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. Weâd be lucky to have you here.â
âThank you,â you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.
You hadnât realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, itâs been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. Itâs been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.
Dangerous.
Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. âIâm sorry,â you repeat. âIâm not really looking for something right now.â
Taryn nods. âSure. If things change though, just let me know â before next week,â she adds. âWe try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.â
âWill do. Thanks, again.â
âAnytime!â Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.
Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shopâs materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage â Henry Matisse.
You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isnât something youâve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for â others? Or yourself?
Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.
Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.
When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.
For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control â and with brush in hand, you were.
Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasnât healthy. Maybe you shouldnât feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.
Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.
You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him âboyfriend.â The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.
A throat cleared from behind.
Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized heâd been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkookâs face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.
Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.
Jungkook lurched forward. âNo!â he blurted, only to halt. âI mean â you donât have to cover the painting. I liked it.â
He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkookâs gaze traversed the canvas.
Eventually, he looked back. âSorry about that,â Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. âI didnât mean to startle you.â
âHow did you get in?â you laughed, burying your face in his chest.
âSeokjin.â He paused. âDid he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didnât respond. I figured Iâd stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.â
Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.
âSo.â Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. âThis is you.â
This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though heâd known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.
Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.
Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.
âHey.â He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. âWanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.â Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. âEverything is all good, but Iâm calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.â
In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.
Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldnât control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.
You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but itâs been a long time since you felt that way.
This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of othersâ rejection. Of failing to live up to your fatherâs example.
You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, heâd be confused by your actions.
You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that heâd call.
He doesnât though and eventually, you stop hoping.
By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven youâve carefully crafted.
With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.
Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. Heâll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down â but you donât want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.
Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, youâd have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.
After yesterdayâs disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, youâve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.
You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than youâve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since itâd involve you being honest. Something you havenât been with yourself in a while.
Because if you were honest, you know what youâd find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.
After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.
Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.
No. No, no, no â absolutely not.
The universe â or whoeverâs writing your story â must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. Youâd recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.
Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.
Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.
âSorry,â he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. âI was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.â
Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You arenât sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.
Startled, Jungkook stares.
Equally swift, you withdraw. âI, uhâŚâ
Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides Iâm sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you canât give.
âYou donât have to leave on my account,â you say at last.
A singular brow lifts. âNo? You didnât seem to think that way on Wednesday.â
You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. âI know,â you admit. âItâs just⌠this is your usual laundromat. I donât want you to leave because of me. I wouldnât even be here, expect the one near me is broken and ââ
âGot it,â he interrupts, the words tight. âYou wouldnât be here if you didnât have to be.â
Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but itâs just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.
âOkay,â you whisper.
Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when youâre the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.
âHey.â Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. âWhatâs wrong?â
A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.
Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. Youâre the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.
âI was fired on Sunday,â you say in a rush. âBefore I came to see you.â
He blinks only once before his face hardens. âBefore you broke up with me, you mean.â
âYeah,â you whisper.
Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. Itâs so easy to read Jungkook. Youâve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.
A muscle in his jaw tics. âY/N,â Jungkook says, turning back. âWhat are you doing?â
âWhat⌠do you mean?â
Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.
âWhy are you⌠torturing me?â he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. âI donât know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesnât make this okay. It doesnât make us okay,â he adds, gesturing to the air between you.
âI â I know,â you stammer, nearly blurting out something youâll regret.
Like that youâre an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.
âYou know?â Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. âAgain, Y/N â what do you want from me?â
Since you started talking, youâve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and youâd be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkookâs chest rises and falls.
Heâs afraid, you realize. Jungkookâs fear isnât the same one as yours, though. He isnât afraid that youâll see him, but rather that youâll destroy him.
Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. âIt doesnât matter what I want,â you say, somewhat desperate.
âYou keep saying that.â Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. âYou keep saying you donât want this, but you wonât tell me why. Wonât tell me anything, Y/N â you were fired, and this is the first time Iâm hearing it.â
âI couldnât tell you!â you blurt. âI canât explain it, Jungkook, but I couldnât tell you when it happened.â
His gaze sharpens. âThen, yeah, maybe youâre right. Maybe we are better off broken up.â
Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.
âThatâs not true,â you protest, spinning around. âIâve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. Iâve let you in in ways no one else has.â
Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.
âI donât doubt thatâs true,â he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. âBut thatâs not the same as letting me in.â
He starts to go.
Everything around you becomes white noise.
When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.
The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.
The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. âListen to me, Y/N,â she said, her voice serious. âThat dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?â
Silent, you shook your head.
âThe water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest â theyâd be gone. The wall canât break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?â
Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.
Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.
Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.
You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrinaâs stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what heâd done wrong again.
Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.
Hands grip your arms.
Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in â only to realize with horror, it might be too late.
The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.
People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.
âAre you okay?â he bellows, close to your face.
You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but itâs hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.
Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, youâre tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but heâs already wading through the aisle of washers.
Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you canât see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.
Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, âHold on.â
You donât have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.
People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though theyâve rocks themselves.
With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.
Realizing this, you reach inward and try to â turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.
Exhaling against your neck, Jungkookâs hand moves lower.
You canât help but shiver. âJungkook?â you murmur into his shoulder.
âYeah?â
âCould you⌠you know, set me down?â
âOh.â
Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesnât step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.
He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.
âAre you okay?â he asks.
Jungkookâs hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You arenât sure how to answer without being honest.
Truthfully, youâre not okay.
An okay person wouldnât break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldnât be hiding their magic, they wouldnât be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldnât continue to place that same person in danger.
Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.
âNo,â you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. âNo, Jungkook, Iâm not okay. I⌠this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I canât control them. Iâm so sorry.â
Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.
âI should go,â you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. âI have to go.â
Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.
Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat canât.
Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkookâs face. âIâm sorry,â you repeat, unsure what else to say. âReally, I am.â
Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you canât shake the feeling something has changed.
Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. Youâre used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.
Once shattered, the dam canât be rebuilt.
A weightlessness accompanies this that you didnât anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You havenât done that before.
The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, youâve only put him â and yourself â in greater danger. Maybe because youâve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.
But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didnât run. If anything, he moved closer.
Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but thereâs an itch in your fingers you havenât felt in some time.
Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.
For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.
 Š kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.
Authorâs Note:Â thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.
#bangtanarmynet#bts fanfic#bts smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#bts au#bts fic#jungkook au#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfiction#bts fanfiction
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Lets. D0. This.
(Please note: Post will be updated as I find more resources and think of more strategies)
(Please do not re-use gif without permissionâŚunless itâs to save RiseâŚ)
Mutant May
YOU can watch Season 1 and Season 2 of RISE right HERE!
So Iâve seen a a lot of people still wondering if Rise of the TMNT can be saved.
Thereâs is a lot of hope, especially with the boom of fans joining the fandom after the movie dropped last year, people making more art on tumblr, twitter, tik tok, and so on. But also a a lot of doubt, especially after JJ Conwayâs post on twitter.
BUTâŚI still think there is a chanceâŚa GOOD chance. WITH ORIGINAL CAST AND CREW! Why?
We live in the internet. Information is more then easy to get out now thanks to social media. There is all kinds of ways to get the word out to people. Letâs abuse it. đ
Fans have brought back shows before.
We need a MAJOR push through social media, more fans, more art, itâs up to usâŚand I think we can do it!
Fans convinced Netflix to bring Sense8 back for a finale
Fans convinced fox to bring back âFuturamaâ after it was cancelled in 1999.
Hey Arnold got the jungle movie thirteen years after the show was cancelled
Animaniacs got a 3 season revival 22 years after it stopped airing.
Brooklyn 99 was cancelled in 2018, and the fans convinced NBC to pick up the series.
Arrested Development was canceled after 3 seasons, but AFTER it was cancelled, it grew an audience and they made it come back!
Fans saved the original Star Trek in the 60s with letters.
They did it. Why canât we?
So what can we do?
WellâŚ
1. PETITIONS TO SAVE RISE that we can all signâŚ
PETITION 1 (The strongest one, but the more petitions signed, the better!)
PETITION 2
PETITION 3
PETITION 4 (save the content that was cut/we missed)
PETITION 5! (Make an ROTTMNT season 3)
2. Pester Nickelodeon and Netflix on social media (THE BIG ONE YâALL, THIS IS THE MOST DIRECT AND IMPORTANT)
Be polite, be non-toxic (donât be rude or mean, the boys would not want that, and the Nick/Netflix wonât listen), but be LOUD, PASSIONATE, AND ANNOYING! Ask for DVDs of the show/movie, and then BUY THOSE DVDs!
MAKE SURE TO ASK FOR THE FULL ORIGINAL CAST AND CREW TO COME BACK, INCLUDING ANDY SARIANO AND ANT WARD.
Sample DM/Letter (but try to come up with your own. Too many repeats and they will ignore it)
âDear Nickelodeon/Netflix/Viacom, I canât tell you how much Rise means to me, and I really love that you put the show on air. But it was not fair that the show was cancelled before it got the chance to reach the audience it deserved, only because of a few bad reviews and a lack of advertising. The show is great, thereâs tons of fans, tons of art, and people, including me, want so much more! Please bring it back! We want the original crew to come, Flying Bark, for the show to get itâs full second season restored, and itâs five season run like it was originally intended. People hated the 2012 TMNT when it came out, but it got itâs chance and now there are people that love it. Why canât Rise of the TMNT have the same? Itâs clear that the creators love their work and thereâs a growing fan base for it. Rise just came out at the wrong time, but it deserves it chance to shine.â
The more personal you made the letter, the more you say what Rise means to you, the better.
As for me? Iâm sending them a picture of Pizza Pigeon with the #wewantmoreriseoftheTMNT and #saverottmnt
Request movies/seasons on Netflix.
Ask for Rise Season 2, another season, another movie. Just keep asking!
Nickelodeonâs facebook page (Look, I know that facebook is a relic at this point, but the more people go there and PESTER Nickelodeon, the better!)
Riseâs facebook page
Leave good reviews. Share. Leave TONS of comments
Nickelodeonâs instagram
Nickelodeonâs Twitter page (treat carefully, there be Musks out thereâŚonly use if you are over 18)
Nickelodeonâs TikTok
Niceklodeonâs letter inbox
Nickelodeon, 1515 Broadway, New York, NY 10036
Rugrats was brought back because fans bombarded Nickelodeon with letters saying they wanted it back. Might as well cover our bases. This one is a BIG DEAL!
Nickelodeonâs Corporate Number
1-212-846-2543 Call them! Annoy them! Ask how we can get their attention! Tell them why you love this show! Why it deserves to come back.
Contact Paramount
Paramounts Request form
Official Fan Page Riseâs Instagram
The more followers the better.
Netflixâs instagram
Netflixâs facebook
Netflixâs Twitter (Treat carefully. There be MUSKs out thereâŚonly use if you are over 18)
SPAM NICKELODEONâS EMAILS!
If anyone has any more, any deeper more direct points of contact, or more ideas, please share!
3. Leave good reviews for Rise anywhere and raise awareness everywhere you can!
One of the key reasons Rise did not do too well because it was unfairly review bombed before people could give it a chanceâŚso get out there on tik tok, IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes, and ESPECIALLY youtube.
Make reviews! Analysis! JOKES! Support other content creators! When the Rise Reanimated video comes out, share it like no tomorrow!
No one paid attention when How to Train Your Dragon came out, but word of mouth and people saying it was good, made it the success it was. Letâs repeat history!
Anytime there is NEW RISE CONTENT on Nickelodeonâs YouTube channel, watch it, share, spread it.
Share this post on social media, across various sites, use the information here to spread awareness about how people can help and what they can do. Be relentless! (Like Leo in Lair Games)
Ask influencers to review, react, and give RISE a chance without placing judgement.
4. Make. ART!
Draw, Write, TWEET, Make MERCH, Sell MERCH, Make Tik Toks, Videos on YouTube, posts on instagram, discord, what pad, demanding more Rise, spreading the word, and just showing how much you love this show! Not only will it attract attention, but itâs also good for all of us. There will be more Rise content either way.
Make sure to @ nickelodeon on ALL of your art! SPAM THEM! ANNOY THEM! DROWN THEM IN LOVE FOR THIS SHOW! Demand DVDâs and Blue rays of the SHOW AND THE MOVIE! Itâs not fair that we canât have access to it!
PLAY THIS GAME!
If you see official Rise MERCH in the while, buy it if you can! Also support as many rise content creators as you can. If you canât draw? Write! If you canât create! Like! Share! Comment! Support each other!
Rise April ART Challenge
Keep in mindâŚthere WILL be pushback.
Companies as big as Nickelodeon and Viacom care about their bottom line: $$$âŚmoney. BUT pushback, whether they are taking down your videos on Tik Tok, striking artists on twitter, mean that theyâre taking NOTICE. So donât. Give. UP!
One last thing to remember: DO NOT harass fans for enjoying other versions of TMNT
Even though Rise is the first and only TMNT I have ever loved, I donât believe in shaming other fans for looking forward to, or enjoying other TMNT series. Gatekeeping like that was what stopped Rise from (heh) Rising as high as it should have. All Rise fans are welcome, and all TMNT fans are welcome. Rise deserves to reach more fans, it deserves another season, and it does not need to knock down other TMNT series to do it. Show them your love and your need for more Rise, without making other TMNT fans feel unwelcome.
Share, spread the word, give it your best shot! A village can move MOUNTAINS! SO letâs do it.
So that in the near futureâŚwe can MAKE THIS JOKE!
#rottmnt#save rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt#unpause rottmnt#rottmnt leo#save rise of the tmnt#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt raph#netflix#instagram#nickelodeon#viacom#paramount#facebook#signal boost#social media campaign#petitions#turtles#underrated show#flying bark productions#manifesting
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HOW TO CHANGE YOUR SELF CONCEPT AND MANIFEST YOUR DREAM LIFE WITHIN A WEEK!!!
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(For when you feel like you just canât do it).
HEY YOU THERE!!!! Are you still in a continuing loop of not seeing ur desires? Of feeling lack? Feeling like there is so much weight on your shoulders and that your desires are out of reach?
Well believe it or notâŚweâve all been in that position. Weâve all been in positions where we put our desires above us, too high to reach. Thatâs just called having a terrible self concept. And if you are familiar with the law of assumption, you know that self concept is REALLY IMPORTANT!!!
If you really believed that you canât achieve what you want, then you wouldnât be here in the first place. Reading this post. Surfing tumblr to read success stories and tips&advice. That tiny amount of faith you have says a lot. Weâve all been at that point, having little to no faith. Iâve been there, at one point i start doubting the law. But i knew i didnât deserve to live a sad life, so i changed my inner self.
You know how the law works blah blah blah. One thing to familiarise yourself with is how âillogicalâ it is. This was a concept i didnât grasp before. I thought it was ridiculous for people to wake up in their dream house, with their dream EVERYTHING. It felt soâŚunnatural and odd. I felt like things like that couldnât happen. I thought maybe they tricked themselves into seeing that. But when i started to realise that we are just pure consciousness, everything changed.
First of all, people who manifested their dream life didnât âteleportâ to a different realm or anything. They just changed their awareness to their liking. You are aware of not living your dream life, so that is what you see. Everything in your life is based on your awareness. What youâre aware of. Are you aware of being a master manifestor? If so, then you are a master manifestor. Everything you accept to be real is REAL. YOU gave into the 3D and accepted it as real. Thatâs why every time something bad happens to you, you say âwhy is this happening to me!!! Iâm so unluckyâ etc. You accepting your undesired 3D circumstances as real is literally self sabotage. The only time where you can accept your 3D as real is when it is in your favour. The 4D (imagination) is the REAL and ONLY reality because the 3D cannot exist without it. Still donât believe me? Remember the time when you really believed that something would happen and it did, for example believing that you would fail an exam. Anyway, iâm not going to try and convince you to believe in the law of assumption if you donât already. Because no matter what, in a week or less your state will manifest. Belief or not. Wanna know why? Youâve manifested constantly your whole entire life before even knowing about the existence of the law. You did all that without believing in it. LMAO you literally manifested to find it difficult, without believing in it. The law is based on faith, not proof. Proof (which for most of you reading this is the 3D). Never see the 3D as âproofâ of your manifestation. Why would you do that? Looking in the mirror after listening to a subliminal to check for results is accepting the 3D as proof. Being surprised when your manifestation âdidnât comeâ in the desired amount of time is accepting the 3D as proof. BUT HELLO?!?! The 4D IS THE REAL REALITY!!! THAT IS A FACT NO MATTER WHAT YOU BELIEVE!!! NOTHING CAN CHANGE THE FACT THAT THE 4D IS THE REAL REALITY!!!
The 4D is all you need when you desire something. Fulfill yourself in the 4D. The purpose of âfeeling it realâ is not to convince yourself that you have it. Itâs to remind yourself that you do. Embody the state of having your desires. If you donât know about states i really recommend reading a blog about them. Itâs literally the foundation of the law!!! Your state manifests!!! Never come from a state of lack. Never affirm from a state of lack. Never visualise from a state of lack!!! When i knew about the law for some time, i thought i was trying to âconvinceâ myself that i had my desires by âpretendingâ to have them and âacting as ifâ i had them. That is literally coming from a state of lack. That is literally accepting that you donât have your desires. But the 4D is the real reality. So stop accepting your 3D circumstances as real, because they arenât. They are so fake. Faker than my old friends. The 3D is literally just a product of your past assumptions. It is not real!!! It does not exist the moment you accept that it doesnât. Why do you think people manifest instantly in the void? Waking up in their dream house/apartment with everything theyâve always wanted? Because the 3D isnât real. Itâs like an illusion. Focus your awareness on having your desires and that HAS TO reflect! Failure does not exist!! Failure does NOT exist!!! Got it? Lemme tell u something. One night i was reading a success story about the void state and waking up in a fricking CAR when they went to sleep in their bed. I was low key shocked to be honest but my mindset has improved since then and iâm not baffled anymore (this was about 2 days ago). I had an epiphany from there. I literally started to realise that the 3D is literally not real. You are just pure consciousness. Whatever you are conscious of, you will see. Itâs not âteleportingâ. Itâs not âmagicalâ. Youâre not in a parallel universe far far farrrr away from your loved ones, being surrounded by clones (because that was what i thought before and i was TERRIFIED!!!) Look around right now. Look!!! Look at your surroundings. They arenât real. Thatâs just the 3D. The real reality is the 4D. You arenât âcreatingâ anything. You are just focusing your awareness on the REAL reality (the 4D).
You do realise that you have manifested countless things during your life, unconsciously (without knowing). What makes you think that you canât do it consciously? Why? Do you believe that you are unlucky? Have you brainwashed yourself that badly that you lost complete faith in the law? You literally manifested for things to be difficult for youâŚisnât that disappointing? Luckily, you will use your power to your advantage this time, and not for self sabotaging.
I REALLY RECOMMEND READING @piercedblunt posts because she made me understand the law of assumption so well!!!!
You are going to follow this routine for a week!!! I promise it is literally IMPOSSIBLE to not materialise your dream life. Whether itâs:
- Revising peopleâs deaths, waking up in a mansion, waking up in a different country, waking up with your desired body and face, becoming an alien, being able to fly, growing wings, being able to talk to animals, being able to manifest in under 2 seconds.
STEP 1
- Embody the state of HAVING, not desiring. States are the easiest things ever. So ridiculously easy to embody.
HOW TO EMBODY A STATE:
ANGELâS FULFILLMENT âCHALLENGEâ
READ THIS!!!
PERSISTING = REMINDING
You should acknowledge that those limiting beliefs were just created by your fears CAUSED by the 3D.
LMAOOOO HOW IRONIC! The ONE thing holding you back was the 3DâŚand it turns out that IT ISNâT REAL!!! Isnât that so relieving? Literally most and if not all problems people have had with the law of assumption was based on the 3D. Now that youâve accepted that the 4D as the real reality, this will be so much easier!!! Ofcourse there are things like âintrusive thoughtsâ that scared you but you arenât embodying the state of those instrusive thoughts are you? No, exactly, so they will not manifest. Thoughts do not manifest. States manifest.
Remember, when manifesting, the goal is not to âgetâ. Because you already have it.
IT IS LITERALLY TIME FOR YOU TO ACCEPT THAT YOU HAVE YOUR DREAM LIFE!!!! STOP PROCRASTINATING!!! I promise you, your desired life with materialise in a week or less. Never give up.
SOME SCOLDING RIGHT HERE!!!
#law of assumption#loassumption#loa tumblr#loablr#loa blog#loa success#manifestation#void state#void
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I don't post on here often and by that I mean I'm on here once a month to look at writing prompts but right now I'm thinking of Anya from Mouthwashing, and Tumblr is better for long form posts. Apologies if this rant isn't super clear, I'm on pain meds right now.
CW: S/A, SUICIDE, OVERDOSE, MOUTHWASHING SPOILERS
Anyway, Anya very well may be one of the most doomed characters to ever doom. Firstly she's trapped in a relatively small space ship with 4 men, who she has to keep alive and healthy along with giving them periodic mental wellness checks (which she, herself never gets). Two of these men don't take her seriously at all because she probably doesn't actually have a medical degree and is just someone the company hired to cut corners. If that wasn't all ready awful, the co-captain, Jimmy, has been assaulting her since at least the start of this voyage that's been going on for 100+ days. She falls pregnant because of this and while this isn't where her spiral started, this is where it gets worse. She originally plans to kill herself with the Captain's gun, but decides against it since she can't get to the gun without Curly's help anyway.
Speaking of Curly, he knows what's been going on, she told him about Jimmy a while before the crash. Every time, Curly says "I'll do something about it," or "I'll fix this," but the most he does is keep Jimmy away from Anya when they're working. Anya seems fine with that for the most part because I think she assumes Curly will report Jimmy and have him arrested when they land (he won't, at this point in the game he'd defend Jimmy for anything because "he sees the best in people. He loves to say "our worst moments don't define us" and apparently that extends to r@pe). So at this point, she's biding her time until they land.
Back to the gun, when Curly finds her holed up in the cockpit, she tells him she's pregnant. He's a little taken aback but he tries to reassure her that it's fine and he'll fix the "situation" with Jimmy. He says he can't let her kill herself because he does actually care about her. One of his flaws is he cares about everyone so much he can't imagine compromising one of them for any reason. Anya tells him she wasn't going to hurt herself, though she thought about it, she just hid the gun case so Jimmy couldn't kill her instead. She's so convinced Jimmy just wants to kill and torment her when the sad truth is, he couldnât care less.
In all of Jimmy's "take responsibility" hallucinations, Anya barely shows up. Swansea, Curly, and Daisuke do, but he can't bring himself to even recognize what's happened to Anya is also solely his fault. He doesn't care at all.
Speaking of which, what seems the straw that breaks the camel's back for Jimmy is Anya telling him that she's pregnant because he crashes the ship pretty sure after. And this really seems like a spur of the moment action because if he'd planned this he could've done it much earlier after the news of the company closing reached them.
Curly says Anya should've waited for him to help her tell Jimmy about the pregnancy, but that doesn't matter because he is put out of commission like (I forgot if it's a day later or the same day) later because he's in the cockpit when the ship crashes.
Now Anya has no hope, Jimmy knows she's pregnant, the seemingly one line of defense she has against him can't leave his bed, and they're stuck in space. She's terrified because not only because of that, but because Jimmy is captain now and because of the way the ship is set up, you need the captain for a lot of things. Jimmy being captain also means if he finds the gun case, he now has the code to open it.
Anya, being the ships medic, is tasked with keeping Curly alive and giving him his meds. It's really difficult for her, A. because Curly is hard to look at, B. because unless he's full of pain meds, he's making noise, and C. because that was her friend and one of the only people she felt safe around and he's been reduced to this. And from her perspective, this is his fault, Curly crashed the ship.
This situation is stressful for everyone, Swansea has reverted back to alcoholism and never drops the ax he has, Daisuke is slowly losing hope and also starts drinking, and Jimmy won't stop yelling at her. He's so pissed at her the entire game, more so than everyone else. She was already scared of him but before there was at least a light at the end of the tunnel. Now there's nothing to look forward to because she doesn't think there's any way out.
She, at some point when he's sober enough, confides in Swansea who then tells her that she's gonna be the one to get out of here. He has the one last working cryo pod set aside for her specifically and refuses to let anyone into the room where it is. Unfortunately, at this point, her anxiety concerning Jimmy is so bad, she's convinced he'd do something to the pod too.
So then Anya locks herself in the med bay with Curly and all the rest of the ships medicine (- minus the Isopropyl which she probably left for Daisuke and Swansea) and overdoses by Curly's bed. Curly was awake the whole time she went through a probably painful death. She also, as maybe a final revenge, took the last of the pain meds that were meant for Curly. And she dies right next to him.
That's where her story ends. She felt so trapped and scared by her r@pist that got her pregnant that she killed herself next to the one person who could've done something, but instead, from her perspective, trapped her with said r@pist.
She died probably hoping that Daisuke or Swansea would make it out, not knowing they died soon after.
TLDR;
So from her perspective: A guy she's been friends with for years starts repeatedly assaulting her and she's stuck with him, then he gets her pregnant. Her other friend who she tells says he'll do something about it (he won't) and she has no choice but to trust him. Then the guy she told crashes the ship they're all on and fails in taking himself out. Now she's trapped with her r@pist and she tells someone else who does actually try to do something but she kills herself instead.
Anyways guys, I'm just missing my wife, the end.
#mouthwashing#rant post#mouthwashing anya#mouthwashing curly#mouthwashing spoilers#mouthwashing swansea#mouthwashing jimmy#mouthwashing daisuke#video games#indie games#i miss my wife tails#please play this game#anya mouthwashing#long post#is this a#character analysis#?#idk#content warning
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i mean realistically many people do deserve to be the victims of targeted harassment campaigns. if you're being an asshole you deserve to be screamed at by everyone present until you stop. some people commit acts of cruelty and subsequently forfeit their reasonable right to participate in society until they've made amends.
the people of wendy's have a moral right to scream at the manager if said manager sprays them in the neck with milkshake every time they go to pick up their order
damn following up the last ask, ig it was someone in ur notes constructing an equivalence between @tting staff and getting nuked to yelling at a wendy's manager and getting kicked out. my bad lol thought that was part of ur main post
I mean this is something that's still worthwhile to bounce off of even though you're not actually responding to me.
First of all, no, I pretty much don't think that anybody deserves to be the focus of a targeted harassment campaign. At least not the kind that are spun up on tumblr or twitter. I generally think that targeted harassment campaigns don't work to change minds, they only work to torment, isolate, and attack people, which will often further entrench them in their positions.
Sometimes people doing serious antifascist work will make a discovery like, for instance "the principal of X school is a vicious antisemite" and will run an *exposure* campaign to get them removed from a position of power, but with very few exceptions when you see an online callout post for a random internet user it's nothing but abuse and an attempt to bully them off of a specific website, not an attempt to protect victims or inform people of a genuine threat. "ABC is the new alt of this person with a documented history of starting cults, DNI, block and move on" is very different than "This specific user who is on staff posts harry potter fanart and is why fascists continue to exist on tumblr, let's make sure they know what tumblr thinks of them."
You are trying to frame bullying campaigns as normal consequences for antisocial behavior, but the antisocial behaviors under discussion here are "user posted fanart broadly disliked by the community and associated with specific ideologies long after the initial fandoms were crystallized" and "is the CEO of a social media website that is implementing features that the users dislike."
"People deserve to be screamed at until they stop the bad behavior" is punitive and shitty and so broad and open to so many interpretations that you're basically saying "it's open season on screaming at people." I think that it's bad behavior to support neoliberal political candidates who prop up capitalism but it would be horrible for me to run harassment campaigns against everyone who says "vote blue no matter who" even though I think that attitude perpetuates real world harms. (And it also wouldn't convince those people to change their minds! The fact that I think they are doing something harmful doesn't give me the social license to send hundreds of people to harass them! And it wouldn't work! These kinds of campaigns don't effect change they just isolate people and erode trust and civility jesus fuck we need to be coalition building not posting callouts over whatever activity has been deemed "freak behavior" this week)
some people commit acts of cruelty and subsequently forfeit their reasonable right to participate in society until they've made amends.
oh buddy, I think I get where you're coming from here but considering the kinds of behavior under discussion this is just straight up fascist. You are literally saying that people should be banished from society for wrongthink because nobody under discussion here has actually committed an act of cruelty.
(one of the things that i'm putting under the heading of "tumblr conspiracist thinking" is "staff is currently and continually intentionally flagging certain LGBTQ tags and bloggers" - there is ample evidence that the current staff is working to unfuck flagging and blocked tags that was done long before this crew was working on it. People talk about "tumblr had to settle because their filtering disproportionately impacted lgbtq+ creators" and that is TRUE however that was a filter that was established under different owners with different policies and different staff; the implication that the current staff is guilty of trying to stifle LGBTQ+ content because a lawsuit started before the Automattic purchase of tumblr ended in a financial settlement is just bad, wrong, incorrect, faulty logic. And if I might indulge in a bit of my own conspiracist thinking: I actually suspect a lot of the flagging and tagging and blocking of trans women specifically might actually be targeted attacks of individual users by terfs - many of the things that are getting flagged as needing a community label are things that use tags that terfs follow to attack and if enough users click "this needs a community label" the post will get flagged - I don't know that that's what's going on but just operating on occam's razor I think it's a lot more likely that terfs are coordinating attacks on trans people than that there is a secret group of cryptoterfs on staff taking time out of their day to ensure that trans users get flagged, if only because I think that the vocally trans positive former members of the staff would have said something about it.)
So, given that my position is "it is unlikely that anyone on staff is intentionally targeting LGBTQ+ groups HOWEVER prior policies enacted harm against LGBTQ+ groups and there is visible evidence that the current staff is trying to repair that damage" I'm not seeing any behaviors here that call for individual employees or users to get targeted with harassment from thousands of users.
But anyway, back to the specifics of the ask:
some people commit acts of cruelty and subsequently forfeit their reasonable right to participate in society until they've made amends.
Do you have any idea how frequently amends are made and never circulated as widely as the callout post? Do you have any idea how frequently callout posts are incorrect, and exaggerate the things that need to be amended? I'm reminded of Lindsey Ellis, who was the victim of a years-long targeted harassment campaign and made multiple apologies over the years who was finally driven off of her primary platform because she carelessly misspoke and the people who had been targeting her for years were able to make a post that she had long disavowed and was a relic of her dealing with the aftermath of sexual violence go viral. The internet doesn't let people make amends; people see accusations. They see the first post, not the follow up. That's why starting these campaigns is shitty and dangerous even if you *personally* believe that you'll forgive an individual once they "make amends." (and the "amends" people usually demand are "i want this person gone from the internet forever and cut out of this part of their life" - that's not really something that's fair to ask of people when so much of the world is online these days.)
the people of wendy's have a moral right to scream at the manager if said manager sprays them in the neck with milkshake every time they go to pick up their order
No they don't. Straight up. If the manager of a wendy's sprays you in the neck with a milkshake you have the right to escalate your complaint right up the chain, take your business away and never come back, warn other people "hey the manager sprayed me with a milkshake, stay away," but you don't have the moral right to escalate the situation by screaming at them (and you certainly don't have that right if you happened to get sprayed with some milkshake while the manager was attempting to fix the frostee machine when you came to pick up your order, which I think is actually more analogous to what is happening here).
someone in ur notes constructing an equivalence between @tting staff and getting nuked to yelling at a wendy's manager and getting kicked out
A big point that I think you're missing here is that @-ing staff when there is a problem on a post or you see harassment is generally pretty acceptable (though much less effective than filing a support claim), but the issue under discussion isn't @-ing staff, it was pointing thousands of angry people at two specific people who are *part* of staff and holding those two individuals responsible for all the problems that users see with tumblr.
partyjockers got nuked because their post directed a flood of harassment at one staff member in a post where they had highlighted that user's URL and name:
This is explicitly saying "users like the one I screenshotted are the reason you're being attacked by terfs" because one member of staff posted fanart from two franchises that tumblr-the-userbase has deemed off limits.
(Do you have any idea how extreme a bubble this is? Do you walk into barnes and noble and sigh because the managers are fascists who want trans people dead because there's harry potter merch everywhere? JK rowling is a terf and a horrible fucking person and I am no longer personally comfortable engaging with that fandom but people posting fanart of a franchise are not personally attacking you even if it feels like they are disregarding your humanity; you cannot consider other people's participation in huge, popular, mainstream fandoms as a sign that they are plotting against you this is why i'm calling this conspiracist thinking the entire scorched earth conspiracy spawned from someone interpreting a staff member's art as esoteric signposts signalling their hatred of trans people. Do you remember when the stupid harry potter game came out and this entire website was despondent because it meant that people didn't care about trans people? That's not actually what it meant! What it meant is that the vast majority of people on the planet have neither a twitter nor a tumblr account and have no idea how shitty JK rowling is to trans people and they don't interpret "harry potter imagery" as "covert terf signal" they interpret it as "possibly the most mainstream fantasy series in the last fifty years")
This isn't someone calling out the manager after they spray you with a milkshake. The manager asking someone to leave after they started screaming that the cashier's earrings were hate speech.
This analogy got out of hand but please just understand that there's a difference between @-ing an account that people are paid to monitor as part of their jobs and that they have support and coworkers to help with and @-ing someone's personal account.
Nobody got a post deleted because the used @ staff, they got their posts deleted because they focused viral negative attention on individual users.
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That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost
Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethanâs most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.
Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.
Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...
No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.
FWIW, it isnât actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)
In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.
Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.
It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you wonât find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So Iâm going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, youâre just showing off.
The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesnât appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if youâre enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.
It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.
I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I canât even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethanâs âinteresting bodyâ, or whether heâd just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldnât be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.
Iâm not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.
They probably deserve each other.
#Karl Heisenberg#Ethan Winters#RE meta#winterberg#Resident Evil Village#Resident Evil#RE assets#not to soapbox but that's also why the popularity of AO3's 'soft' Heisenberg tag makes me roll my eyes so hard#this dude is 'soft' like a fencepost to the gut
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