#neg tries to make a point but kind of lands it flat on its face

[neganium]

Hm, part of what bugs me about Moebalt, I think, is beyond the snakewoman anatomy and tasteless clothing choices, is that, while clearly aged up, the general design of her clothing (horrendous naval-and-boob windows and a frightfully short skirt aside) reads as a high school girl’s uniform in japan, which is... still very much not okay, but unfortunately a popular thing to fetishize. like, a uniform is one thing, bc there a lot of uniforms in the world; but the school uniform in particular just has Problems attached to it, bc literally the only people I know of that even wear school uniforms are under-aged individuals.

tbh I wish the long uniform skirt was still in use, bc if a skirt has to be used, then at least this one is more tasteful/less male gazey; but the reason it’s not is, I think, bc of the sukeban? like, iirc, girl gangs. which. good for them, honestly. tho banning something as silly as a skirt isn’t exactly gonna prevent girls from getting those kinds of ideas. even if the idea was to make it less likely to associate innocent girls with this sort of thing, I feel like it’s counterproductive. they all wear the same outfits, still, so... idk where I was going with this. tf.

[captainmazzic]

Introducing Imperial Major-General Wyrren Harker, and former-Separatist-now-mercenary Falynn J’Kurra. Let’s get a little backstory going under the cut :D

Wyrren Harker is largely an insufferable man. Intelligent and ruthless, he has an obsession with always having the upper hand and of always being the one in control. Spoiled as a child but held to very high standards, he is driven and dedicated to his goals but extremely selfish, arrogant, and just a little vain. He is quite willing to manipulate and intimidate anyone he can to climb out on top, and this has made him more than a little domineering and short-tempered when things don’t quite go the way he envisioned. He is not often deliberately cruel, but his sadistic streak comes out in retaliation if he thinks he has been slighted or wronged. He is extremely confident in his abilities, and that occasionally can make him a little reckless. It also makes him very nearly fearless, and he rarely worries about backlash or the negative consequences of his actions. He is not totally without fear however, and when put in a position where he has no power or is helpless, he very literally has no idea what to do.

Wyrren was raised an only child in a hyper-pro-Republic, career military household. Both parents were higher-ranking officers in the Republic army, and their son got the finest education and training their money and privilege could buy. He graduated academy at the top of his class, climbed the ranks quickly throughout the Clone Wars, and was already one of the youngest officers to be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel by the time the Republic transitioned into the Galactic Empire. Like many in the upper echelons of the military, the change was seamless for him. He continued climbing the ranks, bolstered by affluence, staunch loyalty, and extensive connections. He was promoted to Major-General in 17 BBY, and was placed in charge of an IM-455 Imperial Modular Garrison, to be deployed on the foggy world of Nimat.

Nimat itself is sparsely populated, but its position made it of importance in securing the Imperial presence in the Outer Rim. Nimat is the primary access point of the Nimat Corridor in the Tharin Sector, along the Triellus Trade Route, one of the major trading hyperroutes through the Outer Rim.

Nimat is a dim planet with unusual topography. Much of the world is gently rolling lowlands, dotted with open forest, sluggish rivers, and shallow seas, all perpetually housed in a thick fog. There are occasional pieces of land, only a few dozen in number, that rise above the fog – all flat-topped plateaus ranging in size from a couple square kilometers to nearly 200 square kilometers. On these rare plateaus are the few spaceports and settlements that the planet has to offer. Every inch of these plateaus has been utilized for the tiny population, so the placement of the Imperial Garrison that our freshly-minted Major-General was to command was… tricky. It had to be placed nearly a hundred kilometers away from one of the more sizable spaceports, down among the lowlands and deep within the fog.

Wyrren wasn’t terribly happy with the arrangement, but the fragility of the already-overloaded plateaus and the restrictive topography of the planet prevented any other alternative aside from establishing an Orbital Garrison instead of a land-based one. But that would mean Wyrren would be forced to share commanding duties and power with an Admiral from the Imperial Navy, something he absolutely refused to do. So a land-based Modular Garrison it was, and that’s when all his troubles started…

Falynn J’Kurra is a former Separatist general and strategist from Annoo. He is private, aloof, and very patient, and rarely speaks unless necessary. His reserved and quiet nature often comes across as intimidation, as he has Resting Bitch Face™ and when he does speak his voice is gravelly and rough. But he is surprisingly even-keeled, and it takes a lot for him to actually get angry or raise his voice. Despite this, he does not abide anyone testing his limits and is uncompromising in his morals and tactics. Combined with his natural tendency to being a loner, this often results in a “my way or the highway” kind of mentality and it is difficult for him to take advice from others. This hard-line approach frequently caused him to be at odds with other Separatists while he was within their ranks, and he often went head-to-head with anyone who tried to force his hand – up to and including General Grievous and Count Dooku. Needless to say he was not often included in high-profile decisions or decisive battles. Which suited him just fine, as his focus is in the Outer Rim. His primary goal has always been the betterment and protection of his people, primarily against the Republic and the subsequent Empire. He was a primary associate of the revolutionary Ashaar Khorda on his homeworld. Falynn is an Annoo-dat, differentiated as a Ret or “Annoo-dat Blue” only by xenobiologists. (For reference, Adrestin is also an Annoo-dat, but by the time of the Galactic Empire the two species have long integrated their societies into one and do not differentiate amongst themselves). Being as they are a very long-lived species, Falynn actually remembers the conquering of his home planet of Gelefil by the Annoo-dat Prime and its subsequent renaming to Annoo. It doesn’t matter to him, however, as he is like most of his species and considers both Prime and Blue species of Annoo-dat to be one and the same.

After the Separatist Council was massacred on Mustafar and the Republic formed itself into the Empire, Falynn did not immediately seek out any of the fragmented Separatist holdout groups to join. Disillusioned and jaded, he turned to mercenary work instead, trusting more in his ability to get results on his own without any added people as a responsibility. During his new line of work, he would frequently encounter isolated Rebel cells (as the Alliance to Restore the Republic had not yet been formed), and would often take pay to strategize for them, or fight, or sabotage, or whatever else he happened to offer at the time. He would never fully align with the Rebel Alliance, however, as he has little desire to see the Republic restored back to its old position. He wants only for the Empire to fall, and firmly believes the galaxy would be better off without a centralized seat of power.

But he still helps Rebel cells if they have the credits to pay him, especially if it happens to be close to home. And it is one such Rebel cell on the planet of Nimat that hires him to sabotage a newly-established Imperial Garrison…

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

I FINALLY MANAGED TO POST lol. So here's that Imperial OC I mentioned I wanted to make based on Wesker from Resident Evil a few days ago. Plus the hardass merc. I'm happy. :D

[curiosity-killed]

grey hours

word count: 1685 cw: mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation

“You can’t be serious,” Jisel said.

Callebero shrugged, passing the wine to Sirion at the third point of their little triangle.

“You can’t marry till you’re of age,” he said. “That’s two decades from your first nameday.”

Staring at him, Jisel squinted as if she could suss out a lie underneath. After a moment of futile searching, she turned to Sirion.

“He’s joking, right?” she demanded.

Caught in the middle of a sip, Sirion wrinkled his nose but still lifted his left hand to shake it once in the negative. Callebero leaned forward, a grin curving up his lips.

“Alas, were it not for the laws of this land, we really could have had a runaway romance as the rumors tell it,” he teased. “Here you could be imperial consort and—“

Wadding up the waxed fabric cover of the jar, Jisel threw it at his face. He caught it before it hit because he was a little shit, but he was laughing.

“And here all you’ve given me is my kingdom,” Jisel retorted, dry. “What a paltry betrothal gift.”

“Hie, I didn’t give you anything,” Callebero said, pointing at her with the hand clutching the pink fabric. “The whole scholarly court accorded you the title based on a thorough review of the histories.”

Rolling her eyes, Jisel leaned back on her palms, careful to keep to the fabric of the blanket she’d brought this time rather than the cold stone beyond it. Between them, Sirion wore a small smile, a little bemused as if he didn’t know quite how he’d wound up sitting with the two of them on the palace roof in the middle of the night. The bewilderment was fair, she supposed: it didn’t make sense for any of them to be sitting here under the sea-salt stars while Ancelm curled slumbering around them.

“Aeridians,” she griped. “Next you’re going to tell me that all the horses in the city have to be dubbed like knights.”

Callebero and Sirion shared a brief look, little more than a flicker of their gazes, before turning to her with solemn looks.

“No,” she said immediately. “No, absolutely not—“

Standing alone on the roof now, Jisel couldn’t remember what they’d told her—if they’d tried to spin together some nonsense tale or if they’d descended into laughter too quickly. She remembered the warmth of it, the easiness in their little knot tangled together under the bruised vault of night. Those nights dropped pearl-like into her memory, iridescent and gleaming against the stains of the changing years.

The sky hung heavy and low with grey clouds now, painfully bright and unmoving. Underneath their heavy blanket, the city seemed stilted, hushed. Even the grand bazaar was closed, its vibrant canopies folded up and tucked away under the punched-gut shock that threaded through the city. Jisel had come up here to escape that oppressive hush in the palace, but even here, the breeze was too limp and half-hearted to do more than brush against the ends of her scarf dangling down her back.

As a child, she’d read stories and heard people talk about grief. Enough young men had died during the last war with Alir that everyone knew someone who had died, from brothers and fathers to uncles and cousins. Every family had a missing son in those years. She’d heard them say that it didn’t feel real at first, that they kept expecting to look up and see their lost ones cross the threshold of their home, lit by the setting sun and safe in the warmth of home.

That was not why Jisel had come up here, to this flat roof paved with gentle memories. She’d prepared for this, over the last couple years, ever since Jimar, ever since Callebero came back cold and distant. Callebero possessed a remarkable force of will, and if he wanted to die, then no matter Jisel’s efforts, she would not sway him. So: Callebero was gone. She did not hunt his ghost in the crooks of these old stones.

But—Callebero had often been gone, these last years. Always running toward the sword and away from the sheltering wings of the castle. As much as she knew he was gone, it seemed unfathomable that he could never return. Was this what the Aeridians meant, she wondered, when they called for the spirits of their ancestors to walk in step with them? The hauntings she’d grown up on were curses and cruelty, malicious spirits dragging their victims down into an early grave out of envy and hatred. Yet every time she sorted through papers or read a line in the book by her bedside and thought ‘I’ll show Callebero this,’ her breath caught and she had to pause, fight to reorient herself to this living land.

The door creaked behind her.

Few people came up here at all, the point of her escape, and Jisel glanced over her shoulder expecting a servant or, perhaps, Fran. She stilled, gaze hardening.

For his part, Catterik seemed equally startled to see her. He stopped short with his hand still pressed flat against the door, halfway between the shadowed stairs and the dismal light outside. After a moment, he swallowed and stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind him. Jisel watched coolly as he crossed the terrace to stop beside the diamond-carved railing.

“Alir liked heights, too,” he said after a long moment staring out at the grey city. Swallowed. “Used to run old Riker ragged trying to make sure the imperator princep didn’t die from falling out of a tree or slipping out of a tower window.”

Biting down hard, Jisel turned her own gaze out on Ancelm. From here, she could see all seven minarets spearing up toward the sky, the ring of eight completed by the palace’s own dome behind her. Soon, the evening horns would sound from the westernmost towers to call the city home to rest. Their sound had felt unnerving lately, as if they suddenly were too loud in the uneasy quiet.

Catterik spoke quietly, but his voice was still too much for this shroud-grey hush.

“I—” he scoffed out a laugh that almost sounds wet. “I couldn’t stand him when he was young. I was so wrapped up in Alir, and he took her from me, and—”

She was never his, Jisel didn’t say. From what she’d heard of the hallowed emperor, Alir been no one’s but her own—and perhaps, for a brief moment, a part of her had belonged to her son. The rest—war-forged, restless, hungry with her own toothed ambition—had been incapable of being owned or tied down. As much as the gentry all scrambled to compare Callebero to his mamán, they differed in this: Alir had refused to be anyone’s, and Callebero longed to belong to someone.

Folding her hands behind her back, Jisel considered a small figure walking alone down the main boulevard of the city. From this distance, she couldn’t make out the colors of their clothes beyond a green smudge and couldn’t guess at the features of their face. For all she knew, it could have been Callebero walking to the palace gates to interrupt his own funeral. It could have been herself, the first time she came to Ancelm with her wide eyes and unwritten future.

“Jisel.”

She looked to Catterik coolly, jaw tight. Swallowing, he pressed his lips together and inclined his head in a gesture that almost looked like concession. He held her gaze.

“Praesidion.”

Better.

“The funeral tomorrow,” he said, tone strangely urgent. “Don’t go.”

Liquid fire dripped down Jisel’s back, a molten rage. It steeled her spine, forged a rod of adamantine in place of bone as she turned to face him fully for the first time since he intruded on this place of memory.

“Warming Alir’s bed did not make you Callebero’s malán, Imperator Viachi,” she said. “If you cannot stand the sight of a Capallan at his funeral, stay home.”

His lips pulled back slightly, disgust or a snarl starting in the pinch of his brows. Fuck him, she thought. Fuck him and the gentry he came from, all their gilt and hollow claims. Turning on her heel, she swept past to the door and tugged it open. He didn’t call after her, but as she stepped over the threshold, a servant skittered back. Bowing quickly, they yelped a frantic excuse she didn’t bother listening to. One would expect the imperial spymaster’s welps to be better trained, she thought as she followed the curling stairs down to the heart of the palace.

At least they weren’t subtle enough for her to worry about them catching anything of importance. There was enough unease to balance without having to consider whether some determined spy could get into her chambers to steal anything of use.

Only when she closed the door of her office did she finally pause and exhale. Reaching up to slip the heavy circlet from her head, Jisel tipped her head back to hang against her neck. From across the room came a quiet whine, and she sighed, straightening to walk over to where Nox laid. Without Callebero or Sirion to pester, he’d clung to her heels like a stray following the first kind stranger to offer it food. She didn’t know what to do with him, really. Without his master or sister, he was still a warhound—trained for the chaos and slaughter of the battlefield more than the quiet schemes of the palace.

She knelt down beside him, scratching behind his ears briefly before her hand settled into long, soothing strokes down his back. With a little chuff, he flopped his head into her lap and blinked his wet brown eyes up at her before settling in fully.

“I know,” she murmured. “I know, little love. It’s unfair, isn’t it?”

He offered no reply except the steady weight of his head on her thigh and the silky blanket of his fur under her fingers. In her other hand, the crown’s cold edges bit into her palm.

[dwellordream]

A Six of Crows Review: Kaz V through Kaz VI

Previously

On the positive side of things, the reveal of Kaz’s backstory and how he and his brother were conned of their life’s savings and left to starve on the streets is well done. I have to give credit where credit is due in Kaz V. Bardugo very effectively shows the differences between the innocent and playful little boy Kaz was and the cruel and spiteful young man he’s become with the recounting.

On the negative side of things, the efforts by the author to get the reader invested in a burgeoning relationship between Kaz and Inej falls totally flat. Not just because Kaz is a dick who can’t work out that he should probably thank Inej for saving all their lives, but because the narrative keeps insisting to us that there is chemistry and mutual romantic feelings between the two of them, but never really bothers to show it.

Kaz is mean to girls he likes. Inej thinks he’s attractive. It doesn’t go much deeper than that. It feels like Bardugo is far more committed to the relationship than even her audience would be, and we’re nearly at the halfway point of the novel. 

I still don’t see why I should want the two of them to be together. I mean, Jesus, there’s more depth between Nina and Matthias, and Matthias’ entire character and backstory is rife with fucking Nazi imagery!

Matthias II does a decent job at continuing to develop his character and his relationship with Nina, though at times it does veer into ‘walking camera’ territory before the flashback to the shipwreck begins.

I find it a little unrealistic how easily Nina falls into a pretty friendly manner with Matthias after they wash up on land, even if she doesn’t think he’s much of a threat to her with them both exhausted and sick from hours swimming for shore. 

Cracking jokes with the man who captured her to take her to her death seems a little weird, and it doesn’t seem like this is supposed to be taken as shock induced hysterics. I would think she’d have harsher words for him than ‘big idiot’ and ‘prude’.

And if I never have to read Matthias ‘indecently round’ comment again, I’ll die happy. Is Bardugo aware she can just call a character fat? Heavyset? Chunky? It’s not a dirty word.

Bardugo does try to confront this disparity - the obvious passion between Matthias and Nina, in contrast to the fact that he has been raised to hate all grisha and to an extent still does - with the scene of the pyres. Nina does get in some good lines - “Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?”, while Matthias defends his prejudice by pointing out that Ravkan grisha soldiers destroyed his home and slaughtered his family.

This is where the real world connections fall flat on their face. Bardugo puts in some pretty obvious connections to actual historical atrocities, such as the witch trials that occurred across Europe during the Renaissance, and the Fjerdan’s whole national image pretty clearly taking some cues from Nazi Germany.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, men fight to protect the fatherland, women stay home and have more pure Fjerdan children, grisha are demons on this earth and lower than dogs who must be exterminated for the greater good… If the latter is unintentional, damn, it is one hell of a coincidence.

But the point is, while real world minorities are guilty of nothing but existing, fictional minorities such as the grisha are depicted as dangerous and capable of wide scale destruction. Real world racism, antisemitism, and other forms of intolerance isn’t based off anything except prejudice, paranoia, and convenient scapegoating. 

Yet in Bardugo’s world, there is real basis, and that’s where it gets thorny, and where this novel really, really could have used some sensitivity readers.

And while Matthias II does get at some actual thought provoking conflict between Matthias and Nina, it’s almost all undone in Nina II, which has Nina seemingly forget most of the massive fight she just had with him, and start thinking about how she wants to kiss him again. This, after she just saw the horrific evidence of what Fjerdans do to grisha.

I understand what Bardugo is trying to do, cutting between their current conflict and their reluctant bonding in the past, but there’s just not enough substance to it. I don’t buy that Nina would so easily come to trust, even love, someone dedicated to killing her kind. I don’t buy that Matthias would so easily fall for her.

And I especially don’t like the false equivalence that the narrative tries to bring about by suggesting that Nina is ‘just as guilty’ as Matthias for turning on him when they made it back to civilization. Matthias somehow can’t connect how what he hates her for; falsely accusing him, having him imprisoned, chained up in the belly of a ship, is exactly what he’d just done to her.

Why should Nina have trusted him, just because he became infatuated with her? He hardly changed his mind about all grisha, he just became attracted to one. Matthias does deserve punishment for his behavior. Is rotting in prison for the rest of his life the solution? No, but neither is getting to walk away scot free.

Nina reveals that she in fact accused Matthias of slaving to spare him the worse fate of being captured and brought back to Ravka to be tortured and executed as a druskelle. 

Honestly, I don’t think this reveal was necessary at all. I could excuse and even welcome some spite from Nina towards him. Instead this just paints her as this all-compassionate, pure-hearted angel willing to repeatedly sacrifice herself for the sake of both friends and enemies. I like Nina, but I’d like her better with more bite to her.

Inej V unfortunately takes us right back into walking camera territory for her. This could be any character narrating this chapter, and it does little to nothing to develop her. 

The travel descriptions are also not terribly interesting and I don’t think the pacing is handled all that well; the book started fast, got even faster and choppier as the Crows came together, and is now grinding into a dull slog ever since they landed in Fjerda, which is a much more thinly sketched setting than Ketterdam.

I think it might have made better use of the book to work it out so all the events took place within the confines of the city, to add to the themes of how Ketterdam can make or break any one of them, but too late now.

It’s even more insulting when contrasted with Kaz VI, which continues to detail Kaz’s backstory, which is where Bardugo is at her strongest. It just emphasizes that this book would have worked better with few characters, tighter characterization, and a plot confined to Ketterdam and its mundane capitalist horrors. It’s too thinly stretched between multiple POV characters, half of whom are barely developed, the other half of whom are frustratingly botched in their development.

I know jack shit about Jesper and Wylan, and it’s aggravating. I still know very little about Inej. Kaz, Nina, and Matthias get the most attention, and Kaz still isn’t very believable or compelling in the present, just the past, whereas Nina and Matthias’ intertwined story is an awkwardly arrayed mess of conflicting ideals and poor characterization decisions.

I only have about a hundred pages left of this book, and right now it’s hovering at like a C- rating. Not badly written enough to be offensive or infuriating, but still firmly stuck in some mediocre traction that, with more stringent editing, could have been resolved. 

There are some good plot ideas and good character concepts here, but they’re lost in the mire. I’m barely even invested in the actual heist plot, which just doesn’t feel as urgent as it should, and the characters are not compelling enough to make up for it

[sunsethwa]

compulsion, n;

an irrational need or irresistible urge to perform some action, often despite negative consequences

pt. 4 / ? [ prev / next / masterlist ]

 A/N: We all need a little taste of demon!san, even in seonghwa fics – sidenote I changed from writing in present to past, because I seem to always do that automatically smh

Word Count: 2k

TW: angst, heights, demonic antics?

The apartment was rustic, but surprisingly bright considering who owned it – it was quite artistic actually, lots of large paintings hung up on the brick walls and furniture that looked like it belonged in the 50s. It blended together well with the modern kitchen and its glass counter tops as well as the giant flat screen in the living room.

“You demon’s have a lot of money?” You turned towards Seonghwa and raised an eyebrow, questioning. His lips stretched, revealing a grin of perfect, white teeth – then chuckled a bit.

“I’ve been around for a while; I have my ways.” He said, guardedly. You huffed and walked over to the window that was the furthest inside of the apartment. The building was one of the highest in the whole city, and you were currently on the 20th floor out of 40. It was more than high enough to spark a slight fear but being inside it didn’t bother you that much.

“One needs a place to pull back and relax you know. Being a night creature, I need to fill the passing daytime.” Seonghwa added, standing next to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You turned your face towards him, wanting to start questioning him again, but something prohibited you from doing so,  as if your words were physically held back.

“Brother! You’re home! You’ll never believe what I did last night-“ A voice was heard from behind and the two of you turned at an instant. Your eyes widened at the sight of the silver haired man who had tortured you days ago. You unwillingly backed up, the back of your head hitting the window with a hard thump. Your hand instantly flew to the growing pain from the crash and you couldn’t help but crouching down to collect yourself.

“What did I say about coming here without my permission?” Seonghwa asked the silver one, his position untouched since the other entered the room. You looked up, seeing the man walk slowly towards you, picking up an apple from the fruit bowl on the coffee table along the way. He threw it back and forth in his hands a few times before taking a large bite out of it. You noticed a stripe of juice from the fruit seeping from the corner of his mouth, which he quickly wiped away with hand. His stare was placed on Seonghwa only, his brows furrowing slightly as if confused.

“But we’re brothers, aren’t we – shouldn’t we be allowed in each other’s homes? There must be some kind of code on that, don’t you think?” He said, his tone sly and low.

“San, you know I am not fond of you being here.” Seonghwa said, reminding you of the silver’s name. Neither of them moved nor spoke again for a while, and you were still frozen on the floor, scared to do anything in this moment. San suddenly turned his face towards you, his stone like expression changing into a smirk.

“What are you doing down there, honey? Get up.” He told you and you slowly arose into a standing position. A few seconds after you hear San laugh.

“Ahah! I make your pet nervous; can I borrow it?” You had failed to notice how much you were fidgeting and constantly trying to avoid San’s stare, keeping your eyes on the floor. You felt a firm hand on your shoulder, the grip so hard that you hissed.

“No, they’re not my pet. They’re a human I’m researching.” Seonghwa said coldly, pulling you with him past San towards one of the doors in the apartment. Once he shoved you through it, he closed on you before you could protest and you heard the lock being turned from the outside. In a sudden panic, you started knocking on the door, telling Seonghwa to let you out.

“I’ll be right back; I just need to take care of some things.” He said unsympathetically. You tried to protest, shouting that he couldn’t just leave you there. You heard a couple of footsteps, then nothing. Turning around, you took in the room you had been locked inside of. It was decorated nicely like the living area, except this one was filled with a single bed, a small tv, a desk and a small fridge. Curious, you checked the fridge – it was filled with enough food to last for days. Then, you noticed another door inside the room – this one opened and led to a bathroom.

“Damn, this demon surely has done this before.” You mumbled to yourself as you plopped down on the bed. There was no one you could call for help, your bag being left in the hallway as you entered the place. Right now, you were just happy that the room had a window, so it didn’t feel completely enclosed. There was no use trying to escape through it though, as the drop was straight down from there. For now, all you could do was to wait and hope Seonghwa would actually return soon as he said. You found the remote to the tv, turning it on to distract yourself from the situation. Soon, you found your eyes getting tired, suddenly falling into a deep sleep.

 …

 You wake up to a repeated banging noise a while later, unsure of how long you’ve been knocked out or where you were. When reality hit you, you sighed as you took in the darkness of the room, realising night-time had come. The tv had turned off by itself, so the little light illuminating the room came from the moon outside the window; except that it was flickering, covered by some kind of silhouette. The banging occurred again, making you shift, facing the source. You once again wanted to crawl into a corner because there, outside the window, was San somehow hanging onto the side of the tall building with no difficulty whatsoever. When he saw that you had noticed him, his eyes flashed to black for a second as he was smiling at you, then they returned to their normal state before he was pointing down at the window handle. You knew it was a bad idea, but you slowly walked over to the window and opened it wide. San quickly hopped in, landing right in front of you, only inches apart from your body.

“I thought you might not like being locked up like this, so I came to help you out.” He said, his smile so innocent that he almost looked naive. You tried to take a few steps back from him, but he quickly grabbed your arm.

“Or did you not want my help?” His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath on your skin, shivering at how warm it was. His expression was completely different now, entirely serious and almost vicious. Scared of what would happen if you declined, you swallowed and nodded quickly. His grip let go of you and his sweet smile returned. He walked up to the door and swayed his finger in front of the lock before opening the door.

“After you.” He suggested, almost bowing slightly as he held the door open for you to exit.

“If you could do that, why did you come through the window?” You asked him, making him chuckle slightly.

“Ah oh that, well, Seonghwa doesn’t exactly – allow me to open his front door from the outside, so, the window is usually my way in.” He kept on grinning playfully and wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you out of the apartment. Following you into the elevator, he pressed the button of the very top floor, making you question his intentions.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned, feeling your insides boil in fear of this man considering his past actions.

“Well, to see how pretty the city is at night, you silly.” He said, his hand tightening around you, pulling you closer to him. You could swear that if his hands had been directly on your skin, they would have left burn marks because of how hot they were.

 Once you had reached the top, San changed his grip on you, instead intertwining his fingers with yours and pulling you out onto the roof of the building. You found yourself fascinated by all the illuminating city lights, yet completely dizzy from how high up you were, causing your feet to stop at a standstill. When San noticed your halt, he quickly turned and stared at you.

“What’s the matter? You aren’t afraid of heights, are you?” He asked you with a pout. Your eyes landed on his quickly, but soon flickered away from him, not wanting to show your fear.

“Awww.” He let out, his hand returning to your waist and half pushing, half pulling you closer to the edge. Soon, you were standing right at the end of the building, only a fence barely reaching your thighs and San’s grip keeping you from falling off.

“Look, darling. Look down for me, won’t you?” His tone was sweet and gentle, and somewhat endearing, yet, you refused to shift your stare, terrified of what was below. When you didn’t obey, he grabbed the back of your shirt with his free hand and shoved your body into a 90 degree angle. You were now facing straight down, the cars on the roads below looking like mere ants from this height. Impulsively, you closed your eyes, trying to fight San’s grip and pull yourself back up, but to no use.

“I said- Look!” His voice was not gentle anymore, his words were sung almost as a growl, making him feel animalistic. You opened your eyes back up, noticing tears falling straight down as you did. Feeling your chest heaving for breath, you tried to collect yourself, but to no use.

“I’m looking, I’m looking.” You let out with sobs, praying that he wouldn’t just let go of his grip of you and push you off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A familiar voice was heard a from the other side of the roof. Quickly, you were ripped out of San’s hands and discarded on the ground like a piece of trash. You looked up through your tear-filled eyes to see Seonghwa lift San off the ground by his collar.

“I told you that they weren’t yours to play with, didn’t I?” He said.

“Y-yes, you did.” You could see San’s face scrunching up with his words, and you found yourself wondering if the other was hurting him.

“You’ve used up all your chances now, boy. If you cross me one more time, I’ll make sure to get your bond broken.” He warned the silver one.

“That’s not your decision to make!” San exclaimed, hissing at the pain of raising his voice soon after.

“But you know I can get it done, don’t you, huh?” Seonghwa cautioned, his voice so low that you could barely hear it. San nodded as quickly as you had only 10 minutes earlier, and Seonghwa finally let him down, whereas the first escaped faster than the speed of light.

 Seonghwa turned his attention towards you, his face stern, but reaching out his hand for you to take.

“I think it’s best you stay with me tonight.” He told you as you took his hand, getting back on your feet, balance still wobbly from the earlier events.

“Why?” You asked.

“Something tells me San is in a rush of bloodlust and I cannot keep you alive if you’re somewhere he can get inside.”

“You might need to put locks on your windows then.” You reminded him of how San had gotten inside in the first place.

“Consider it taken care of. Come on now.” He let go of your hand and just waved you in the direction of the elevator. You gladly followed – the company of any other demon was an upgrade from San’s – or at least that was what you hoped.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader -”On Cloud Nine”

The Clown Prince of Crime died protecting his girlfriend and now The Afterlife Assessment Bureau doesn’t know what to do with him: although J’s actions didn’t change the outcome, it scored major points in his chart and they have to recalculate the final score. Until that happens, The Joker was allowed to wait on the Lower Clouds right below The Higher Clouds where the woman he tried to save is spending eternity.

“Hey lady!” you hear as you watch the beautiful blue skies from your fluffy cloud. ”Hey!”

Y/N looks towards the source of the noise only to notice this strange man with green locks waving at her from the cloud below.

“Yes?”

“Where are we?” the guy asks, having a hard time processing what’s happening to him.

The two don’t recognize each other: once you’re dead, you’ll have no memory of your past; they definitely don’t recall being together while they were alive.

“Not sure, but it’s beautiful,” you sigh and he huffs, annoyed.

“Ugh, it’s boring. Nothing to do besides sitting down and analyze… whatever the hell this is!” J flares his arms around as a voice coming from everywhere echoes in the stillness:

“Please mind your language, sir!”

“Who said that?!” The Joker tries to find the person that just admonished him and there’s no other soul besides the woman he’s having a conversation with.

“I don’t know,” you lift your shoulder up, intrigued. “Kind of weird,” you dangle your feet above the abyss, totally unconcerned about the invisible presence. “What is that?” you point at the sketchbook he’s holding.

“My drawings,” The King of Gotham sulks, restarting to doodle on the almost blank page.

“Can I see?” you curiously inquire.

J bites the pencil and frees his hands, then shows you his current masterpiece.

“Could you hold it higher?” you squint your eyes. “Higher!!”

The expression on your face demonstrates you can’t perceive too much.

“Why don’t you come over?” the man proposes and your stalling makes him snicker: “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

“Hmmm…” you debate on the offer not because you’re afraid of a little jump but because you’re uncertain it’s worth the trouble.

“C’mon!” The Joker wants to get up and help yet Y/N is already hopping down on his cloud: she’s always been independent, one of the qualities he secretly liked about her before they both unexpectedly kicked the bucket. “Nice landing!” J chuckles as you take a sit by him, the artist reprising his work. “What do you think?” he proudly boasts.

You glimpse at the clumsy lines depicting an apparent landscape filled with pumpkins and can’t hold in a smile.

“I think there’s a lot of potential hidden behind the primitive naivety of this little gem,” you give him your honest judgement and J scoffs, intrigued.

“Primitive?!”

“I like your style,” you sweetly reply since you realize you shouldn’t have blurred out the comment; he might be offended by your genuine critique. “The pumpkins are super cute,” you add in order to divert his attention.

“I like pumpkins,” The Joker growls. 

“Me too,” you continue. “That would be an adorable nickname for someone, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” he shakes his head and mentions: “Why are you staring at me? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“They’re silver,” you bring your face closer to his, puzzled to discern the detail.

“Are they?!” The King touches his mouth, appalled.

“Yes, but it suits you,” the sincere tone calms down his frantic movement.

“Am I ugly?!” his ego emerges even beyond the grave and Y/N has the perfect answer:

“No, you’re handsome in a sort of eerie way.”

J frowns, suspicious.

“So I look creepy?!”

“You don’t look creepy to me,” you candidly emphasize. “In my humble opinion, you’re attractive.”

He straightens his back, pleased at the statement and your rosy cheeks give him a boost of confidence.

“Are you going to ...e-hem…” you cough, flustered at the stupid confession, “…draw another pumpkin over here?” your finger taps on the corner of the paper.

“Might as well,” J agrees and you have no clue that what he’s doing is basically thanks to you.

God knows how much you encouraged his practically nonexistent skills just to keep him away from problems he created for himself and others! You were actually his number one fan and to be honest his only fan: as long as The Clown Prince of Crime was immersed in his unique hobby, it meant Gotham and its citizens were safe.

The Penthouse was filled with The Joker’s phenomenal paintings and sketches, extravagantly framed by yours truly to overcompensate the lack of substantial talent.

“Ma’am, please return to your cloud!” the voice you heard earlier resonates all around once more.

“Why?” you glare left and right, annoyed you can’t see anybody.

“You belong on The Higher Clouds,” the elusive response doesn’t enlighten the mystery. “Hold on, we’re sending our representative over!”

After a few seconds Y/N and the former King distinguish an individual dressed in a black suit carefully jumping from cloud to cloud, steadily approaching his objective.

“Apologies for the delay,” he addresses the stunned couple once in The Joker’s space. “Sir, we had to compile a lot of paperwork for you,” the guy flips pages of a thick file, annoyed. “After adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing your points, turned out your final score is still a negative number.”

“Huh?!” J puckers his lips, confused.

“It seems you were a very bad person, sir; did a lot of despicable things and dying while protecting the girl you loved doesn’t mean diddly squat in the end!”

“Awww,” you gush at the revelation. “That’s so romantic,” you whisper and the man bends over, completely overwhelmed:

“Ma’am, allow me the honor of shaking your hand,” the agent grabs your fingers, softly squeezing them. “You are a true legend and we are forever indebted to your greatness: you put up with him and saved numerous lives also,” he gestures towards The Joker and you gasp, finally understanding the bigger picture.

“He died…for me?!”

“I died for her?!” the awkward pair asks in the same time.

“Yeah, no big deal. You were killed anyway and I’m so, so sorry for that,” the emissary extends his regrets to the woman he admires, entirely disregarding The Joker’s sacrifice.

“No big deal??!!” the latest shouts. “Dying for someone is no big deal?! How the fuck am I still in the negative?!!”

“Language!!!!!!” the omnipresent voice surfaces again.

“WHO.IS.THAT?!” Y/N gets vexed at the multiple invisible interruptions.

“Steve Rogers,” the representative notifies. “He’s in charge of The Profanity Control Department.”

“Who?!” J crinkles his nose, fed up with the messy situation.

“It’s not important,” the agent cuts him off. “What’s important sir is that you can’t be here; we have to move you.”

“Move me?! Where?”

“Yes, where are you taking him?” you quiz the black suited guardian.

“Far away, unless…”

“Unless what?” J crabbily interrogates.  

“Unless someone is willing to transfer their points to you, sir. It hasn’t been done in centuries though; lots of bureaucracy involved and frankly, if I may: why would anybody donate their hard earned credits to you??!!”

The Clown is scandalized at the brutal affirmation while Y/N has a magnificent idea:

“How many points do I have?”

“Mmmmm…,” the man flips more pages and finds the information: “Ten gazillions.”

“How many does he need?”

“Three gazillions.”

“Oh,” you cheerfully clap your hands. “I have plenty so I’ll donate my credits to him.”

“Nah, you don’t want to do that,” the man shrieks, already unhappy with the perspective of putting in overtime for this project. “We’re out of clouds; we’ll have to make more and that takes forever.”

“There are plenty of empty clouds around!” The Joker barks.

“Not empty. They are inhabited by others but you can’t see them: you can only see the people you are connected with, true love type of deal,” the emissary indifferently blurs out.

“So…that’s why I can only see him and he can only see me?!” Y/N’s burning, red face matches J’s stellar entitled smirk after the astonishing revelation.

“Precisely,” the flat tone prompts The King’s logical question:

“Then why can’t I stay on this cloud?”  

“The Lower Clouds are similar to a waiting room; we can’t have them occupied for long periods of time.”

“I’ll share my cloud with him!” you firmly suggest as the emissary is panicking:

“That means more paperwork!! We usually don’t have two residents spending eternity on the same cloud.”

“Make it happen!” J commands. “The lady wants to give me her points and share her cloud. You can’t say no, you said it yourself: she’s a legend!” he preys on the guy’s hesitation.

“I would really appreciate your help,” your disarming smile gives the guardian a nudge in the proper direction.

“Of…of course ma’am,” he stutters because how can one say no to a legend?!

And you surely count on it.

“I have to stipulate a reason for all this, what should I write on the formulary? In a simple sentence, it needs to be specific and concise: why are you gifting him credits and share your personal area?”

Your brain slots are hollow yet there’s one motive:

“I like his drawings.”

The impeccable suit ogles J’s silly scribbling, muttering under his breath:

“Another Picasso…” then louder:

“I’ll do the paperwork; for now, please vacate the premises and go on the Upper Cloud; we have new arrivals that require the Lower Clouds,” he exhales and starts leaping away, leaving you and The Joker behind.

Your cloud descends so you both can step on it and then floats higher in the air again.

Y/N gazes at the stranger in silence, until he breaks the shell:

“Thank you for your generosity, Miss…” J sniffles, realizing an important detail is absent from the whole dialogue. “What’s your name?”

“…I don’t know…” you regretfully answer. “I can’t remember…”

The Joker scratches his chin with a brilliant solution on the horizon:

“You said Pumpkin would be an adorable moniker for someone. Do you mind if I call you Pumpkin?”

“No, not at all,” you gladly accept his proposition. “And you’re welcome, I had so many credits, might as well use them. I have to thank you too for dying for me, Mister… What’s your name?”

“Bits me; I can’t recollect.”

Y/N pouts, upset she doesn’t have a name when a genius recommendation escapes her lips:

“You know… you have this small “J” letter tattoo under your left eye…” you gently poke it and he feels a sudden warmth taking over his body. “Is it ok if I call you J?”

“U-hum,” the hypnotized King gazes at the woman in front of him. “So I have tattoos on my face?”

“Yes, a few: a tiny star and a big one on your forehead that spells ‘Damaged’. And playing cards on your neck…” you describe his ink, mesmerized.

“Do they make me look horrible?”

“You don’t look horrible to me,” you praise and J inflates his chest at the declaration; oh boy, you definitely have a way with words.

“Thank you Pumpkin,” the flirtatious Clown winks and you play with the hem of your shirt, about to burst out with delight. 

“You’re welcome… J.”

“Oh my God!” The Joker snaps out of it since the artist in him is begging for attention:  “The sunset’s gorgeous! I have to sketch this!”

He sits down on the cloud and you scoot over until your thighs touch, interested in his new project.

“Your cloud is a better quality than the one I was on,” he bounces on the white, velvety texture. “It will certainly improve my technique!”

“Absolutely!” you enthusiastically exclaim, determined to assist no matter what.

Heaven knows your new friend J evidently requires steady guidance regarding his hobby: he’s no Picasso yet, but with a legend’s help he might eventually get there.  

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[newstfionline]

Headlines

Masks, gloves, and other coronavirus waste are starting to fill up our oceans (Fast Company) It’s not news that our trash eventually finds its way to the ocean. Because oceans are downstream, litter will eventually find a pathway into our bodies of water if it’s not discarded properly—and often even if it is. But as the COVID-19 crisis slowly generates a new kind of waste, made up of disposable masks and other PPE items, it’s posing new problems for the Earth’s oceans.

Dark days in the cinema business (The Week) Movie theaters will need more than popcorn to persuade audiences to catch the latest blockbuster this summer. Cinemas are among the last businesses to reopen in the United States and Europe, and with good reason: Plenty of customers remain skeptical that it’s “safe to sit in a room with strangers for two hours during a pandemic.” But the largest chains, AMC, Regal, and Cinemark, are forging ahead with plans to reopen nationwide by mid-July. It’s already proving tricky. AMC, the world’s largest theater operator, “drew outcry when it said it wouldn’t require masks” because the company “did not want to be drawn into a political controversy.” AMC later reversed its policy. It’s still capping seating at 30 ­percent, which will make chopping down its $10 billion net debt difficult. Meanwhile, the threat from streaming services has only grown during the crisis. If the public decides that going to the movies is unsafe, studios can go straight to video.

Protesters Won’t Leave CHOP in Seattle as Tensions Rise (WSJ) Several hundred demonstrators are staying in an autonomous area claimed by protesters for racial justice in Seattle, even as its size is shrinking and pressure to shut it down completely is increasing from local businesses and residents, as well as city officials. The Capitol Hill Occupied Protest zone, or CHOP, began on June 8 after thousands of protesters moved into a six-block area in the artsy neighborhood. Seattle Mayor Jenny Durkan ordered police to abandon the local East Precinct police station to help end violent confrontations there following the killing of the African-American George Floyd by a white Minneapolis policeman on May 25. The CHOP was initially akin to a community festival focused on antiracism and police reform, with few problems or complaints from local residents. But last weekend there were three shootings in the area, one of which left a man dead. Police attempting to respond to the fatal incident in the predawn hours Saturday were blocked by a crowd telling them to leave. The 19-year-old victim, shot by an unknown assailant inside the occupied zone, was taken by private citizens to a hospital where he was pronounced dead. “It’s time for people to go home,” Ms. Durkan said in a press conference Monday. “We can still accommodate people who want to protest peacefully, come there and gather. But the impacts on the businesses and residents and community are now too much.”

272 uniformed NYPD cops file for retirement after George Floyd death (NY Post) Cops are hanging up their handcuffs in huge numbers. The flurry of farewells began after the police-involved killing of George Floyd on May 25, with 272 uniformed cops putting in retirement papers from then through June 24, the NYPD says. An NYPD source suggested the recent departures could signal a coming crisis for the 36,000-member department, which also faces a $1 billion budget reduction amid the “defund the police” furor. Police Benevolent Association president Patrick Lynch said cops are “at their breaking point, whether they have 20 years on the job or only two. We are all asking the same question: ‘How can we keep doing our job in this environment?’ And that is exactly what the anti-cop crowd wants. If we have no cops because no one wants to be a cop, they will have achieved their ultimate goal.”

In Haiti, coronavirus spreads in slums (Reuters) Berthony Clermont shares a two-room flat without running water with 10 relatives in the Haitian capital’s Cite Soleil slum, so when he fell ill with the novel coronavirus, they all did. “I tried staying at home at the beginning but it was difficult to isolate myself as the house is too small,” said the 45-year old. Mistrustful of the dilapidated public healthcare in Haiti—the poorest country in the Americas—Clermont and his family treated themselves at home with herbal teas. Clermont’s plight is shared by many in Haiti and, more broadly, across the Caribbean and Latin America. Home to 654 million people, it is the most unequal region in the world, according to the United Nations. As governments in Europe and some parts of Asia have managed to stem the spread of coronavirus, Latin America and the Caribbean have emerged as one of the epicenters of the pandemic.

A divided Poland holds presidential vote delayed by pandemic (AP) Poles voted in a presidential election Sunday that was delayed by the coronavirus pandemic and was taking place amid deep cultural and political divisions in the European Union nation. President Andrzej Duda, a 48-year-old conservative backed by the nationalist ruling Law and Justice party, was running against 10 other candidates as he sought a second 5-year term. Whether Duda wins or not will determine whether the ruling party keeps its near-monopoly on political power in Poland. Most recent polls showed that no single candidate was likely to reach the 50% required to avoid a runoff given the crowded field of candidates, all of whom are male. In that case, the two top vote-getters will face each other on July 12.

After deadly border clash, India faces uncomfortable truths about its reliance on China (Washington Post) After 20 Indian soldiers were killed in the first deadly clash with Chinese troops in decades, India faced a dilemma. Could it retaliate against its more powerful neighbor? Military action held obvious risks, including a dangerous escalation between two nuclear-armed nations. Some called for an economic boycott instead, urging ordinary Indians and companies to shun Chinese goods. Now India is facing an uncomfortable truth familiar to governments around the world: It’s difficult to disentangle from China. In wide-ranging goods such as cars, cellphones and medicine, Chinese components are a crucial part of Indian supply chains. Even bulletproof vests used by Indian soldiers are made with material imported from China. China is India’s second-largest overall trading partner and its biggest source of imports. India, by contrast, does not figure in China’s top 15 trading partners and is even lower on the list of sources of imports.

China virus cases stabilize (AP) China has extended COVID-19 tests to newly reopened salons amid a drop in cases, while South Korea continues to face new infections after it eased social distancing rules to lift the economy. Hard-hit Italy, meanwhile, registered the lowest day-to-day tally of COVID-19 deaths Saturday in nearly four months. No positive cases were found in Beijing’s beauty and barber shops in a further sign that the city’s recent outbreak has been largely brought under control. Beijing officials have temporarily shut a huge wholesale food market where the virus spread widely, reclosed schools and locked down some neighborhoods. Anyone leaving Beijing is required to have a negative virus test result within the previous seven days. The Korea Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said that 40 of the newly reported cases were domestically infected, while 22 others came from overseas. In Hawaii, the city of Honolulu announced that campgrounds will reopen for the first time in three months with limited permits to ensure social distancing. In contrast, Washington Gov. Jay Inslee put a hold on plans to move counties to the fourth phase of his reopening plan as cases continue to increase.

Dozens arrested as Hong Kongers protest planned national security laws (Reuters) Hong Kong police arrested at least 53 people on Sunday after scuffles erupted during a relatively peaceful protest against planned national security legislation to be implemented by the mainland Chinese government. Armed riot police were present as a crowd of several hundred moved from Jordan to Mong Kok in the Kowloon district, staging what was intended as a “silent protest” against the planned law. However, chanting and slogans were shouted towards police and later scuffles broke out in Mong Kok, prompting police to use pepper spray to subdue parts of the crowd. The proposed national security law has raised concerns among Hong Kong democracy activists and some foreign governments that Beijing is further eroding the extensive autonomy promised when Britain handed the territory back to China in 1997.

Arab leaders say West Bank annexation will imperil regional security. Will Israel listen? (Washington Post) A succession of Arab leaders and officials have sharply warned Israel against moving forward with a controversial plan to annex Palestinian lands in the Israeli-occupied West Bank as early as this week—an action they say could destabilize the region and undermine peace efforts. Jordan’s King Abdullah has declared it “unacceptable” and warned of a “massive conflict” in the region. Senior Jordanian officials have threatened to reconsider their peace treaty with Israel or their security cooperation agreements. Egypt, the only other Arab nation that has signed a peace treaty with Israel, has also objected, as have Saudi Arabia and Bahrain. The United Arab Emirates said annexation would imperil Israel’s chances of building stronger ties to Persian Gulf nations. But it remains to be seen whether Arab leaders will go beyond mere statements of solidarity for Palestinians and take concrete measures in the event of annexation, Palestinians and regional analysts say. Pressure from the streets to do so could be limited, as Arabs across the region are distracted by the coronavirus pandemic, economic instability, civil wars and other woes.

Opposition wins historic rerun of Malawi’s presidential vote (AP) The opposition has won Malawi’s historic rerun of the presidential election, the first time a court-overturned vote in Africa has led to the defeat of an incumbent leader. Lazarus Chakwera’s victory late Saturday was a result of months of determined street protests in the southern African nation, and of a unanimous decision by the Constitutional Court that widespread irregularities in the May 2019 election—including the use of correction fluid on ballots —could not stand. President Peter Mutharika, who had sought a second five-year term, earlier Saturday called the rerun of the election “the worst in Malawi’s history.” He alleged his party’s monitors had been beaten and intimidated during Tuesday’s election, but the Malawi Human Rights Commission, an observer, called the vote peaceful and transparent. Chakwera won with 58% of the vote, or 2.6 million votes out of 4.4 million cast. Mutharika received 1.7 million. Flag-waving supporters erupted in cheers as the results were read out, and some street celebrations began. Fireworks popped.

[anxiouslymalicious]

Until we meet again.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x (fem) Reader

Summary: A continuation of "Until we’re old and grey” in which Ben won’t keep his promises.

Word Count: 2221 

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, hurt and heartache, potentially slightly angsty

A/N: I planned for this to be a lot different, but while I was writing, I just couldn’t go any other way, sorry! 

It had been months since your talk with Ben. You had actively tried to change a few of the things you two talked about, but for the most part, you tried to accept your flaws. Your newfound confidence had also spread online. After posting several pictures together, Ben’s fans became less vicious to you, some of them accepted that they couldn’t change your feelings for each other, others were quieted down by his community.

Over the past months, Ben had been doing a lot of work that was more local to your home in London. At times, you could even join him on set and appear as an extra in the movie. Either way, you were glad that you got to spend more time with your boyfriend. Or that’s what you thought.

It was late at night, something around 2am and you were in a hazy state. Sleep tried to take hold of you, but you tried to resist. The episode of Brooklyn 99 that was running in the background was long abandoned, though and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You had gotten up way too early that morning so you could join Ben on his run before you got ready for work, but you had to stop and go back home after only half the route Ben had in mind. It was too much for you and you were exhausted. Normally, you two wouldn’t run that far, which confused you, but you simply decided that he was overly enthusiastic that morning. When you came home, you took a quick shower before making a quick breakfast for both of you. You were hoping to catch Ben before leaving for work, but you didn’t. You left him a quick note, telling him that you prepared breakfast for him which was on a plate in the fridge, that you loved him and couldn’t wait to see him again that evening.

But you didn’t.

You fell asleep not long after you had started another episode on Netflix, still waiting for the familiar sound of his keys unlocking the door, the tapping of his feet as he sneaked inside, desperately trying not to wake you up or the quiet ‘good night, princess’ that he would whisper when he finally got into bed and wrapped his tired arms around your only half asleep body.

But it never came.

The next morning, you figured out that he had gone to the gym for several hours again before crashing on the couch. You decided against waking him, letting him sleep for a bit longer while you made breakfast. Frankie suddenly started barking happily and you assumed that Ben must have woken up and greeted her with a huge hug.

“I’m going for a run with Frankie. See you later, love.”, Ben said, leaving the flat before you could even get a word out. You only saw Ben again that Saturday when he returned to bring Frankie home and grab his gym back. In the evening, he grabbed an apple for dinner and left. According to him, he would hang out with a few friends. On his Instagram, you watched him downing drink after drink with some of his co-stars. All of them were really buff, huge men with more muscles than you thought were pretty. But to each their own.

Your eyebrows furrowed with worries about your boyfriend. And so, you decided to address it. The only problem was that you didn’t know when he would be home next. You spent your Saturday night cuddling with Frankie, desperately trying to stay up once more, but failing. At some point, you retreated and went to sleep in your bedroom. Your heart broke. Over the past years of your relationship, neither of you had ever pushed the other away like this. Especially Ben. He was never one to talk too much about his feelings, but he did curl up by your side and have you talk to him about your day. Usually, Frankie would try to push her way in between you two and get the affection she wanted.

You missed those moments. Those sincere moments. Like the one you two had when you talked about your insecurities. He was so supporting of you at that time and your relationship seemed like it reached a new high at that point, but now it felt like you two had never hit a low like this one. Probably because you hadn’t.

“It’s alright.”, you whispered to yourself as you curled up under the blankets, once more feeling alone and lonely. “Every relationship has its ups and downs. He’ll come around.”

It wasn’t long until Frankie curled up beside you, on Ben’s side of the bed. She was whimpering. Your heart felt like it had officially sunken into your stomach, the feeling unbearable. Frankie was like a furry little daughter to Ben and yourself, she meant the world to you and you hadn’t thought about how this whole situation might affect her.

“Shh, baby. It’ll be alright. Benny will come back to us. I’ll talk to him in the morning.”, you whispered to the dog, your back to the door as you petted her, trying to calm her down as much as possible.

You never noticed Ben standing around the corner, listening in on you breaking down, talking about your fears and sorrows to his beloved dog. He felt a lump in his throat, silent tears rolled down his cheek before he even noticed them forming in his eyes. Ben’s body was pressed tightly against the wall behind him, his hands curling into a ball. He didn’t know how he felt. He was mad. Mad at himself because he hurt the two most important beings in his life. But he was also mad at you because you were not talking to him. He almost felt betrayed, you asked him to talk to you and now you were the one with a problem and didn’t talk.

Ben also felt sad because he let it come this far. He never intended for his excessive workouts to have this kind of an effect on you. He never wanted for them to have any effect on you. It was just that he felt insecure.

Ben bit his lip and, in his tipsy state, sneaked back out of the door. On his way out, he called Gwil, asking if he could crash at his.

The next morning, you woke up to Frankie impatiently and nervously hopping about the bed, softly trying to wake you up. You groaned at the sunlight flooding your room and looked at the dog. Confusion marked your face as you looked from Frankie to the still empty side of the bed that belonged to Ben. A sigh escaped your lips as you concluded that he hadn’t come home at all last night. Your insecurities made your heart feel heavy as you put on some sweats and a sweatshirt that you deemed fitting to go for a walk with Frankie. It was a sweet, short walk, but you didn’t feel nearly as energised as you usually did afterwards. It was quite the opposite, really. You were almost dreading going back home, your fear of not meeting Ben there was too much. Maybe you were a little scared of actually meeting Ben there, too.

You were afraid that he might have found someone new.

Someone who was prettier than you.

Someone better than you.

You tried to shake off those negative thoughts and walked up to your shared flat. As you opened the door, you didn’t expect for Ben to be home. But he was.

“Ben, baby? How are you?”, you asked carefully. To him, you sounded almost like you were afraid he might disappear or run off like a deer if you moved too fast or asked the wrong questions. It hurt seeing Ben like that. He looked like hell. He had dark shadows under his eyes, his lips were chapped from biting onto them all the time. He had stubble growing on his face and his hair looked flat and it was unkempt. Ben looked almost lifeless.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”, he croaked. You only now noticed that his eyes were red and bloodshot, he had probably been crying for quite a while. You had to swallow a lump in your throat as you looked at his current state.

“Yeah, alright. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, love. Is everything alright?”, you asked as you sat down on the couch beside him, with your knees touching his. Your hand landed on his thigh, trying to provide him a little comfort. Ben moved a bit away, the sudden movement hurting you just as much as it confused you.

“Y/N, I think we need a break.”, he said, his elbows resting on his thighs as his face sank to his hands. He couldn’t even look at you.

“What? Why do you think so? Did I do something- “

“Goddamn it, Y/N. It’s not always about you. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t support me with what I am doing.”, Ben angrily interrupted you, his eyes glued to the ground as a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes.

“What are you talking about, Ben? When have I not supported you?”, you asked, growing irritated yourself. Over the past years, you had dedicated your life to that man. Getting up earlier in the morning to prepare breakfast for him, cooking dinner not only for you, but also for him, walking with Frankie, keeping the flat clean and keeping your shared finances in check were only a few of the things you had been doing over the past months. Your blood was boiling and you knew that it was only a matter of minutes, if not seconds until a wave of sadness was going to hit you.

“I heard you last night!”, he got up from his seat on the couch and started pacing around the room. “I heard what you said to Frankie. If you’re doing that bad, then what are you still doing here? Why won’t you just leave?” Ben’s back was to you, his hands balled to fists by his side, his body tense.

“I will not leave because I love you, Ben. And this is not you talking. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am here for you.”, you tried your best to stay calm, your voice quivering and much softer than it had been just seconds earlier. You were not about to give up on this relationship.

“Nothing is going on. You have just become unbearable. I’ve got a lot going on and don’t need a clingy, insecure little girl to hold me back. And now please leave, Y/N,” Ben’s words stung. Not only you, but him. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to do that. But he let his insecurities win. He wanted to take his own words back, he really did, but he couldn’t.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks and you desperately wanted to scream. You wanted to scream and feel Ben’s arms around you, telling you that he didn’t mean it.

He didn’t.

You walked to face him and tried to look into his eyes, but he never raised his gaze from the ground. He couldn’t.

You wrapped your arms around your own body tightly, trying to find something to hold on. Quickly, you turned around and walked towards the door, not even bothering to pack some clothes. All you needed was still in the pouch of your sweatshirt. Phone, wallet, keys.

“Until we meet again.”, you whispered. Your voice was hoarse and a painful sob pushed its way through your lips against your will. Ben was confused for a moment before he finally registered what you meant.

“What?”, he asked, his own voice sounding strained.

“It’s not until we’re old and grey. Our love lasted until we met again at this rocky road. And now you’re leaving me standing in the rain. But I want you to know that I will always have a special place in my heart for you.”, you pressed out before leaving behind the man you called your home.

“Until we meet again.”, Ben whispered, his heart broken, his love gone. His insecurities and fears had won. She would now meet someone who had more time for her. She would now find someone who was better looking than him. She would now learn to love a man who was better for her than him. Someone who would not let his fears of losing the woman he loved so much take over him. Someone who would not break up with her to give her the chance of meeting someone better, but someone who was the perfect man for her.

What Ben always failed to realise was that he was that, despite all his imperfections, he was that perfect man for her.

The blonde man stepped to the door, leaning his hand against the cold wood. His knees buckled, then gave in. He let his body drop, leaned his head against the door and cried. Occasionally, pained sobs ripped through his body.

Not even Frankie, who gently leaned against him, could help him ease the pain.

That was truly an extraordinary morning.

[aclassiguy]

nobody’s gonna read this but i’m gonna rant a little as an ex-fundie kid with a perspective on unconscious bias re: thedas’ religions. (i’ll grant you i do not have encyclopedic knowledge of dragon age, so i’m commenting based off what 90% of people know - the games)

If we’re assuming that every interaction concerning the religions in Thedas is intentional, it’s genius. It represents real world religious dynamics so well. But that’s also assuming we’re going to be allowed to confront those religions; otherwise, it’s just a carbon copy with no purpose but to reflect reality. You’re duplicating problems, without offering avenues for solutions or even criticism.

I want to leave this uncut in case a piece of it actually caught someone’s eye for some reason, but I’d feel bad if I did that.

I’m actively agnostic. I have no problem with other people being religious. I react quite negatively to both active and passive attempts at conversion. I know a LOT about Christianity. I know some, though not as much, about other world religions.

We can pretend all we like that Thedas is a world completely separated from reality. “Lighten up, it’s just a game.” I can, however, point to direct parallels between game concepts and real world concepts that I find quite troubling (Blackwall’s plot, certain wartable missions, Descent DLC), I can expound on those at length as well. And of course it’s just a game, and you can stab people with no consequences and all that - that’s fine. Stabbing people in a game isn’t likely to make you think it’s OK to stab people IRL. But a game has the power to subtly reinforce existing biases which can cause real harm.

Christianity is a dominant world religion. In fundamentalist circles, one of the tenets is to spread it to as many people as possible, to save them from themselves. Even casual Christians adopt this attitude when they tell you how sad they are that you’re not Christian, because they think you’ll be happier as one and can’t fathom how you’d be happy without god. I can get REAL deep into Christian psychology, but I’ll spare you. The thing is, this is an insidious train of thought that has been beaten into the world by its victors. Monotheistic religions are treated more seriously than pantheons. The Bible is held as separate and more holy than “myths,” which are treated as little better than Harry Potter novels. Religions that encourage non-Western behaviors are treated as scary, deviant, and oppressive - to be obliterated before they dare to try converting precious Christians - DESPITE Christians actively trying to lure those believers away from their “scary” faith and into Christianity. They think their own religion is more normal, or their own culture is more normal. All of this leads to many, many Christians (as well as your average Westerner) holding really racist, xenophobic views they don’t perceive as racist or xenophobic.

SO LIKE - I’ll just make a bulletpoint list:

Andrastianism = Christianity (esp. Western brand)

Evanuris = Pantheistic religions

Qun = Eastern philosophies

The familiarity and diversity is fine. There’s pros and cons to each religion, just like real life. Thedas is fun because it takes aspects of discrimination like racism and sexuality and pretzels it to be same-but-different. No matter your background, you have the chance to get really involved in the ethical dilemmas provided, the visceral experience of being insulted and responding to insults with pride, and it’s fun to read something new and feel some kind of vindication if you had a suspicion before.

What irritates me currently about the religions is that every time I get a little taste of “Okay, finally, we’re acknowledging the damage a religion like this can do,” I get kicked right the fuck back. I spent so long hating the Chantry more and more because it started to become clear to me the intentional abuse being directed at literally anyone who wasn’t a non-mage human, and even then they abused their own followers to exert further control over mages for personal gain. (Seriously, FUCK the Chantry.) FINALLY, Exalted Plains acknowledged that the Chantry steamrolled over the elves in a brutal slaughter, where Sister Whatserface tried to blame the elves for being “too far from the Maker” but she was a good person for “showing them more mercy than they deserved.” Clear signals that Bioware intended it to be taken as it was - an unjust crusade. Then what do they throw in my face? Some documents intending to show that the elves were “also at fault.” Excuse me? I’m sorry, excuse me?!

Elves had already been the subject of extensive oppression at that point, and given the racist goddamn teachings of Sister Whatserface and ALL THE DIVINES, I can hardly blame the elves for being just a little testy with the humans sticking their noses into their lands trying to force them to convert to Andrastianism. “Equally to blame” my ass. This is a pebble against a boulder. And yet I’m supposed to treat it like some kind of shocking revelation. Ooo - should I turn these documents in to the Chantry to exploit the elves some more, or should I give them to the Dalish, who then react with shame? There’s no just option: have the Dalish explain why maybe elves would be just a little angry, and have my Inquisitor go “oh yeah, that makes sense. kbye”

Finishing up with the Dalish, we get told by some pride demon ass lying fucker that all the Dalish gods that these poor widdle uneducated primitive elves worship were essentially slavers. Hahah. WHAT. Sorry. WHAT. You’re going to make me play through a game with my character’s religion shat on or flat out ignored at literally every turn, and my vindication is to be told it’s all fake and my ancestors were idiots for ever believing? Canonically? Really? When do we get told that we checked the Fade and the Maker wasn’t there and don’t these humans look pretty dumb now?! Or is that too risque because Andrastianism is a little too close to Christianity?

Then there’s the reaction to the Qun. I have loved Qunari since Sten. I honestly think it’s a really cool concept and I would love to explore it more deeply. I also LOVE Sten. Sten seemed so calm and generally fairly accepting, although he had his own flaws. He also had hidden depths - push aside the fronting and you get his cookies and chocolate loving sweetness. (If people hate him, again, come see me after class so we can have a chat on why you stan Blackwall but not Sten?)

But it seems like the Qun is falling victim to the world needing a reliable villain. What was once a mysterious system of beliefs existing outside the concept of the Maker or Dalish gods is increasingly this Scary religion that oppresses women and mages in barbaric ways, and is treated as horrible for trying to spread their religion to other lands (allow me to remind you of Exalted Plains and why every person in the game seems to be Andrastian by default, or at least Andrastian-sympathetic). It’s essentially playing up the fears that makes people uncomfortable with Eastern religions, relying on xenophobia to make them hateable enough that you don’t accidentally end up with too many Qun sympathizers in the playerbase. Even though you can play as a Qunari in Inquisition (hell yeah), you aren’t allowed any kind of Qun background. It’s understandable in some ways, plot-wise, but baffling in others. How much cooler would it be to have access to Qun beliefs like the Dalish has access to the Evanuris?

And now they have the Qunari poised to be the result of doing horrible dragon-blood experiments on elves by MORE slavers, and their religion’s entire purpose is to limit their horrible dragony desires to murder people, but now they want to subjugate others to live under their rule of law to make a horrifying monotone culture. Aren’t these scary-looking Qunari even more scary? There’s a reason to hate them now, they’re canonically more violent, just like the dragons! (Do not get me started on how dragons are treated. Actually, do, I have a lot of thoughts on that too. lmao) REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Then you have the Tal-Vashoth, not only defectors who found fault with the philosophy who are then hunted relentlessly by the believers, but also twisting back on themselves to be crazy violent, therefore simultaneously a condemnation of the Qun and an affirmation of its necessity to keep Qunari from being violent. Where are the defectors from Andrastianism? Literally every ex-fundie Christian kid I know has had a sex and/or drug-fueled meltdown period after having their core beliefs and foundation obliterated. Why do we have all these pure innocent Chantry Virgins, but no defectors? The only atheist you get to meet is your own Inquisitor, and you have a HELL of a time through the whole game as a result of it. (Though I will say the payoff at the very end of the game is so very worth it.) Almost ALL of your companions nag you about why you don’t believe you’re Chosen. I have yet to play as a believer, but I haven’t seen any indications I would be criticized for it.

And so what of Andrastianism? Is it fakery? Lies? Canonically brought into existence to oppress people? The product of slavers?

NOT YET.

Any criticism brought against Andrastianism is neatly and shortly thereafter countered, not by an untrustworthy member of the Chantry but by some word-of-god canon itself. The Maker stands, silent, valid, unchallenged.

There’s nothing wrong with presenting these complex scenarios, but if you don’t have the time, resources, or courage to REALLY plumb these depths, give everyone fair criticism (and it is not fair to ding the predominant world religion with the same criticisms as you level against a dying minority religion), don’t bother. You make the real world problems worse.

[btgalaxy]

The Broken Heart Of An Innocent

masterlist

➳ a/n: I hope you enjoy it! - admin soo

➳ genre: angst

➳ pairing: yoongi x reader

➳ word count: 2.7k

warnings:  suicide and depression. please refrain from reading if you’re in a fragile state of mind. 

Dear Yoongi,

I’ve tried to figure out why you broke up with me for the past few months. I honestly thought at the beginning that this might have been my fault. It was me, after all, that couldn’t have kids. It was me that was different. Even though you made sure that I believe in myself; that I love myself and that I speak for myself, I lost those things when you broke my heart, Yoongi. Did you lose them too?

It isn’t your fault that I am doing this, please do not take it that way. But our break up helped me to realise one thing, I don’t want to live. I never wanted to live. I did live, yes. But why? Did I do it because I had some goals? Or did I do it because society wanted me to? I can only imagine what people are saying now. “She must have been weak, that’s why she killed herself”. Is that what they’re saying? 

Or are they understanding of my pain? Of the pain of having this empty void inside my heart? I could feel something, some emotions, only when we were together. I learned what a joy and what a colourful world we have, when we feel things. So now I lost this ability to feel, I am lost. I want to enjoy things, I want to smile at the kids running through water fountains when it’s hot outside. I want to smile whenever I smell my favourite white roses. I can’t. Why?

I’m sorry to the boys, please, take care of them. I’m sorry that I’ve pretended to be better, I just didn’t want them to worry. I know that they wouldn’t be able to forgive you this unless I move on. Please, don’t tell them what really happened. Please, do keep this a secret, and have your family by you. Will you do that?

I’ve organized everything for when you come back, there will be nothing left in the flat, I’ve put some important things in our deposit box, you can give them to the boys, say that I went back to my birth country and that those are the only things that I left behind me. For you, I’ve left you something precious. I don’t know if you’ll want it, but I hope that my thoughts aren’t real and that you still love me. Do you?

I feel sleepy now, so I’m going to finish it quickly. I love you, I thank you for the amazing 2 years, thank you for showing me how life should look like. Thank you for waking up the spark within me, thank you for the dreams I started to have when I met you. Thank you for introducing me to your bulletproof family. Thank you for your...

It was too late to apologise. Mistakes had been made, words had been said. All the hurt that wasn't meant to be given, was not only given but received. A person that should give only love, a smile, warmth to the heart, gave nothing but the feeling of a broken heart. 

This endless misery of despair and sorrow should give you pain only, but when your heart is shattered by your soulmate it shows the happy memories; it takes you back to the happiest moments of your relationship, when you both shared your most honest smiles. It tells you the story of how you should be grateful for the love you received. It doesn't tell you to hate, to hide in your feelingless shell. No, it shows you the best moments so you could learn what you've lost. 

It shows you how you’ve met, the shy smile that you shared when you both ordered large iced americano at local Starbucks. How he surprised you and came to your table asking, how such a pretty girl orders such dark coffee, to which you replied with the same question. How does such pretty boy order such dark coffee, but, in reality, you wondered how does such a handsome man talk to you? It shows you your first kiss, how his lips touched yours, afraid of you running away from him. Your lips returning his kiss, your tongue slowly opening his upper lip, afraid of going too fast in your relationship.

“You don’t have to force yourself to do something you don’t want to do, darling” was the very first sentence that convinced your heart that this man is worth your trust.

“I need to break up with you,” he said. As if your world didn't break apart the moment words left his lips. He left. He moved on with his life. He decided for both of you, that this is the time. This is the end.

And so, with those words, you thought of the end, of how to end this excruciating pain. Yet, you couldn't force yourself to reach for that blade, for those pills, for the liquid poison that you liked to savour in small amounts.  

You were sitting with this emptiness in your heart, in your thoughts, when you heard a knock, a doorbell being rung. You knew you were supposed to leave the warmth of the bubbly water; it is something that is expected of people, after all. To open the door. But at that moment, you honestly couldn’t care less. You lost your light; you lost your will to fight, to live.  

So, you sat in that lukewarm water, becoming colder with every passing minute. You wondered if maybe your recent talk had caused it. You knew that this secret of yours would destroy any relationship, yet you decided to reveal it. After all, it was honesty that was the foundation of every good relationship. You wondered if maybe that statement wasn't true; if maybe some secrets should never be revealed.  

“I can't have kids. I can't get pregnant.”

When the water became ice-cold you reached the conclusion that devastated you forever. You were the cause of why your world fell apart. Even though he claimed there was nothing that could break his love for you, this must have been the limit of his love. The limit that he’d never met before the obstacle that couldn't be overcome. The Berlin Wall. The Dutch Water Line. The Mount Everest of his love.  

His love for you withered away like a flower without light. His dream of being a father was something that always kept him motivated; his dream of telling stories - of making his dreams come true - was something that kept his body going. But when this possibility was taken away from him, he gave up on you. He gave up on your future, he gave up on your heart. 

Your ears picked up a slight creaking noise when the heavy entry door was being pushed open and before you took notice of this fact, you heard your name being called throughout the house.

“Y/N!” it wasn’t the voice you longed for; it wasn’t the voice that could glue your heart back together. When your name is being summoned, you’re supposed to answer this call, but the only thing you did was stare at the view in front of your bathtub. 

You loved the fact that you lived high up in the building and had a window stretching through the whole length of the wall in your bathroom; it allowed you to appreciate the crystal-clear night sky. The sky seemed to share your pain; stars being covered with the clouds, fighting for their light to shine through the vale of darkness. But when it seemed that the stars might have had a chance to win, the clouds covered their source of motivation; their moon was taken over by the same darkness that covered your heart, the moment you heard those devastating words.

“I don’t love you anymore. It’ll be better for both of us if we end it now.” 

He was the one that thought of it. He was the one that decided for both of you. You, on the other hand, weren’t better off without him. You still loved him; he was your light, and you thought it worked both ways. That you were also his light.

“For fuck's sake, Y/N! You answer when someone calls you! Are you okay?” Your brain told you to answer, but your body refused. What’s the need for speech? You have no reason to live. What’s the need to announce that you’re still breathing? What’s the possible reason behind admitting that you’re still alive and in pain?

You felt your hand being taken into another; you saw worried eyes in front of yours. Yet, you didn’t react. You just looked at the face of your dear friend - another reminder of your broken heart. He was not only your best friend, but also you his. You should have felt some kind of emotion, probably negative, but you felt nothing. You went numb. You didn’t want to cry, smile, hug. You wanted nothing. You wanted to disappear from this world and join the stars in their fight. At least they wouldn’t suffer the way you were.

“Y/N.” This time it was a whisper. A warm whisper, an inviting whisper; the kind that brings peace even to the most violent fight. “Why are you in your clothes?”  

He hadn’t even noticed the bloody blade next to you, same with the half-empty bottle of vodka. The blade was so close to you, yet so far away. You saw the blood on its ridges and wondered who had a chance to get to it before you. You were the one that wanted to suffer no more. The only thing that you needed to do was to just stretch your hand. But even this simple move was too much for you. Your friend must have noticed that there was no point in trying to cooperate with you.

“Get up, change into new clothes. I’ll take you to bed.”

Instructions were something you could follow, as it turned out a few minutes later when you were being put to bed by your dearest friend, Namjoon. He asked if you wanted him to lie with you, and you must have nodded your head, as he soon held you into his body. You knew it was healthy to cry your sadness out, but it must have been out of your limits, as you closed your eyes and went straight into deep night sleep.  

You wandered through the land of Morpheus, dreaming of the future that was now lost, of the happy moments with your three kids. Your dogs chasing after them in the garden through the sprinklers. Then you, sat on the porch with your husband right next to you, your fingers entangled with his, smiles and pride evident on both of your faces. Your heart filled with joy, happiness, love, pure bliss.  

Soon enough, though, you had to leave the land you started to love so much, to go back to the cruel reality. In your bed, there was no one. Namjoon must have gone to work; at least that’s what you thought and slightly hoped for. You reached for your phone that was placed yesterday on the nightstand next to your bed. Your stomach reminded you of the desire to eat, so you decided to order something from the place near your house. Jajangmyeon and japchae. Your favourite dishes.  

Ten minutes later your food had arrived, so you left your bed in order to get breakfast. That’s when you noticed that Namjoon didn’t leave your apartment. No, in fact, he went even further. He brought the rest of your group. You thought it was your delivery ringing the doorbell, but it was your friends.  

“Y/N!” Jimin ran to you and enveloped you in an honest hug. You didn’t return it, you only looked at the hands of Jin that had them full of dishes he must have cooked for you. So, you left Jimin, grabbed the dishes you needed, went to the kitchen for some chopsticks and sat by the table to eat.  

“Hey, baby girl, you alright?” this was all you needed to snap. The two words that were reserved for your lover, the cause of your self-hatred, was all you needed to snap. To start screaming, to start the uncontrollable stream of tears going out of eyes.  

All of it was such a blur, that until this day you don’t know what you screamed. The only thing you remember from snapping was what happened after it. All 6 of the boys cuddled you, not letting go until your legs gave out. Until your heart brought the sadness it should bring from the beginning. Until your tears dried out, and until your devastating emotions came back alive.  

“It’s all my fault.”

“Darling, it isn’t your fault, trust me. It’s even beyond him, he had to do it.” You heard Jin’s voice clearly, so clearly that you felt as if his words were a loud church bell sounding on the Sunday’s morning mass. His words lingered in your thoughts and when you thought that this is the end; that they were gone; that you could let it go, move on, they came back. The thoughts of you being the fault for your unhappiness, the thoughts of him being forced to break up with you because of your circumstances. Because you were different. Because you weren’t normal as every single person around him. They always sneaked their way back to your mind.

You saw your friends almost every day after the breakup. They always made sure for someone to drop by your place in the evening and check on you. Sometimes they’d stay for the night, hugging your body tightly to their chests, talking to you total nonsense to stop you from crying. To distract you.

That’s how you came up with your plan. You decided to make the boys feel good, make them happier, remove this constant worry from their lives. You didn’t want to add to their stresses and worries; you knew what kind of restraint their careers put on them, and you didn’t want to add another problem to the already big pile. You watched them becoming more relaxed around you; you watched them giving you their biggest smiles, whenever they saw a delicate smile on your lips. You watched them going to their own beds at night.

Finally, after a few weeks of this tiring affectation from you, you got the big news. This was actually the first time you felt happy in months. Yes, you pretended to be happy, and you felt relieved when you saw your boys smiling, but what you felt at that moment was pure happiness. You jumped around your room, singing to happy songs, dancing around with wine in your hand and snacks on the table. They were going on tour, finally.

There was still a lot of time before they went, but you’d found endless sources for being happy in front of them, now that you knew they were going away. This only made them feel even better. They were worried for you for the past few months, ever since Yoongi broke up with you. They all tried to convince Yoongi to ask for you back, they all believed that you two together, was what made you both truly happy. That you both were destined to be together. They didn’t understand why he broke up with you. He never told them the true reason behind, always dismissed them with:

“It’s better for both of us.”

Finally, the day came. You’ve met with them the day before, drank some alcohol, wished them luck on their tour and wished them to have many amazing memories to tell you when they’ll come back. And you hugged them. Jimin asked you constantly whether everything is alright, but the only thing you said to him, every single time, was:

“Yes, Jimin. I’m finally happy.” 

So you’d prepared everything the same night. The moment they left the country, you’d started to realise your plan. You went to your favourite restaurant, your favourite park, played with dogs at the shelter. You bought your favourite brand of vodka, you took out your pills and ran a warm bath at night, to watch the stars for the last time.

[notveryglittery]

Flirting With Danger, Ch6

summary: Patton is late. Roman is also late.  words: 2,700 / ships: romantic royality, platonic moxiety warnings: robbery, injuries, threat to one’s life, hospital mention, negative thoughts notes: thank you all so much for your patience on this update!! @do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them @fandersfic-royality​ @fandersfic-moxiety​ read on ao3 | Ch1: the first time | Ch2: *mcelroy voice* hotboy! Ch3: sky soliloquy | Ch4: the interview™ Ch5: you have my heart | Ch6: the second time Ch7: is this allowed??

The second time it happened wasn’t Patton’s fault either, he would insist, although some may disagree. He was on his way home from the daycare where he worked, a little over a week after the events that led to him meeting the new love of his life, and although he knew stopping to step on every crunchy leaf littered on the sidewalk might make him miss his bus, he couldn’t really bring himself to be worried. It was practically a rule for autumn! You had to step on crunchy leaves! The noise was satisfying beneath his shoes and he giggled at each one, earning delighted smiles from children being hurried along by their parents. If Virgil were with him, Patton knew he’d have that “exasperated but fond” look on his face. He kind of wore it all the time whenever they were together…

A particularly nice bunch of leaves was just a few feet ahead of him and Patton guessed that they’d been swept there from the entrance of a store so as not to be accidentally tracked in. His expression lit up upon seeing it, and he was about ready to hop or skip his way over to those good good crunchy boys when a loud clatter came from his right. Patton paused, foot extended in literal mid-step, turning to see what the commotion was. He’d stopped next to a jewelry store; its lights were off and they looked closed for the day.

It seemed kind of early (the sun had yet to set) but Patton wasn’t going to blame anyone for wanting to be home as soon as possible. If they were closed, though, what was making so much noise? Before Patton could begin to investigate, the door swung open so fast, the glass pane within it shattered. Yelping in alarm, Patton moved to take a step back, but several things happened all at once.

There was an odd blurring of the air near the door, but Patton didn’t have time to wonder about it before he found himself flat on his back in the strip of grass between street and sidewalk, and at the same moment there was a ridiculously loud crash and he instinctively turned away and covered his head with his arms, and a second after that he finally registered the pain resulting from something colliding hard with the leg with which he’d been about to step forward. As he blinked quite a few times in utter confusion and started to sit up, he heard loud swearing nearby and realized that “something” had been a person. From Patton's point of view, he could only see their ankle boots and heavy jacket -- definitely too thick a material for the current weather. Patton was even warm in his thin cardigan. That was Florida for you, he supposed…

“Sorry,” Patton called, pretty sure it was his fault that the person had tripped in the first place… Although he had no idea where they had come from… “Are you okay?”

Patton became vaguely aware of the sound of alarms going off in the jewelry store behind him but he was sufficiently distracted from it when the stranger stood up so quickly, Patton didn't even see it happen. One moment, they were collapsed in the street, and the next they were storming towards him with fury in their eyes. They were wearing a mask that was golden, sharp at the edges, with lightning bolts striking down their cheekbones; whether they were part of the fabric or painted on or something else entirely, Patton wasn't sure. Their hair was auburn red, looking like they had permanent bedhead, and the eyes glaring at him were a shade as blue as the sky on a clear day. Now that they were facing him, Patton could see the outfit beneath the coat was a material not unlike spandex and just as flashy as the mask. 

"You!" They snarled, grabbing a fistful of Patton's shirt and lifting him off the ground by his collar.

“I'm sorry!” Patton said again, raising his own hands in a display of peace. It seemed like the best course of action, especially since he was pretty sure most normal people couldn't have picked him up so easily.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?!” They snapped, jabbing a finger into Patton's face.

“Been in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Patton offered meekly, hoping they'd realize this was all just one big misunderstanding. Gosh, what would Virgil say now… It really was starting to look like Patton was getting into trouble on purpose! He'd been joking when he said so last week, honest!

“That heist would have been perfect were it not for your idiocy! Just who do you think you are?” They sneered, scowling down at Patton. “Not even powered, are you?”

Patton frowned. Would it have been so bad if he wasn't? Having superpowers was rare! In fact, Patton was the normal one here! He tried to pull himself free, his legs aching from having to stand on the tips of his toes with the way this person was holding him. It didn't help that it hurt to put any weight on his left foot, given how badly his ankle was throbbing. He wasn't given the opportunity, however, as they shoved him away in disgust. Patton stumbled back, landing hard on the sidewalk. He winced and mentally added a bruised tailbone to his list of injuries.

“Clearly, you're a menace to everyone around you, so I might as well take care of that.”

Whatever it was they were planning on doing, Patton wouldn't find out. The alarms inside the jewelry store were joined now with the sound of police sirens coming down the road. Their head snapped towards the noise; the movement was so sudden, Patton thought they'd hurt their neck in the process. He tried to crawl backwards and away from them, slowly so as not to be noticed.

And speaking of noticing…

Patton saw now, littered along the sidewalk and all the way out to the street where the villain (it was so obvious now) had fallen, various pieces of jewelry. It was a lot of shiny and expensive looking necklaces, for the most part. Unfortunately, so distracted in getting away and realizing exactly what he'd done, Patton failed to remember the broken door from earlier. He cried out in pain as his palm came down on the shattered glass. He’d only just recoiled, curling his arm against his chest and blinking rapidly to slow the tears in his eyes, when a foot stomped down in front of him.

“This won't be the last time you see me,” the villain promised and Patton wondered distantly why it sounded like he was being threatened right now.

He closed his eyes against the wind that kicked up as they disappeared and Patton finally connected the dots: he’d just inadvertently stopped a super fast bad guy from robbing a jewelry store. That would explain why his ankle hurt so badly; they’d had to have crashed into it while making their getaway. Patton fumbled for his phone and fired a text off to Virgil before he could get swept up in the police investigation. It was a little hard with one of his hands hurt but spell check helped a lot. 'Gonna be home late! Love you <3'

Patton stayed put where he was as the cars pulled up to the scene. He explained as best he could what had happened, pointing out the jewelry and the shattered window pane. He described the villain, making sure to detail the mask as best he could because he figured that would be the easiest way to identify them. The officer — a nice lady named Eva — called an ambulance for him and insisted he not move much so that he wouldn’t aggravate his injuries any further. It wasn’t until he was laid out on a stretcher in the back of the vehicle that Patton remembered how expensive hospitals were. How was he supposed to afford something like this? He worked at a daycare! Virgil would insist on helping but it wasn’t like coffee shop tips would do much.  

It all sort of started blurring together at some point. There were pages to fill out and sign, insurance questions to answer, and it was so much sitting still that Patton was really starting to get antsy. He hadn’t been able to check his phone since messaging Virgil and he was beginning to worry about Virgil worrying and he just had to step on all those crunchy leaves, didn’t he?

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” the nurse said softly, resting a hand on his arm.

“Huh?” Patton asked and it was then that he realized he’d begun to cry. “Oh.”

He wiped at his eyes and gave her a watery smile. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a very long day. We’re almost done here, alright? We just need the doctor to prescribe you some painkillers. Will you need crutches?”

Patton turned the offer down since he wasn’t sure he’d actually use them. They were kind of clunky. Thankfully, his ankle was only mildly sprained, and they figured he would only need to stay off of it for a couple days. They’d gotten all of the glass shards out of his palm and his hand was wrapped up so snugly that it was a bit awkward moving it. Unfortunately, it was his dominant hand, which meant the next couple of days with that were going to be uncomfortable.

Wow. He was not having a great day.

Eventually, they released him with a bunch of important papers and a prescription that he couldn’t get filled until tomorrow. The moon had risen during his time inside and the cool fall weather was starting to set in. Was he crying while trying to use his phone in his left hand to call an Uber? Maybe. It was okay, though, just as long as he could pull himself together by the time he got home so he wouldn’t have to worry Virgil anymore than he already was. He hadn’t replied to the text and Patton wondered if he was stuck late at work.

A loud thud sounded to his right and Patton flinched, too tired to do much else.

“Are you okay?!”

Patton startled, finally looking to see who joined him. He squeaked in surprise. “Ah! You! Uhm!”

The superhero he’d fallen head over heels for was taking a seat beside him on the bench. While he’d initially looked rather panicked, his expression softened as he took Patton’s bandaged hand in his.

“Oh no,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”

Patton was pretty sure he was melting. “It’s alright… How could you have known?”

The Prince scoffed. “It’s my job. I let you down.”

Patton frowned, pulling his hand free just so that he could jab a finger against the hero’s chest. “Hey! None of that! You did no such thing. It wouldn’t be fair to you for us to expect you to be everywhere at once.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“What if there had been a building on fire?” Patton asked. “I would rather you take care of that over silly little me accidentally stopping a robbery.”

He hummed. “I suppose… you might have a point.”

“I’m fine, anyway!” Patton said suddenly, smiling brightly. “My ankle should only take a few days to get better.” He waved his hand. “This will take even less time. And I stopped a robbery! Isn’t that so exciting?!”

His voice was starting to get wobbly and his eyes were beginning to sting again but Patton hoped it wasn’t obvious. They were still practically strangers so maybe his crush wouldn’t even notice. Patton knew that he was pretty good at hiding these sorts of things—well, from everyone except Virgil, of course.

“... Could I…” The hero hesitated. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Patton laughed in the sort of way people laugh when they’re trying not to cry. “I dunno, can you pay for the hospital bills I’m going to end up drowning in?”

“Yes.”

Patton blinked.” What?”

“Yes,” the Prince repeated. “Absolutely.”

“Wha—” Patton stammered. “No! I… that’s not what I meant! I was kidding!”

“It’s the least I could do since I wasn’t there for you.”

“Prince! Er… Your Highness? Uh, I’m not sure what— It’s okay, really, you don’t have to do that! I was just… it was a joke.”

The hero was smiling at him through his rambling and Patton was sure he’d combust any moment now. For once, though, he seemed to have his head on straight. He needed to get home. He needed to talk to Virgil.

“May I escort you home?”

Patton’s entire face felt like it was on fire. “Wh- what? Are… are you sure?”

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

Patton looked down at his phone. The screen to call an Uber was still up. It displayed the cost of the drive. He didn’t really need that on top of everything else…

“Okay,” Patton agreed. “Do you… have a car?”

The Prince laughed as he stood. “Not for cases like this. You aren’t too far from here, right?”

Patton went to stand as well, teetering a little as he tried not to put weight on his injured ankle. He wasn’t, thankfully; the hospital was closer to home than the jewelry store was. “I’m close! I guess I ought to get used to walking in this ankle boot...”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The hero tsked. “Here we go, ready?”

Before Patton could ask what he was supposed to be ready for, the Prince was sweeping him off his feet. Literally. Patton gasped, arms shooting to wrap around his neck.

“Oh! Okay,” he laughed a little nervously. “Okay! Yeah, this… this is fine. Good. It’s great.”

He was going to die.

Roman tried very, very hard not to think about the proximity of Patton’s face to his own as he carried him in the direction of his apartment building. He seemed a little embarrassed about the situation already, ducking his head against Roman’s shoulder to hide the very cute blush coloring his cheeks, and it wouldn’t do to make him any more self-conscious by staring. (Also, there was a non-zero chance of walking into something if he got too distracted, and Patton was known to be extremely distracting.)

In the silence that stretched between Patton’s occasional directions, Roman recalled how he’d gotten to this point. Regrettably, it’d been a chores kind of day, and so he hadn’t even been doing anything important or heroic when Patton could have used his help. Afterwards, he’d donned his costume, and headed out for patrol. The sun was on its way to setting by the time he’d stopped at the nearest police station for a report. He liked to check in on days that he wasn’t able to properly keep an eye on the city, just in case he missed anything important. Most crimes were small enough that the local police could take care of it but Roman just liked to be there for the people.

When he’d found that a jewelry store robbery had been stopped by a civilian, Roman’s curiosity was piqued. The moment the name “Patton” fell from the officer’s lips (he hadn’t even got the last name out), Roman was demanding which hospital they’d taken him to. Immediately, he’d taken off for it, reprimanding himself the entire way for being negligent; at least his timing had been good enough to catch Patton before he left. The offer to pay for his hospital bills was sudden but it wasn’t like Roman couldn’t afford it and, besides, it really was the least he could do. Besides taking Patton out on the most extravagant of dates, anyway, and spoiling him with flowers, gifts, affection—

“Pardon?” Roman asked, blinking and clearing his head of his daydreams.

Patton giggled, though it still sounded a bit forced. Roman frowned. “I was just saying, my building is this next one.”

They headed in and Patton pointed Roman in the direction of the elevator. He focused very hard on the music playing through the tiny speakers and not of how warm Patton felt in his arms. He may have been familiar with elevated temperatures, but this was entirely different. It wasn’t until they were very nearly to Patton’s apartment that his phone went off. Roman was going to make a comment on the The Nightmare Before Christmas ringtone when the door swung open to reveal a very panicked Virgil. 

Oh dear.

[dokyungsou-blog]

Reliance [I]

Genre(Rating): Fluff/Some Angst(PG-13)

Word Count: 3797 

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary:  Life can be challenging with many obstacles, but never forget to recognize the person you can rely on the most.

Masterlist

It was almost nine o’clock and you were standing outside of the SM Entertainment building, desperately trying to avoid the rain. You kept your tote bag close to your side, making sure it wouldn’t get soaked while your shoes were practically drenched from stepping into a puddle on the way here. You looked at your phone screen, checking the time constantly and checking if your best friend had messaged you. Chanyeol was late for your rehearsal with him for an upcoming concert you were going to debut at.. He’s usually clumsy and forgetful sometimes, but he was never usually this late before.

You stood for another minute, shivering from the cool rain and the gusts of wind that hit you from time to time. While hugging yourself tightly, you watched people run by with umbrellas and taking shelter inside nearby stores. Mumbling in annoyance, you began to dial Chanyeol’s number when suddenly a loud car horn sounded. Darting your wide eyes forward, you noticed a black sports car parked around the corner and a hooded figure frantically running towards you. You squinted a bit, trying to recognize the figure, before realizing it was Chanyeol, to which you couldn’t help but grin.

“Ah, sorry!” He shouted, avoiding puddles and objects along the way. As he made it under the building with you, he quickly slid his keycard in before grabbing the door open. When the two of you finally got inside, the silent hallway was suddenly filled with Chanyeol panting and trying to utter sentences but failing due to his fatigue. You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing. If there was anything you knew definitely, it was that Chanyeol was always sincere and never did things without reason.

“Wow, Chanyeol. I think you’ve set a new record for being late!” You said jokingly, bending over a bit while smiling at a tired Chanyeol, who was bent over trying to catch his breath. He gulped before putting the palms of his hands together, apologizing about ten times. “It’s okay. Let’s go!” You said chipperly, nudging him before walking down the hall and into a studio room to rehearse.

Two hours had passed and the time spent was filled with rehearsing your debut song as well as the duet you’d be performing with Chanyeol. This was such an exciting opportunity for you, as singing had been your dream job since you were five years old. Who knew, despite what people told you while growing up, that you’d somehow land a successful audition for SM Entertainment and debut only a year afterwards? All those negative words that were thrown at you when you were younger had disappeared. Your parents kept warning and advising that you would head down a hopeless path and that fame and fortune only happen to certain people. Not an ordinary person like you.

You had almost believed all their words and voices, until you received a call from SM stating that you had been chosen to train under them. You remembered jumping around your apartment flat, screaming and calling all of your friends. Weeks after the great news, you finally told your somewhat unassumed parents and promised to work hard for them. You understood their worries and their warnings and you understood why they were disappointed, but hopefully you’d prove them wrong and become as successful as you once dreamed to be. If you were so ordinary, regardless you received the opportunity to shine. Ordinary people can also be needles in a haystack.

“Do you want me to order some food?” Chanyeol asked randomly, beginning to type in a phone number to call.. You tilted your head, contemplating shortly before nodding with a smile. “Pizza?” You asked innocently. He replied with a nod and after a few minutes he announced that meat lover’s pizza was on its way. When the it arrived, you offered to pay but Chanyeol quickly handed over his debit card and took the box afterwards, grinning with a raised brow. You had frowned and rolled your eyes, following him back to the studio room. He never, since the two of you met, let you pay for a meal you both would be eating. He was too generous and kind, which made you love him even more. You had a brother, but he was the complete opposite of Chanyeol. While your sibling was cold-hearted, Chanyeol was the fire that kept your soul warm and safe. You had quite an unsupportive family, but when you met Chanyeol and became closer to him, all your insecurities began to melt away. Now, you would be performing in front of thousands of people who have only heard your name from the advertising and nothing more. Hopefully, everything would go smoothly.

“So, do you want to rehearse more or do you want to head home?” Chanyeol asked, wiping the grease from his mouth. You finished chewing your pizza and then shook your head, “Can I perform my solo in the hall? I know it’s not like the big stage but it’s something different!” After watching Chanyeol nod and pack his sheet music, you clapped with glee before heading out of the room, through the hallway and into the back of the stage. You took a few timid steps, looked around the large auditorium, and continued walking towards the middle of the stage. Meanwhile, Chanyeol grabbed a chair and placed it a few feet from you, setting his sheet music on the black music stand.

You cleared your throat a few times, stretched out your arms and back. For some reason, being on this stage made you feel uncomfortable but not too much. It was something to get used to and wasn’t too bothersome. You’d have to get used to being on stage, especially now. Adjusting your short hair, pulling strands behind your ears, you glanced at Chanyeol who looked up at you with a smile. He nodded then looked down at his guitar and shut his eyes. He began the intro of the song called ‘Dreaming’, which you wrote yourself, and after a few measures of him playing, it was your queue to sing.

During the performance, you made sure to keep calm and only focus on the singing. You kept your eyes closed and let yourself melt into the melody until the whole piece was over. It was not necessarily easy, but relaxing to sing this song. You wrote it for your audition and sang it in front of the judges, and it had been something you held close to your heart ever since. After finishing the little performance, you felt so relieved and the weight on your shoulders disappeared. It felt satisfying to sing here on this bright stage, and it was satisfying to hear your voice echo due to the acoustics of the hall. Everything felt marvelous.  

“That was incredible,” Chanyeol said wholeheartedly, looking at you directly with a soft expression. You smiled and pushed his shoulder playfully, trying to deny his compliment. You lived for small compliments, but whenever you’d hear it outloud, you would feel bashful and deny them instantly. It was quite a habit, but also an act of humility.

“No-no, I’m serious. You have a lot of potential, and I know you’ll do great--” Before Chanyeol finished speaking, the front doors down the hall had opened with a loud creak. You had trouble figuring out who had entered the hall, but once you found out, you smiled brightly and bowed politely as Byun Baekhyun came walking down the hall and up the stairs to the stage, greeting to the two of you brightly.

“What a song!” He exclaimed, clapping softly. You couldn’t help but feel flustered as Baekhyun patted your head and complimented your singing. You weren’t the type to fall in love easily, but Baekhyun was someone you couldn’t help but fall for. He was kind, talented, outgoing, and remarkable and you also looked up to him. You had feelings, yes, but you tried your best not to dwell on them because he was in a relationship.

“I’m really excited about the concert next weekend. The guys can’t wait to hear you sing.” Baekhyun stated, leaning on his right leg with crossed arms. The light emitting from the lights above made Baekhyun look almost angelic, to the point where your pulse became erratic. You awkwardly shifted weight on your legs as a silence began falling over the three of you.

“What are you doing here so late?” Asked Chanyeol, breaking the silence. He was still sitting down with his guitar, but his expression was more flat and unamused almost. You kept watching Chanyeol until Baekhyun laughed. “I forgot some things here from two days ago, can you believe that? Usually Chanyeol is the clumsy one.” You chuckled along with Baekhyun but Chanyeol’s lips flattened. He stood up, looked at Baekhyun and slowly smiled his friendly smile.

“I’ll see you later, Baek.” He said while fist bumping him, then disappeared behind the back doors of the stage. After Chanyeol left, you and Baekhyun headed down the aisle of the auditorium and exited through the large front doors. After a little while of conversing more with him, he placed his hands on your head once more and smiled. “I know you’re going to do great, so I’ll see you later okay?” He said, waving with enthusiasm. Watching him leave out the front doors, you couldn’t help but stare at his silver hair as it bounced with each step. You couldn’t help but cover your face and squeal silently, swooning by your lonesome. How could someone be so perfect? Baekhyun was basically a Disney prince, and you were probably just some extra in the back somewhere. When opening your eyes back again, Chanyeol leaned over to you and blew in your ear. You immediately jerked away from him, having a small heart attack for a second. “You jerk!” You yelled, smacking his shoulder. Raising his hands to defend himself, you kept hitting him mostly due to embarrassment, and eventually simmered down. He looked at you for a moment before handing you your tote bag. “Let’s take you home.”

The car ride was long and calm, but the two of you sang along the latest hit songs playing on the radio. When an EXO song began playing, Chanyeol yelled with excitement and began singing along. You laughed so hard, your cheeks began hardening into place. After the chorus of the song Monster finished, he tapped your shoulder and couldn’t wait to rap his own part. You absolutely loved car rides with Chanyeol, and singing with him at night when there wasn’t a care in the world felt exhilarating. Moments like these were things you lived for and you never took it for granted.

When a stoplight appeared, the two of you still kept singing and laughing. When you glanced your window, an elderly man had been looking at the two of you from his car window with confusion. You smiled nervously, waved, and watched him sit in his car still shocked at what he’d witnessed. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, but Chanyeol kept at the singing until the song finished. When you reached your apartment building, Chanyeol held you back as he rushed out of the car and went to open the door for you. You shook your head with a smile and got out, holding onto your bag firmly.

“Get some sleep, kid.” Chanyeol said calmly, ruffling your hair with ease. You shoved him away while smiling before heading towards the front doors. You used your keycard to unlock it, but before you went in, you waved back at Chanyeol before heading inside. When you entered your apartment, you set your bag onto your sofa and exhaled, plopping yourself down as well. You were tired, but it felt good. It felt like something amazing was happening and unfolding, making you feel so eager to work harder. Around midnight, you finally fell asleep on your bed, smiling at the image of Baekhyun patting your head and smiling his wonderful smile. You sighed softly, telling yourself it was hopeless.

The next morning had you a bit tired, but you couldn’t wait to rehearse with Chanyeol and getting to hang out with the guys. You took the public bus to the SM building, and while you sat beside the large window, the music in your earbuds kept you company. Getting out of the bus, you noticed Junmyeon walking up towards the building with a few fans trailing by. Greeting him discreetly, he bowed with a smile and opened the door, letting you walk through first. Walking down the hall, you entered a larger studio room where Chanyeol was playing some tunes on the guitar while Baekhyun sat behind the piano, fiddling with the keys. Jongdae was scrolling through his phone while conversing with Jongin and the rest of the members were talking with each other. Everyone greeted you once you entered, and once Chanyeol saw you, his eyes brightened and motioned you to come sit next to him. You smiled with a wave, but before you could take another step, Baekhyun called your name and invited you to sit with him behind the piano. Laughing nervously, you shyly sat beside him.

Chanyeol, who had watched you walk in another direction, flattened his lips and returned his attention to his guitar. He ran his fingers through his black hair and sighed, then began conversing with Kyungsoo.

“How did you sleep?” Asked Baekhyun with a soft smile. You took a while to answer, as the studio light above you had made Baekhyun’s face gleam so nicely. He looked unbelievably handsome.

“Oh, I slept well. Thank you for asking.” You replied with a stutter and a skipping heart. “Did you sleep--” You couldn’t ask him the same question, as Junmyeon had clapped for everyone’s attention. He wanted to start rehearsing quickly. You were a bit upset to not have time to converse with your crush, but the excitement and eagerness to rehearse took over your senses.

Before Chanyeol had gotten to the piano to rehearse his performance with Kyungsoo, the door had opened slowly. A girl with long hair, red lips, and a short dress appeared with a big smile. She bowed at everyone before greeting Baekhyun with a very friendly hug. You couldn’t help but stare at her and admire her facial features and her fashion sense. She was gorgeous.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend I’ve been talking about!” He said with such glee, to which the girl blushed. “Hello, I’m Sunmi! Nice to meet you all.” She said with a bright smile. Everyone stood up to bow politely, even you, and watched the two take their leave for a bit. You kept your eyes on Baekhyun until he left the room. Sunmi, a fairly popular singer, was his girlfriend and someone he fell in love with. You would think someone in your position would feel sad and heartbroken right away, but you blinked after staring for so long and returned your attention to the rest of the group.

Brushing some hair behind your ears, you noticed they were warmer than usual. You were flustered more than anything, but you kept your composure. After Kyungsoo finished singing, you clapped loudly and enthusiastically complimented his singing. After taking a short bathroom break, you began rehearsing your solo with Chanyeol and then watched the rest of the guys practice their choreography for some songs in the dance studio. While watching them, you constantly looked at the door, wondering if Baekhyun would walk through with his girlfriend. With each second, you felt more anxious and uncomfortable. It wasn’t like Baekhyun was everything to you, because the two of you were only friends who had met through Chanyeol. You just had stronger feelings towards him, romantic feelings, and he probably only saw you as a younger sister. Sighing, you crossed your legs and patted your cheeks. You weren’t going to let your childish feelings get in the way of spending time with your friends.

“Can I dance with you guys?” You asked, out of the blue. Chanyeol looked at you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky grin. “You want to dance?” He asked. You were a great singer, but dancing was definitely not a strong suit of yours. You nodded and when you walked up towards the group, you faced the mirror and watched Minseok turn on “Lucky One”.

“Oh, this is my favorite song!” You exclaimed with glee, positioning yourself beside Chanyeol. He was staring at you for a moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. Suddenly, he began laughing uncontrollably, hitting the floor and leaning on poor Kyungsoo beside him. In response to him, you frowned and returned back to your seat. Crossing your arms, you scowled at your best friend and turned away. “Fine, I’ll watch you guys dance first.” The dance room was filled with laughter afterward, and once they finished the dance you got a chance to jump in. You did quite well for someone with two left feet, but Chanyeol kept laughing at you the whole time. He wasn’t making fun of you, and you knew he was just fooling around. Because of the high energy and positivity going around with the guys, all your anxiety washed away that afternoon and you were thankful to have spent time with them.

When Baekhyun entered the studio, you greeted him politely but your heart hadn’t responded like usual. You felt relieved at this response, hoping you’d get over this childish phase soon.

After another hour or so, the guys had ended their rehearsal for the day and wanted to eat dinner for their hard work. You were pretty hungry, but you didn’t want Chanyeol to pay for you again, so you kindly declined their offer. Before leaving the room, Baekhyun asked you once more with a sweet smile. Although your feelings almost faded, Baekhyun still had some kind of spell over you regardless of what you felt. He was someone you didn’t want to disappoint, nevertheless, so you complied.

By the time you all reached the restaurant, you had forgotten about the odd look and excitingly sat at the table while waiting for the meat to grill and the soju to drink. “This is on me!” Baekhyun exclaimed after finishing his third bottle of soju, raising his hand and smiling with pink cheeks. Jongdae rolled his eyes and began to call Sunmi, as her boyfriend was too drunk to do anything. While Baekhyun whined, Chanyeol had barely eaten much of his food. He lazily played with his bottle of beer and rested his cheek against his hand. You, on the other hand, had a bit too much to drink. Jongin and Sehun had began a drinking contest as soon as you all arrived, and you somehow got in the middle of it. At least you won something today.

“Oh, Sunmi. Over here,” Jongdae said, motioning for the long-haired girlfriend over. The two of them headed outside while holding onto a drunk Baekhyun. While watching them head out, you watched Baekhyun kiss Sunmi sweetly for a split second. You didn’t dislike her or felt envious, but you did feel saddened by the whole situation. You weren’t used to having crushes, and you also weren’t used to heartbreak. Watching his affectionate side made you dizzy and had your heart pounding, but it also hurt your chest and made your throat tighten. You guessed you still weren’t over it yet, though your drunken mind might also have been elevating your harbored feelings. However, as you were amidst all these emotions and thoughts, you suddenly slipped off your stool, but felt a tight grip on your arm. Chanyeol grabbed you before you fell onto the floor.

“Oh, thanks..” You mumbled, sitting back on the seat. He sighed and furrowed his brows, looking agitated and worried at the same time. After drinking a few more shots, you began spouting out nonsense and laughing at every dad joke Junmyeon made. Everyone else was laughing or eating, but Chanyeol kept his eyes on you, watching deeply. When you noticed, you felt a bit bashful and started to quiet down. You were very drunk at this point, and everything began feeling numb. Glancing around aimlessly, you gained attention towards your shot glass and went to pour another to drink. As you began pouring the small amount of soju in your mouth, Chanyeol took it out of your hand and stood up. The metal stool screamed as he pushed it backward with his calves, which made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“We’re gonna head out, thanks for the meal.” He said, waving at the rest of the members before gently holding your hand. You were still confused on why you guys were leaving, but as you exited the restaurant, Chanyeol had turned you towards him and began scolding you.

“Why are you like this? You never drink, you never let yourself get carried away. What happened?” Chanyeol’s eyes were locked onto your glazed ones. He had you in his grip, but you were too out of it to answer properly.

“Just once, Chanyeol, just one drin--”

“If you’re sad or unwell, you need to rely on me. Let’s go..” He said with a huff before dragging you over to his black sports car. He carefully placed you on the passenger side before buckling your seatbelt. After starting the engine, he quickly drove off to your apartment building. All the while, you kept mumbling and almost dozing off, and by the time you two had arrived, Chanyeol began taking you in his arms up to your apartment room. When he picked you up with his arms, it took you by surprise but you went along with it. He carried you up the stairs firmly, keeping a straight face while you wrapped your arms around his neck, until opening the door to your flat. When he let you on your feet, you tilted your head and squinted, trying to ask him what his favorite color was.

When he closed the door behind him, his demeanor shifted back to his usual sweet self. He took you to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed, making sure you were covered well with the blankets. You kept staring at him, as he had been staring at you from the doorway.

“Rely on me,” He said softly. You could barely hear him at this point, and only watched his lips move. Soon enough, fatigue and the warmth of the blankets pushed you into a deep slumber. Before your eyes shut entirely, you saw a glimpse of Chanyeol smile before he shut off the lights and headed out of the room.

[tarasstorybook]

Forest Adventures

“Come on Crystal let’s go!” Felicia grabs a small bag, tying it around her waist as she all but takes off out the front door.

“Where are we going again?” Crystal stands up, stretching and yawning.

“The forest to gather herbs that I’ve run out of, again.”

“How long will it take?”

“It shouldn’t take long.”

“Alright, I’m coming.”

Felicia smiles at her familiar, walking out the door and heading for the forest. It was just recently that she noticed she was running out of certain herbs. Having venture to replenish them before she knew exactly where to go to find them.

Meanwhile, a young man laid comfortably on a large branch of a tree deep into the forest, napping happily.

“Felicia did you remember to pack food before you left?” Crystal asks after they had walked awhile.

“Uh sure.” Felicia says, not making eye contact with her familiar.

“You didn’t did you?”

“Yeah I kind of forgot. I know I’m not going to accidentally poison myself though. I know what’ll kill me and what won’t.” Felicia stops by the tree the young man was in, unaware that he was there at all.

Niki was far enough up that he could see her, but she couldn’t see him easily. But just in case he quietly hid himself, peering down curiously at the lovely girl below. “Are you sure?” Crystal asks. “Of course I’m sure.” Felicia says confidently. “Besides, this tree is an apple tree see?” She gestures to the fruit above her.

“I suppose.” Crystal muses. “Did you eat before we left?”

“Nope.”

“Good job kiddo.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just climb the tree watch me.”

“The branch is too high for you.” Crystal sits down and watches Felicia’s attempts to grab the branch above her.

“No it isn’t, ye of little faith.” Felicia tries and misses the branch the first time. “I got this.” She says before Crystal has a chance to say anything about the branch.

Niki chuckled quietly to himself, gracefully climbing down enough to reach the branch Felicia was also reaching for. He put just enough weight on it so it bent down right into the young woman’s grasp. 

“See I told you.” Felicia smiles on her second try.

“If you insist.” Crystal stays in her place watching the young witch try to pull herself up.

“It just takes determination.” She says pulling herself up, sitting on the branch proud of herself.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure it does.”

“You want one?” She asks standing up, using the tree to help keep her balance.

“That’s okay. I’ll just watch you.”

“Whatever.” Felicia shrugs, climbing a little higher.

Niki was surprised when she started to pull herself up onto the branch instead of just grabbing an apple from the branch, and slowly moved backwards in order to avoid a collision with her as she climbed. However, she turned out to be less predictable than he’d supposed, and as she kept climbing as he tried to dodge her without falling out himself, his hand brushed against her arm as she moved.

“Ah!“ 

“What’s wrong?” Crystal stands up at her surprised yelp. “Something just touched me and I have no idea what it was.” “Perhaps another branch?” Crystal wonders. “Maybe.” Felicia stays on the branch she was on, not venturing further. “I don’t know, it’s possible.” She reaches for an apple twisting it then pulling it off its branch. “Coming down now.”

Niki backed up quickly when she moved yet again, not realizing his mistake before his foot slipped off the branch and he went tumbling backwards out of the tree with a yelp. He lost his concentration on disguising himself as soon as his foot slipped, causing him to become visible to all as he hit the ground with a thud. “What was that?” Felicia asks as she climbs down. “Somebody fell out of the tree you are in.” Crystal starts making her way to the other side of the tree. “Really?” Felicia jumps down. “Are they okay?” She joins Crystal.

Niki had landed flat on his back, having hit the ground hard he laid there for a bit to catch his breath and compose himself. “Hey are you okay?” Felicia walks around the other side of the tree, her apple in hand, to see if he was alright.

Niki peeked an eye open, his cheeks taking on a slight pink tinge when he realized what he’d just done and that she’d seen him do it. “…da.” He eventually answered as he slowly got up with a groan, his gold arm bands and earrings glinting in the sunlight. “That sounded like it hurt.”

“…da, it did. But more my pride than anything else.” He chuckled to himself. Felicia lets out a small laugh. “You bruise anything?”

“Probably but I will heal.” “That’s good. That you’ll heal that is.”

“Da.” He smiled, showing his small pointed canines as he did. “So, what’s a pretty young maiden like yourself doing wandering the forest by herself?” “I’m not alone, Crystal is with me.” She gestures to the black dog next to her. “And I’m restocking on herbs that I’ve run out of.”

“Ah, perhaps I could help you?” He offered, glancing suspiciously at the dog. “Um sure I suppose, I know where I’m going but the company would be nice.” Crystal catches his eye and lets out a huff. “What are you staring at?”

Niki did his best to curb his look of surprise, and instead growled quietly in annoyance. “Dog.” “Okay……” Felicia stands awkwardly. “Well I should get those things before the sun goes down. Come on Crystal.” She turns to leave, Crystal takes a moment but soon follows behind her.

Niki followed behind as well, pointing out all the places he frequently napped and amused himself, making Felicia laugh several times as he recounted his shenanigans as they walked. Crystal stays close to Felicia’s side, making a point to stay between them, she didn’t trust Niki at the moment. “Oh gods, you’re funny. I don’t think I introduced myself. I’m Felicia Chamberlain, what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t say. And it’s Nikolai.” “Nikolai.” Felicia repeats to herself. “Pretty, nice to properly meet you.” She smiles at him.

“You too.” “So you spend most of your time in the forest?”

“…I suppose you could say that.” Felicia laughs at this. “Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“The forest isn’t where I live but it’s where I like to spend a lot of my time.” “Ah okay I see now.” “You smell like sulfur.” Crystal comments as they walk. “Crystal.” Felicia scolds. “What? He does.”

Niki turned a shade paler at Crystal’s comment, freezing where he stood. “And you smell like a dog.” He snapped. “I am a dog.” Crystal says, not bothered at his comeback. “Nikolai are you okay? You look like you don’t feel well. Crystal that wasn’t very nice.” Crystal doesn’t say anything, instead she sits down as she waits for the two to catch up.

“I’m alright, you merely have a rude dog.” “I’m a witch’s familiar.” Crystal corrects. “Maybe coming out here was a mistake.” Felicia begins to ponder out loud.

“I know what you are.” Nikolai replied. “And I know what you are.” Crystal says back. “Crystal maybe we should just go home. I can always find those things some other time.” “If that’s what you want.” Crystal rises to her feet.

“I know where a patch of yarrow is if that helps at all.” Niki offered. “So, do I.” Felicia murmurs under her breath. “Um, that-that’s okay.” Crystal shifts at Felicia’s sudden mood change. “Felicia are you alright?” “Can’t you go one day without being so critical about people?” Felicia snaps at her familiar. “This is why I don’t have friends, or at least the few friends I do have are the prince twins back at the castle.” Felicia walks away from both of them in frustration.

“I do not wish to harm you. No matter what your familiar may think of me.” Niki promised.

“Felicia.” Crystal goes after her. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm.” Comes her short reply.

“Any comment that comes to mind that is negative I will keep to myself.” Crystal tries.

Felicia stops to think it over. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Then say sorry to Nikolai for the things you’ve said to him. I gather now that he can understand you.”

Crystal sighs, the things she did to make Felicia feel better. “Very well.” She turns to Niki. “I’m…sorry.”

“Thank you. And like I said, I do not wish to harm her.” Nikolai repeated. 

“So, the yarrow?” Felicia quickly changes the subject.

Niki points to their right into a thicket of trees. “That way, there’s a clearing a short ways in.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Was yarrow the only thing you needed?” Crystal asks.

“I think? I can’t remember.”

“You’ll have to make a list for next time.”

“Yeah.” Felicia rubs the back of her head, blushing slightly.

“Hah, I’m sure you’ll remember soon.”

“Heh, yeah maybe.” Felicia blushes brighter.

“Hey, maybe I’ll see you again sometime later?” Niki asked, helping her pick the herbs.

“Um, yeah okay. I don’t always come here though. I live back that way in town.” Felicia gestures back the way they came, putting the herbs they collected into the pouch tied around her waist.

“That would please me very much to see you again Felicia.” He smiled charmingly, handing her the herbs he had picked.

“S-sure, okay.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Niki looked concerned. “…did your familiar tell you what I am?”

“No I just, it’s just, uh.”

“She’s flustered.” Crystal puts plainly.

“…oh. I’m sorry if I’ve done something to make you uncomfortable.” Niki apologized.

“No you didn’t, it’s just that I can’t, I don’t. Ugh.”

“What she’s trying to say is that you haven’t done anything wrong or made her feel uncomfortable. This is her first outing with someone other than myself or her uncle.” Crystal explains.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah what she said.” Felicia blushes slightly.

“Perhaps I should let you go home now malyshka. The sun is starting to go down.” Niki nodded towards the setting sun. “May I walk you home?”

Felicia blushes at the name, she didn’t know what it meant but she had a feeling it was something endearing. “Uh sure, I hadn’t noticed that the sun was going down until you said something.”

He held a hand out to her. “Shall we?”

“Yeah okay.” She accepts his hand, closing her pouch as she stood up.

“You are quite lovely.” He grinned, placing a kiss on her hand as he helped her up.

“Thank you.” Felicia smiles, hiding her face as she blushes even more.

“Felicia if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re a little love struck.” Crystal comments, smirking as best as a dog could.

“No, maybe, so.” Felicia pulls her hand from Niki’s, avoiding Crystal’s gaze.

“Okay Felicia.” Crystal starts leading the way home.

Niki chuckled to himself, amused at Felicia’s shyness towards his advances. “So how long has your family been practicing magic? If it’s not too bold of me.”

“Not at all.” She waves off the concern. “Um, special gifts run in the family. My mother can see into one’s future, my uncle practices magic. It skipped my father and was passed down to me. We were all born with something.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yeah kinda, you get used to everyone in your family having some kind of gift.”

“What’s your gift malyshka?”

“I have white magic. How come I wasn’t able to see you earlier in the tree?”

Niki opened his mouth to respond, looking surprised. “I-um…” He looked unsure of what to say. “… I was hiding myself from you.”

“How do you do that? I’ve been trying to figure that out for years.”

“I- I’m not a magic user Felicia. It comes easily to me.” Niki stared at the ground as they walked.

“Not a magic user? So then how did you do that?”

Niki finally looked up to meet her gaze. “I’m not human Felicia, you really haven’t noticed? I’ve already healed from my fall.”

“No I haven’t noticed, I thought Crystal’s comment was just a mean comment.”

“No, she was telling the truth.” Niki sighed, stopping where he was and glancing around before revealing his true form. He looked mostly the same, albeit including two small horns that peeked out from his messy brown hair, and a forked tail that waved behind him. “I suppose now is as good as any to come clean with you.”

Felicia was at a loss for words, she wasn’t sure how to process this new information. “Ah, um well okay then.” “You okay Felicia?” Crystal’s tone was concerned, she couldn’t tell if her magic user was okay or not.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just new is all.”

Niki quickly re-hid his tail and horns, hoping that she wouldn’t run away screaming now. They usually had that effect on humans who weren’t under his charms. “Felicia?” He asked carefully.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright? You look a little spooked love.”

“Deep breaths Felicia, remember how your mother taught you how to calm down. Just breathe.”

Felicia takes a deep breath, calming her beating heart. “Yeah I’m okay.” She says with a small smile.

“Oh good, you had me worried there for a second.” Niki smiled warmly. “So, you’re not frightened by me?” “It’s something new but nothing a little adjusting can’t fix.”

At this Niki laughed. “I’m sorry but this is amusing to me, I just revealed to you that you’ve been picking herbs with a demon of lust all day and you just seem to shrug it off like it’s no big deal.”

“It kind of is no big deal really.” Felicia shrugs and continues on her way back home. “I never felt like I was in danger.”

“And you never were.” Niki followed along, looking relieved.

“Exactly.” Felicia smiles at him.

“Might I still see you again soon?” Niki stopped at her doorstep. 

“Of course.” Felicia nods, Crystal standing beside her.

Nikolai grinned. “Then I shall bid you goodnight my fair maiden, and shall we see each other again soon.”

“Goodnight Nikolai.”

“See you around maybe Nikolai.” Crystal says her goodbyes, nodding her head. “Come on Felicia, your uncle might be worried about you.“

"Oh, yeah, of course.” She didn’t want to go inside but Crystal was right. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow so, yeah.” Felicia finally opens her door and walks inside, closing the door behind her.

[dfroza]

A reflection of heavenly silence

is seen in Today’s reading of the ancient writing of John in a book, this being chapter 8 of the book of Revelation that reveals God’s plan for both pure Judgment of the world and of its rebirth in Light and in Love

in A grand end of time.

from John’s writing of a heavenly vision:

When the Lamb ripped off the seventh seal, Heaven fell quiet— complete silence for about half an hour.

[Blowing the Trumpets]

I saw the Seven Angels who are always in readiness before God handed seven trumpets. Then another Angel, carrying a gold censer, came and stood at the Altar. He was given a great quantity of incense so that he could offer up the prayers of all the holy people of God on the Golden Altar before the Throne. Smoke billowed up from the incense-laced prayers of the holy ones, rose before God from the hand of the Angel.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 8:1-4 (The Message)

and Today’s paired chapter with this as a chapter read from each of the Testaments is Jeremiah 50 in which is seen Judgment upon Babylon for how God’s people were treated there, which ultimately leads them back to their own land as a sign of rebirth:

The Message of God through the prophet Jeremiah on Babylon, land of the Chaldeans:

“Get the word out to the nations! Preach it!

Go public with this, broadcast it far and wide:

Babylon taken, god-Bel hanging his head in shame,

god-Marduk exposed as a fraud.

All her god-idols shuffling in shame,

all her play-gods exposed as cheap frauds.

For a nation will come out of the north to attack her,

reduce her cities to rubble.

Empty of life—no animals, no people—

not a sound, not a movement, not a breath.

“In those days, at that time”—God’s Decree—

“the people of Israel will come,

And the people of Judah with them.

Walking and weeping, they’ll seek me, their God.

They’ll ask directions to Zion

and set their faces toward Zion.

They’ll come and hold tight to God,

bound in a covenant eternal they’ll never forget.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 50:1-5 (The Message)

And now this is what God-of-the-Angel-Armies,

the God of Israel, has to say:

“Just watch! I’m bringing doom on the king of Babylon and his land,

the same doom I brought on the king of Assyria.

But Israel I’ll bring home to good pastures.

He’ll graze on the hills of Carmel and Bashan,

On the slopes of Ephraim and Gilead.

He will eat to his heart’s content.

In those days and at that time”—God’s Decree—

“they’ll look high and low for a sign of Israel’s guilt—nothing;

Search nook and cranny for a trace of Judah’s sin—nothing.

These people that I’ve saved will start out with a clean slate.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 50:18-20 (The Message)

Ultimately, Heaven’s plan (its Master Blueprint design) is for the rebirth of the heavens and beautiful earth that was destroyed by human pride and rebellion against Love, who is our Creator. of which is reflected upon in the ancient writing of the prophets of Israel:

“Do you get it, Mister Pride? I’m your enemy!”

Decree of the Master, God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

“Time’s run out on you:

That’s right: It’s Doomsday.

Mister Pride will fall flat on his face.

No one will offer him a hand.

I’ll set his towns on fire.

The fire will spread wild through the country.”

And here’s more from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“The people of Israel are beaten down,

the people of Judah along with them.

Their oppressors have them in a grip of steel.

They won’t let go.

But the Rescuer is strong:

God-of-the-Angel-Armies.

Yes, I will take their side,

I’ll come to their rescue.

I’ll soothe their land,

but rough up the people of Babylon.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 50:31-34 (The Message)

and it really does matter how we treat others while here in this world, just as seen in the lines of Today’s reading of Psalm 15 for September 15:

Living in the Shining Place

A poetic song, by King David

Lord, who dares to dwell with you?

Who presumes the privilege of being close to you,

living next to you in your shining place of glory?

Who are those who daily dwell in the life of the Holy Spirit?

They are passionate and wholehearted,

always sincere and always speaking the truth—

for their hearts are trustworthy.

They refuse to slander or insult others;

they’ll never listen to gossip or rumors,

nor would they ever harm another with their words.

They will speak out passionately against evil and evil workers

while commending the faithful ones who follow after the truth.

They make firm commitments and follow through,

even at great cost.

They never crush others with exploitation or abuse

and they would never be bought with a bribe

against the innocent.

They will never be shaken; they will stand firm forever.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 15 (The Passion Translation)

to be paired with wisdom from the Proverbs with Today’s chapter:

Respond gently when you are confronted

and you’ll defuse the rage of another.

Responding with sharp, cutting words will only make it worse.

Don’t you know that being angry

can ruin the testimony of even the wisest of men?

When wisdom speaks, understanding becomes attractive.

But the words of the fool make their ignorance look laughable.

The eyes of the Lord are everywhere

and he takes note of everything that happens.

He watches over his lovers,

and he also sees the wickedness of the wicked.

When you speak healing words,

you offer others fruit from the tree of life.

But unhealthy, negative words do nothing but crush their hopes.

You’re stupid to mock the instruction of a father,

but welcoming correction will make you brilliant.

There is power in the house of the righteous,

but the house of the wicked is filled with trouble,

no matter how much money they have.

When wisdom speaks, revelation-knowledge is released,

but finding true wisdom in the word of a fool is futile.

It is despicable to the Lord

when people use the worship of the Almighty

as a cloak for their sin,

but every prayer of his godly lovers is pleasing to his heart.

The Lord detests the lifestyle of the wicked,

but he loves those who pursue purity.

Severe punishment awaits the one

who turns away from the truth,

and those who rebel against correction will die.

Even hell itself holds no secrets from the Lord God,

for all is exposed before his eyes,

and so much more the heart of every human being.

The know-it-all never esteems the one who tries to correct him.

He refuses to seek good advice from the wise.

[Living an Ascended Life]

A cheerful heart puts a smile on your face,

but a broken heart leads to depression.

Lovers of God hunger after truth,

but those without understanding

feast on foolishness and don’t even realize it.

Everything seems to go wrong

when you feel weak and depressed.

But when you choose to be cheerful,

every day will bring you more and more joy and fullness.

It’s much better to live simply,

surrounded in holy awe and worship of God,

than to have great wealth with a home full of trouble.

It’s much better to have a kind, loving family, even with little,

than to have great wealth

with nothing but hatred and strife all around you.

A touchy, hot-tempered man picks a fight,

but the calm, patient man knows how to silence strife.

Nothing seems to work right for the lazy man,

but life seems smooth and easy when your heart is virtuous.

When a son learns wisdom,

a father’s heart is glad.

But the man who shames his mother is a foolish son.

The senseless fool treats life like a joke,

but the one with living-understanding makes good choices.

Your plans will fall apart right in front of you

if you fail to get good advice.

But if you first seek out multiple counselors,

you’ll watch your plans succeed.

Everyone enjoys giving great advice.

But how delightful it is to say the right thing at the right time!

The life path of the prudent lifts them progressively heavenward,

delivering them from the death spiral

that keeps tugging them downward.

The Lord champions the widow’s cause,

but watch him as he smashes down the houses of the haughty!

The Lord detests wicked ways of thinking,

but he enjoys lovely and delightful words.

The one who puts earning money above his family

will have trouble at home,

but those who refuse to exploit others

will live in peace.

Lovers of God think before they speak,

but the careless blurt out wicked words meant to cause harm.

The Lord doesn’t respond to the wicked,

but he’s moved to answer the prayers of his godly lovers.

Eyes that focus on what is beautiful bring joy to the heart,

and hearing a good report

refreshes and strengthens the inner being.

Accepting constructive criticism

opens your heart to the path of life,

making you right at home among the wise.

Refusing constructive criticism shows

you have no interest in improving your life,

for revelation-insight only comes as you accept correction

and the wisdom that it brings.

The source of revelation-knowledge is found

as you fall down in surrender before the Lord.

Don’t expect to see Shekinah glory

until the Lord sees your sincere humility.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 15 (The Passion Translation)

and concluded by the lines of Psalm 87:

A Korah Psalm

He founded Zion on the Holy Mountain—

and oh, how God loves his home!

Loves it far better than all

the homes of Jacob put together!

God’s hometown—oh!

everyone there is talking about you!

I name them off, those among whom I’m famous:

Egypt and Babylon,

also Philistia,

even Tyre, along with Cush.

Word’s getting around; they point them out:

“This one was born again here!”

The word’s getting out on Zion:

“Men and women, right and left,

get born again in her!”

God registers their names in his book:

“This one, this one, and this one—

born again, right here.”

Singers and dancers give credit to Zion:

“All my springs are in you!”

The Book of Psalms, Poem 87 (The Message)

and the number 87 reminds me of the alphabetic number 87 of each of the words “Honeoye” and “street” which is where i was living back in ‘08 with my friend Calvin at his house after his divorce as well as during mine.

and the rebirth of Psalm 87 speaks to my heart about the rebirth of my dream and of its seed of writing, after reaching a point of being buried and dying, to come back to life again.

which reminds me of writing this poetic memory from january of ‘14:

to be accompanied by this that speaks of rebirth as well:

my reading in the Bible for Sunday, September 15, day 87 of Summer and day 258 of the year:

[icawritestbh]

REVIEW: “Waitress” Serves Up a Feminist Pie

Upon entering Brooks Atkinson Theatre, I caught a whiff of a freshly baked pie. Although there was no real pie being baked inside the theatre, as it was a little stint by the set designers, it begged the question—What’s cooking?

Waitress tells the story of Jenna (Jessie Mueller), who works in Joe’s Diner and has a knack for creating mouth-watering pies. She has dreams of opening her own pie shop, but is weighed down by her abusive husband, Earl (Nick Cordero). She’s close friends with her co-workers, Becky (Keala Settle) and Dawn (Kimiko Glenn), and her demanding but sweet boss, Joe (Dakin Matthews). At the start, she finds out that she has an unwanted pregnancy with Earl and begins her regular visits to Dr. Jim Pomatter (Drew Gehling), her new OB Gyne. To kickstart her dreams of opening a pie shop, she plans to join a pie-making contest. But things get messy, as she starts an affair with Dr. Pomatter and deals with the abuses of her husband. Sounds like a simple formula for a Broadway show, but what’s inside?

          The sugar. In baking, sugar serves several purposes. The most obvious is that it gives our pie its sweet taste, making it the crucial ingredient. After all, does anyone really enjoy a sugarfree pie? Likewise, the music in a Broadway show sweetens the experience and is a defining component of any show.

          The music and lyrics of Waitress are by Sara Bareilles, a singer-songwriter known for her hits like “Love Song” and “Gravity.” Her musical style of mixing pop and soulful acoustics with a sweet yet powerful vocal has certainly carried over to Waitress, with the songs sounding distinctly created by her.

          Some songs on the cast recording sound like they could have easily been part of Bareilles’ discography and played on the radio. With a few tweaks with its lyrics, the 11 o’clock number, “She Used to be Mine,” could be a pop heartbreak anthem. Similarly, “Everything Changes” features falsetto riffs that are reminiscent of Bareilles’ “Gravity.” This is what Bareilles excelled at—she created pop-influenced Broadway songs that are relatable and digestible to all.

          Other songs are less radio-ready, but are ear candy just the same. Mueller, Settle and Glenn’s vocals melt like butter onto each other, forming the perfect harmonies. At the start of the show, we meet our trio as they showcase their vibrant personalities and tight vocals in “The Negative.” Our heroine, Jenna, is a sweet southern gal who’s too nice for her own good. Becky is sassy, strong and brutally honest, while Dawn is awkward, nerdy and timid. On paper, they sound like an unlikely band of friends, but like their vocals, they relate harmoniously and have a genuine connection with one another, most strikingly in “A Soft Place to Land.”

          “The Negative” also kickstarts the show on a feminist note. The song is about how Becky and Dawn convince Jenna to finally take a pregnancy test, the three of them hoping that it would come out negative. They speak graphically, in terms that only women would relate to. With lyrics like, “A squat and a squeeze, a prayer and a please” as well as “What if his boys don’t swim, I mean wow! Miraculous luck!”, we are immediately thrust into a feminist ride. As seen from this song number, the show has no plans to shy away from showing the raw and real struggles women face. Several other song numbers, like “Contraction Ballet,” with synchronized breathing sounds to signify Jenna’s childbirth agony, and “I Didn’t Plan It,” a song where Becky tries to justify her infidelity, are proof that Waitress will make sure that the perspectives of women are not kept in the dark, but put under the spotlight.

          My personal favorite was Glenn’s performance of “When He Sees Me.” This song number made Kimiko Glenn an instant stand-out in the cast. Dawn’s personality shone through this number—quirky, overly cautious, but all-in-all, vulnerable to falling in love. Dawn sings, “He could be less than kind/Or even worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes/And make me laugh, come out of hiding.” Crazy enough, most of us can relate to this fear of love and happiness, and this was perfectly encapsulated in this fun and genuine song number.

          The butter. In baking, butter works in concert with other ingredients to give our pie its body and texture. Similarly, the actors work with the script, score, and set to form and give character to the show. Waitress’ story is focused on the struggles of our trio, and featured three powerful actresses to match. Jessie Mueller was spotless as our heroine, Jenna. As expected from our Tony-awarded lead, she delivered a three-dimensional character, portraying Jenna as a hard-working waitress, a supportive friend, an abused wife, a foolish lover, and a gifted pie-maker, all in one. Her vocal control was impeccable, switching from sweet falsettos to powerful belts effortlessly. It’s as if the role of Jenna was made for her.

          Keala Settle and Kimiko Glenn also fit like a glove in their respective roles as Becky and Dawn, portraying their characters as imperfect, but understandably so. This trio had such great chemistry together, and their antics and raw dialogue provide some of the highlights of the show.  

The male cast delivered some highlights as well. Christopher Fitzgerald, who plays Dawn’s creepy-stalker-turned-love-interest, gives us a memorable performance in “Never Ever Getting Rid of Me.” On the other hand, Drew Gehling’s performance as Dr. Jim Pomatter, the leading man, falls flat. Even when he delivers his line in the turning point of the show, his expression made me feel nothing. Perhaps the story purposely never fleshed out his story enough as to focus more on the female characters, but as he was the leading man, I never felt compelled to root for him. Ultimately, it’s the female leads who steal the show.

          And finally, the flour, which gives our pie its structure. Just the same, it’s the book of a play that ties all the different elements together. Waitress was based on the 2007 film of the same title, written, directed, and starred in by Adrienne Shelly. Just as the source material’s creative team was headed by a woman, the Broadway version is a landmark production, as it is the first to be directed, written, scored and choreographed by an all-female team.

          Waitress has a simple plot. It’s an unpretentious story about a woman whom we’ve all met before—the unhappy wife, who is resilient yet impulsive, daring but fearful. What makes this story so exhilarating is how it truthfully depicts the struggles of Jenna and her friends, giving us flawed yet likable characters that make us laugh, scratch our heads, and cry in the span of two and a half hours. Jenna feels familiar, like a friend we’d scold for having an affair with her OB Gyne, cheer on endlessly as she prepares for her pie-making contest, and hold in our arms as she breaks down and loses hope for herself. She is real and full of depth, making her story one that is undoubtedly feminist.

          It is noteworthy that she eventually sees her newfound romance, not as the solution to her problems, but as a catalyst to act on them. And as seen in the songs and dialogue of Waitress, its all-female creative team had no plans of sugarcoating the desires of women that society has marked as taboo. Our trio sings about not wanting to be pregnant, wishing to leave their husbands, and desiring other men. But more importantly, they sing about their fears and dreams.

          In the end, our sweet Jenna triumphs. We see her making pies with sugar, butter, and flour, but feeling happier and freer than ever. What’s cooking, you ask? No longer a Pregnant Miserable Self-Pitying Loser Pie, but a Fearlessly Fun and Feminist Pie.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, 17

Notes: As always, thanks to my awesome editors Drucilla and BlueShifted! Recently I realized they've been helping me out since last summer. Wow, a whole year already? Time flies when you work with fantastic people. Happy Anniversary!

Was anyone else missing the mermaids? I really do like writing these silly girls. As for the double negative line, I have to thank Lunammoon who pointed it out. (I hate to disappoint everyone but I am honestly not that clever XD Way to go, Luna!)

Summary: What does it mean to love and be loved? As Mickey and Minnie struggle to understand this, the god of war unveils his plan to have a war lasting forever... and he will do anything to make it happen.

Tomorrow was the big day for the chariot race, but for certain immortal beings, it was the last thing on their minds. Ever since the “blow-up”, as Daisy had named it, Minnie had not eaten, slept, or even moved. None of these were entirely essential, since Minnie was a goddess, but it was a saddening display, with Minnie flat on her back and staring up at the sky, though it was clear from her eyes she wasn't truly staring at anything. The ducks had allowed her to lay on their bed and she hadn't budged an inch since, for all of Daisy's attempts. Daisy had tried ranting against Mickey, telling jokes, inviting souls to come and visit Minnie, but they didn't make her bat an eyelash.

On this day, Daisy's attempt was showing off all the tricks Cerberus knew – playing fetch with three heads was quite the challenge – and she was also going to ask Donald for assistance. Her husband had said he had business elsewhere, and his schedule couldn't be disrupted even for a dear friend. Daisy reluctantly understood and didn't ask any further – which was good for Donald since he had lied right to her face.

He was walking on the sandy shores of Mickey's island, hands knotted behind him and head ducked low. He knew if he'd told Daisy, she'd demand to come along with Minnie, and he didn't feel that would help. There were things that needed to be said from uncle to nephew, from friend to friend, and having them all crowd Mickey would make the conversation more difficult. Maybe with one person, Donald stood a chance. It'd help if he knew what to say, but as he walked on hot sand and kicked aside seashells, nothing came to mind. An apology was due, of course, but what then? How was he supposed to undo centuries of self-loathing in one good-mannered talk?

Donald scratched his head, trying to figure out if Mickey would even let him say anything. He'd come again and again if he had to, but what if that made things worse? He scratched and scratched – and then heard a different scratching sound. Confused, he lifted his head, and saw the source of the odd sound. Upon on the sand and nearing the jagged rocks was a small mermaid, her long wet hair strewn all over her bare back, her scaled tail flopping uselessly behind her. The girl – for it was a girl, too young to be considered a woman, even in years of fish – was crawling on her belly, using her hands to dig at the sand and ground to move inch by inch. Her sharp teeth were grinding together, and there were hints of tears in her eyes. Her face was pain in every definition – which finally kicked Donald into realizing she could use some help.

“H-Hey!” he called out, jogging toward the surprised mermaid and kneeling by her side. “What are you doing? That can't be pleasant.”

The mermaid blinked wide, trying to recall if she'd ever seen this man before, and she hadn't, and then millions of curious questions flooded her mind. But she visibly fought off her internal eternal chatterbox and resumed her crawl, grunting quietly. “Mickey's been crying, and I want to know why, and he won't come out, no he won't. We called and called and called but he won't come out and he cries and I want to know why. Crying means sadness and if Mickey is sad then I'm sad and I don't want to be sad and I don't want Mickey to be sad, no.”

Donald looked toward the cave, wondering if Mickey's wails had been that loud or his fish family had been that perceptive. “I'm...actually here about that too. Maybe we can help him out together.”

“Together?” she repeated, looking back at him, and then nodding. “Yes, because two is more than one, and two means twice as much help! My sisters didn't want to come, the land is painful, the land is dry. But Mickey's crying is much more painful. I'd rather be dry than have Mickey cry.”

“You said it, missy.” Donald rose back to his feet. “But I think if he saw how much pain you were putting yourself through, he'd be even sadder. Before I help him out, let me help you out.” He bent over and began trying to lift up the mermaid – and regretted it in seconds. The wistful tales of sailors were flat out lies, because this dainty looking maiden weighed more than a net full of freshly caught salmon. It also didn't help that she was taller than he was. If he was in his “other” form he could have lifted her with ease, but he suspected scaring her into hysteria wouldn't have made things easier. It took several attempts and many bites on his tongue to keep sailor swears from leaving his mouth, but eventually he had her on his back, and he managed to walk. “Criminy,” he muttered, now doubly grateful Daisy wasn't here to see this, “What does Mickey feed you? Cement?”

“He doesn't feed us. We feed him. We eat fish. He eats fish.”

“Never mind.” With the extra load on his back, it was much harder for Donald to navigate around the sharp rocks, and his legs became nicked several times. Instead of becoming angry, though, it gave him more to think about. Mickey's usual routine consisted of walking around these rocks, and he had his own disadvantage holding him back. If Mickey never complained about them, then Donald certainly had no right to. The girl's arms were looped around Donald's neck, and she smelled of the sea. She ran her tongue over her lips over and over, trying not to let questions override her original mission. It was perhaps the quietest any mermaid had ever been for this amount of time.

Within the cave, the Axelias were still hard at work with no change from their routine. Donald hoped this was a good sign, that if Mickey was also working then he had enough mental strength to continue living. The Axelias momentarily paused in their work to watch the incomers, and the mermaid would wave to them, making her weight wiggle on Donald's back. At this rate Donald began to think he'd need a walking stick too. He felt the warmth of the furnace, and his heart lifted – but once he saw the workshop, his heart sank back down.

Broken weaponry and jewelry were strewn on the floor, and apparently the Axelias hadn't been permitted to clean it up. Judging from the way they were cracked and snapped, this wasn't Ares' doing. It was the force of a small man throwing things down, or smacking them with his stick. Blueprints had been ripped into shreds, and the torches that lined the walls were down to their last flicker, no one bothering to replace them or reignite the dying ones. On the anvil where Mickey put all his current projects sat Minnie's tiara, its pristine shells twinkling in what little light there was. It had been left there since Pete invaded his cave, and Minnie had yet to pick it up. Finally, there was Mickey, who wasn't in bed but sitting on his bench, a hammer in his hand.

The days past hadn't been kind to Mickey – or more accurately, he hadn't been kind to himself. He clearly hadn't bathed, his fur matted in some places and soot sprinkling off his fingers and toes. His chest had begun to sink in – unlike Minnie, he did need to eat, and this was the result of not having a bite since he left Ippos enraged. His ribs were beginning to poke out, and his dirty clothes hung off, as if they too were giving up on everything. Shadows under his eyes proved he'd barely slept, or had been crying on and off. Perhaps both. He hadn't noticed the two of them entering, his dark eyes staying on the tiara.

Donald saw the tiara, and then the hammer, and then panic struck him. Was Mickey going to destroy that too? “No, don't!” Not registering the fact that Mickey's arms were limp and hadn't lifted the tool, Donald tried to run forward to stop what wasn't happening. Alas, he slipped on one of the ripped scrolls, and with the far too heavy burden on his back, he fell forward, splat, onto his stomach. He was fairly certain at least three sharp things were now embedded in his body. If Donald wasn't a deity himself, he'd swear some stronger force in the universe had it out for him. “Owww.”

As upset as Mickey was, even he couldn't ignore all that noise. He turned his head to look at the disruption, and first noticed Donald, and his anger brewed. “You!” But then he realized who was with him, and anger was met with confusion. “Damara! What are you doing here?”

“Crushing my lungs,” Donald answered, unable to get up.

“Mickey!” Damara the mermaid reached for him, but couldn't move any further. “You were crying and you wouldn't come out so I knew you were sad so I had to come here to stop your sadness!”

“I – I wasn't...” Of course had had been, but it was mortifying to admit it. “Get back to the water, you'll dry up here! Go back right now!”

“She just got here, she's not going anywhere!” Donald snapped, trying to use his elbows and arms to slightly lift himself up. “She came out all this way to see you, she's not going back until she's good and ready!” A pause. “Also, um, me.”

“Yeah, you,” Mickey growled, snatching up his walking stick to he could get up. “I thought I made it pretty darn clear that I never wanted to see you again! You humiliated me, you treated me like trash! All of you using me like some kind of game...” He slammed his walking stick down, missing Donald's beak by mere inches. “If you think I'm ever going to forgive you, you've got another thing coming!”

“Well, that works out, cause I didn't plan on asking for your forgiveness.”

Mickey opened his mouth to let another rant fly out, and then closed it. Had Donald actually said that? This wasn't how arguments were supposed to go. His lips kept moving without any actual speech, trying to understand what was going on. He finally came to a decision. “Axelia, come here and help Damara.”

“Yes-Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.” The nearest Axelia had been rolling up whatever scrolls were left, but now she abandoned this duty to walk over and lift Damara into her arms. The weight meant little to her, easily able to hold her close to her golden chest. Damara had never been this close to any of the other Axelias, and began to move her hands all over the mechanical servant, curious about how she felt.

Donald slowly managed to get up, picking shards of glass and metal from his aching body. “Couldn't be a designer of pillows, had to be a designer of sharp jewelry...”

“What did you mean?” Mickey cut him off, watching him warily. “You said you didn't plan on asking for my forgiveness.” That statement should have made him even more furious, but it was so absurd that he had to know the reasoning behind it.

Donald rubbed the back of his neck, allowing the pains of his body to slowly melt away. “I don't ask for things I know I don't have a chance of getting...Or deserving.” He sighed, forcing himself to meet Mickey's eyes. “I am sorry for not telling you who Minnie was. That was wrong, none of us should have gone through with it.”

“No, you shouldn't have!” Mickey jabbed a hard finger into Donald's chest. He would have preferred lobbing a fist, but doing so would have meant losing his balance what with his bad leg. “You all knew how I felt about Aphrodite, and didn't care! You know what she did to me! She told all of Mount Olympus that we were gettin' married!”

Donald merely nodded. “And that was wrong too.”

“And she had a million and one chances to tell me, but she didn't! She was never honest with me!”

“That was also wrong.”

“And – and – stop agreeing with me!” How were you supposed to vent out your rage to someone if they didn't argue back? It didn't work into his belief that the trio had been using him as merely a pawn for their amusement. But that had to be true, because Mickey wasn't worth anything else. “Stop acting like you care! None of you do!”

Donald calmly crossed his arms. “Then why am I here?”

“Because...” Mickey's eyes bounced around, trying to find an answer to that. “Because you feel sorry for me! Because you pity me!”

The elder god took a deep breath, knowing his next question was risky.  “Mickey...what's so wrong with pity?”

Just as Donald had guessed, this singular question engulfed Mickey in sheer rage, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull. “What-” He gasped for air, and then forgoing his stick he clenched fistfuls of Donald's robe, even as his body began to sink. “What's wrong with – I won't have anyone pity me!” He was snarling, trying to drag Donald down with him, his anger so white hot that his fingernails began to tear through Donald's clothes. “All I've done, I've done on my own! I've never needed anyone's help! I won't have anyone look down at me because of what I am!”

“Really?” Donald quirked an eyebrow, allowing his nephew to rip his perfectly good outfit. “Because you sure do seem to pity yourself a lot.”

There is a stage of anger that not many people know about because, to their fortune, they've never experienced it. It's such an intense, overblown sense of fury that it leaves one completely stupefied, making them still and silent. Donald was quick to take advantage of this moment, placing a flat hand between Mickey's ears and lightly pushing him back an inch. “I can understand all the hurt you must have felt after Hera threw you down here, but she didn't keep you from ever leaving the island. Yes, your leg isn't exactly like everyone else's out there, but you were the only one who kept pointing that out when you were in that outside world. Not everyone is going to like you, but most of the people you've met have! You're a good kid! But you're the one holding yourself back from everything and everyone!”

Mickey remembered how to breathe and did so rapidly. He had thought Donald came to beg Mickey to take Minnie back, maybe say oooh they didn't meeean it, it had all just been a joooke, but here was talk of loving himself and the value he'd never seen. He wanted to reject it outright because it was so unprecedented. “No,” he managed to get out, trying to look for his dropped walking stick without letting go of Donald. “No, it's not like that. There are people who – who don't care, who stare, who think I'm a reject-”

“And who cares what those kind of people think?!” Donald grabbed Mickey's wrists, trying to make Mickey look at him. “There are people who love you for you who are, and I'm one of them! Minnie has nothing to do with how proud I am of you! You've made amazing things, and you've got a great big heart! I wouldn't want you to change – except to love yourself as much as your friends do!”

“I don't have friends, I don't have real friends!” Mickey tried to fight him off but couldn't, the humiliating tears touching his eyes again. He wasn't worthy of love or friendship or family, he was a used plaything of the gods, and Donald couldn't be right – because if Donald was right then he had spent years and years and years and YEARS of suffering for no reason. “Nobody needs me! I don't need nobody and nobody needs me!”

“I need you,” Damara said, raising her hand.

“As-As-As-Do-I,” Alexia added, and the nearest Axelia repeated it, and so did the next, and so did the next, until every Axelia in the entire cave had said so.

The bizarre echo chamber caused the men to stop wrestling and stare stupidly at the ladies. When it was quiet again, Damara took the chance to speak up. “If I didn't know Mickey, I would be very, very sad. Mickey makes us pretty things and he plays with us and makes us smile and loves us very much.”

“That's-” Mickey began, trying to rebuff her, but her innocent eyes held truth. “That's... different. You don't need me.”

“Without-Mickey-Mickey-Mickey-I-Would-Not-Exist.” Axelia spoke without being addressed. “You-Ensure-My-Functions-Go-Go-Go-As-Normal.”

“That's different too!” Mickey said again, fire burning in his throat. “That's not what it means to need someone!”

Donald was losing his patience, and he grabbed Mickey by the shoulders, spinning him around until he was sitting on the bench. “Look, Mickey, in the great, grand, gigantic scheme of things? Nobody needs anybody!” he announced, releasing his bewildered nephew. “We're gods, we could live all by ourselves if we wanted! And so could the mortals! Mortals could do exactly what you've done, just shut themselves in their home and only provide for themselves. No, maybe none of us actually need each other – but we all want to! We want to have families, find loved ones, make friends, because no one wants to be alone! And you, you've wrapped yourself up in all this hate and fear because you think everyone will reject you on sight, and you convinced yourself that it's okay! That you don't need anyone in order to live! And you're right, you don't – but you want to!” If this at last wouldn't get through to his nephew, then he'd have to forgo words and dive into action. There was only one thing that wasn't destroyed. He suddenly grabbed the tiara with both hands, lifting it high in the air, ready for it to join its brethren down on the floor.

Except this time it was Mickey reaching and crying out, “No! Don't!” Which surprised himself. Donald looked at him, still holding the tiara up, and Mickey looked away, mumbling quietly. “I...I worked really hard on that.”

Donald lowered the tiara down. “I can see. It's very good craftsmanship. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“...I am,” Mickey said after a moment, not looking at Donald nor the gift in Donald's hands. It was dawning on Mickey that it was one of the few things that wasn't a smashed wreck.

Donald stood by Mickey's side, and placed the tiara in Mickey's lap. “You don't have to forgive Minnie, or any of us. I can't make you do that, and I can't make you leave this place either. But you were happy out there, those smiles weren't lies. You like being out there. And that's what I really came here to say.” Mickey was hesitant to look up, and Donald tried to smile. “You can stay away from all of us, if that's what you really want. But you have no excuse not to enjoy the world. Shoot, if I let everyone's fear and rumors about me hold me back, I never would have discovered how much I love sailing. But I did it anyway, because I don't need everyone to like me.”

Mickey touched the tiara, letting one of the dangling seashells rest in his open, dirty palm. “...Was she... ever going to tell me?”

Here, Donald decided blunt honesty was best. “Probably not. Probably never. She meant well, but she didn't want to make you upset, she didn't want a fight...Which, let me tell you, is not the basis for any healthy relationship.”

At this, Mickey stared at him in confusion. “You and Daisy fight all the time. How is that healthy?”

“Fighting is normal, nephew. Because even the most lovey-dovey sappy couple has to disagree on something. It's how you better understand each other. If you only see the world from one point of view, you never get anywhere. It's how you're stuck here. Maybe most couples shouldn't argue as much as Daisy and I do – she always starts it anyway.” Another reason he was glad he hadn't brought her along, yet he still felt he was going to pay for that remark. “But if you want to be with Minnie again, you've both got to learn it's okay to be mad at each other, and it's okay to argue.” He then paused, waiting. “...Do you want to be with Minnie again?”

Yes, he did, and no, he didn't. Minnie was sweet and kind – but she was headstrong and impulsive. She was cheerful and optimistic – but she was also cowardly and prideful. Her intentions meant well but she never gave thought to the consequences. “I don't know,” he finally decided, his voice pained. “What if she's just...what I'm just... She's the goddess of love. How can I trust how I feel about her?”

Donald regretted the nonsense he'd said about the power of Minnie's touch – there were still many mysteries about her, and he'd gone and added another. “Not everyone loves Minnie. Hera hates her guts. It's something you two have in common.” He got a sour look for that comparison. “Okay, so Hera isn't the most pleasant person to begin with, but it still counts. And no matter how much I care for Minnie, Daisy will always be the one I want to be with most of all.” He then scratched his head, trying to sort out the remaining puzzles. “I'll be honest...After all this time, we still don't know where she came from, or what she's capable of. Maybe she can make people love her. Maybe she can't. But one thing I can say with confidence is that love existed long before Minnie showed up. She gave me the drive to come find you, and it's that action that makes me like her, not what she is.”

Mickey's chest was still heavy with doubt, and he turned the tiara around in his hands. Could gods exist without a purpose? Mickey's purpose had been to be a proud son of Hera, but he'd failed that upon birth. He reflected upon his life before Minnie entered it, and he knew full well that had she not walked in, nothing would have changed. He never would have explored the world or found people he wanted to see. The battle of need versus want in his mind was no longer a bloody war, but an intense debate with each side having valuable merit. He didn't want to go back to his empty life. He was still angry with Minnie, deeply so, but he wanted to hear her reasons for it from her own lips. He wanted to have a single moment of honesty. Only then, maybe then, could he decide if what he felt for her was actual love.

But any further family talks were put on pause as Damara began to quietly whine in pain. Mickey blinked rapidly, and then flailed a hand towards her. “She's been out too long! Her scales are drying up, she needs to go back to the sea, right now!”

Despite all the agony Damara had caused him, Donald began to walk over and open his arms. Mickey needed some alone time to digest all he'd learned – and Donald needed to restore some of his pride. Surely round two would be easier. “I've got this, kiddo. You think about what I said, all right?” Now the smile he gave Mickey was a genuine one, born not of blood and family, but of pride and happiness. No matter what Minnie had done or said, Donald loved his nephew, and wanted him to be happy. He only didn't say it because he wasn't sure if the boy would believe him. He'd have to save that for a later day, he supposed.

With a heavy grunt already full of regret, Donald had Damara on his back and began to waddle out. Damara waved goodbye. “Feel better, Mickey! I'll come back if you don't! I need you very much, we all do, and we love, love, love Mickey! If you forget, we'll tell you again! We forget things all the time so that's okay!”

Mickey watched them leave, and then placed the tiara back on the anvil. He felt how dirty he was, how hungry and tired he was, and maybe even the long years of his life weighed heavily upon him. Love and trust were supposed to go hand in hand with each other. Could they have loved each other when she wasn't being honest with him?

I don't need nobody, and nobody needs me.

I don't need nobody, and nobody needs me.

I don't need nobody -

Funny how the most random of memories can pop up in the deepest of thoughts.

“Ain't nothin' is a double negative,” Gyro reminded everyone.

A double negative meant a positive. Therefore, “I don't need nobody” would translate into “I do need someone.”

If that was wrong – if somehow he'd known how wrong his life was all along – then perhaps the second part was true as well. Another memory came to him, of Minnie openly weeping on the boat, of her kissing his leg and telling him there was nothing wrong with it, of her desperation to be understood.

“Don't you understand, Mickey? I want to make you happy! I want to make you the happiest man alive! I need you to be happy, because of how happy you've made me!”

The tears came back, just when he thought he'd run out of them.

“I need you!”

“I think I need you too,” Mickey whispered to the darkness.

He'd order Axelia to help clean up the mess soon, and maybe take a bath afterward. But neither chore would help, for in less than an hour, another visitor would make them pointless.

~*~

In another bid to restore Minnie's happiness, Daisy had literally dragged her friend out from the Underworld and into the outside, though the most Minnie would allow was a familiar grassy field, perhaps even the same one where they'd first met. Despite Minnie being light as a feather, Daisy didn't want to pull around a rag doll all day.  She plopped onto the grass, still holding Minnie's wrist. “Minnie, I love you, but you're really trying my patience. Move your cutie booty, patootie!”

Minnie finally spoke, though her eyes remained on the bright blue sky. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” “Do you love me? Or did I make you love me?”

Daisy mentally noted Pete needed a swift kick between the thighs, among other things. “You're not still thinking about that, are you? It's not true! You can't make people fall in love with you, no matter how beautiful you are!”

“You don't know that.” Every word dripped with dread, Minnie's hands laying on her chest like a somber corpse awaiting burial. “Maybe none of you ever liked me, and I forced it all. Maybe Mickey never wanted to be with me. Maybe Goofy never wanted to be my friend. Maybe you only tolerate me because of I'm the goddess of love.” If she didn't have positive answers, then she could only focus on negative ones. She hadn't gotten anything right – trying to heal Goofy's heart, keeping all those secrets from Mickey, the impromptu marriage promise on Mount Olympus, and now her own existence was a burden on everyone around her. How could she trust anyone's smile again? Everything could have been a lie, and it was all her fault for being born.

Daisy ran an exhausted hand through her hair, as wisps from frustrated weeds floated about. “An existential crisis on top of being dumped. If you were a mortal, you'd have gone gray from head to toe due to all this stress.” How Daisy was supposed to cure either one was an enigma. “Minnie, I promise you, I like you because of who you are, not what you are.”

“You can't prove that,” Minnie said dully.

“Well – well you can't prove I don't!” This was going to go around in circles, she could just tell. “Not everyone loves you right away! Hera, remember Hera? And it took time for Mickey to warm up to you, he didn't slobber all over you right away! You're a good girl, you earned his love! You earned mine, and Donald's and Goofy's! And you made us all happier! And you didn't do it by standing around and looking pretty!” At this, Minnie's eyes – now a pale color – began to slide over. “You acted! You spoke!  The things you say and the things you do make people like you! Forget Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty – I love Minnie, plain old Minnie, the Minnie who hugs everyone too tight and asks a million questions and gives me way too much detail on how she kisses her boyfriend.”

Even though Minnie wanted to believe, uncertainty clung to her. Without proof, how could she be absolutely positive? She wanted to make her loved ones happy, but if that love was forced, was it real happiness? What if Mickey was right – that in the end, everyone had been a pawn to her unknown whims? The idea of making her dear ones into willing slaves made her groan, and she flopped an arm over her eyes. “How can you be sure?” Maybe it'd have been better if she never existed, or at least never met any of them. Perhaps they'd still be sad, but at least it'd have been of their own choosing. “Everyone deserves free will...and I could be taking it away. I can't ever see Mickey again, if I'm going to make him my...” She didn't even want to finish that sentence. Puppet? Toy? It all made her want to cry.

Daisy slammed her hand on the ground over and over, mostly to vent out her anger. “Minnie, I know it from the bottom of my heart! Everyone likes you because you're you, and I can't think of a single person who would say otherwise!”

As is the way of tempting fate, Pete poofed into existence by their side, waving cheerfully as if all he'd done was knock on a neighbor's door. “Hiya, Aphrodite!”

“...With the obvious exception,” Daisy finished, glaring hard at the unwanted guest. The weeds turned into spiked vines, curling around her head. “Haven't you caused enough trouble already? Get lost!”

Pete ignored her, grabbing Minnie's hand and hoisting her up in the air. Minnie didn't fight it, but since Daisy was still holding onto Minnie's wrist, she was unceremoniously lifted as well, yelped, and then fell with an unflattering THUD. Daisy thought to give life to her earlier idea, but her aching foot soon discovered Pete wore armor everywhere. Pete paid no attention to the attempted assault on his lower half, holding the disinterested goddess to his face. “Thought I'd give you some thinking time, but a pretty girl like you doesn't have much to think about, right? So now I can finally show you my master plan!”

“Whatever,” said Minnie, devoid of all energy and care.

“She's not going anywhere with you!” Daisy stood up, fists clenched. “Minnie, listen to me, you do not have to go with him if you don't want to!”

“Whatever,” Minnie said again, with the same lifeless inflection.

“See? She didn't say no.” Pete smugly grinned, glad there were less nuisances to get in his way this time.

Daisy tried to charge Pete, maybe punch him or push him over, but he merely held up one hand and she couldn't get past it, no matter how hard she pushed. It took her several tries to give up, but when she did she spat at him. “You only get your way because you're a big bully! One of these days, you're going to meet an even bigger bully, and they'll give you what for!”

The very idea of it made Pete laugh so hard he almost dropped Minnie, not that she cared. At this point she could have been dropped down a ravine and not said a word. “That'll be the day! You just go back to the Underworld, little lady...They'll need the help. It's about to get really crowded!” With a victorious cackle, he vanished with Minnie in tow.

Daisy huffed and stomped, but the words sunk in quickly. About to get really crowded? “Oooh, I do not like the sound of that....”

Daisy had every right to be concerned, unlike Minnie who still didn't care when she was popped back up on Mount Olympus. As Pete proudly walked through the enchanted mountain, gods, goddesses and their chosen visitors gasped with delight to see the gorgeous Aphrodite, who was beautiful even when she was dripping with self-loathing. Minnie didn't know where she was being taken or why, but could not find the strength to give it any major thought. If she had been treating everyone like pawns, why not be a pawn herself? Maybe it was what she deserved.

Pete only put her down when they reached his room, where a big, red curtain was on display. He cleared his throat, having prepared a miniature speech. “Since the dawn of time, man has always known war. But the problem is, war always ends. One side always surrenders or is defeated. And then you have to wait so long for another war to start up. You have to wait for kids to become adults, for people to get greedy and jealous and full of hate, and let me tell you, there are some mortals who have never even seen war! Can you believe it?”

Minnie just blinked, and it was impossible to know if she was actually listening or was back in a loop of trying to figure out if she'd ever make Mickey happy or “tricked” him into it. Pete decided to skip a few paragraphs. “Well, uh, anyway, you've given me the perfect solution to all my problems! With your help, I'll finally have my forever war! Show her, fellas!”

On cue, Gladstone and Mortimer pulled apart the curtain – taking their time to wave to Minnie, tell her how much they missed her, how gorgeous she looked today, before Pete gave them a threatening growl – to reveal the hundreds and hundreds of rather ugly statues they'd worked on. They weren't things one would proudly show off in a museum, and there was no heart or love to any of them, unlike Goofy's designs. It was row after row of mostly male mortals, with blank faces and misshapen appendages. The sight was so bizarre it drew Minnie out of her shell with a quizzical head-tilt and a quiet “Huh?”

Pete arrogantly took his time walking to what he considered masterpieces. “I found out what you could do – the magical gift of life! I always knew you were something special, and now you can finally do something special!” He slapped the closest statue on the back - “You can bring all of these to life!” - causing its neck to crack and the head to fall off. “...Maybe not this one. We'll redo it.”

“'We', he says,” Mortimer muttered under his breath.

Minnie began to blink faster, finally waking up from a long nightmare, only to enter a different one. “What? How did you...” Find out, she was going to ask, but something worse was on the horizon. “Wait... are you saying you want me to make these things fight?” Her eyes tried to count how many she saw and couldn't. A cold fear ran through her blood.

“No, of course not!” Pete answered, giving Minnie three seconds of relief before continuing, “We're going to send them to the mortal plane so they can fight everyone down there! Think of it!” He inhaled happily, gesturing all around with great big arms. “A sudden invasion all across the lands! Nations will blame other nations for sending the attacks! And once we run out of statue people, we can just make more and keep it going! It never has to stop!” His eyes practically glittered at the thought, a choir of endless screams and clashing of weapons. “It'll go on forever! It'll-”

“That's disgusting!” Minnie suddenly shrieked, the color having returned to her face in the worst way. She was covering her mouth with her hands, lest she gag from the imagery of so many slaughtered innocents. “You- you - you want me to create life, just to kill other people? What's wrong with you?!”

Upon hearing Minnie's disapproval, Gladstone and Mortimer were quick to back away and point at Pete with the singular shout, “All his idea!”

In all of Pete's plans and preparations, not once had the idea of her rejecting his concept ever came up. He was at a loss for words, not that he knew too many to begin with. “But...But it's a great idea! And you can finally do something around here! You can help me, and isn't that the best part? Weren't you yammering on about how bored you were, or something?”

“Since when do you ever pay attention to anything I say?” There came that familiar anger, only hotter now, and the shakes that came with it that defied all sense. The other gods, goddesses and creatures on the mountain became seized with fear, having forgotten the tremors that rattled their bones. It was even worse than before, with pillars tumbling over and seated deities falling out of their thrones. There was no telling when it would stop, and with every passing second they seemed to grow worse. Only Pete and Minnie appeared to be oblivious to the activity, too far gone in their own anger and frustration. Gladstone and Mortimer clung to each other in fright, also having forgotten that such convulsions could occur. No one had ever gotten around to figuring out what that was all about, and even now terrified heads looked around in a desperate attempt to find the source. “If you honestly thought I'd help you hurt defenseless people, you're out of your mind!”

Pete rolled his eyes, sighing through his nostrils. “Okay, okay, I get it. You're the goddess of love, so you love mortals. Sure, sure. It's not like I'd kill all of them, just, you know, 99%. Give or take one percent.” He waved a hand, trying to even out the numbers. “So let's take that pretty little tail of yours over here and-” He made a grab for her, but Minnie slapped his hand away.

“Don't you ever touch me again!” Minnie snapped, the shakes intensifying. Her eyes were red now, with hints of orange, something mystifying flickering within. “I'm not going to help you commit murder just because you're bored! People are not playthings for your amusement! They don't exist just to do whatever you want! You don't get to decide their deaths just because you're bigger and stronger! And you two!” She pointed at the assistants, making them jump as if she'd suddenly zap them into dust. “You went along with this? Do you hate mortals that much? Don't they worship you and ask for your help?”

Mortimer swallowed, his voice small. “Well, uh, we wanted to see you, babe, and, uh...”

“Pete's very good at the hitting thing,” Gladstone added, twiddling his thumbs. The excuses sounded ridiculous and they knew it. Maybe there was a nugget of shame in them after all.

Pete was getting impatient. “The mortals owe us, after all we've done for them!”

“What have you done for them?” Minnie shot back, hands on her hips. “Zeus saved them once, a millennia ago! And since then you pick and choose who to help, if you want to help! Mortals are capable of doing amazing things all on their own, they don't need us! They owe us nothing! We have no right to decide their lives!”

“I have every right!” Pete loomed over Minnie. He didn't want to hurt her, but if she was going to curtail to his opinion – she wasn't giving him much of a choice. “I am the God of War! I can do whatever I want, to anyone I want! That includes you!”

But much to his additional aggravation, Minnie didn't back down or show a trace of fear. No, she met him head on, her eyes were so inflamed Pete felt he could melt under her stare. “No, you can't. You can't make me use my powers on them. No matter how much you hurt me, I'd rather take all the pain in the world than bring this to the mortals! And if you can't bully someone, you're powerless.” She laid the final insult by turning her back towards him. “I may not like who I am...But as long as I'm not like you, I can never be the worst person alive.” And she was gone, along with the tremors.

Pete stared at where she used to be, grinding his teeth so fast and hard it could be heard all across Olympus. Within seconds, he roared like a caged animal, whipping around to punch a statue so hard its shattered remains smacked into other statues, destroying them as well. He howled in his anger, stomping on the floor and beating on walls, not unlike a toddler when denied snack time. In fact, the display was so overwhelmingly childish that Mortimer and Gladstone felt safe watching him, instead of running away.

“Well, that was a bust,” Mortimer quipped, summoning a fresh goblet of wine. “Get it? Bust? Cause we made statues?”

“Leave the word play to me, if you will.” Though Gladstone helped himself to a second goblet. “I do hope this means I didn't sweat for nothing.”

“I do kind of feel like a heel,” Mortimer admitted after a second sip. “I mean, mortals make some really fantastic drinks, and they always know how to throw a good party. They're pretty creative down there. I heard one of them is working on a thing called a 'margarita', and it sounds fantastic.”

“You may be right, old friend. Who would worship me if we didn't have mortals?” Gladstone admired his reflection in the drink. “I might forget how wonderful I am without them. And how am I supposed to know my poetry is perfect if they don't write bad ones for me to compare them to? Our dear Aphrodite may be as wise as she is pretty...I wonder where she headed off to.”

Mortimer shrugged. “Probably back to her husband. Heppy-something.”

And that was all it took for Pete to stop his temper tantrum. He stopped in place, turning his dark eyes toward Mortimer in a sense of revelation. Only now did Pete accept that Minnie perhaps felt genuine love for someone, but this wasn't a good thing. Ever so slowly he pulled out his newest sword, the one that had been forged as a mere side project. One with a small red stain from the only god that could bleed. “I can make anyone do anything,” he murmured darkly, reminding Mortimer and Gladstone that they should be afraid of him.

“I can make anyone do anything!”

~*~

Mickey finished his bath, having nearly forgotten what it was like to have clean fur. His head was still muddled with thoughts about the future and what he wanted in it, but at least he could imagine one instead of staying in a singular rut. He sniffed his robes – ugh, they could use a wash, but that could wait until later. He put on his usual clothes and hobbled back to his workshop – and there stood Pete, snorting out his nose like a charging bull.

“Uh-oh.” Mickey backed up, his back hitting a wall. “Look, didn't we already clear this up? I had no idea Minnie was Aphrodite until you told me! I didn't mean to make you look bad!”

“Shut your yap.” Pete began to storm over, one slow foot at a time. “There's a lot of things I don't get about Aphrodite...but she loves everyone, and that includes scrawny, reject gods like you! You're coming with me!”

Mickey didn't have an inkling of what Pete really wanted, but you didn't have to be a genius like Gyro to know that face meant nothing good. Mickey tried to slide along the wall. “Leave me out of this! I'm not going anywhere with you! Just you try it, I'll make myself vanish! I can go anywhere in the world!”

“YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!” Pete bellowed, but as he was about to make a grab for Mickey, someone grabbed him – Axelia, with her golden arms tight around his muscles.

“You-Will-Not-Harm-Harm-Harm-Mickey,” Axelia stated in her cold voice.

“OUT OF MY WAY!” Pete raised his arm and smashed Axelia into the stone wall, her back exploding open in a hot mess of wires and gears, crackling with electricity. She fell off of him, her head tilting to one side, mouth open but saying nothing.

“Axelia!” Mickey screamed, trying to make a mad dash for her and falling to his knees at her side. “Axelia, hang on! I-I can fix you! I know I can!” Axelia's fingers twitched in all directions, her mouth repeating his name but making no sound. Mickey cupped her head in his lap, holding onto her with all the protection he could. “D-Don't try anything, it'll wear you out! I'll fix you up, I promise!”

Pete lifted his eyes from this scene to the other Axelias in the room, all of them staring right back at him, but they didn't move. He sneered, rubbing his hands together at the obvious opportunity. “I thought you were gunna teleport all over, runt! Or do these tin cans mean something to you?” He seized the arm of the nearest Axelia, tearing it from her shoulder as easily as she was made of paper.

“Stop it!” Mickey cried out, trying to reach for his friend but couldn't. The wounded Axelia began to fall from lack of balance, and two others came over to catch her. “You're hurting them!” Even as Mickey said this, he knew it wasn't true, they couldn't feel anything, and yet... “They never did anything to you, leave them alone!”

Pete discarded the destroyed arm over his shoulder. “Either you come with me or I'll smash each of these girls until they're nothing but gears! They'll make great punching bags!”

It wasn't much of a choice, not really, not when he couldn't bear the thought of any other Axelias getting injured for his sake. Even as the one in his lap appeared to speak “no-no-no” he couldn't disobey. He slowly put her head back down on the ground. “I'll come back, and I'll fix you both, everything's going to be okay.” Was he trying to convince them or himself? He stroked her head, and then used his walking stick to get up – but Pete didn't let him get all the way up, snatching him and vanishing with such force that the tiara on the anvil was pushed over and fell onto the ground, smashing three pristine white shells.

All of the Axelias stopped doing their work, meeting up within the workshop. They weren't programmed for this situation. They didn't know what to do.

“Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.”

“Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.”

“Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.”

On and on they said his name, an endless refrain of panic and grief, until each voice wore out.

“Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.”