#now make those previous two plural

[needfantasticstories]

[Febuwhump Day 11: time loop. TW: Major Character Death]

Chapter 11: For Want of Time

Thunder reverberated in the hills.

Legend and Hyrule walked near the back of the heroes with only Time behind them. 

A swelling of power besides the looming storm grew heavy in the air, pressing in their ears and prickling their skin. Hyrule caught Legend's eye, and he knew from his companion's furrowed brow that he sensed it too: the growling, humming pulses of dark magic. No one else seemed to notice, but the pair slowed to a stop and looked around.  

Time caught up to them, his armor clinking softly with each step. "What is it?" He too stopped and looked around.

Hyrule shook his head, and raised a quieting hand. It was fading. No. Moving. He had to listen with all his senses now.

There. Just beyond the next bend in the road. Hyrule pointed just as Legend drew his blade and shield.

"Something is coming fast," Legend confirmed, but too late. 

A massive purple cloud rushed forward through the trees in a way no cloud would--clawing forward on its tendrils like a rampaging beast.

“Look out!” Hyrule shouted ahead to the others. I should have told them to look out sooner!  

“Poison!” Legend yelled. But it was too late. It swarmed over the others like a tidal wave.

A heavy, gloved hand wrenched Hyrule back. He slammed into two bodies as a flash of blue enveloped them. Time had pulled him and Legend into his arms. 

Hyrule gawked at the sight: a protective barrier encircled the three of them against the fog, and just in time. Purple and red swirls looped around the barrier and hand-like tendrils grasped and clawed, but just as quickly they faded.

The blue glow around them also dissipated.

“Check on the others!” shouted Time. He released the duo and pushed them forward, then bent over double to catch his breath.

Hyrule took only a few steps before he skidded to a stop. Legend slowed and drew close to his side. 

This isn’t right! This can’t be right! Hyrule’s head swam.

The others were all dead. He didn’t have to touch them to see. Only skeletons remained of the men and boys he knew and loved. Wild’s blue tunic hung thin over a skeleton with one hand curled around Twilight’s arm guard. Four’s boots were barely visible under Sky’s sailcloth as the knight had tried to cover them both. Wind and Warrior lay in a mirror image of them under the soldier's royal blue scarf. A tiny wind nudged it, as if pleading them to get up, to move… The people Hyrule would kill for, and die for, no longer existed. He'd spent every waking moment with them for the last eight months, knew their secrets and fears and the flavor of their auras, which now had disappeared.

“No!” Time knelt at Twilight’s side, one hand hovering over his descendant, the other at his belt, as he looked at each of them. "My boys," He whispered. "Sky... how will any of us be..." He ran his hand through his hair, grabbing it viciously in his own fists.

Hyrule looked back over the corpses, and nearly bent double as his stomach thrashed, pushing its burning contents into his throat. Feeling unreal and weightless, he was at the side of the road, somehow. His muscles convulsed from his curling toes all the way up to his head as he vomited. Pressure surged upward into his head until his skin ached from the rushing blood, small vessels tingling as they burst while he heaved again and again. Sweat dripped from his brow. At last, his stomach unsteady but no longer clenching, he spat the bile and wiped sweat from his face only to look up and find Legend at his side caught in the same act. Despite being in no better condition, the Veteran put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from their respective messes and back to Time's side.

“We have to stick together,” he mumbled.

Hyrule felt like vomiting again. They would never be together again, not all of them. Not Warrior and Twilight and Four and--

“Boys! Take hold of my arms!” Time ordered in a gravelly voice, raw from tears he must have shed too quietly for them to hear. The man stood tall, looking down at the small blue ocarina he always carried. “Take my arms and don’t let go until I say so. This has to work, and I don't... I want to do this alone. Not if I can help it.”

The woods were so quiet. Hyrule nearly tripped as he ran to him. He kept his eyes on Time to keep himself from seeing the clothes hanging limp on the road until at last he clutched Time’s arm, solid and strong. The soldier already had the ocarina to his lips, and when Legend grabbed hold of Time’s other elbow, the first note filled the air. The tune surrounded them. The sun and the shadows at the feet jerked back a little. 

Suddenly, Hyrule was not facing the same direction, nor was he holding Time’s arm. Instead, he walked beside Legend, exactly where he’d walked shortly before it all went so wrong. The same birds as before sang their tunes in the trees. The little magic auras of the plants and insects were the same. On the road ahead, like a vision from the divine, walked Wild, Twilight, Wind, Warrior, Four, and Sky. Alive. Healthy. Wearing their own flesh as they should, scars and slumped shoulders and all.

He turned to Legend, who gaped back at him with just as much shock as Hyrule felt.

“Boys, do you see anything?” Time asked urgently, running up from behind and grabbing their shoulders. “Where does the fog come from?”

“Time… what… what just happened?” Legend demanded. “What is that thing? Is it Nayru’s?”

“It’s a sacred relic from Zelda, one I would never use except…” Time scowled as he put it back on his belt, and sighed. “That can’t be how it happens. They need to live. Sky, he needs his Sun and then Wind… and if they don’t....”

“This could unmake everything,” Legend guessed. 

Time nodded.

“We’re not losing them. So we’re going to stop it from happening.”

“We’re back in time?” Hyrule watched the others continuing ahead without them. He wanted to run after them, to check them for injuries he knew they didn’t have. He just wanted to feel their heartbeats under his fingers, to make sure they were real. But he stayed by Time’s side as he slowly began to walk.

“We have ten minutes before it happens again. Let’s figure out how to stop it.”

Hyrule let out his lingering surprise as he exhaled, though his mind still raced with questions. “Maybe we can go another way? Up those hills?”

“Too steep. Unless we give them all pegasus boots, there’s no way we’ll make it out of this valley in time. 

Hyrule looked around again, but saw nothing else. Yet he felt something, up in the hills…

“There!” Legend shouted, pointing to a copse of trees on a steep hill up where the road curved. 

Between the magic of the old trees, Hyrule felt a darkness lurking in their shadows. The rest of the hill was bare except for vibrant green grass. Approaching unnoticed would be impossible. Hyrule never would have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it, so strong were the golden-green humming magic of those ancient oaks. “I feel it too,” He told the others. “Something is hiding up there.”

Deciding what to do was trickier than Hyrule had hoped. They still hadn’t decided how best to find the source when a sound made them all pause. 

Thunder reverberated in the hills.

“No!” Legend screamed, and Hyrule’s heart was with him, though he could not breathe in, let alone scream.

I can’t be here! I can’t relive this! The purple fog bellowed toward them. His brothers cried out in alarm, Sky pulling Four underneath his sailcloth, Wild grabbing Twilight’s arm, Wind clutching Warrior who loosed his cloak-sized scarf to cover them both…

Legend grabbed Time’s hand, and Hyrule shook free of his fear and hurried to do the same.

An eerie sound surrounded him. No, that note he’d heard before from the ocarina, and this time Hyrule felt the weight of it’s magic lifting him. Another and another note carried all around them. They slowed and then froze the fog and his brothers at once like a macabre painting. 

The shadows jerked forward as the sun sprung back. The road whirled forward underneath the heroes. 

They were back. Hyrule wiped the tear that fell down his cheek, and sniffed and cleared his throat. No use crying. They had brothers to save.

“I’m going to find out who he is.” he declared, letting go of TIme’s arm with only a moment of hesitation. He walked briskly toward the hill and readied his fairy spell. 

“I’m coming.” Legend was at his side.

“That’s noble of you and all, but stay with Time. I have a disguise. No one suspects fairies, not even monsters.” And before either Legend or Time could protest, Hyrule had transformed and began flying up to the steep hillside. 

He flew around the back of the copse. A magician in purple robes peered around a tree, holding open a book. It was small, but dense. The words on the page glowed red as the wizard chanted. Hyrule did not understand with his ears, but with his soul. It was the language of magic, each word filling the air with a heavy weight of power, of will.

Hunger. Soar. Kill. Consume. 

The wizard lowered his hand, and turned around. Yellowed eyes fell heavy on Hyrule. He was pinned in place as he hovered.  

He remembered a story: Aurora’s quiet tale of a wizard whispering poisonous words, one who corrupted her brother’s heart and turned him against her with lies and a lust for power. He recalled the horror on her face when he told her she’d lain a death-like sleep for a hundred years.

Shouts from the road told him the spell had worked. The deed was done, once more. This wizard had murdered his brothers. 

The wizard flicked his hand, and Hyrule lurched sideways as if swatted by that hand. He tumbled head over heels in the air, beating his wings frantically to catch the wind. At last, he fluttered to a stop and flew upright. 

Time! Legend! He raced as fast as his tiny wings could carry him around the mage, down the hill and through the trees and over the road. 

The bodies lay on the ground, exactly as before, except one.

“Sky!” Hyrule shouted. 

Time held the sky-knight. His face was white.

“I told him not to look,” Legend muttered. 

“What happened?” Hyrule asked Legend, who knelt at Wild’s boots. His face was pale and scowling, tears gleaming down his cheeks.  

“I could only save one.” Legend spoke thickly to Hyrule as he took his Hylian form, his voice still heavy from crying, and he gestured toward Sky. “I tried to warn him not to look.”

Hyrule could not help himself. He glanced at Four, and regretted it. A small, lonely skeleton lay there. He swallowed to keep the bile down.

“You could have died, going off like that, Rulie!” Legend’s eyes were bright with new tears, but sharp with anger too.

“Time was going to reverse it anyway, and I saw who did it. I know what happened.”

Time rubbed the Skyknight’s back as his crying stilled. “Sky, we’re going to go back and reverse this. We need you to help us.”

The knight sniffed, and pulled out of Time’s steadying hold, finding his own strength. 

“How? What do you mean you can reverse this?”

Time held up the ocarina. “From my Zelda,” he explained, “I can’t use it lightly, but for this… I think Zelda would agree. We can go back to five minutes before this happens. I hoped it would give us more.”

Sky stood in shock, not moving at all. At last he turned to Legend, keeping his eyes away from the carnage. “Why me? Why did you save me , out of everyone? Wild was right there...” 

“I wasn’t really thinking. I saw her, and I just…”

“Fi?” Sky reached back and touched her hilt. 

Legend nodded. 

Hyrule ran to Sky and embraced him. It felt so good to see at least one more of them survive. Sky hugged him tightly back.

“We can do this. We can save the rest of them!” Hyrule said to them all, “It’s a wizard casting a consuming spell. I’ve never seen it before, but I know the feel of it. It’s what Ganon used when he came to power. It wrecked my era. But he’s casting from a spellbook, and I don’t think he can cast without it. If we take it before he begins the spell, we might have a chance. Even if it’s just enough to buy the others time to run.”

“A wizard?” Time said, “Is that like a Sage?”

“I suppose so. They’re wicked. They use spells for curses or to threaten people and to gain power for themselves. Zelda Aurora was cursed by one who tricked her brother. They’re some of Ganon’s strongest supporters in my time. But I’ve learned they usually don’t pay attention to simple things: simple travelers, lone fairies. He swatted me away, and that was it. We can go back, and we can stop him!”

“Did you have a plan in mind?” Time raised his one unscarred eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Soon after, the notes of an ocarina carried over the heroes. 

(To Be Continued...)

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chapter 3

Pairing - Afab!reader x ot13

Word count - 16K

Genre - Greek Demigod AU! We’ve got crack, smut, fluff , angst, hurt, comfort, all of it in this series, buckle up!

Previous chapter

Chapter summary - As the days in camp seventeen unfold the many burdens you had tucked away in your heart, you dive into the sorrows you had presumably left behind. Thankfully (or not) a musical moment and a menacing monster serve as unforeseen distractions.

A/n - I do have a taglist so comment on this post to be added! As usual, the member and warnings will be added in a weeks time to keep suspense :) This chapter is a bit heavy, the plot is thickening so please do take your time with it - I promise things will make sense eventually!

Special thanks to @monamipencil! Your comments made my day Lola <3

“Chief.” Soonyoung took a worried step forward, hand slipping out from yours. “Is everything okay?” 

“If you’re here it's either not serious enough or it's too serious.” Minghao frowned at Seungcheol, crossing his arms. “My guess is the former.” 

“The camp is under attack.” Seungcheol sighed, running his hands through his hair like he was embarrassed. “Of….” 

“Of what?” 

“O-of geese.” 

“Geese??” Soonyoung looked at him stupidly. “Like plural of goose, geese?” 

“What other kind of geese do you know, you dumbass.” Seungcheol rolled his eyes. 

“I don't know. The kind of geese I know don’t attack human establishments??” 

“It’s obviously some elaborate prank by the children of Nemesis, considering it's their companion.” Muttering, Seungcheol stuffed his hand in his pockets. “Those winged brats are just wreaking havoc everywhere - they’ve broken all of the farm's tools, they’ve made a mess of the dining hall, they’ve shat all over the houses-” Both boys groaned. “-it's a catastrophe.”

“Are we sure it’s not Jeonghan?” Soonyoung narrowed his eyes. “We all know how much he enjoys stuff like this….” 

“Jeonghan also loves to watch the consequences of his very well planned antics.” Seungcheol scoffed. “And he’s not at camp - he said he was going to the city for….. something, I don’t know but no, it’s not him.” 

“If it's not him then how did these birds enter camp at night?” Minghao raised his eyebrows confused. “They shouldn’t have been able to pass Wonwoo’s nighttime defenses.” 

“He says they might have sneaked in during the shift handover. Apparently Hansol and the hounds were the only ones patrolling when he was settling up because Jihoon was busy elsewhere.” Seungcheol looked straight at you, almost accusatorily. 

What the hell, how was this your fault?

“There’s no need to look at her like that.” Minghao took a step forward, half covering you behind his frame. “You should talk to Jihoon about being more responsible with his time.” 

“That’s not the point now.” Watching both men glaring at each other, Soonyoung tried to ease the tension. “We should be discussing how we can get rid of those menaces.”

“We've been trying.” Seungcheol groaned. “But neither Jun nor Hansol are able to communicate with them for some reason. It seems like they are some weird mix of domestic and wild.”

“That's strange.” Minghao frowned, lost in thought. 

“Something does seem off.” Soonyoung agreed. “Not only have they breached Wonwoo's protection but they're also some sort of unheard half breeds? Two anomalies cannot be a coincidence.” 

“Moreover, it's not like the children of Nemesis to prank.” Minghao frowned, staring at the ground. “Pettiness isn't their nature.”

“What other reason could they have to do this?” Seungcheol crossed his arms, muscles tense. “Revenge?” 

“Maybe, or it might not even be them.” Sooonyoung looked lost in thought. “Seungkwan and I will speak around with our contacts. I’m sure we can find out something.”

Seungcheol nodded, “In the meantime we need to clear them from camp premises before they cause more destruction.”

“Then why aren't you at camp doing that chief?” Minghao narrowed his eyes at the leader. “Why is it that you're here, like there's more important things to worry about?” 

You didn’t have to look to tell that Minghao was glancing at you over his shoulder. 

Soonyoung didn't seem to think his presence was suspicious. “He's the Son of Zeus, Hao. Geese and him don't really go well together.” 

You vaguely recalled Jihoon telling you something in the Iliad about Zeus, geese and the Helen of Troy.

“Is that it?” Minghao raised his eyebrow amused. “Big ol’ chief afraid of some feathered friends?” 

“I’m here for Soonyoung.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth. “And I asked for the message of the attack to be passed to him alone.” 

Your eyes followed Soonyoung’s which focused on the group huddled in the corner - a bunch of the most beautiful people you had ever seen, snickering away.

“Fucking Aphrodite’s children.” He muttered knowing all three of you were purposely misled here in the interest of creating a scene.“How can I help, chief?” 

“We were wondering if your ability to induce intoxication can calm them down so they can be captured?” He looked unsure. “Hansol and Jihoon were ready to shoot down the birds but if this really is a prank, we don’t want to harm their animals and seek trouble with the other camps.” 

“Even though this might be their fault?” 

“We have enough on our plate this season, Soonyoung.” It was very apparent that Seungcheol was trying his best not to meet your eye. “The last thing we need is more camps to be against us.” 

Soonyoung nodded like he understood. “We should leave then but Chan is too drunk to drive-” 

“I got here on Wonwoo’s bike.” Seungcheol waved his hand, dismissing the younger one’s concern. “You and I can head back first and the rest of the team…...Minghao, are you sober?” 

The man in question nodded. 

“Good, gather everyone immediately and make sure they reach camp safely, especially….” 

Seungcheol glanced at you, his expression a lot softer but the anger you felt for him had not changed. 

“I’m not leaving yet.” You spoke up for the first time, earning the leader’s confused look. “I don't want to.”

“Are you drunk?” 

“And what if I am?” 

“It’s a Thursday night Y/n, we have training tomorrow morning-” 

“Ugh I don’t care.” You grabbed a canned cocktail from the nearby table and popped it open, ignoring Soonyoung’s widened eyes. “Your camp, your rules, whatever the hell you’ve got going on, I don’t care for it Cheol- oh sorry, Seungcheol.” You corrected yourself. “I will leave this party whenever I feel like I want to leave this party.” 

“Stop being a child.” Seungcheol was clearly holding back his anger. “There’s enough going on back at camp now for you to-” 

“Exactly, go deal with it chief. I’m sure you’ll all fare better without the “weak link” around.” 

“Y/n I…” He sighed, watching you drink in big gulps. “First of all, you shouldn’t be drinking that-” 

“Can someone please explain to this man that I’m not going to listen to him.” 

“Cheol.” Minghao looked pointedly at his leader who was on the verge of snapping. “I’ll bring everyone back to camp safely…. everyone.” He emphasized again. “You and Kwon should get going now.” 

“Yeah.” Soonyoung nodded before turning to you and grabbing the bottom ends of Minghao’s jacket, aligning them as his voice fell to a whisper. “Y/n, that’s a sex potion too.” 

Eyes popping out, you nearly spat out your drink. “I thought it was just the beer??” He nodded. “Yeah, so did everyone, hence the improvisation.” He pulled the zip up, adjusting the jacket on your shoulders. “Take care sweetie.” 

You nodded, eyes briefly meeting Seungcheol over Soonyoung’s shoulder. He looked…..indifferent as he stared back. 

“Come on Kwon.” He muttered, turning away as the Soonyoung dropped a kiss on your forehead before taking a step back and jogging away to catch up with his leader. You only let out a breath as their figures disappeared in the rain that only got heavier. 

Before you knew it, a familiar feeling began licking up your spine, warmth spreading all over your being just like it had earlier. As you slowly turned to Minghao, embarrassed to meet his eye, he straight up shook his head, looking amused.

“Nah uh. Ignorance I can understand but stupidity?” He scoffed. “That's your problem.” 

“Minghao-” 

“Fight it Y/n.” He grabbed a macaroon, stuffing it in his mouth as he began to walk away from you. “Fight it.” 

Unlike Seungcheol’s house, the room you woke up in did not have sunlight streaming in. 

Stretching on the large king size bed, you glanced at the now empty space beside you - the man who had given you company last night was no longer there and rightfully so considering it was way past training hours. 

Ignoring the pain in your head, you swung your feet off the mattress, glancing out the window. The view is much nicer than Seungcheol’s house - there all you could see were endless trees and hills but here you could see much more of the camp, particularly the common cabin, where everyone was slowly walking towards after hitting the showers. Slightly annoyed and very bothered that yesterday’s events were about to repeat, you sighed, heading down the stairs, making your way to the dining hall. Unlike yesterday though, no one spared a glance at you as you walked in. 

You could tell they were all tired - you saw much of the aftermath of the geese ambush as you returned to camp late last night. Considering everything looked normal today, you figured the boys must have spent all night cleaning up before reporting to train in the wee hours of the morning. 

“Y/n,” Mingyu’s voice called out to you from behind as you turned to him. “You left this in my workshop last night….” 

As you glanced at the jacket in his outstretched hand, the eyes of the other boys flickered between the two of you. 

“That's mine.’ Minghao walked up, swooping his garment in his hands as the attention of the room shifted to him. You gulped as he walked away from the hall wordlessly. 

You figured you should say something considering the silence was only getting worse, maybe apologise for missing training yet again but before you could say it, Seungcheol got up and walked right past you without saying a word. 

Lips parted, you watched him leave once more, refusing to say anything, refusing to listen to you, simply being stubborn like he always was. 

Fine, if he was going to be a bitch, so were you. Following his suit, you walked out of the hall in the opposite direction, leaving everyone inside baffled. 

The heat of the water just wasn’t comforting. 

You knew it was hot, there was steam all around, the tiles of the shower were covered in condensation and designs you had mindlessly traced with your finger. But rather than scalding your skin off, the boiling hot water just felt like a tickle. Annoyed, you turned off the pouring water and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around your body, tucking it in front of your chest. As you ran your hand through your wet hair, you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

Water was dripping from the wet strands, running down the many darkening, reddish purple marks on your neck and shoulder. You knew they would get darker as days passed but you didn’t expect them to look so bruised up already. Running your finger across them you sighed - last night was a horrible mistake. Sure you were under the influence of some messed up concoction but sleeping with more than one member of the camp was ridiculous to say the least. 

What was more burdensome was the idea that maybe there was more than the concoction involved…. Soonyoung had broken up with his girlfriend because of you but neither he nor you were sure about what exactly he felt for you and Minghao? You had noticed he was generally protective of you since you had joined camp and thought it was just because he was nice, but the way he pulled you away from Soonyoung every time the two of you were a little more intimate? That did not seem very ‘general’. 

Shutting your eyes, you tried to push the details of last night out of your mind. Thank god you listened to your trainer when he told you to fight it. Otherwise when you asked Mingyu if you could crash at his place in order to avoid Seungcheol and found yourself sharing his king size bed, maybe you would have allowed yourself to make another mistake. You couldn't make another one so soon. 

Tightening the grip of your towel, you turned towards the changing rooms, slightly startled by the figure that just walked in.

Wonwoo - also in his towel, hanging low at his waist, moving as silent as a shadow as he walked towards the showers. You should have felt exposed, more conscious, given you were barely dressed, and covered in innumerable hickies but you didn't feel a thing. Because Wonwoo hadn't spared you a glance. He walked past you like he couldn't care less, like you weren't there. 

“What is your problem?”

After days of watching this man behave so unnecessarily indifferent to you, you finally spoke up, mind already disturbed by a hundred and one things. 

“Why do you always behave like I don't exist?” You crossed your arms, staring him down. “If you're an introvert, I can understand, Hansol doesn't interact with me much either but at least he doesn't behave like I'm invisible, like he can see right through me-”

“Because I can.” His voice left him deep and cold as he turned to you. “Because I can see right through you.”

You scoffed. “What-”

“Because regardless of what you pretend to be in front of others, I can see the real you. I know things about you that you won't even admit to yourself.” 

 “What-” You emphasised again. “-can you possibly know?.”

“What can I know?” He raised an eyebrow. “I know you're a loner Y/n. You've been one your whole life. Your biological parents never cared enough about you, you don't have any siblings, you've never bothered to make friends, you've always been alone.” He took a step forward. “Even though it was circumstances that drove you to loneliness, you always told yourself that it was your choice, that you wanted to be alone because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to tell yourself that you chose to distance yourself from everyone rather than admit that you were rejected. You knew you would never be accepted. You knew no matter where you were and what you did, you would never fit in. You knew you were a freak.” 

Eyes widening, you stared at his nearing figure. 

“But now? Now you're finally in a place where you belong. You are finally with your kind but you're still terrified - you're scared that maybe, this isn’t where you’re meant to be either. You're scared that if you accept these people and they find out what you really are, they'll leave you too. They'll break the heart you've been safeguarding for all these years.”

Your heart was quite literally in your mouth. 

“That's why you rebel. That's why you call this place 'camp' and never ‘home’. You say things are hard and you're having trouble adjusting but what you're really trying to do is establish that you always are and always will be an outsider - you’re trying to escape the pain that will come when you're finally abandoned. That is why you'll always look for reasons to leave this camp. You'll never let yourself belong, you'll never let yourself become one of those here. So tell me, why do I have to try and bother with your existence when you’re just looking for the first chance to run?”

And somehow, now you could feel the heat all over. It was uncomfortably coursing through your whole body, burning you inside out in a way that made you want to rip out your skin but you already felt so bare, so naked in front of this man. 

But before any words could leave you at all, Wonwoo took a step back and then another till he retreated out of sight and into the showers. It was only when he disappeared that you finally let out the breath you were holding.

Maybe the more logical thing to do was to dive into the lake before you hit the showers but here you were, stripping into just your inner wear and jumping into the ice cold waters, desperate to cool yourself off. As you submerged yourself further in the waters, you shut your eyes, submerging into the darkness as well. 

The fire burning inside you because of Wonwoo's words was just not dying. For the first time ever, it felt like you had truly looked into a mirror because every single word that came out of that man's mouth was true. So, so true. 

And he was right when he said you've never admitted these things even to yourself because you were never really one for introspection. It wasn't like you to explore your thoughts, understand your nature, figure out the intentions of your actions. No, none of that. 

You were impulsive. You dived head first into things. You made decisions, then considered the consequences. You were reckless, you lived fearlessly, you lived like no one and nothing else mattered. 

Because nothing else did matter. 

Ever since you were young, you were on your own. You were not even sure when your mother left you, you had no memories of her and your father? The man who was barely ever present, abandoned you 3 days before your 12th birthday. From then your life had been just yours alone. You worked odd jobs to feed yourself, you worked hard to study, you studied harder to work better and life just went on like that. You didn't have many friends to compensate for the solitude either. Making friends was somehow not very easy for you - how were you supposed to explain the shambles of your life to people? How were you supposed to establish any kind of relationship with anyone when the only ones you ever had, walked out on you? 

You were better off alone. You were always better off alone.

That was until one incident turned your entire life upside down.

The days leading up to your arrival at camp are still a blur to you. The flames, the masked men, the court, the meeting of dozens of people - it all still felt like a fever dream. But one moment was still very clear in your memory - the moment when you were standing at the shrine of your mother, in front of her statue. 

Goddess of the hearth, home and hospitality they said. The old man beside you was going on and on about her. About her powers, about what a wonderful woman she was, about how delighted you'd be to meet her. 

You, though, felt like you were stabbed in the heart you had so carefully locked away. 

When the masked men revealed the truth of your parentage, when you learnt about your mother, you let that hope in you grow again. You thought maybe with this big secret finally out you’ll finally get to meet her. That she would finally be a part of your life. 

That’s why when they gave you a choice at the swearing in ceremony to join camp seventeen or go back to your mortal life, you chose the former. It was for her, it was to be with your mother, it was to finally feel home. 

But as you stared at her statue, offering your respects after the ceremony, it was like someone was drowning you in cold water. Nothing about the expression on her face felt remotely homely, nothing about her felt warm and loving to you - she did not feel like a mother. Rather she felt cold, distant and unwelcoming, just like you imagined the woman who abandoned you would look like. 

And with time, you realised your fear was right. 

Ever since you arrived at camp, all you did was wait. Wait for just one conversation, maybe an explanation, or even just a glimpse. But there was no indication of her. She didn’t drop by the camp, she didn’t respond to your invocation at the temple, she didn't care at all, just like she hadn’t in the last twenty five years. 

The pain of being re-abandoned was so strong that, with each passing day, it began to gnaw on your insides. The breaking point was perhaps realising that you were her only progeny yet you didn't matter to her. It was a blow you had refused to accept but one that had most definitely broken you internally. You had uprooted your whole life for her, you made this new world yours but at what cost - daily incessant instructions to train, classes after classes teaching you how to fit in, members continually trying to make you feel at home. You didn’t want this home, you didn’t want these people, you only wanted her. 

Wonwoo was right, you were never here to be a part of this camp, it was merely a stepping stone to your final goal. You were indeed looking to run. 

But before you could wonder about how Wonwoo knew all these things about you, a hand wrapped around your waist. In a flash it pulled you out and tossed you onto the bank as you launched into a coughing fit, throwing up water. 

“What the hell Y/n?” A worried voice patted your back. “What were you thinking?” 

In between your fit, you raised your head to meet the sight of a set of extremely well chiseled abs, rivets of water dripping down them. Gulping you cleared your throat and scooted back, suddenly aware that you were very very minimally dressed. 

Your saviour Seokmin, looked away from you realising the same as he grabbed the shirt he had tossed into the grass before jumping into the water and handed it to you. Taking it from him, you slipped it on. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

“What?” You frowned. “I'm fine.” 

“You were underwater for so long, I thought you drowned…” Seokmin muttered, pushing his wet hair off his face. “Are you okay?” 

“I'm okay.” You mumbled. You weren't but you knew he wasn't referring to your broken heart. 

“You looked distressed.” Or maybe he was. 

“I just… had some thinking to do.” 

“Well underwater isn't the best place for that if I'm being honest.” He chuckled. “Unless you're Poseidon's child.” 

“What, only you have a claim on water?” 

“No, only we can breathe underwater.”  He somehow looked embarrassed. “Though I was well into my teens before I discovered that.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I was terrified of water as a child, wouldn't go near it.” He laughed. “Ironic for the Son of the Sea right?” 

You scoffed. “A little.” 

“When my aura got stronger, my father found me and helped me get habituated to the waters, that's how I-” 

“Your father?” You gulped, knowing the answer even as you asked him. “Your father as in Poseidon? Poseidon helped you?” 

Seokmin nodded like it was obvious. “I was so scared of any kind of water body, he would lure me in with my favourite snacks. As I got older, I stopped falling for such tricks so he took me to Olympus and made sure I was personally trained in those olympic size pools-”

“Fucking hell.” You got to your feet, much to Seokmin's confusion, tripping as you did. 

“Y/n careful!” He quickly got up, catching you before you hit the ground again. “Are you okay-” 

“No.” You shook your head.“I am not.” 

And with that you walked away from there, body alight with a different kind of fire now. You needed to find someone immediately. 

“Jihoon, we need to talk.”

As you slammed the door of Jihoon’s house open, you were met with silence. 

This was the first time you were in his residence and somehow if you had to picture how his home looked, it was nowhere close to this. You assumed the son of the Sun would prefer whites or lighter colours but most of the minimal furniture in his house was a dark black, standing out starkly in the small room. But right now wasn't the time for you to ponder about his interiors, there were more important things you needed to talk to him about. 

Turning on your heel, you shut the door behind you, wandering into this backyard instead. You knew Jihoon had his own personal gym somewhere there and if Soonyoung was right about his tendency to work out, it was highly likely you would find him there. 

“Hi Cow.” You waved at the half asleep animal under the tree, lazily blinking at you. As though it read your mind, it pointed its head towards the small path on the side before tucking its head between its legs and dozing off. You followed its directions, reaching a large tinted greenhouse and when you opened the door you were greeted by two dozen gym equipment. In the middle of it all was the man you were looking for, his bare back facing you as he hung off a bar, pulling himself up with way too much ease. 

“Y/n.” Well it was no surprise he recognised you without even a glance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Why has everyone on camp decided to be shirtless today?” You mumbled, walking in, looking around. 

Chuckling, Jihoon jumped off, turning to you as he landed. Eyes running down your body, he cocked his head. “Is that why you chose to go bottomless instead?” 

And it was only then that you realized you didn't fully dress yourself before storming away from the lake in just Seokmin's shirt. 

“I was hot.” You shrugged, pulling down the shirt.

“Hot you are.” He mumbled, sitting down on the bench, grabbing a pair of dumbells. “There's way too much heat in your body, which means you're either mad or ovulating and I'm not sure how I can help with either.” 

“The former.” You rolled your eyes. “And only you can help with it.”

“Go on.” He sighed, curling the weights, his biceps bulging with every move. Tearing your eyes away, you cleared your throat. 

“I want to meet my mother.”

“Which one?”

“Hestia.” You crossed your arms. “I have something to ask her.”

“I'm still missing the part where I can help.” 

“You said you'll teach me how to reach out to her.” 

“I did.” He grunted, focusing on his workout. “And I will, every Thursday at 4-” 

You grabbed the dumbbell with surprising ease and put them down before leaning over the man before you, expression threatening. 

“Lee Jihoon, I swear to god, if you don't help me right now…”

Your words trailed away as his eyes shifted down to your neck, the shirt no longer hiding the bruises that were littered all over it. You glanced down before straightening yourself, taking a step back. Jihoon got up, pushing his hair back, eyes fixed on you. 

“I just…” You sighed. “I just want to meet her once.” 

“Then go to the camp temple and invoke her presence.” 

“I have, everyday. She doesn’t respond.” 

“Then there’s no way I can help you Y/n.” He grabbed his towel, wiping the sweat off his arms. “One can only meet Gods if they wish to meet you and I think your mother has made her wishes very clear.”

“I don’t care what she wishes.” You spoke between gritted teeth. “And you said if I played my cards right, my mother would come looking for me.” 

“I also said it would take years of training to become worthy of that.” 

“I don't have years, Jihoon. I want to meet her as soon as I can.” 

“And why the newfound urgency?” He frowned. “What changed overnight?” 

Wonwoo. 

“Seokmin said his father taught him to swim, that as a child he took him to Olympus.” 

“So?”

“So how come my mother never cared, Jihoon? Why is it that she still doesn't?” 

“I already told you-”

“I don't buy that.” You shook your head. “How can a mother be ashamed of having a child? Of her only child?” 

“You'd be surprised.” Jihoon looked at you pitably. “Gods aren't like humans.” 

“Then let her say that to me.” You took a deep breath. “Let her give me that closure so I can stop losing my mind over this. I just want one meeting with her please, is there really no way?” 

“There is one.” He hummed, crossing his arms, his pecs bulging behind them. 

“And what is that?” 

“By doing a sacrifice.”  

“Sac-sacrifice?” You looked at him shocked. “Like those cult stuff?” 

Jihoon rolled his eyes, forgetting just how little you knew about this world. “Sacrifice is an age-old tradition made by our ancestors to please the gods, to gain their favours.” He leaned against the treadmill, slipping into his professor role, just like he had yesterday. “At times of droughts, they used to call on Zeus for rains. When crops were ravaged by pests, Demeter was the one to turn to. When they were at war, Ares was their savior. But,” He sighed. “calling upon a god was not so easy - it required time and perseverance and procedure-” 

“What kind of procedure?” 

“It was insanely complex.” Reaching for his bottle, Jihoon began walking out of the greenhouse, you following closely behind. “First, men would have to climb to the top of mount Olympus to get holy fire, then they would gather items for sacrifice. Every god has a set of items that they just cannot refuse. Dionysus loves his gemstones, Poseidon will do anything for seasalt. Artemis is harder to please, she likes a very specific kind of wildflower. If one offered enough of these to please the gods, then they would appear and were obliged to extend one favour in exchange. But ‘enough’ was where the problem lied.” As he bent down to pet Cow, you stared far off at the horizon, lost in thought.  ”The Gods were incredibly difficult to satisfy, it took large amounts for anything to be ‘enough’ for them. There were demigods who had spent ages trying to invoke them, even losing their minds in the attempts.” 

“That’s degenerate.” You frowned, as he stopped again, this time to grab a bunch of herbs from the wall of his house.

“It was.” He began plucking the leaves, grabbing handfuls. “Eventually, when the Oracle of Delphi was made in charge of the Demigods, things changed. Any demigod who wished to do a sacrifice had to obtain a scroll from her - the Scroll of Sacrifice. A piece of paper that would explicitly state just one thing that the gods wanted in exchange for a favour.” 

Pushing the nearby door open, he stepped in. 

“So you’re saying,” You followed him into his house. “-the only way for me is to go to the oracle, get a scroll, sacrifice whatever is needed and then in exchange I can earn her favour and make her answer my questions?” 

“Theoretically yes, but in reality,” He shook his head, opening yet another door and walking in. “it won’t be that easy.” 

“Why not?” 

“Delphi only hands scrolls to very few demigods, ones she deems worthy and even if she does, they're incredibly difficult - the sacrifice demanded in exchange is almost always impossible to let go.” 

“How hard can it be?” You frowned. “What kind of sacrifices do they ask for?” 

Jihoon sighed, the incessant questions finally getting to him. “You do know your weekly classes are for exactly such information right?” 

“But I want to know right now.” 

“Can I at least tell you without having you stare at me getting dressed?” 

Oh.

Apparently you had walked behind him straight into his dressing room. 

Muttering an apology, you stepped out as he shut the door behind you. 

“So,” You half spun on the balls of your foot. “You were saying?” 

Another one of Jihoon’s sighs reached you before his voice. “The Gods are not fond of being obliged to hand out favours - that's why they make sacrifices nearly impossible. I heard Apollo asked for a demigod’s sight and the boy fell to his death before he could even ask for what he wanted. Aphrodite made one of her own children give up her ability to love…..  it drove her to insanity. And one of those who prayed to Zeus has been chained to a rock on an abandoned island for nearly twelve years and he still has five more years to go. There are endless stories like this Y/n and each of them will only tell you not to opt for such madness.” He opened the door, now fully dressed, a pair of shorts in his hand. “Here.” 

You took it from him, looking a little stumped. “Please wear them Y/n. I can barely look at you…” He muttered walking away again and you quickly slipped on the pair that was just a little too big for you. Following him past a room full of what seemed like musical instruments, you walked into a small pantry. 

“What about Hestia?” You gulped, images of her cold face flashing before you. “What has she asked in exchange?” 

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He threw the herbs he had gathered earlier into a motor. “I’ve never heard of anyone who’s really seeked her favour.” 

You scoffed. “Of course not, what would they ask her help for? Light up their fireplace?” 

Jihoon looked up from the paste he was crushing, slightly miffed. “Your mother is no minor goddess Y/n. She's the caretaker, the protector. Hestia is worshiped in every place called home.” 

“How ironic.” You smiled sadly. “Her own daughter has never had a home.” 

“Unfortunately, no god considers it their responsibility to take care of their bastard children.” He looked pointedly at the counter. “Sit.” 

“Why?” 

“Just sit Y/n.” 

“But why?” 

Sighing, Jihoon rolled his eyes and grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you onto the counter effortlessly as you bit back a scream. As though nothing happened, he continued to do whatever it was he was doing while you tried to calm your uncharacteristically racing heart. 

“It's also unfair to blame Hestia for not having a home when your mortal parents were the one who were supposed to care for you.”

“I know.” You muttered looking down at your fiddling fingers. “This may sound insane but finding Hestia might be easier than finding my mortal parents…. I don't know a thing about them.” 

“I know someone on camp who can help-” 

“But I don't want to find them….yet. I don't know what to ask them.” You looked up as Jihoon pulled out a ladder from the side and began climbing it, reaching for something on the higher shelves. “I’m not prepared to find out if they know the kind of monster I am.” 

“Why would you say that?” He looked at you over his shoulder, frowning. “You don’t even know what your powers are, right?” 

You gulped, staring at the floor, mind racing back to a conversation last night........

“Try not to touch anything.” Mingyu warned as you strolled along his workshop in the faint light of the moonlight. “I’m not really sure if any of these are still hot. I don’t really…. feel heat.” 

As if you did. 

Hanging out with Mingyu wasn’t really on your cards today. After Minghao had left you to deal with your little problem on your own, you had silently made your way out of the house and down the street, searching for a pharmacy. It must’ve been a good twenty minute unsuccessful walk before Mingyu, who was driving around on his bike looking for you, spotted you. You told him you were looking to buy some pills for a headache so he offered to drive you to the nearest store. He didn’t need to know what you really needed was some plan B. After you had procured what you wanted and he started heading back to camp, you told him to take the longest route possible. While he obliged, you wrapped your arms around his waist and drifted off, not wanting to think about all that was plaguing your mind. Not wanting to think about Seungcheol. 

But he’s the first thought on your mind the moment the bike halted at the camp gate. You didn’t want to see him, not now. Mingyu was generous enough to agree when you muttered wanting to take up his offer to crash in his residence. He didn’t question the change of heart, instead he carefully walked you through his workshop, bringing you to the stairs on the other side, leading you up to his house. You though are far too enthralled to follow him.

“You’ve got quite the space here.” You pursed your lips impressed, stripping out of the jacket as he smiled proudly. “Must never be boring.” 

“It isn’t.” He admitted. “Making weapons doesn’t take me too long, leaves a lot of time on my hands for other experiments and endeavors.” 

“Such as?” 

“I like creating little automations.” He shrugged. “Machinery that allows me to be creative and makes life easier. Like the one that's currently out there chopping up wood, for your house.”

“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows looking around. “What else have you made?”

“Too many to remember.” He laughed. “But my best creation is probably my bike. It took months of trial and error. Couldn't have done it without my best buddy.”

“Wonwoo?” You had noticed the two were significantly closer than the rest. There was definitely some story there. 

Mingyu laughed. “Yes Wonwoo is the best but no, I'm talking about that little guy.” 

He pointed behind you and you turned, finding yourself about 500 meters away from a not so little three headed dog, snarling at you with all three of its mouths, drooling leaking from the edges. You took a careful step back and another, crashing into the chest of Mingyu who had sneaked up to you. 

“What is that?” You whispered, voice shaking just a bit. 

“That’s Cerberus, my pet.” 

“That’s a pet?!” 

“It’s Wonwoo’s actually….. But yes, he’s a pet and he’s really friendly, don’t worry.” 

“Huh.” You breathed, not believing his words but only relieved cause you noticed he was chained. “And he helps you with your experiments?”

Mingyu nodded, steering you away from there, walking you toward his house once more. “Cerberus is a very powerful creature - he’s immensely strong, uncharacteristically intelligent and most importantly, he’s my fire source.” 

“Fire source?” 

“The most important tool for a blacksmith like me is the flame - you see those.” He pointed at big cave shaped structures lined neatly on the edge. “Forging presses like that require fires that cannot be ignited by tiny matchsticks. It takes a powerful source to work them, like Cerberus.” 

You tensed, just a little. “So Cerberus can create fire?” 

“He breathes fire.” Mingyu clarified. “Cerberus is from the Underworld, like most mysteries in our world. So yeah, he is one of the few creatures that can create fire.” 

“C-can’t you?” You scratched the back of your head, trying to seem casual. “You said you don’t feel heat so can’t you… make fire too?” 

“Don’t be silly Y/n.” Mingyu scoffed. “Fire is one of the five natural elements. Even the gods, your mother included, can only control fire, not create it.” 

You were right. Even here you were a freak, even here you didn’t fit in. 

None of Mingyu’s excited explanations about the various projects he was working on went into your head. There was only one thing you could think about - You didn’t belong here and you needed to leave before everyone realised that. 

“...and that’s why I don’t have a guest bedroom but don’t worry, my bed is king sized.” Mingyu leaned against the stairs with a small smirk dancing on his face. “Though I can’t promise I can keep my hands to myself.” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing him to lead the way up. The only thing that gave you comfort as he laughed was the knowledge that if you burned, Mingyu was perhaps the only one who couldn’t hurt with your fire......

“Y/n.” Jihoon hopped off the ladder looking at you quizzically. “Where are you lost?” 

“I….” You cleared your throat. “I just meant, I don’t know, what if my mortal parents are aware of any kind of powers I might have? What if… that’s what kept them away from me?” 

“Then that’s all the more reason you have to find them.” Jihoon shrugged. “It would help us-”

“No.” You firmly shook your head. “Just…let me just talk to Hestia first, everything else can wait.” 

“As you wish.” He held up the bowl of whatever concoction he was mixing, a green paste staring at you. “In the meantime…”

“What is that?”

“It's my special ointment for bruises. Makes any and all scars and wounds disappear.” 

“I’m not hurt….” Your voice faded away as Jihoon’s eyes landed on the red, purple and blue trail of hickies on your neck. 

“Are you sure you want to go around parading the evidence of your threesome last night?” 

“I’m not trying to…how do you even know it was a threesome?”

“Those are clearly marked by two different men.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Is this another one of your body reading tricks?” 

“Yes but anyone who knows you were at your first Aphrodite rager last night will be able to guess that much.” Jihoon shrugged, standing right before you. “In fact, three is a rather small number there, most scenes tend to involve a minimum of five people.” 

You felt your jaw hang as Jihoon looked amused. 

“So do you want it gone or not?” 

“Why?” You cleared your throat. “You think I should hide all this in case the other boys make assumptions like yours? That I ought to have some shame?” 

“Not shame, I thought you might appreciate some privacy.” He shrugged. “Given there’s someone who you have been particularly wary of these days.” 

Seungcheol. 

How did this man know everything? 

Sighing, you gripped the edges of Seokmin's shirt and pulled it over your head, baring your neck to the man before you. Trying not to smile, Jihoon slotted himself between your dangling legs, pushed the hair off your shoulder, gently tending to your bruises. 

“It might sting.” He warned right on time as you grabbed his bicep with your free hand, feeling pain shooting up your nerves as the cold ointment touched your skin.

“Breathe.” He instructed, softly running his fingers along your collarbone. “It’ll pass.” 

You figured listening to the expert might be better so you did, trying your best to ignore the intimate proximity between the two of you. 

“While we are at it,” You looked away as he blew on your wounds, cold wind caressing it. “Do you also have something for potential STDs or…. You know, ensuring our kind doesn’t replicate?” 

Jihoon chuckled. “Again, demigods don’t get sick Y/n, STDs don’t mean anything to us and we don’t ‘replicate’ either so there’s really nothing to worry about.” 

Suddenly, every cell in your body stopped functioning. “What do you mean?” 

Jihoon blinked at you like he was only just realising what he said. “Uh…. Demigods are barren Y/n, we…. cannot have children.” 

Though you were sitting it felt like the ground had been pulled from under your feet. Like everything around you had stopped. Like everything had ended.

“Y/n are you okay?” 

How could you be? You just learnt that you could never have children, that you could never be a mother. All your life you didn’t have a family but now? Being a demigod had robbed you of your chance to ever have one in the future. You wanted to peel that part away, rip it and throw it somewhere far away, get rid of this side of you that had done nothing but make everything worse. 

Jihoon seemed to have understood the storm inside you. Or felt it. He was quiet as he grabbed a washcloth and slowly wiped away the ointment, the bruises beneath it starting to look a lot lighter already. As the sting ebbed away, the pain in your heart felt more apparent, coursing through you, hurting everywhere. 

At that moment your eyes trailed over the soft and sharp features of his face burrowed in concentration, your admiration for it overpowering every other thought. 

That’s it. That’s what you needed again. A distraction. 

Now that his job was done, Jihoon tried to move away but your grip on his arm was like a vice. He glanced at it then at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“So you're telling me-” You cocked your head at him. “-even though I let two men cum inside me yesterday and if my prediction is right, another will get his turn today - I'm not at the potential risk of anything?” 

Jihoon raised his eyebrow. “No you're not but pray tell, since when did the daughter of Hestia dabble in predictions? I thought that was in the hands of Apollo's prodigy.” 

“It is.” You ran your hand down his arm, feeling every ridge of muscle under your touch, voice leaving you in a whisper. “The possibility of my prediction coming true or not is in your hands really.” 

Jihoon’s eyes darkened as your tongue darted out to lick your lower lip slowly. Before you knew it, his hands gripped the thickness of your thighs and with a quick jerk he pulled you closer to him, your legs wrapping around his waist. Jihoon looked up at you and you down at him, breaths mingling in anticipation. 

“I know what you're doing Y/n and I know why you're doing this.” He spoke ever so softly. “But I'm not a distraction kind of guy so if there's ever a time you really want me, then you'll have me.”

With that he pulled you off the counter and let you lower your legs on to the floor, looking away. Given the kind of tension and the comfort you had grown to have with him and most importantly how unbelievably hard he was, his length right below your ass, you didn't think he'd say no. It was fair, he was allowed to. It wasn't his fault you were looking to jump any given person just to take your mind off things. 

Nodding, and mumbling a soft thanks for the ointment, you grabbed your shirt and walked past him, only stopping by the corridor to return what was his. 

“Sorry.” Muttering you slid off his shorts and placed it on the shelf beside you. 

Jihoon surprisingly let out a soft groan. You thought it was because you were suddenly minimally dressed but you noticed his eyes were gazing between your legs, on the wet spot of your underwear. You tried to press your legs closer, suddenly feeling very exposed but all it does is darken the spot, making things worse. 

“Fucking hell.” Jihoon muttered and in a flash you were pushed up against the wall, trapped between it and him, caged by his arms on either side. “I'm only just a man Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered down to his pants, the outline of his hard on starkly visible. “Uh huh.” 

“Do you still want this?” 

You cocked your head, hand running down his chest and over the tent in his pants as you smirked. “I predicted it.” 

“Allow me to make a pre-” His words faltered as you squeezed his length. “-prediction as well.” 

“By all means.” 

“You're gonna cum three times before I do.” 

“Oh really?” You raised your eyebrows and spat into your hand, slipping it past the waistband of his pants, wrapping your hand around his length. “I don't think so.” 

“That's….” He half panted, watching your hand do its job, his own hands still against the wall like they were taped to it. “Getting a headstart is cheating.” 

“You're slow.” 

“I'm savouring.” He smiled, leaning closer. “I'm in good hands and I know you're soaked. It's only a matter of time before you're begging.” 

You chuckled softly as though you were amused by his assumption but true to his words, your walls were already fluttering, clenching around nothing as your legs squeezed together. Jihoon, like the master of reading your body that he was, put his hand right in between, cupping you over your underwear, the pressure of his palm on your clit ever so light. From the soft sigh that left your mouth you both knew you were faring far worse than he was - truly, it was brave on your part to challenge him.

“Jihoon….” 

He hums in response as the pace of your hand falters.

“Touch me.” 

“I am sweetheart.” 

“More.” You wrapped your free hand around his wrist, breath shaking and Jihoon allowed you to lead him exactly where you wanted him - past the hem of your panties, right where the wetness was pooling between your legs. 

“Good fucking god…” He swore like he didn't expect you to be this drenched. What a funny guy. What did he think was gonna happen when he was this undeniably hot? 

You on the other hand expected him to be a tease, to draw this out, to make you beg. But to your complete surprise, he wasted no time in sliding two thick digits in, making you squeeze his length at the sheer stretch of the intrusion. 

“Sweetheart, you're gonna kill me.” He muttered, shutting his eyes tight. 

You wanted to apologise, you really did but whatever words were leaving your mouth didn't seem to be making any sense. Not when Jihoon was picking up the pace, taking turns pumping, curling and scissoring his fingers inside you. You felt your back arch on its own, head thrown back as an unholy moan left your being. Fuck he was right, you cannot possibly think of anything else now - this man was capable of turning you into a complete wreck before you could even get a moan out of him. 

“Your bruises have nearly disappeared.” He noticed with your neck bared to him once again. “It was prettier marked.”

“Mark it then.” You panted, composing yourself, getting back to stroking him again. “Do whatever you want.” 

And that's enough to break his resolve, as you felt his fingers slowing down while his teeth ran across the skin of your shoulder. Taking advantage of his momentary fixation, you ran your thumb across his slit, feeling the precum spill onto your fingers. Jihoon groaned, his mouth getting more aggressive on your neck as you gripped his bicep again, sinking your nails into it. 

Fuck, there it was. 

That tightening in the pits of your being, there it was, slowly climbing as you felt your legs starting to shake and Jihoon smirking against your skin, reading all the signs like he knew your body inside out. Thank god he could because just when you needed it, he slid in another finger and curled them up, reaching that sweet spot that had you instantly snapping, falling apart.  

He stilled his movements as you convulsed around his fingers, holding onto him tight but before you could even come down from your high, he started moving again.

“Ji… Jihoon.” You whimpered, chest heaving. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

And before you know it your barely ebbed orgasm blended into a second one and you were practically gushing out into his hand.

“Damn sweetheart.” He smiled at you like he was a little too pleased with himself. “You're an easy one.” 

Excuse me? 

You could barely get a hold of yourself but that wasn't the most pressing matter - how dare he dismiss you so easily? 

Given your mouth was dry you swallowed on nothing, and shoved him back with just a small  push. Jihoon looked at you confused initially, then his eyes widened as you dropped to your knees and he realised what you were up to. But just as your hand reached the waistband of his bottoms and he pushed the hair off your face, more than ready to fuck your mouth, a loud sound rang through the silence of the afternoon. 

“Shit.” Jihoon muttered pulling you up. “That's code purple.”

You groaned. “Why are there so many fucking colours?” 

Frowning, he threw you your clothes before leading you to a small basin to wash your hands and his. “We need to go. It’s an emergency team meeting.” 

As he scurried around grabbing his things, his bow and arrows to be specific, you dressed yourself once again, watching him. Guess neither of your predictions were coming true after all. 

Noticing you were still lost in your thoughts, Jihoon sighed and grabbed you by the hand, leading you out of his house and to the dining hall of the common cabin where apparently all team meetings were held.

When the two of you had reached, thankfully only Soonyoung and Seungkwan were there and though their expressions were full of questions, they asked none. Before you knew it, everyone had gathered and whispers going around as they settled in their seats but the moment Seungcheol raised his hand, they died down.

“What's the matter?” 

Seungkwan nodded at Soonyoung who stood up, looking around. 

“Kwan and I sent some messages out today asking about the geese attack last night.” He shook his head slowly. “It seems no camp is responsible for it.” 

Minghao spun the blade in his hand with a frown. “So it wasn't a prank or an act of retribution?” 

Seungkwan shook his head. “Considering how we all thought their nature was odd, Hansol connected us to some Hunters of Artemis.” He laid out a map with four red crosses. “They gave us four locations where birds like this were sighted.” 

“So this was just like any other animal attack?” Seokmin leaned back, looking relieved. 

“I'm afraid not. It may or may not be a coincidence but the Hunters also claim that all four locations have been frequently exhibiting very high energy signals, signals that might belong to…” Seungkwan gulped. “The Chimaera.”

A strange silence descended upon the room as glances were exchanged. You looked at Jihoon questioningly but he looked troubled. 

“The fire breather.” Chan let out a low whistle. “It hasn't been heard of in centuries.”

“It seems to be on the move off late.” Hansol tucked the arrows he was polishing into his quiver. “It's hunting.” 

“And I think the geese are its agents.” Soonyoung pointed out. “Geese have always been symbols of vigilance and surveillance. Whatever the Chimaera is hunting, I think it's using the birds to trace it. That's why neither Jun nor Hansol could understand them, because they aren't wild or domestic - they're monsters.” 

“Chan,.” Seungcheol straightened himself. “Alert Olympus, tell them we need troops-” 

“It seems Olympus assigned the hunt to Artemis, ” Seungkwan added. “And you know how the Hunters function. Their goal is to capture the beast, not kill it so they have been taking their time to strategize.” 

“Well we can't wait for them to figure things out.” Jeonghan stared at the map on the table, a hundred things running in his mind. “We're going to have to hunt the monster on our own.” 

“Us?” Minghao looked around. “Do you even understand how powerful the creature is-” 

“Should we just sit back and wait for it to attack the camp then?” Jeonghan raised his eyebrows. “Because whatever it's looking for is here and monsters aren't patient creatures.”

“I know, but-” 

“Minghao.” Seungcheol interrupted, warning. “Jeonghan is our strategist, we'll let him decide what's best.” 

Minghao nodded begrudgingly as Jeonghan pulled the paper towards himself, Soonyoung handing him a pen. 

“We'll split according to our assigned partners.” He began drawing out lines and scribbling names. “Seungkwan and Soonyoung, you two head to the demigod union in the city and alert them, in case we need back up. Minghao and Jun, I want you both here for camp protection, Mingyu and Wonwoo as well…” He looked thoughtful. “If the Chimaera decides to attack the camp in our absence, Cerberus is the only chance we have against it.” 

As all four boys nodded, Jeonghan turned to the rest. 

“The remaining of us will go to the four locations. Everyone will use an energy reader and find the location of the Chimaera. Once you’ve narrowed down its location, alert the team to gather for a hunt. Any foolishness such as going after the monster on your own will not lead to punishment because you'll already be dead.” He glanced around. “Is that understood?”

Mummers of agreement echoed in the room. 

“Jihoon and Hansol, you two head to the one in the south, that's the biggest area but your hounds should help cover it. Joshua and I will head east, Chan and Seokmin will head west and Seungcheol…..” His eyes landed on the leader who was very evidently shaking his head. “Seungcheol and Y/n, you two will head north.” 

You looked at Jeonghan in disbelief. 

“Han,” Seungcheol spoke before you could say anything. “I don't need a partner, I've always been a lone hunter-” 

“That was because we were an odd number of members. But now there's 14 of us so Y/n will go with you-” 

“It's a dangerous mission and she's untrained.” Seungcheol spoke between gritted teeth. “She will be better off in camp-”

“She will be safer with our strongest warrior.” Jeonghan argued back. “You cannot always be team leader Cheol, learn to be a team player. Y/n will accompany you.”

“No I won’t.” You shook your head. “I have no interest in being where I am not wanted.” 

“Y/n, it's not a choice.” Jeonghan sounded tired. “I'm the strategist and this is an order-” 

“I don't care.” You got up, firm about your decision. “I'm not going anywhere with this man.” 

And with that you stormed away from there, ignoring the faint voice of Jeonghan who sighed and continued giving instructions. 

“We leave tomorrow at daybreak.” 

You stared at the schedule in your hand wondering why on Earth you hadn't looked at it before you stepped into the classroom. Admittedly all your time went in washing up, changing your clothes, grabbing lunch and rushing for your afternoon lesson, but you should have noticed what was in store for today. 

Friday - Quest Strategy (Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan)

And you didn't want to see either of them right now. 

But before you could grab your things and leave the room to make it seem like you were never here in the first place, Jeonghan arrived, standing against the door, watching you pack up. 

“You need to stop running away from everything.” 

As he walked in, you looked up, rolling your eyes. “And you need to stop interfering in my life.” 

“My decisions as strategist aren't personal Y/n, I do what's beneficial for the camp and its members.” He leaned against the board. "Accommodating your individual preference is not a part of my job profile.”

“Okay, that's great, then be prepared for only one of us to come back alive tomorrow.” 

Jeonghan rolled his eyes at your dramatic statement. “What happened between the two of you?” 

You scoffed at him. As if you were going to tell him. 

“Seungcheol has been my comrade since we were teenagers, I know him better than anyone and I know for a fact that he's not the villain you're making him to be.”

“Oh he's not?” You crossed your arms. “Okay then explain why when I was throwing myself onto him for days, he kept avoiding me but the moment I walked away from him, he came chasing? And did the man at least go through with that? No, he decided to leave me hanging yet again and then he behaved like everything that's happening is my fault?” You threw your hands in the air. “No apology, no explanation, he just continued to avoid me and when I finally got him out of my mind, then he decided he wanted to talk to me? I didn't want to, but he couldn't even respect my space and ended up coming to the party and….” 

“And?” Jeonghan looked curiously. 

“And I think he knows that I slept with Soonyoung….” You didn't meet Jeonghan’s eyes. “and Minghao.” 

Jeonghan hummed, nodding his head, taking in all the information, as you added quickly. 

“But it was only because all of us were under the influence of aphrodisiacs-” 

“That's irrelevant.” Jeonghan waved his hand. “Who you choose to be with and what you choose to do is entirely your choice. But you think Seungcheol is mad about that?” 

“I'm not sure. I have a feeling he is.”

“That's not right.” 

“Now you see my point?”

“I didn’t say he wasn't stupid.” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “But I still stand by the fact that he's not a bad person.” 

“Okay mate, you need to get your head out of your bestie's ass.” 

Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. You expected him to say something snarky but his expression slowly turned serious. 

“Do you know why you're in Camp Seventeen Y/n?”

“Because I'm a demigod?” That was perhaps the first time you had said that out loud. 

“Yes but why this camp?”

“The Oracle assigned me.”

“Partly.” Jeonghan nodded. “The Oracle of Delphi only assigns demigods to camps that are willing to take them. Seungcheol was the only leader willing to take you.” 

Your lips parted in surprise as Jeonghan continued. 

“Do you know what was supposed to happen the night you were kidnapped and brought to the court?” 

You shook your head. 

“You were going to be attacked.” Jeonghan let out a deep breath. “The sudden activation of your aura after years of dormancy seemed to have drawn in a lot of attention. Days after your little incident, Olympus sent out a report that the levels of monster activity in the city were unprecedentedly high. They said there was a large influx of monsters and we had to be alert but I don't think so. Especially not after what we learnt today.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It's not monsters but one monster that came to the city.” Jeonghan looked at you keenly. “I think it was the Chimaera and I think you are what it's hunting.”

The things in your hand slipped and hit the floor with a thud. You? 

“You mean… I'm the threat in this camp?”

“You're the one in danger.” He corrected. “But yes you are the threat and more importantly, Cheol knows that. He always knew that. It was evident from the start that you were a monster magnet, that you are some kind of anomaly and that making you a part of our camp would only mean more danger but he said it didn't matter. He said as long as someone needed to be saved, he would do it. He said he would be your protector and that's why you're here Y/n - because Cheol made the choice to safeguard you.”

You blinked at a loss of words. 

“Even yesterday, when the geese attacked and we didn't know what was happening at the party, his first instinct was to check if you were okay. That's why he came to the rager. That’s also why he's been so frustrated, why he doesn't want you to accompany him tomorrow. Your safety is his first priority.” 

Letting out a deep breath, you ran your hand through your hair, internally beating yourself up. You had no idea. 

“Will Seungcheol be coming for the lesson today?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I don't think so, he's busy at Mingyu’s workshop, preparing for tomorrow, like you should be doing too.” 

“I can't possibly learn anything by tonight that'll help me tomorrow.” 

“Yes you can.” Jeonghan walked up to you. “We can try and understand why the Chimaera is after you. We can discuss your lawsuit considering it was the root cause of everything and see if it gives us any answers. Let me just call Wonwoo and-”

“Absolutely not.” You quickly grabbed all your things again. Wonwoo was still on the list of people you didn't want to meet. “I need to find Cheol first.”

And with that you swung your bag over your shoulder, rushing out of the classroom, leaving a sighing Jeonghan behind. 

When you reached Mingyu’s residence, Seungcheol was indeed in the workshop along with a couple of camp members, inspecting the weapons for tomorrow. Immersed in their discussion they didn't notice your presence until you stepped in and Cerberus let out a low growl, his eyes following you. 

“Y/n.” Mingyu jogged up to you, looking concerned. “What are you doing here?” 

“I…” You gulped looking at Seungcheol’s back. “I was hoping to talk to Cheol real quick.” 

“We're in the middle of a meeting, I'm not sure…” 

“Please Mingyu, it'll be quick.” 

“I can ask him but-”

“Gyu.” Seungcheol looked over his shoulder. “What's the matter?”

“Y/n is here,” Mingyu raised his voice. “She wants to talk to you.”

As lightning ripped across the sky, Seungcheol let out a deep breath “Send her away.” 

And for the nth time you could hear your heart breaking because of Seungcheol.

 “Seungcheol I just want to apolo-”

“I don't want to hear it.” He turned to you, voice hard and gaze unforgiving. “Please leave.” 

Mingyu looked at you apologetically as did the other members, Jihoon included. Taking a step back and then another you walked out, the low grumbles of the thunder not louder than the thumping of your heart. 

Sometimes you really had to remind yourself that Natalie was in fact a pig and not a dog. 

You tended to forget given how much she liked to be taken on walks and sniff everything around. Today she took you from Seungcheol’s house to Mingyu’s to Seungkwan’s to the common cabin and finally to the temple where she found a spot of wet mud and decided to roll in it. That was until she spotted Wonwoo walking by, perhaps heading to secure the camp's borders for the night, given it was nearly dusk. You looked away from him but your pet decided to jump up and follow him like she always loved to do.

Sighing, you walked over to the area designated for campfire and sat on one of the logs, picking on the chips of wood nonchalantly. When the cold wind of the evening caressed your skin, sending shivers down your spine, you looked around, making sure no one was watching you. Realising you were all alone you waved your hand, watching the flames dance on your palm before they floated over to the wood in the middle, lighting the campfire. You stared at the orange flames, Jeonghan's words ringing in your head again - I think you're what it's hunting. 

It couldn't be a coincidence. A powerful monster, a fire breather that had been quiet for centuries, wanting to find you of all people. That couldn't be a coincidence. Was it possible the Chimaera knew something about you? Did it know why you were such a freak? 

And why did Seungcheol choose to protect someone like you? Why won't the man just let you hate him peacefully? He just had to be so righteous and brave and good…. But if he cared about you so much, why did he always pull away? Why did he never reciprocate?

It seemed like life only liked to throw questions at you, never any answers. You were too tired for all this. You just wanted to stop thinking. You just wanted this day to end and let yourself be taken away by sleep so you could forget all this. You just wanted some peace. 

As though the universe hated you, at that exact time, Jihoon walked out of the temple, hands shoved in his pockets, mind clearly elsewhere. You were thankful he hadn't noticed your presence and had almost left the premises busy in his own world until he suddenly stopped at the edge of the trees, turning back to see you. 

As your eyes locked his, he sighed walking back to you, sitting just over a foot away. He didn't say anything and you didn’t know what to say. 

“You're nervous.” He pointed out. “Your heart is racing.” 

You shook your head exasperated. “Do people tell you how annoying it is to be around you?”

“Not quite.” He chuckled. “I don't like being around people.”

“Why am I the exception?” 

“You came looking for me.” 

“You literally just came and sat next to me.”

“I meant earlier.” 

“I'm talking about now.” 

“I just…” He sighed, turning to you. “I just wanted to say, don’t take whatever Seungcheol says to heart. He has too many pressures on him as leader, especially in situations like this-” 

“You know, that excuse is getting very overused. Is his consistent dismissal of me justified just because he's a busy, important man?” 

“It's not.” Jihoon shook his head. “But I thought you should know - his heart was racing just as fast when you came to talk to him. It always is around you.”

You scoffed, tired of people telling you the same thing. 

“All that tachycardia could be pathological. He should get himself checked-” 

“There's clearly something he's unable to tell you, some reason for why he is the way he is.” Jihoon justified. “Give him a chance to explain himself.” 

“I have to give him a chance?” You looked at him incredulously. “Did you not see how he sent me away?”

“Yes I did, it was the same way you ran away to a party when he wanted to talk.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “If you both just keep being idiots like this, things are never going to get better.” 

“Honestly things don’t have to.” You tugged on the sleeves of your shirt. “It's not like we are star crossed lovers or something. This infatuation or crush or whatever it is, it will eventually die down. All I hope is for us to at least be courteous with each other but he can't even seem to do that.” 

Jihoon stared at the ground. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” 

That was a question you didn't have an answer to. So you ignored it. 

“I just want us to be pleasant over tomorrow's hunt, that's all. But something tells me things might just get a whole lot worse.” 

“Are you making predictions again?” Jihoon chuckled. “Have you still not learnt that you're horrible at it?”

“Hey, that's not fair.” You laughed along. “Besides, the day is not over yet.” 

“Oh you still think you stand a chance with me?” 

You narrowed your eyes at his laughing self. “I didn't say it had to be you. But you said you could make me cum thrice - I only came once.”

“Twice.” 

“Once.” 

“You're forgetting that I can read your body.” He cocked his head at you. “Twice.” 

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “Still less than three.” 

“You and I both know if I wasn't interrupted I could've done it.” 

“Not true.” You shook your head. “If I blew you, you didn't stand a chance.” 

“How ever will we know which of us is right?” 

He looked at you, something darker swirling behind his eyes and it made your insides twist. There was a way to find out and given how empty you had been feeling since earlier, maybe you would have, if only Seungwkan didn't walk over, settling down on the log across yours. Although Jihoon and you were already sitting apart, the two of you moved further away. 

“Natalie is sleeping in Jun's barn apparently.” Seungkwan informed. “Wonwoo has too much to do today - There won't be a shift handover tomorrow since Hansol and Jihoon will be heading for the hunt.” 

You nodded, not really understanding because you didn't really bother to actually. Your mind was entirely elsewhere, wondering about other possibilities. 

“We uh should probably sleep early since, you know,-” You got up swinging your arms. “-big day tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” Jihoon followed your suit, slowly standing. “Better get good rest.” 

Seungwkan nodded, glancing at Hansol who was walking over, “You two go ahead, the two of us need to have a little chat.” 

You nodded as the man in question sat beside Seungwkan, poking the fire with a stick, avoiding your eyes as usual. Unbothered, you turned to Jihoon, catching him already looking at you.

“Jihoon can I-” 

“Y/n do you-”

Both of you looked at each other, gulping. 

“I uh…” You tried yet again to feign casualness. “I wanted to ask for the ointment you gave me earlier, for bruises. I… have many mosquito bites.” 

“Right.” He scratched his head. “I was going to offer you the same.” 

“Oh good.” 

“Yeah good.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes flickered between the two of you but it was only when Hansol looked up that you realised just how suspicious this must seem. Waving an uncharacteristic bye, you quickly left, Jihoon following at a considerable distance as you made your way to his residence. 

The events of earlier today repeated in a similar fashion - Jihoon plucked a few herbs and walked into his house. You followed him, straight into his pantry this time considering neither of you needed a change of clothes. He proceeded to grind up the greens in a paste as you leaned against the door, watching the strong muscles of his back. Fuck you’d love to run your nails down that. 

“What are we doing Y/n?” Finally stopping whatever he was doing, Jihoon gripped the edges of the counter, his expression unseen. 

“I don’t know what you are doing.” You shrugged. “I am just here to prove I was right.” 

Chuckling, Jihoon turned to you. When he saw you slowly unbuttoning the shirt you had donned, his eyes darkened. “Straight down then left.” He turned back to whatever he was doing. “Wait in my room.” 

Pulling your shirt off your shoulders you threw it at him, letting out a giggle and walking away. 

“I don’t like to wait!” You announced, following his instructions. Almost. 

On the way your eyes fell on the music room you had seen earlier, legs instinctively taking a detour. There were all kinds of instruments in there - banjos on the wall, guitars lined up beside the drum set. There was a large grand piano too and a huge computer with all kinds of equipment around. It was impressive to say the least. 

“I said left, not right.” Jihoon walked in, one hand shoved in his pocket, another holding on to a strange, black drink.

“You have a recording studio here.” 

“I would say you're observative but it's pretty obvious so that would be an overstatement.” 

“How do you power these?” You turned to him. “Without electricity?”

“Well you’re analytical, I’ll give you that.” He let out a small laugh before he explained. “I’m the Sun’s progeny - a little solar energy goes a long way.” 

“So all of these work?” You looked around surprised. “Can I listen to something you’ve made?” 

“I don’t think we’re close enough for that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “But we’re close enough for you to have your fingers in me?” 

“You asked for it.” He shrugged. “And I’m a giver.” 

Laughing, you ran your fingers across the piano. “Can you at least play something for me?” 

Jihoon looked at you for a solid minute before he let out a resigned breath. Setting the drink down on the counter, he grabbed a saxophone from the wall and aligned it with his mouth. You leaned against the piano, urging him to continue with the tilt of the head. 

As the sultry sound of his melody rang through the room, you found yourself swaying to it - it was a good piece, a sexy one that definitely worked to set the mood. But you had ways you could do that on your own too. 

Nearing him, each step matching the rhythm of the music, you ran your hand along his groin, feeling his erection already waiting for you. Smirking to yourself you got on your knees before him, hands working on his waistband and surprisingly, you heard him mess up a note. 

“Uh oh.” You tutted, looking up at him. “No mistakes, no fumbling or I’ll stop.” 

Jihoon tensed under your touch, continuing to play his piece, facing turning red but the melody not stopping. Unzipping his pants, you just about leaned in to give the bulge in his underwear a butterfly of a kiss when you felt a chill run down your body. Something was wrong. 

As though you’d lost all sense of autonomy, you could feel yourself moving back, sitting on your heels, your hands proceeding to unclasp your bra instead. Sliding it down your arms and throwing it away, you got up and shimmied out of your shorts and underwear in one go. You gulped as Jihoon watched you sit on the black couch across him, breaths shallow and fast, chest heaving because this wasn’t you - you somehow had no control over your body. You didn’t mean to pull your legs up and spread them open or run your fingers along your slit, or slide them into your wet hole as though you were putting on a show for him. Yes you felt good but none of this was you. 

Jihoon watched with hooded eyes as you pumped your fingers in and out, free hand moving up to squeeze a boob. Everything moved to its own accord, working you up with a vigor you would have never used on yourself, the sound of the wetness and your moans almost drowning out the song. Your back arched as you felt everything tense, but your eyes did not leave Jihoon’s who finally could not take it anymore, setting the sax aside, leaning over you. 

His own fingers found your clit, rubbing onto it in a way that unmistakably tightened the coil in you. Whimpers left your mouth and though it felt like you were in control of yourself again, you couldn’t stop. Not now, not when you were feeling so good, not when you were so close…. Not until Jihoon whispered. 

“Come on sweetheart, cum for me.”

And you did, around your own fingers, eyes seeing white as he continued to tease your clit, a groan rumbling across his chest. 

“Wha…” You panted, slowly coming down from your high, arousal leaking out of you. “What the hell just happened?” 

“That-” Jihoon smirked, straightening himself. “-was my prediction coming true.” 

“But why could I… why could I not…” 

“Control yourself?” 

You nodded.

“Because the song you just heard is what we call Apollo’s Anthem.” He cocked his head at you victoriously. “If mastered, the one who plays it can make anyone dance to their tunes, like you just did.” 

“That….” Your eyes widen with realization. “That was you? Making me do all that?”

He nodded. 

“Now that's cheating.” You huffed, pulling your legs together, pressing them. “I demand a rematch. We're gonna have to redo-” 

“Next time.” He fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled his shirt over this head. “Right now there's another prediction we need to work on.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as Jihoon stripped out of his pants, baring himself completely given he had gone commando underneath. 

“For fucks sake, I've been hard since the afternoon and there's nothing I can think other than cumming inside you.”

A triumphant smirk danced across your lips as you leaned back, watching his callously stroke his length. 

“You know, I had my fill with three orgasms today and I'm quite exhausted. I see no reason I have to indulge.” 

Jihoon blinked at you. “Didn't you want to be proven right?” 

“Nope.” You shook your head. “My math teacher always used to say, the truth never needs to be proven, it always reveals itself. He was a hot man, now that I'm thinking about him, very irresistible.” 

“Can we please not talk about your hot math teacher while I'm jerking off?” Jihoon groaned. “Now I'm thinking of my math teacher and he was a gnome of a man.” 

You laughed, watching as he picked up the pace, desperate to finish himself. 

“Is your right hand satisfying enough?” 

“No but I'll have to settle for imagining it's you.” He whimpered. “Albeit it's not even close to how tight you were.” 

You hummed, suddenly feeling both pity for him and curiosity as to just how much a dick as thick as that could stretch you out. “Do you still want to fuck me?” 

“Why is that still a question?” 

“I'll allow it.” Spreading your legs again, you ran your fingers along the folds again, this time wantonly, smearing the remnants of your previous orgasm all over. “But only because you've to hunt tomorrow and I don't want you to be distracted, thinking about dicking me down-.” 

“Stop talking and move over.” He muttered and finally you listened, shifting to the side as he sat beside you. Wasting no time, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his lap, his dick grazing against your clit, sending a jolt down your body. As you held his shoulders, he pumped himself a few times before aligning the tip right at your hole, dragging it along the wetness agonisingly slowly. 

“Jihoon for god's sake, just put it in.” 

“Say you want me to fuck you.” 

“You want me to fuck you.” 

Your bratty-ness was met with a painful spank on the ass. 

“Say it.” He rubbed the area softly, before spreading the cheeks, the head of his dick ever so slightly entering you. “Say you want this as much as me.” 

You tried to chase that feeling, sink further down his length, but his grip was strong and unnerving. 

“Fuck Jihoon please.” You whined as his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking it. “Let's just do this already.”

“Can’t hear you.” 

“Jihoon…” You begged as he pulled out, leaving you clenching around nothing. 

“Walls are soundproof sweetheart.” He reached up, nuzzling your neck. “Let me hear you.” 

“For fucks sake, fuck me already Jihoon!” You babbled, desperate to not lose the feeling of him sliding into you again. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-” 

“Ride me.” He whispered, pushing you down on his cock, the sheer thickness of it nearly splitting you open. “God you're so tight.” 

“And you're so big.” You moaned, as you bottomed out on him, feeling every inch of his thickness against your fluttering walls. 

Jihoon allowed you to adjust to his length, mouth working on marking your breasts instead but when you began involuntary squeezing him he pulled away, biting his lip like he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Y/n....” He mumbled, fingers gripping your waist tighter. “Move.” 

And you did, like your life depended on it, knees digging into the couch taking support. With his hands sliding down to your ass again, he helped too, bouncing you on him with a pace you could not have managed on your own. You threaded your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, head thrown back, guttural moans leaving you. Jihoon seemed to enjoy all of it, the way you sounded, the way you felt around him, the way you gripped his hair as your core began to tighten threateningly. You could tell from the way he chose to hold you in place instead, thrusting himself up into you and your arousal dripping down his length filthily that you were close but he was far from ready for this to be over. 

Oh this was going to be a long night. 

“Y/n wake up.” It was the soft shaking that drew you out of your sleep. “It’s nearly dawn.”

Jihoon’s face hovered over yours, looking tense. You stretched awake, blinking your eyes open, looking around - you were still in his music room, lying on his couch. You must’ve slept here last night, you didn’t even realise when you went into a deep slumber. From all the bedding on the floor you figured Jihoon crashed in here with you despite having a room of his own in his own house. Slightly thankful that he was gracious enough to not leave you alone, you sat up, pulling your hair into a bun. 

“The boys are done washing up if you wish to hit the showers.” He gathered the remaining of your clothes on the floor, which was really just your bra and handed it to you. “You should also eat something. We skipped dinner last night.” 

Of course you did. 

You’d never had sex this intense before last night. You vaguely remembered cumming nearly three more times - once while you were riding him, right before he emptied his load right into you and two more before he pulled you off him and had you on your knees on the couch, your ass and his cum dripping out of you on display for him as he fucked you and filled you one more time. After that, right before you faded into a deep sleep, you also recalled him cleaning you, handing you that black drink from earlier and helping you get dressed - eating was not even on your agenda before you passed out. 

But now admittedly, you were hungry and also in desperate need for a shower so you swung your legs off the couch and got to your feet. Taking a step was particularly difficult though, given how sore you were. 

“Here.” Jihoon handed you a glass of the same potion. “It’ll help with the pain.” 

Muttering a small thanks, you downed the bitter juice in one gulp. As you returned the glass he handed you a small box of a very familiar green ointment, looking pointedly at your neck. Apparently he had given you his own set of the very bruises he had healed yesterday. Scoffing, you took it from him, walking away, towards the main door. 

“Are you okay?” He asked from behind as you nodded, looking over your shoulder.

“Thank you Jihoon, for everything.” and with that you shut the door, stepping out into the darkness before dawn, taking a deep breath. 

Something about Jihoon’s expression told you he was expecting you to say something more but you didn’t have anything else to say. He was a distraction, you were successfully distracted and now you were back to your reality and the real world. Now it was time to face Seungcheol again. 

Realising the sun would be out in a while, you quickly headed for a shower keeping your head down not to meet the eyes of the boys busy loading the cars at the edge of the camp. As you walked into the bathhouse you wondered if you would meet your regular bypasser at this time of the day too and brushed off the possibility but to your complete surprise, Wonwoo, fully dressed for a change, was right there, leaning against the lockers as though he was waiting for you. 

“You're on time.”

“And I don't have the time for you.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your towel, heading towards the showers.

“Careful Y/n.” Wonwoo called out from behind you, his voice a lot less nonchalant than it normally was. “The Chimaera is no small monster. It's dangerous, manipulative and feeds on chaos.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder as he continued.

“If things take a turn and you're forced to face it, do whatever it takes to fight it. Don't think, don't analyse, just do it.” 

Frowning, you turned to him, wondering why he was suddenly saying all this but without explaining himself any further, Wonwoo straightened himself and simply left from there. 

By the time you had arrived at the dining hall, right around the time the sun had begun to peak from behind the mountains, all the boys had gathered around the table, dressed in armours and gear. Jeonghan was leading the meeting again, walking around handing something that looked a lot like a golden medallion. 

“Keep your energy readers close to you at all times - the Chimaera is a very intelligent monster but it's not very fast, so in a critical situation, early detection may be what saves your lives.” Noticing your presence, he walked up to you, holding the medallion out. “This is an energy reader. The way demigods have auras, monsters do too and this little handy thing can pick up on it. The closer you are to a creature, the warmer it gets so pay attention. If the medallion manages to pick the right frequency, it will morph into an image of the monster so you'll know exactly what it is. Understood?”

You nodded. 

“Turn.” 

And you did, as he pushed your hair onto a shoulder and secured the chain at the nape of your neck. You ran your fingers across the golden indentation of the surface curiously - it was kind of heavy. 

“Your armour is in Cheol's car.” Mingyu piqued from his seat. “So are the flares and your looking glass.”

You turned to Jeonghan who understood the confusion etched on your face. 

“You are, at no point, allowed to abandon your partner but on the off chance that you are separated, send a flare and it will help him identify your location and a looking glass-” He pulled out a small pane of glass from his pocket. “-is how you can communicate with the members. Just say the name of whoever you want to talk to and they'll appear on it.” 

Finally understanding you nodded, as Jeonghan handed you one last thing - a folded paper. 

“This is a copy of the map. Seungcheol will be driving so be sure to guide him properly.” 

You looked over his shoulder at the leader who seemed tense. 

“Whatever is going on between you two, please just keep aside for one day.” Jeonghan looked at you pointedly and sighing, you nodded. You would be courteous with him, you could do that much. 

As the boys began shuffling around, getting to their feet and leaving the hall, a hand on your arm stopped you from following. 

“Breakfast.” Jun held out with a small box that looked like it was filled to the brim. “Eat on the way. You'll need your energy.” 

Muttering a grateful thanks, you took it from him, glancing at Minghao who was standing beside him, arms crossed. 

“I know you're not fully trained but every demigod should have a weapon on them when they're out in the real world.” Your trainer put a pair of daggers in your hand. “Twin blades. I think they'll suit you.” 

You turned the sheathed weapons in your hand, liking how light they felt. Minghao seemed proud of how comfortable you were. 

“Stay safe doll.” 

He called out as you left, a new unknown fear coursing through you as everything got more and more real. 

By the time you reached the gates, everyone else had already taken off, leaving only Seungcheol leaning against his G wagon, waiting for you. The things Mingyu mentioned were in the passenger seat, neatly folded when you opened the door. As you tried to quickly slip them all on, Seungcheol waited, not offering to help, not even looking, just staring out at the woods. When you finally clambered in, he got in too, turning on the engine and taking off swiftly. You stared at the map on your lap - fuck, it was a long ride. 

In the 2 hours that the two of you had been driving, the sun had fully risen, you had finished your breakfast and not one word that was irrelevant to the route had been exchanged. You stared out of the window, watching the trees whizz by - you had crossed much of the town houses in the outskirts and the road was getting narrower and lonelier now. It made sense why a monster would hide out here. 

“How much further?” Seungcheol asked, fingers drumming the wheel. 

“Until we reach the big olive tree.” You peered at the map trying to understand the images instead given you couldn't read Greek. “There we turn left.” 

Seungcheol hummed, then silence descended once again. 

It was a miracle you went through so much time without saying anything to the man beside you. Considering it was just the two of you and neither of you could run, it was the perfect time to talk about everything going on but you found yourself complying with Jeonghan’s instructions and keeping quiet. Perhaps because you had too much on your mind. 

As nonchalant as you tried to seem, the Chimaera terrified you. It wasn't because it was apparently a big scary monster but because it was seeking you. You were no idiot - you knew that if a creature that powerful wanted to kill you, it could have at many instances when you were being particularly reckless. This one definitely wanted something else from you and the thought of that was more terrifying. What could a monster possibly need from you? 

You didn't know. And maybe like most things in your life you wouldn't get to know. Like you didn't get to meet Hestia, or didn't understand why your powers were so different, or didn't know how to cope with the fact that you could never be a mother. It was perhaps just another thing to add to this never ending list. 

“Y/n.” Seungcheol's hand on your arm pulled you out of your thoughts. “How many times do I have to ask? Is that the tree?” 

You glanced at it and then back at the map and nodded. “Yeah, sorry, that's the one.” 

Shifting gears Seungcheol slowed down, turning left like you told him to but to both of your surprise, the road ahead led straight into a forest that was submerged in darkness despite it being so early in the day. Confused, Seungcheol turned on the headlights as he drove ahead but the moment the car moved ahead, the lights turned off. 

Frowning, he tried again, only to receive the same result - the lights kept turning off. 

Annoyed, he stopped the vehicle, grabbing a rather large lighter from the dashboard and stepped out, opening up the hood. Unbuckling your belt, you followed him. 

“Sit inside Y/n.”

“How are you supposed to hold the lighter and fix this thing?” You grabbed the light from him and held it over the engine. “Is there a problem?”

Seungcheol peered at the machinery, frowning. “I don't think so. I don't know why…..” He trailed off like a realisation hit him. “Did you say the tree we crossed was an olive tree?”

“I think it was?” You held out the map for Seungcheol to see. “I can't read Greek.”

“That’s not an olive tree and this isn't any ordinary forest….” He turned to you, both your faces illuminated by the faint light of the fire. “This is the Forest of Nyx, the Goddess of the Night.” 

“Is that why the lights won't work?” You whispered, feeling a chill run down your body. “Is that why it's so dark?” 

“It's always night at her realm. No light, no Gods, no eyes are allowed here.” He gulped as though he suddenly realised the proximity between the two of you. “No one can see us here.” 

You frowned not understanding what he meant when he shut the hood, the headlights surprisingly flaring up again. Before you could even process what was going on, he pulled you up against him, the lighter dropping from your hands due to the sheer force as your body pressed against his. 

“Cheol-”

“No one can see us Y/n.” He whispered, eyes drifting to your lips. “No one.” 

And in a flash, his mouth was on yours - hot, wanting and desperate. 

You gripped his arms, taken aback by the suddenness but when he pulled you closer like he didn't even want air between the two of you, you ran your hands up his chest and neck, threading them into his thick hair. Taking that as a sign of approval, he moved his hands down, briefly squeezing your ass before catching hold of your thighs and lifting you with unsurprising ease, wrapping your legs around his waist. You moaned when you felt his tongue slip into your mouth, his hands annoyed by all the armour as though they wanted to rip it out. 

It was only when you felt breathless and pulled back that he finally let you go. Looking up at you equally breathless, eyes almost pleading, the words that you'd been dying to hear left his mouth at last. 

“Fuck I've wanted this for so long.” He groaned. “I wanted you for so long Y/n, please….” 

You gulped, stiffening when you understood what he was begging for.

Choi Seungcheol wanted to fuck you.

A/n - aaaaand scene hehe

If you've managed to make it till the end, congratulations, this was a long one, I'm sorry buttttt Cheol enthusiasts (aka everyone) y'all are in for a ride next chapter hehe, stay tuned!

And if you enjoyed reading, please don't forget to leave feedback in the comments or tags - we've got lots of chapters to go and hearing thoughts really helps <3

[didyougaming]

Hi, gamers. I know the results of the Sandwich Poll have been gnawing at you. So many people wondering whether they answered correctly, which as a reminder is a very important factor in determining which afterlife you end up in when you die. Please understand that I needed a lot of time to internally process these poll results and also that I've been kinda busy/tired. But the people need to know, so here we go.

In total, we received 372 responses. I also spent a lot of my weekend annoying anyone who would listen to me in person about these questions, but I didn't write those answers down.

Question 1 was fairly non-controversial, as it should be. It is worth noting that 3.2% of respondents chose to write-in an answer, and most of these write-in answers were what scientists would call "bad" and "not really useful." So you can assume a 3.2% margin of error on everything in this survey. That's how statistics works.

Question 2 is where we see a real divide. Most respondents consider a sandwich cut into two separate but equal pieces to be one sandwich. This is a real shame, because it's the wrong answer. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Question 3 considers whether one piece of bread cut in half and used for sandwich-making results in a sandwich, and surprisingly the majority of respondents do consider this to be one sandwich. This is really interesting, because despite ending up with functionally and aesthetically the same result as one of the pieces of the sandwich from question 2, a significant number of respondents believe the results to be inherently different. I wish there was a way to better track how much overlap there was for those two seemingly contradictory answers, but the big Sheets page Google Docs is daunting and I don't feel like figuring out how to parse that data, so we just need to accept that we'll never have that exact number. That's how statistics works.

Question 4 mostly just cements the findings of the previous two questions. I do want to point out the one person who answered "who the fuck does this". Sandwich shops do this. Go to a sandwich shop for once in your life and really watch them do their work. Open your eyes.

Question 5 did not get me a lot of useful data, as it turns out having a question that only allowed for write-in answers was a bad idea. However, there are more or less two camps for people who really took these questions seriously and gave it their all. The first school of thought suggests that intent is the most important factor, and if you deem what you've made to be a sandwich, it's a sandwich. While I appreciate the critical thinking on display here, I believe in the other school of thought, which is that when you put ingredients between two breads that's a sandwich, baby. There is a sub-school of thought here that requires those two pieces to be whole pieces, but that's wrong.

One question that I should have included in the survey I think proves my point. If you order a sandwich platter from a deli and they use a single really long piece of bread (think like a several foot long hero) into multiple sections, you would say that you have sandwiches, plural. If you wanted to grab one, you wouldn't say "I'm going to grab a 64th of a sandwich" because you would sound deranged. Despite being parts of a larger whole, they are still ingredients between pieces of bread, and thus fit the definition of "sandwich."

Anyway, thank you for coming on this non-gaming detour with me. It was extremely important that I prove a friend wrong on this topic, and even though I don't think I did that and I think he's choosing to double down on his incorrect opinions, I'm still choosing to spin this as a personal and moral victory. New actual DidYouGamings will come out as soon as I discover any new facts about video games (right now there's only a couple hundred facts about video games at all and I've basically covered all of them.)

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

NEXT

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊

[elyvorg]

Kieran Part Bonus: I AM SO PROUD OF MY BOY

And now for my really actually final analysis post about Kieran, covering both the epilogue and also his scenes in the League Club room once you’ve finished that. Somehow both of these relatively short pieces of content still managed to be packed with delightful nuance showcasing both how Kieran’s still struggling with his issues and yet also how much he’s grown since his main arc. They are absolutely lovely and fill me with so many warm happy feelings about my boy.

Honestly, it’s remarkable, not just from a Pokémon-writing perspective but as a piece of fiction in general, to have this kind of satisfying follow-up for a character arc. Usually once a character’s arc reaches a resolution, their story just ends there, and we don’t get to see more of how they’re processing what they’ve been through and learning to grow further in the aftermath. So it’s a really wonderful breath of fresh air to get to see something like that for once here with Kieran! The Pokémon writers absolutely did not have to make the epilogue and postgame content focused on showcasing this, and yet they did. I am, once again, pleasantly boggled by how much they cared about doing Kieran’s story justice. Just, wowzers, man. There really is no more appropriate word for my amazement than that.

(This is an epilogue, if you will, to my previous two analysis posts discussing Kieran’s character arc in The Teal Mask and The Indigo Disk! Reading those before this is probably recommended.)

Before even getting into things that are strictly from the epilogue itself, can I just say: I really love that Kieran took a mental health break from Blueberry Academy to give him some time to process things? (Okay, the game only calls it a “break”, but let’s be real, it is for his mental health, and this is Good.) It just makes me very happy that the writing acknowledged that he’d probably need something like that after what he’s been through instead of going straight back to business as normal at school – and in an in-story sense, it’s lovely that Kieran realised he needed this and didn’t try and force himself to just keep going as if nothing had happened. He’s starting to learn to take care of himself and not push himself way too hard!

Making new friends

The first lovely sign of Kieran’s growth that we see in the epilogue is that, not only does he want to catch up with you, he also wants to meet your friends from Paldea! He must have spent some time during his break thinking about the fact that you mentioned you had friends from there.

And the thing is, with Kieran’s insecurities, it would have been so easy for him to slip into a mindset of “your friends are probably way cooler than me, why would you need me”. But instead of letting himself get caught up in that jealousy spiral again, he fought against it and did the healthy thing of asking to meet them himself. Hopefully he can become friends with them too and then he’ll have nothing to feel jealous about! He outright says when he meets them, “Any friend of [yours] is a friend of mine!” Look at him go. (Arven should take notes on how not to act insecure about one’s best friend having other friends, because damn, Kieran’s managing to be more well-adjusted than him now.)

All this is also just a sign that Kieran’s hoping to try and make more friends in general. He’s such an introvert that he must have figured that’d be easier for him to do with people for whom he has a mutual friend to get to know them through. Plus, if they’re your friends, then he already has a guarantee that they’ll be good and nice people. Way more manageable for him than trying to approach complete randos.

And really, it’s such a huge remarkable thing for Kieran that he is trying to make friends now. Friends, plural! This is the kid who used to be so lonely and shunned by others that his big dream was to one day be like the ogre who, according to him, doesn’t care that it’s all alone. And maybe then, if he managed that, he’d be able to befriend the ogre – just that one other person who is also alone and outcast. It never even crossed his mind to try and imagine that one day he could be confident and worthy enough to just… have some human friends. That wasn’t even an option in his head – it was “learn to not care that he’s alone” or nothing.

And yet look at Kieran now, actively reaching out to try and make new friends! I am so proud of him.

Learning to ask for help

Soon after you meet up with Kieran, it becomes apparent that something is Very Wrong with his sister. According to Kieran’s account, it was shortly after he sent you the letter that Carmine became possessed, so it’s not that the letter was secretly a call for help in which he couldn’t bring himself to admit the actual problem.

And even now that you’re here… Kieran wasn’t going to tell you about this problem at all until Carmine happened to wander up and start mochi-dancing in front of you. He tries to play the whole thing off like it’s totally normal and she’s definitely just… excited to see you???, even though he has to know that doesn’t make any sense at all. On some level this is just because it’s really scary to admit to himself that something is very wrong and he doesn’t have a clue how to fix it. But it’s also because… he still doesn’t feel like he has the right to ask you and your friends for help.

This is one of the ways in which Kieran’s issues and low sense of self-worth from before are still lingering and have not just been magically, instantly fixed. While he may be making a conscious effort to fight through his insecurities to try and make more friends, he hasn’t started consciously tackling everything that was holding him back just yet. It seems like he imagines that asking your friends for help, these people he’s only just met, would just make him a burden on them and maybe spoil any chance he had of actually becoming their friend himself. (Although, even if you’d come to visit him alone, I suspect he’d still struggle to ask even just you for help, simply due to his old ingrained mindset that he’s not worthy enough to deserve it.)

Happily for Kieran, your friends are all good people who instantly unthinkingly offer to help without him even needing to ask them! Kieran’s sheer surprise and gratitude when this happens is so telling about his insecurities for why he didn’t feel he could ask, but it’s also lovely to see him starting to realise that his instinctive way of thinking about this is mistaken. Welcome to having friends, Kieran, this is how it works actually! Most people are good and will be happy to help out a friend in need! It’s okay to need help sometimes!

There’s another very innocuous line that I find interestingly telling about Kieran’s mindset regarding this. When you’re all at the community centre wanting to use the TV, Kieran laments that it’s stuck playing the tourism ad because the caretaker hid the remote, so Arven immediately suggests you all look for it. And Kieran reacts, in surprise, “Why didn’t I think of that?” It reads as largely rhetorical, but… it’s a good question.

Why didn’t Kieran think of just trying to find the remote? Because he’s spent so long stuck in a mindset where, if things are bad for him, it’s just what he deserves for being weak and there’s nothing he can do about it. His response to his problems during the main storyline was to completely separately fixate on making himself Stronger so that, in theory, problems would just stop happening to him entirely. It never occurred to him to try and just face and deal with his problems directly – at least not until the climactic battle with Terapagos, which was the first time he ever found the courage to take such an approach – so the notion to do so still isn’t quite habitual in his mind just yet.

Hopefully Kieran asking why he didn’t think of that wasn’t quite so rhetorical, and he was reflecting on it himself a little when he said it. He ought to realise that actually, taking action to directly solve his problems is a good thing and something he should strive to do more! He has already begun to do so in some ways by reaching out in an attempt to make more friends, at least.

Solving the problem

Kieran sure does get a lot more practice at Directly Solving Problems thanks to the events that go on to occur that night, doesn’t he. I love that the epilogue’s plot, while ostensibly just there to give players an opportunity to catch Pecharunt, is also a narrative that exists to let Kieran get to be a hero alongside you.

It’s somewhat low key, but Kieran definitely gets pretty freaked out about everything that’s happening. Which is really perfectly reasonable – though the effects of the possession are incredibly silly, it’s still got to be genuinely frightening to see people he knows getting controlled against their will by some unknown force, especially when this includes his own family. (One detail I love is that the game uses that lack of a highlight in his eyes during certain lines to communicate the fear he's feeling and trying not-so-successfully to hide; it’s a small thing, but it works so well.)

Once you’ve fought off his possessed grandparents, Kieran starts to panic, convinced it’s only a matter of time before it gets him (even though the evidence of how exactly the possession occurs is right there if he’d just stop to think about it for a moment). On some level, he must still have this sense that, if it can get all these people he looks up to, surely it’ll get him too who’s so much weaker than them. His inferiority complex is still there and affecting him, especially in this stressful situation.

Good thing Kieran has you by his side, the strongest coolest friend ever whom he knows he can rely on! If you hadn’t been there to reassure him and snap him out of it, he really might have lost himself to his panic. Or he might have just not even tried to battle the possessed people and do something about all of this in the first place – see the earlier point about how him facing problems directly is still not instinctive to him. He’s able to do so here, but a lot of that is probably thanks to being able to follow your lead. Still, this is bound to help him get better at doing so on his own in future!

Kieran’s also still a bit too liable to feel like things are his fault even when they really aren’t. He blames himself for not warning Arven and Penny about the mochi in time, even though he was literally about to do so when Pecharunt showed up and sniped mochi directly into their mouths. That can’t be called Kieran’s fault at all! He tried! (And, hey, it’s not like you made any attempt to warn them either.) But he still feels responsible for it anyway.

And he’s also still rather defeatist when it comes to facing Strong Opponents in battle. Kieran couldn’t defeat Nemona earlier in the day, so when it comes down to facing off against her in order to get to Pecharunt, he just feels like he can’t do it, end of. Really, that’s not necessarily the case – since this is an emergency and not a friendly battle for sport, there’s no reason you have to beat Nemona in a fair 6-on-6. Anything to get past her will do; the two of you could have taken her on in a 12-on-6 double battle, perhaps! Kieran did not need to momentarily feel useless in this situation, but he did, because not being able to win against someone still equates in his mind to being No Good At All. Kieran, nooo.

Happily, the narrative provides Kieran with something else to do with himself while you fight Nemona so that he is very decidedly not useless in the slightest – fighting off the entire town’s worth of people behind you??? That is equally as necessary as taking down Nemona, something without which you’d never have managed to get to Pecharunt, and it must take some incredible battling skill to be able to hold off that many opponents at once. Like, dang, Kieran. I really hope he’s able to reflect on this in the aftermath and realise how incredibly strong and cool that was of him, because it was.

(He was holding his own one-against-many, just like he always admired Ogerpon for doing!)

Kieran’s fear and pessimism also show through just a tiny bit as you’re fighting Pecharunt at the end, when he reacts to the fact that you were able to damage it. Apparently he was afraid that this thing would be completely invulnerable and it just wouldn’t be possible for even someone as amazing as you to beat it and stop the curse. Yikes, that must have been a scary thought. But still, it all worked out in the end! Kieran’s learning that even when things are scary and feel overwhelming, by facing up to them and doing his best, it’ll usually turn out okay! Especially because he’s not alone and has friends by his side to support him now.

And, hey, one way or another, it seems like the events of the epilogue did help give Kieran that last little push he needed to decide to go back to Blueberry Academy! I imagine he was already thinking about doing so – he is actually a very stubborn and determined person at his core, so I don’t think he could ever have been considering just giving up on it – but all of this probably helped give him the confidence to make that leap. The thought of apologising to everyone for how he acted must still be incredibly daunting – but, he’s begun to realise that he can face scary things!

His old Kitakami team

During the epilogue’s battles, I was absolutely delighted to see Kieran send out Poliwrath, one of the Pokémon he used in Teal Mask but not in Indigo Disk – because this is proof that he’s been reconnecting with the Pokémon friends he left behind back then! As it turns out, the rest of his team for these multi battles is the same as his Champion team, with only the Polis switched, but even so, Poliwrath’s presence is enough to be a promising sign for all of his old Pokémon friends.

And this gets further confirmed by his dialogue with Arven in the clubroom! Arven asks Kieran which of his Pokémon he’s closest to, and he mentions his Hydrapple (which has been with him since it was an Applin), his Poliwrath and Politoed, his Yanmega, and his Furret! This accounts for all of the Pokémon Kieran had in his Teal Mask battles up to the third one, after which he started to fixate hard on getting stronger to prove himself to you, so these are likely all of the Pokémon that were friends of his from the start. And he still considers them friends now, which means he reconnected with them all and apologised as necessary for any leaving them behind/thinking they were weak/etc that he might have done! Yes good, Justice For Furret was had, I could not be happier.

(Okay, we never saw the second Poli back then, but the way he talks about both Polis together suggests they’re a pair, so I imagine they were both his friends back then, too. He also never used Applin against you before evolving it into Dipplin – which is fair, Applin is very not good in battles – so the lack of us seeing another Poliwag/whirl is probably because he felt he needed to use a diverse team that didn’t have two of the same species. He doesn’t have to battle with all of his Pokémon for them to still be his friends, after all! He still doesn’t battle with most of them now in the clubroom battles either, which use his same Champion team, but that doesn’t stop them from being his precious pals!)

(On the other hand, since there is no sign nor mention of them in the postgame, I suspect that, like Cramorant before them, his Gliscor, Shiftry and Probopass from the final Kitakami battle got released. Kieran would have only had them for like a day or two during the events of Teal Mask, since he only caught them after he fixated on getting stronger, so I doubt he’d grown very attached to them during that time. Still, that’s okay, because hey, he did make them stronger, which is probably all they ever expected from him when they joined his team.)

Nemona is Good

One extremely delightful aspect of the epilogue and beyond is Kieran’s interactions with Nemona. It turns out that her outlook on battling is exactly the kind of thing Kieran needed to help regain a healthier view on it himself!

His feelings about his own battling skills are still very all-or-nothing at the beginning of the epilogue. When Nemona excitedly declares that she’s heard he’s really good at battling, Kieran’s pretty dismissive of that idea. He couldn’t beat you, therefore that means he’s Not Good At It, right? (Kieran, no.) He also says that Nemona “destroyed” him once they’ve battled – but based on the fact that she has nothing but praise for how good he is, I very strongly suspect that he actually gave her a really tough fight, and he only framed it that negatively because losing at all still makes his inferiority complex blow things way out of proportion.

Happily, delightfully, Nemona tells Kieran exactly what he has always needed to hear this whole time, which is that it shouldn’t matter whether you win or lose, because battles are fun either way! And with a moment to reflect on that, he agrees… yeah, they are, he had a lot of fun!

We’d heard from Drayton that Kieran was always a kid who’d deeply enjoyed battling, from the very beginning. But it seems that somewhere along the way he’d stopped loving it so much, at least when he’s the one battling - probably because he’d often lose, which would trigger his inferiority complex and make him feel bad. We only saw a small glimpse of his passion for battling ourselves at the beginning of Teal Mask, mostly when he watched you battle his sister, and a little bit in his own early battles with you, but he still felt bad over losing, poor kid.

But with Nemona’s help, Kieran’s been able to remember just how much he always loved battling and can just enjoy himself with it again! In your clubroom battles with him, he has a line just before he Terastallises where he says “these feelings never change” – and though he doesn’t specify what feelings he’s talking about, the one thing about Kieran that has never changed this entire time, even if he sort of lost sight of it for a while along the way, is the thrill he gets from battling! He also says in another line that he’s “having a blast” – which is phrasing that Nemona uses that Kieran never has before, so apparently he picked that up from her? Aww. I am so glad he could meet her; she is exactly the breath of battle-loving fresh air he always needed.

Kieran’s clubroom conversation with Nemona is also very good and helps him let go of his all-or-nothing mindset a little more. Nemona praises him for how quickly he climbed the ranks of the BB League, which he insists is meaningless because he pushed himself unhealthily hard and then still couldn’t beat you in the end. But Nemona helps him reframe it and think of it as: he was incredibly dedicated, and it must mean he really loves Pokémon and battling, which is true! This has to help Kieran view his training arc in a more positive light instead of focusing on the negative aspects like his toxic obsession and lack of self-care. Hopefully if/when he starts training hard again, he’ll be able to feel better about it and not associate it with all the bad things, thanks to Nemona! (But also, Kieran, please remember to not neglect self-care again, that was bad. I imagine he has indeed got the message about that, since the way he talks about that aspect in this conversation seems tinged with regret.)

Carmine is Trying

Another thing we see in the epilogue – admittedly only a small glimpse near the end, but it’s something – is that Kieran’s relationship with his sister seems to have gotten a little bit healthier? They each make equal-opportunity Sibling Banter jabs at each other, and Kieran doesn’t slump and shrink and look so defeated when she bites back against one of his. There’s probably still some ways to go here on their dynamic becoming completely truly healthy, but it’s definitely progress from before, which is good to see.

I think Carmine really must have reflected on her role in Kieran’s breakdown and is trying in her own fumbling awkward way to do better by him now. A delightful sign of this is one of her scenes in the clubroom, in which she resolves to be less protective of Kieran, even if it’ll make her lonelier without him around as much. That’s exactly what she needs to do! After all, this whole thing started because Carmine couldn’t bear to let her brother endure even the tiniest amount of badfeels that would have come from learning he happened to miss out on meeting the ogre. Carmine has realised on some level that she needs to have more faith in Kieran and his ability to endure and get through stuff on his own, rather than trying too hard to protect him from everything ever, which just results in coddling him and stifling his possibility for growth. She still does want to look out for him from a distance and be able to help if he really does need it, but she’s trying not to overdo it any more. Yes good, I am proud of her too.

Reconciling with his schoolmates

I said already in the Indigo Disk post that it’s incredibly brave of Kieran to resolve to apologise to everyone he hurt and make amends, and this is still true. That has to have been so scary, but he went and did it anyway! It seems he even apologised to the people who cared about him, such as his sister and Amarys, for worrying them with his behaviour – which also means he has managed to comprehend the fact that people cared about him, even back then when he was at his most unlikeable.

And by the sounds of what he says in his clubroom scenes, most people took his apologies well and are talking to him like normal now, which has to have been such a relief. It means a lot that Kieran wasn’t expecting anything of the sort and apologised anyway despite expecting backlash, simply because it was the right thing to do – but hey, most people are nice and can probably tell he was decidedly Not Himself during that time and are willing to put the past behind them! Social interaction isn’t quite as scary as he’d used to think, it turns out!

Even then, some things are still a bit weird, and with how far-reaching his impact as Champion was, Kieran’s bound to keep having to deal with this for a while. There must keep being more people he was a jerk to that he still hasn’t apologised to yet, people being intimidated by him because they don’t realise he’s changed, constant reminders of some of the hurtful things he said and did back then. Making amends is going to be a pretty long-term thing, but Kieran is putting in the effort to do so all the same, because it’s the right thing to do, and he is so brave.

Someone who is making this harder than it needs to be is Drayton, because of freaking course he is. He still insists on rubbing in the “ex-Champ” thing, even though Kieran has made it clear he does not appreciate being called that (of course, he no longer minds that he’s not Champion any more, but the fact that Drayton insists on constantly reminding him of his past self has to sting). On the one hand, Drayton is still concerned about Kieran in his own way, because he does effectively ask if Kieran’s eating better meals now, but on the other hand their entire clubroom interaction features him deliberately dodging Kieran’s genuine attempts to just engage with him in an effort to make amends, and, geez. This is exactly what he wanted from Kieran all along, and yet he is somehow still not satisfied. Seriously, Drayton.

At least Drayton is the only one of the Elite Four to be like this, and the others seem to be on good terms with Kieran now! Look at Lacey insisting that the past is in the past when Kieran acts confused that she’d want to help him after he was such a jerk to her. (Someone needs to take notes there, Drayton.) And it seems like Kieran’s got another good friend in Crispin, who’s in the same class as him! Our boy is making so many new friends and it is wonderful.

Of course, his insecurities are still around, and he’s still a little too liable to assume he’s doing something Wrong in social situations, as we see in a couple of his clubroom interactions. That one with Arven about his Pokémon is an example, as Arven phrased things as if he expected Kieran to have just one single closest Pokémon buddy, and Kieran seemed to feel bad that he actually had multiple candidates and couldn’t pick – but happily, Arven reassured him that it’s cool to not be able to choose, too! And in Kieran’s interaction with Crispin, he reflexively apologises for not having watched the latest episode of a show, but Crispin calls him out on the apology, and Kieran is able to question himself as to why he apologised and conclude that he didn’t need to, because it’s not like Crispin’s going to mind.

He is learning! He does not need to feel like he has to perfectly match his conversation partner’s expectations in order to be their friend! Kieran’s approach to his own issues has become so healthy and filled with self-reflection and growth, and I am so proud of him.

Friendship with you

Kieran is also able to be a whole lot healthier about his friendship with you, now that you’re properly friends again after everything! Possibly my favourite completely innocuous line in the epilogue is when he casually mentions that you and he became friends during the school trip to Kitakami. This is actually huge, because Kieran had spent so long utterly convinced that you couldn’t possibly have meant it when you called him a friend back then, not after the lie and all of his issues about being too weak to deserve it. But now, he’s been able to reflect on that and realise… of course you meant it. Of course you always wanted to be his friend, right from the very beginning! It wasn’t on purpose of you that he got left out of meeting Ogerpon at all, because you’re a good person and you wouldn’t do something like that, and he never actually deserved that after all.

(Perhaps sometime during his break, he had a proper talk with his sister about what happened and why she lied, and Carmine finally got to fully express that you and she never meant to hurt him and shun him with that.)

Kieran is still not over his idolisation of you, mind you. He reacts to you being the one to find the TV remote of all completely mundane things with “Wowzers! ‘Course you found it first!” – which, really isn’t a wowzers or an of course? Your magical protagonist powers do not and should not extend to this, and yet they still do in Kieran’s head. But even though he still views you this way, Kieran is so much healthier about it now. He’s no longer bitter and jealous and beating himself up for not being as perfect as he thinks you are, since nobody is (not even you, not really) – instead, he’s just so incredibly thrilled that he actually gets to be friends with someone so cool!

I really love that the devs went and gave Kieran a new losing animation for his clubroom battles, too. His previous ones always had him being varying levels of upset about losing, but not any more! He just stares in wide-eyed awe at your amazingness, and then breaks into a big smile and thanks you for the battle, because he still had great fun even though he lost! And he’s able to freely admit that he looks up to you because you’re so strong, or, in an optional line in the epilogue, he admits that he’s jealous that your friends are all really good people. He still has those feelings, but he’s able to healthily express them now without letting them twist him into something harmful.

It seems like he’s still a little insecure about if he deserves to be friends with you, though, based on a few small things. When he asks you for a trade in the clubroom, he appears hesitant to ask, as if he’s not sure he has the right to, and if you say no – even though there’s every chance this is just because you want some time to decide on an appropriately special Pokémon to give him – he slumps, probably having had his sensitivity to rejection triggered. And even once you’ve traded, he can later ask if you’re absolutely sure he can really keep the Pokémon you traded him, because he can’t quite believe he could get to have such a cool gift from you of all people. Aww, Kieran. Hopefully his hypothetical future interactions with you will help squash this insecurity of his further, because he deserves to feel comfortable in his friendship with his best friend!!!

Ogerpon

Another seemingly-innocuous but extremely good line in the clubroom is that Kieran can ask you if Ogerpon’s doing well and say that he thinks she’ll be pretty happy with you. He says this in a completely casual way, with no hint of bitterness – which tells us that he’s no longer jealous that you caught Ogerpon! It makes sense that he wouldn’t be, because he doesn’t need her acknowledgement any more like he used to think he did in order to feel worth something. He’s already got acknowledgement and self-worth and happiness now for so many other reasons, after all! So he can just be selflessly happy for Ogerpon that she’s found a trainer she can feel safe and happy with too, without being irrationally preoccupied over what she thinks of him.

It is interesting to see in this dialogue that Kieran initially calls her “the ogre” before correcting himself to “Ogerpon” – apparently, he’s only quite recently made an effort to shift what he calls her in his head. It’s true that in his reaction to her in the Champion battle, he did indeed just call her “the ogre”. It’d make sense that he didn’t actually work to shift his mental idea of what to call her during his Indigo Disk arc, despite knowing her species name, because the name “Ogerpon” likely brought back too many painful reminders of everything that happened in Kitakami. It was probably easier for him to just stick with “the ogre” and try to forget anything had changed. But he’s okay with what happened now!

And maybe Kieran trying to make a habit of using her name now is a sign that he’s started to realise that Ogerpon is her own individual who’s not quite the same as the mental image he always had of what “the ogre” was like? Maybe. It’s hard to be sure. Unfortunately the epilogue/postgame can’t do much with Ogerpon because it’s always optional for her to be on your team or even in your game at all (since you could in theory have released her or traded her away). But we can at least hypothetically imagine that in Kieran’s continued interactions with you, he’ll get the chance to hang out with Ogerpon a little and come to understand her better. It certainly seems now that he’d be able to hang out with both you and her without feeling uncomfortably jealous, which is a good start! (And Terapagos is on the list of ‘people’ he owes an apology to, so let’s imagine he gets a chance to do that, too.)

Moving forward

The “climax”, such as there is one, of Kieran’s mini-arc of scenes in the clubroom is him excitedly telling you that he’s had the BB League drop him from their rankings. Although your character seems a little bewildered by it (they are still a bit of a social dumbass), this is in fact an extremely good thing for Kieran! He’s taking a step back from the competitive side of things for the sake of his mental health, so that he can untangle himself from the toxically-obsessive mindset that he was in back when he was only focused on winning! Look at Kieran doing all this good self-reflection and self-care, it is so lovely to see. He doesn’t even seem to view this as any sign of him failing, either – he’s just comfortably acknowledging that he needs to do this for now for his own sake and there’s no shame in that.

Kieran seems pretty sure that he is going to want to get back into competing once he’s cleared his head a bit, but he’s already so much more casual and healthy about it! He says he’s going to shoot for the Champion title again, and even if you respond with a friendly taunt of “You still won’t beat me!”, he takes it so well. He’s genuinely okay now with the thought that he might never quite be good enough to beat you – he just wants to have fun trying. Look at how far he’s come!

In the meantime, while he sorts his head out, he just wants to spend time with his Pokémon (who mean a lot to him as far more than just sources of battling strength!) and his human friends (whom he has so many of now???) and figure out what he really wants to do with himself from here. Good for him!

Kieran’s still just a kid, and seeing him already learn how to grow from his mistakes and face up to his lingering issues and be just so emotionally healthy about things now is such a promising sign for wherever he’s going to end up in future. I love that the epilogue and these postgame clubroom scenes put so much effort into showing us this about Kieran now, reassuring us that he really is going to be okay. I truly could not be more proud of or happy for my boy.

[sugar-grigri]

Like Prometheus, the heart will be bruised

When Fujimoto makes a revelation, it's important to remember that this revelation never comes out of nowhere; there are always clues to it in the previous chapters. These clues don't serve to make you want to know what happens next (which is difficult with CSM), they serve above all to make your experience as a reader more gratifying, especially on rereading.

Well then, let's get started! In chapter 146 Fujimoto introduces an exceptional new demon, the Fire Devil.

What I find particularly interesting is the extent to which his power and this chapter are based on the same way a fire works

Barem's statement to his contractors alone makes sense, because to take the form you desire is to escape your condition in the same way that humans in prehistoric times began to use fire, moving away from their ape-like status.

In the same way, the fact that the fire demon gains in power as the number of its followers increases makes perfect sense. It works like a kind of fire that goes up in flames.

Now let's take a step back. It was while I was rereading the last few chapters that I realised a number of things...

Let's start with the fact that the fire demon was right under our noses, as shown by the presence of fire every time Fujimoto placed this false demon of justice, whether with the class president literally pulverised by Yoru or Yuko burning her neighbour's body.

But above all it's clear how the fire demon fulfilled the expectations of these two contractors

The President wanted to be seen by Mr Tanaka, hence the plurality of heads.

As for Yuko, she was an intrusive person (although I like this character) who wanted to know Asa's secrets, their exchange of secrets being for her the proof that they had become best friends.

Yuko seemed like an isolated person who was desperate to get into people's heads, hence her mind-reading powers.

This also works with the old man from the church who also contracted the false demon of justice, his thesis was that he could fight demons by becoming a demon... which he did.

The other point I want to make is that Fami's plan is bound to have flaws, not only because it would be more interesting from a narrative point of view, but also because we sense that she's trying to find the right tactics.

Her first tactic was to starve Yoru to get complete control of the war demon, but that didn't work.

Every time she tried to starve Yoru, Chainsaw Man or Denji were around, which gave Fami the idea of a possible partnership between the two, rather than fighting each other.

Hence the fact that she explains to Yoru that cooperating with Chainsaw Man wouldn't prevent him (or at least the black Chainsaw Man) from being killed, as this cooperation is more than necessary.

I'm also intrigued by this line because, in the light of the last revelation, it only implies even more that Chainsaw Man must become this super-powerful champion.

The church is really trying to help him, in other words the church is really trying to restore his power and even increase it.

But what I find even more incredible is the fact that Asa and Denji are in the same position

They're both at the heart of Fami's plan, but they're also both host to one of those demons that can kill the Death Demon.

But their situations were different; Asa fell into the trap by tying up with the church, while the passivity that could be taken from Denji was in reality a form of resistance.

This is particularly striking in several chapters

Denji had not succumbed to the temptation of becoming a divine being with the church, whereas Miri Sugo could despise him for only wanting to remain a chair, to act like a chair - this act of depreciation goes completely against the veneration of the church.

The fact that Denji belittles Chainsaw Man by acting in a humiliating way is in itself an act of protest against the fact that he is becoming a hero incarnate in whom the church will project itself.

I'm well aware that Denji wasn't aware of all this, but it's precisely his personality and deep-seated nature that allow him to go against this plan.

The fact that Denji wants people to find out he's Chainsaw Man defeats the whole purpose, because giving this mechanical monster an identity, a human head, makes it impossible to identify with him.

Yes, the impostor is pretending to be Chainsaw Man, but this generic character with his abstract and broad speech means that everyone can admire him and continue to project themselves as Chainsaw Man.

What Fujimoto has done from the start is underline Denji's flaws, his deep humanity and his own self-deprecation, he's too strong a character and so far removed from the imaginary Chainsaw Man that it would make any admiration and identification collapse.

Above all, Denji and Asa are cannon fodder for their own demons, Pochita is subject to Denji's dreams and wills, which are always in pursuit of integration among humans and literal contact, and when the heart isn't split in two, the brain is, Asa with her moral dilemmas, her intellectual capacities that escape the law of retaliation how advocated by the war demon

That's why the rest of the plan is as follows: Fami knew that the public hunters would fight back, so she deliberately let them.

The public demons immediately set about neutralising Chainsaw Man, so she wanted to kill two birds with one stone, Asa, i.e. bring back as many followers as possible with a new figure. But above all to draw the attention of the public hunters to Asa. Wouldn't Fami take advantage of the fact that Asa could be massacred by Yoshida to force Yoru to change host...... to Yoshida?

Just like the fact that Barem is quite close to Denji.

Remember when Fumiko said she was a fan of Denji, Barem intervened and said he preferred Chainsaw Man?

Time to separate

Barem propagated the fact of becoming Chainsaw Man like a fire that would spread, this time the punishment was not for Zeus to make humans mortal but rather immortal and monstrous demons.

But the fact remains that the rule will continue to apply and, like Prometheus, a heart will be sacrificed and bitten by the birds

A heart bitten by a bird

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Haesorog

Welcome to this week's bestiaryposting results! This is an unusual one in that the entry is short, but we have plenty of physical details. We're also following up two obvious ones with a description I genuinely think nobody can identify unless they're familiar with the bestiary tradition itself, or the sources thereof.

If any of that was confusing to you, please consult past posts on this matter at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. You can also keep up with the current beast of the week -- and participate -- by checking out the tag "maniculum bestiaryposting". The entry that our artists are working from this week can be found here:

Anyway, art below the cut in roughly chronological order:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) took this in a rhinoceros kind of direction, drawing something that reminds me of paleoart depicting prehistoric rhino relatives that I have seen & enjoyed. I was going to say something like "I'm not sure if that was the vibe they were going for", but the linked post cites Brontotherium as an inspiration for the horn, so that's probably what I'm picking up on. The depiction of it defending its young makes this a really interesting image, I think; I like it a lot. Also, the design decisions explained in the linked post are genuinely pretty interesting, so I encourage you to check that out.

@moonygryffin (link to post here) ran with the "ibis feet, deer head" thing to produce something kind of like a flightless peryton, which I think is pretty cool. What's really clever here, I think, is how the body effectively blends elements of both animals so that it looks like a natural transition between the two. It's kind of bird-shaped, but you can see some deer-shaped elements at the top, and it's got this furry kiwi kind of vibe that's plausibly both "deer" and "bird".

Moonygryffin also suggests that the thing with the feet is the result of our favorite game, Manuscript Telephone, and it was originally the footprint of an ibex, which I think is probably correct. From some quick searching, it looks like Pliny just described this beast as having "cloven hooves". I think it's plausible that a later author changed it for purposes of parallelism -- "size of an ox, fur of a bear, head of a deer, feet of an ibex" -- and then someone else misread it and gave it bird feet. (Do ibexes/ibices* have cloven hooves? I'm going to assume they do, they're goats, right?)

*I checked the OED; both plural forms are attested, though the first is the more common. Which is probably why Tumblr is giving the second one the red underline.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) went for a similar concept as the above, but in a different medium and interpretation. Genuinely impressed by the realistic detail on the legs and head here -- CheapSweets has mentioned seeking out some reference material and art books recently, so I'm inclined to assume those are really paying off. Look at that thing. There's a lot of interesting material in the linked post, speaking to influences, research, and design decisions, which I think is definitely worth checking out. One thing I want to point out specifically because I missed it the first time I saw this drawing: take a look at the people & dog in the background at the top left. Now look at the trees next to them. One of them is a Haesorog cleverly disguising itself. Excellent.

(Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@pomrania (link to post here) has collaborated with @theforceisstronginthegirl on this one, which is a delight! Pleased to see you back, Theforceisstronginthegirl. Anyway, they've also clocked the error with the ibis thing: while they don't suggest it's an error for ibex, they do suggest that it refers to cloven hooves, which as previously mentioned is indeed what Pliny says about it. And then they also decided to give it bird feet anyway because that's more fun, which is very much in the spirit of the thing, excellent call. Anyway, the focus of this design is on the camouflage aspect. They've interpreted it as simply having stellar natural camouflage, which is why it's shown next to a tree here -- we can see that the pattern of its fur lets it blend in with the coloration of the trees around it, and that leaves tangled in its antlers along with its ability to stand on two legs enhances the effect.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) went with a similar quadrupedal design, shaggy deer-like thing with bird legs, but went the opposite direction with the camouflage. Her post indicates it's shown here "shedding some leaves from the last time it turned into a bush," which means this version of the Haesorog is suggested to have actively supernatural camouflage that allows it to shapeshift. (Which is definitely suggested by the text.) There's something very evocative about the eyes here, which I like. (Also, thank you for including alt text.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) continues to deliver beautifully stylized art. I'm really delighted by the the pose the second Haesorog is taking in order to blend in with the very pretty Stylized Plants around it -- I think this is maybe not the environment where color-shifting is hugely useful, as I have no doubt the first Haesorog is fully aware of its presence. Something that makes this particular design interesting is that between the default coloration displayed on the left and the shape of the feet, you get a kind of "this thing is a step too human for a quadruped" feeling that makes it a little more unique-looking than it might be otherwise. (Also, thanks for including alt text.)

Over all of these entries, I'm noting that one effect of the clear physical description is that it does provide a more restricted space in which artists can play -- it's much more obvious than in other weeks that all of these are the same animal. Whether that's an upside or a downside is, I think, wholly subjective. Now let's look at the Aberdeen Bestiary.

...

Okay, we can't do that actually. The page with the illustration is missing from the Aberdeen Bestiary. So we're looking over to its sister manuscript, the Bodley Bestiary. (MS. Bodl. 764, also digitized online.)

So this beast is of course the Parander.

Yep, bet everyone feels foolish for not recognizing such a common and well-known animal as the parander.

Also, of course, known as the Tarand or Tarander, of course. Or parandrus / tarandrus in Latin.

Right, so the reason that I was so confident nobody without a thorough background in the bestiary tradition (or Pliny the Elder) would recognize this one is because it's not a real animal. And it's not even one of the mythical ones that managed to get a foothold in the modern consciousness.

I might be overstating the "not a real animal" line, actually; odds are good it's based on one. Let's talk about that.

There have been some guesses as to the parander's identity in scholarship. The Bostock translation of Pliny has a footnote that cites two competing theories: "reindeer" and "elk [aka 'moose']". The reindeer one gets an explanation -- differently-colored summer and winter coats -- but the elk one is just kind of tossed out there as a proposed alternative. My guess (based on it already being past 10:30pm here and not wanting to put in the time to track down a source that's cited only by a last name with no other identifying information) is that that one's about the parander's size being emphasized.

You may say, "excuse me Maniculum, neither of those animals lives anywhere near Ethiopia. What are you playing at? Are you going to try and convince me that the pre-modern definition of 'Ethiopia' was so broad it encompassed the Arctic Circle?" The solution is that the parander wasn't originally described as being from Ethiopia -- Pliny says it's from Scythia. Which... also seems a bit too far south. But it's entirely reasonable that the Scythians were reporting on something seen on a trip north or something they heard about from northern neighbors, which would put "reindeer" and "elk/moose" both back in as options. Scythia is close enough to the range of both of those animals that it's plausible they would be familiar with them.

Someone you may have heard of took a stance on this issue, interestingly. An 18th-century biologist named...

... Linnaeus. Yep, it's codified right into the scientific name for "reindeer" now, and has been for as long as binomial nomenclature has been a thing. Anyone who wants to make the "elk/moose" argument is going to have a bit of an uphill battle.

All that out of the way, now take a moment and scroll back up to that medieval illustration. Mentally compare it to the description and the art shared in this post. There's something different, right?

You may notice that the artist has given it cloven hooves rather than bird's feet, having not been confused at all by the "footprints of an ibis" thing. Now, often this is the result of the art not actually being directly based on the text, but copied from art in a previous manuscript, so a scribe can write down the wrong word and it won't affect the art at all because the artist may or may not even be reading the text as they work.

Often, but not always. In this case, I would like to float an alternate explanation.

On the left is the translation of the Bodley Bestiary I have on my shelf, to which I referred when filling in material from missing pages in the Aberdeen Bestiary. On the right is the Bodley Bestiary digitized manuscript.

Now. I am not trained in Latin paleography, so it's possible that I'm misinterpreting an abbreviation. But that word on the right... the penultimate letter certainly looks like a C, doesn't it? Not, e.g., an S? (It would be a long s here, but that doesn't actually help.)

Which means that the manuscript says ibex. The ibex -> ibis confusion is a case of Manuscript Telephone, but it was telephoned in the 1990s.

Again, like I said, I'm not an expert. I've never translated a single page of a Latin manuscript, much less had a book-length translation published in a handsome slipcover edition. So it's very possible I'm missing something. But right now I'm pretty sure that everyone's been drawing bird feet not because of an error made by a medieval scribe, but by the modern translator.

Anyway, that was exciting, right? I hope that makes up for me posting this a few hours later than usual.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Temptation Chapter 5

Summary: Father Barnes is devout, steadfast, and undeterred by flirtatious congregants.  So why does this fallen angel tempt him so?  You cannot serve two masters.  Will he choose God, or his heart? A short one! Priest!Bucky x curvy!reader Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky was not the same after that night.  He went through the motions of his priesthood jobs, but his heart was no longer in it.  He was still calm and friendly, but the light in his eyes had disappeared when she walked away.  It had been four weeks when Father Richards pulled him aside one day for counsel.

“Father Barnes, you have not been yourself as of late,” he started, folding his hands in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Father.  I’ve just been feeling a bit…off,” Bucky hung his head in shame.

“Hm,” Father Richards tapped his fingers on his other hand.  “Would this have anything to do with Miss Y/L/N in your room a few weeks back?”

Bucky’s head lifted, his eyes wide as he stared at Father Richards.  “I…”

Father Richards gave him a soft smile.  “Yes, I know.  I was coming to talk to you about the plans for the donation from Constance Y/L/N when I saw her enter your room.”  

Bucky’s lips tightened as his eyes filled with tears.  “I’m sorry, Father.  I have no excuse for my actions.  If it’s any consolation, nothing too…scandalous happened.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, at least not to me,” Richards said.  Bucky gave him a wary look.  “I’m going to tell you something in confidence because I feel like I can trust you.  I’m sure you’ve heard rumors of some priests living more worldly lives outside of their priesthood?”  Bucky nodded.  “I happen to be one of them.  You know how I take a few specific days off during the month and certain weekends off altogether?”  Bucky blinked.  “Those are the days I go home to my wife and children.”

“Your wife?  Children?  Plural??” Bucky scoffed.  “How?  You’ve…”

“Made promises?  Covenants?  Yes yes,” Richards waved away his concerns.  “I also met a woman 27 years ago that I couldn’t live without.  She’s not my wife in any legal terms, unfortunately, so I could keep this job as senior priest.  But she’s my wife in every other sense of the word.  And she and my boys are the lights of my life,” he smiled adoringly.  “Johnny just finished college, and Ben just got married to his husband a few weeks ago.  They’re working on adopting.”  Bucky’s mouth was hanging open comically as he stared at Father Richards.  “I understand what it means to love someone and love them so deeply that you feel like you would reject all this,” he gestured to the church around him, “for them.  I almost did.  And to be honest, I should have.  Because it makes me a subpar and dishonest priest to my congregation, and a near absent husband and father to my family.  You can’t have both.  Now if you choose to stay, then I applaud you for your devotion to God and His church.  If you choose to leave and live a life outside of the church, I won’t judge you and will commend your bravery.  But I would caution you to be prepared for the inner death you will feel no matter what you choose.  It’s up to you to decide which death you will be willing or able to overcome.”

Bucky nodded.  He sat there as Father Richards waited for him.  Bucky thought through his life.  He’d basically been raised to be a good Catholic, being an altar boy and singing in the choirs, going to Catholic school then Seminary.  He had had a choice to live a normal life or go to Seminary, and he’d chosen the church because it seemed safe and easy.  His parents had been proud of him.  He’d been a good student and had risen through the ranks of stewardship and learning quickly to become a priest.  He hadn’t realized that the other option could have brought him joy.  The church had been his life, so how could he know any different?  

Then a fallen angel had stumbled into that life and disrupted everything he knew to be true.  She made him question himself, the church, his knowledge of scripture and God, and showed him the joy and light found outside of it.  And the one night, the few moments he’d had with her, had made him realize he’d gladly drop it all if it meant being with her.  

Bucky gave Father Richards a sad smile as his epiphany shown brightly on his face.  “I choose her.”

Father Richards nodded solemnly.

The next chapter is the last one!!

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr

[simplyaskfellowplural]

Hii! I don't know if someone has asked this yet but could there be guides/inspo for a SimplyPlural member Custom Field informations?

Simply Plural App Guide 3:

"What are inspiration and ideas for Simply Plural custom fields?"

Created and written by <3 (She/Her) + 💛 (She/They)

Minor Content/Trigger Warning!: There is a mention of Fusion and Dormancy in this!

Simply Plural allows for so many different areas of customization and levels of view ability, one of those being custom fields!

Custom fields are the fields in the "info" section of each and every member profile! To access the customization you click the three horizontal lines anywhere on any page at the top left, press the cog / settings button, press "Account" then it should be in the top half labeled clearly "Custom Fields".

If you've never accessed this before, it will have default pre-set fields available, but if you want to start fresh and need ideas? Look no further than here!

So with a few previous questions, we linked an Imgur group, and that'll be the same here! Here, you can find some ideas to use for custom fields that might be helpful! But besides that, some general guidance on how to make custom fields work for you and your system or generally whatever you intend to use it for!: (That was a quick reminder that Simply Plural according to the developers has stated the app can be used for anything legal!)

What information is helpful for what you need? In the case of systemhood, what basic subjects do you think would help to know for your system?

Do you think you want to make your custom fields in some ways aesthetically pleasing? If so possibly a color border or a text border made for the title for a color border could be pleasing! (Shown below)

What privacy settings do you mainly need? Are there certain areas only needed for your system only, or can everyone who's friends with you know that information?

How much time do you have to dedicate to updating information? Can you manage several 100s of members + 100s of fields of information? Or are you more comfortable at 100s of members + 5 simple fields of information?

Try not to feel peer pressure by other System's field information, always check in and recognize what works, not what looks good. Big one for us!

Possibly create a temporary or non-temporary puppet friend account specifically to test out how you can see certain settings and information with different profiles! Scared someone's information is viewable? Use the puppet account and test it!

Think about how often you might be editing specific headmates custom fields, and how much they'll be editing their own. Try to actively communicate in the way that's possible and see what information would be crucial for every headmate to have available for their profile.

Now! For us, here's some examples of how we personally organize our custom fields!

We have a field called "Contributors 🤝", This field is meant to help us know when a profile was last updated and by who. Primarily we put our name or emoji down, and the date of when we updated the profile information.

The next field is called "Formed, Fusion(s), Dormancies", this is Meant to help figure out when someone formed from just their profile, if they fused, the times they went dormant.

Afterwards we have a category, "System Related Information", technically split up for privacy purposes.

Below is an example

Above, the two fields with the globe icon are shown to only public friends, then the two below are shown to old trusted friends. If the trusted friends info was filled out, no public friends would be aware. And it helps separate a title of what someone does internally to how they'd describe more personal things.

After these fields, we have notes fields. Mainly meant to be a public version of actual profile notes. We have one set of notes 100% public, then 2 labeled "Notes from system" and "Notes from friends". The notes from friends is a field for us personally as we have had situations where we've had to ask friends to log in and change information for us, and they left little notes for headmates in our system :>.

Then the last part is personalized. We have fields ranging from links, to playlists, to MBTI & personality Tests results. They're meant for the person to feel free to customize their profile in some way with different areas.

Those are the main areas for our custom fields!

We apologize this took a minute to get done! We're probably going to be reupdating our cover/pinned post to be more structured, and it took a while to focus fully on getting the most responsive tips for this guide out! If anyone has additional information and tips they'd like to add to this guide, or you'd like to request more specific information from this, feel free to interact!

For other Guides for Plural Apps / Websites / Resources, check out our List!

[tommyssupercoolblog]

hiii!! i`m curious, what it means to be factive??

Oh! It's a kind of Introject!

So, you know how in DID/OSDD systems (and other forms of plurality too but you probably haven't heard of those) there's like, multiple different identities in one body? Like, the brain splits off into different people?

So let's say you are part of a system and you watch a lot of TV, or read a lot of books. Maybe you're really into certain musicians or something, too.

Something that might happen is that, if you split a new alter in the future, you might get an alter who's HEAVILY based on one of these figures. You might get an alter who looks, sounds, and is generally based on your experience with a character from your favorite book series, or that musician you hyperfixated on and read a bunch of diary entries and magazines on, or maybe even your best friend. THOSE are introjects! They're alters that are heavily influenced by a specific thing.

That's not to say they won't have influences from other things, just that they got a LOT of a specific "source" incorporated into them.

Factive is just a TYPE of introject- it's a label that specifies that the source you pull from is from reality. These are the introjects of historical figures, or loved ones, or celebrities.

Fictives, by comparison, are introjects who's source is fictional. Movie and TV show characters, book characters, maybe a roleplay character from a previous Dungeons and Dragons campaign or someone from a fictional/story podcast.

Fuckitve is a label for people who's sources aren't exactly fictional OR real (maybe historical fiction, maybe they pull from both a real actor and a character they played in equal measure), and some people make more specific labels for their source genre, like oc-tive (a label specifically for introjects who formed from an OC)

I'm, as you know, a factive! And so is @septiccoffeefreak . When we were created, we were based on the YouTubers tommyinnit (me!!!) and jacksepticeye (Seàn). We're not exactly alike our sources or anything like that, but we came from our exposure to them.

In headspace (headspace is like an inner-world where alters can see and touch and talk to each other. Not all systems have them, but many do.) I sound like my source when I speak, and I look like him too, although I'm smaller than he is, and he sometimes cuts his hair shorter than mine. Seàn also sounds and looks like HIS source. It's also probably safe to assume that a lot of our personality traits are probably based on our perceptions of and experiences with our sources at the time we split, but I don't like to worry too much about where my personality traits come from; They're mine now, so it doesn't really matter!!

Some factives avoid their source, while some actively seek out exposure to their sources. Some factives feel really disconnected with their source, while others see their source as really important to them. It depends on the alter in question!

Me and Seán are far on the "likes interacting with and cares about source" side of the spectrum. We like watching our source's videos and we feel an emotional connection to them. I see my source almost like an alternate universe version of me, like metaphorically I'm Miles Morales and he's Peter Parker, and we're both spiderman. We're two different people but we're still both Tommyinnit, almost as if it was a species of creature. There's a kinship there.

That's basically all you need to know to understand the term and how it works for me and @septiccoffeefreak but I've made other posts about plurality too, and there's also a lot of blogs and stuff dedicated to it :3

[falseroar]

Murder on the Warfstache Express

Part 12: Now What?

((With the murder solved, everyone now has to deal with the pressing question: now what?

This is the last chapter of the story! Links to the previous chapter and to the masterlist for the series here.))

Abe watched the landscape trundle by outside the wide window, not that there was much to see. Unlike yesterday, the train moved so slowly that the detective suspected he—or maybe someone younger, with a few decades less of smoking and drinking under his belt and without a bullet in his chest—could have outpaced it. Maybe the slow pace could be blamed on an abundance of caution, or maybe the collective dread of what would happen once it finally reached the next station.

With the rising sun on the other side of the car, the shadow of the train stretched out across miles of untouched snow, with little to distract him from his thoughts.

That is, mostly untouched. Turns out, while helping get the power on up front, Professor Beauregard remembered that blaster of hers and formed a little theory about what it could do to the snow the engine had plowed itself into. A theory she was ready and willing to test out, assisted by some of the more adventurous passengers and crew that wanted to take a crack at dissolving the snow into steam with each blast.

Very much not assisted by Wilford, Abe did make sure of that much.

If anyone had tried to sleep last night, after…after everything, they would have found it difficult with the hooting and hollering accompanied by blasts of sound and light that were reflected back by the snow all around.

If Abe had tried to sleep, he didn’t think it would have been the noise, or the light, or the lurch of the train finally moving again, that would have kept him awake.

But he knew better than to try, same as he knew better than to go back to his room.

No, his thoughts could only go in one direction cooped up in that shoebox, especially after he made the trip to the compartment that he’d traded over to Happy, to open the window there and check the victim’s pockets one last time to confirm a suspicion. The window had been Illinois’s idea, tactfully suggesting that the freezing air from outside might help with…well, the normal issues after a body’s been left lying around too long. Probably something Abe should have considered hours ago, but to his immense relief there hadn’t been a noticeable smell when he opened the door. The agent still looked like someone who had just chosen to fall asleep on the floor, if he ignored all the blood.

Abe had a lot of thoughts about dead bodies in general, but those weren’t occupying his mind at the moment.

Instead, he stared out the window with the two slips of paper he’d pulled from his pocket while relaying how the death happened in his hands, mindlessly running his thumb over the edges, over the hole punched in one of them, over the ink that he had read over and over again in the hours since.

“You’ll get a papercut, doing that.”

“…” Abe barely glanced at the pink and yellow reflection in the window opposite him before returning his attention to the snow.

With returning to his compartment out of the question, Abe had bunkered down in one of the empty lounge chairs, aided by everyone else choosing other places to come to terms with how Happy’s death had come about in their own ways. That, and a bottle retrieved from behind the bar which had somehow managed to empty itself without his realizing. That had helped a lot less than he had hoped for, but he was always willing to give it another try.

Until now, he’d had the car to himself. Peace and quiet, at least in theory.

“Both overrated, in my opinion,” Wilford remarked, only to sigh when even that failed to get a reaction out of the detective. He leaned forward until that pink-tinged mustache practically filled Abe’s peripheral vision and said, “Inquiring minds need to know: what’s on your mind, Detective?”

“Minds, plural?” Abe asked, and Wilford responded with a shrug, his big brown eyes still locked on Abe with all the innocence they didn’t deserve. Finally breaking his staring contest with the snowscape outside, Abe asked, “Do you ever feel like…like this isn’t the way it was supposed to go?”

“It?”

Abe struggled for words to describe the feeling lurking in his mind, flitting to the back of his chest and into his stomach then back up again anytime he tried to catch hold of it. “Like…like these moments, this series of events, this…this story jumped the tracks somewhere, or…or got tangled up with something else entirely, and you’re just along for the ride? Like none of this is the way it was supposed to go?”

Wilford seemed to consider Abe’s words carefully, nodding along until he realized that some kind of answer was expected from him. “…Pass.”

“Pass—wh—You can’t just…” Abe ran a hand over his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Right, should have expected you wouldn’t be much help there.”

Wilford, for his part, studied the detective with a measure of sadness and sympathy that Abe would have taken offense to if he had noticed, and turned a relieved smile toward Dorene when she approached the pair.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, indicating the otherwise empty and quiet car. It said something to Abe's distraction that he hadn't even noticed her coming in. “May I…?”

She indicated the empty seat next to the detective and sat when Abe nodded and Wilford gave an enthusiastic yes.

“Take the advice of this old woman with a grain of salt, but I’ve been around enough times to know what you mean, I think,” Dorene said, pulling her burnoose a little closer as she gave Abe a meaning look. “And I’ve found, if you don’t like the story you’ve found yourself in, it’s never too late to change it. We can always choose, to make a better story for ourselves.”

“Tell that to Happy,” Abe muttered with a bitterness that surprised even him at first, until he found himself saying it out loud. “All of our ‘choices’ led to him ending up dead, and none of us even realized we were doing it. And you know what the worst part of it is? I keep thinking how easily that could have been me.”

Abe rubbed his face again, aware of Dorene and Wilford patiently waiting for him to continue. “God, that makes me sound like such an asshole, doesn’t it? But I keep thinking about it: what if I had taken Moneybags seriously about the death threats and agreed to keep an eye on the guy? If I had been awake to see the bandit and Happy going to the luggage car and got caught in that shootout, for example. Or if I’d been the one to overdose on the sleeping pills instead of letting Happy overdo it, or if I’d passed on the cookie, or hadn’t traded rooms with Happy and ended up lying down on that trap because I was too drunk and drugged to think straight. How were any of those good choices?”

“I never said you had to make good choices, Detective,” Dorene answered, smiling at his surprise. “We can’t change the past, of course, and what happened to that man was a terrible accident, but that doesn’t mean you did something wrong or right, that you should have somehow seen this coming any more than the rest of us. You can never be sure in the moment whether it’s the ‘right’ choice or the ‘wrong’ one, because there’s so much more to life than that, isn’t it?”

“Life is ours to choose, after all,” Wilford muttered under his breath without looking at either of them, oblivious to the way both of them instinctively reacted to those words.

Dorene glanced at him and leaned in closer to the detective as she added in a lower voice, “Between you and me, the only wrong choice is not choosing at all—better to have tried to write your own story than leave it to someone else, right?”

“…I guess,” Abe said, for lack of anything else to say. As much as what Dorene said made sense, it still didn’t answer the fundamental wrongness he felt about this whole thing. This stupid death, from a series of stupid, easily avoided accidents and mistakes. This train, these employees, these passengers and stowaways, none of it felt right. None of it felt complete.

He looked down again at the two pieces of paper in his hand, the pair of tickets he’d found in his pocket. He’d double checked Happy to make sure, but he hadn’t taken the dead man’s ticket earlier when he searched him, and of the two tickets only one of them had been punched by the conductor.

Peter had told him, ages ago, that the train only sold eight tickets. He’d assumed that meant eight passengers, had done all the math, but that was before he realized Wilford never bothered with getting a ticket.

Happy, Dorene, Professor Beauregard, Illinois, Richard Bags, Mack, and himself: all together, that made only seven.

Even Wilford of all people had pointed out how it made no sense, how the detective had been put into a double room, how there was clearly something—or rather, someone—missing.

You should have been here.

Abe blinked, hard, and looked out the window until his eyes cleared again and he felt safe to speak, to change the subject to something, anything else.

“How are the others doing?” he asked and Dorene shrugged.

“About as well as can be expected, I suppose. Illinois and the professor are resting in their rooms, and Chef and Benjamin are keeping watch on that young bandit and Richard’s rooms to make sure they don’t try anything silly.”

Silly. That was one way of putting it. The bandit had been put into one of the many empty compartments, although as Benjamin noted there wasn’t really a way to keep a passenger locked in their own room. Honestly, between that and the obvious window, Abe would personally be surprised if she was still there when they stopped at the next station, not that he’d said anything at the time. She might be a stowaway and a thief (if not a particularly successful one last night), but the thought of the agency Happy worked for pinning his death on her just because it was convenient didn’t exactly sit right with him. After all, he’d been on both sides of the gun too many times to blame someone for defending themselves, whatever else they’d been doing at the time.

“Any word out of Bags?” Abe asked, and to his surprise Dorene actually smiled at that.

“Oh, you could say that. Mack has been very persuasive, and together he and I made some…suggestions, about the kind of choices he could make to change his own story, if you will.”

“Choices like what?” Abe asked suspiciously.

“Well, after Mack made it rather clear that he could make sure the blame for those financial crimes landed squarely on Richard where they belonged, I suggested that he could drum up quite a lot of goodwill for himself in the eyes of the public and any potential judges and juries by publicly committing himself to community service, along with some rather substantial donations to various charities.”

“How substantial?” Abe asked, feeling a tug at the corner of his lips despite himself.

Dorene gave him a wicked smile. “I believe Chef suggested that, once all was said and done, the moniker ‘Small Dime Moneysack’ might be more fitting than his current nickname.”

Abe chuckled. “Sounds like a decent start, but I’m not sure there’s enough community service or donations in the world to redeem a guy like him.”

“I think you’d be surprised. Like I said, it’s never too late to change.” Dorene’s smile faded and more seriously she added, “That’s why I have to thank you, for last night. For laying it all out in the open. For suggesting Richard go back to his room and stay there for the rest of the trip, to give us all time to really think about what we were doing here.”

Abe made a sound at that, not really agreeing or disagreeing. He barely remembered what he said after explaining how Happy died. It all just kind of blurred together in a depressed haze, although to be fair that was pretty normal after his other cases wrapped up, after the thrill of it all washed off and he was left to deal with the aftermath.

In fact, he suspected it had less to do with anything he said and more the fact that most of them, when push came to shove, really didn’t have it in them to commit cold-blooded murder. Except the chef, Wilford, and for some reason he suspected also Dorene, the rest didn’t strike him as the kind to pick up the knife and do the job themselves. Hell, half of them like Illinois and Benjamin hadn’t even known there was a murder plot going on as far as he could tell.

That those who did had relied on poison to do the job felt like it was due to Mack’s influence, and it had long since occurred to Abe that if the man really did want to kill his employer, he could have done it ages ago if he hadn’t insisted on being clever about it. Then again, maybe all the complications and smoke and mirrors were Mack’s own way of distancing himself from what he was trying to do, to not face the blood that would inevitably be on his hands no matter how he put it there.

“But I do think they’re all wondering the same thing,” she admitted, studying the detective as she asked, “How, exactly, are we going to explain all of this once we reach the station?”

“Tell them not to worry about it,” Abe said, trying to muster up his usual confidence. “I’ll handle it.”

Something told him he hadn’t succeeded much in the confidence department, judging by the look Dorene and Wilford shared, but he couldn’t bother enough to be offended by it. Point was, he had been asking himself the same question ever since they all split up.

How was he going to explain all of this? Agent Apless said he didn’t do partners, a declaration Abe had brushed off at the time, but the man did work with a group of some kind and they would need and deserve answers. And somehow, he doubted reality would be even close to satisfying here.

“I find, ‘I’m sorry, it was an accident’ tends to do the trick,” Wilford offered with only the slightest of winces from Dorene.

Abe stared at the man. “…Does it? Does it really?”

“…No.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll try the truth,” Abe said.

“But it is the truth!” Wilford protested.

“Okay, but a truth that sounds even remotely possible might help,” Abe pointed out. He sighed and said, “It’s fine, I’ll figure something out. We’ve got plenty of time before we reach the station—”

As if on some perverse cue, the screech of the train’s brakes and the noticeable slowing alerted them to the presence of the train platform swiftly approaching, where more than a few people were waiting for the late train.

Dorene looked at him and Abe, cursing internally, told her, “Tell the others to start packing their stuff while I handle the agents. We could be here for a while, but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Dorene smiled and said with more confidence than Abe felt, “I’m sure you will, Detective.”

---

Abe stepped out onto the train platform, the sharp wind making him pull his leather jacket closer while he looked around and took in the situation. There was a local employee up at the front of the train, demanding an explanation from Peter on how the “express” train ended up being so off schedule, but the detective’s eyes were immediately drawn to the agents.

They didn’t look like the ‘men in black’ type the professor had described any more than Happy had, but Abe could recognize the look of people on a mission all the same. It helped that the big guys were dressed in black and red uniforms and had blasters on their hips that would have made the professor start drooling and demanding specs, but also something about the one with the white top and cape reminded Abe of Happy, although he couldn’t pin down why. Maybe the haircut, or the admittedly larger than normal ears?

Either way, he counted on that one being the leader of the group as he approached and said, “I’m guessing you’re here for Ha—Agent Harold Apless?”

“How do you know that?” the one in white asked, the initial bashful, anxious smile on his approach being replaced with obvious surprise.

“Just a hunch,” Abe said with a shrug. “Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but a lot happened on that train last night—”

“Oh, we already know all about that,” the leader answered with a careless flap of a red-gloved hand. “Agent Apless notified us as soon as he could, of course.”

“He…he did?” Abe asked, unable to hide his astonishment. “How? When?”

Maybe he’d radioed ahead to let them know the crystal was on the train sometime yesterday? Or had he somehow made contact after the shootout, either in the luggage car or back in his compartment, before he died? But the power had been out, and Abe had checked the body and hadn’t seen anything like a radio.

Then again, a small voice in the back of his head piped up, he had barely recognized the gun the agent had on him. Who’s to say he didn’t have a transmitter on him, disguised as something else?

But instead of answers, the USA agent just brushed him off with, “I’m sorry, but that’s confidential business. You really shouldn’t have even known one of our agents was even on the train. If you can just make sure everyone gets off the train, we’ll handle things from here.”

“You want me to…everyone?” Abe asked, stressing that last word.

“Except the agent, of course. And we understand there was an intruder on the train who shouldn’t have been there, if you could make sure she stays on as well that would be quite helpful.” A friendly, professional smile, backed up with, “But really, this is our matter to handle, your people don’t need to worry about all of this, I assure you.”

There it was. They were going to pin Happy’s death on the bandit, just like he suspected.

Which made it a shame, then, that Abe could clearly see a tell-tale figure hightailing it over one of the turnstiles in the distance, not that he said anything at the time. If they were so sure they could handle it, then he’d let them handle it, and not just because he was put off by the borderline sense he was being talked down to.

Well, not just because of that.

A few minutes later, Abe stood with the rest of the passengers milling around the station, watching with the train’s crew as the train was moved off onto a sidetrack and out of the way of any others passing through.

“Really, I thought they would at least speak to me about all of this,” Professor Beauregard said, before hearing herself and quickly adding, “About the crystal, at least. I did think they might have some questions, but instead they shooed us all off like naughty children and said it could wait until later.”

“Imagine how we feel,” Chef muttered, gesturing toward himself, Benjamin, and Peter. “We’re supposed to be taking that train down the line and back again for another week, at least. Now what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Richard glanced at Mack and cleared his throat. “Ahem. As your employer, I would be more than happy to…take you on as personal staff, perhaps?”

“Pass,” Chef immediately answered, with an agreeing nod from Benjamin. “Been there, not doing it again.”

“Uh…paid time off, perhaps?” Richard suggested, again with another look at Mack as if seeking some kind of approval there, and at a sign adding, with more than a bit of a wince, “Plus a bonus, to cover travel expenses? We do all seem to be in need of alternate travel.”

“Oh, I thought you and I could wait together for the next train, discuss some details of what we talked about earlier,” Dorene said sweetly, getting a gulp out of the soon to not be so rich man. “But perhaps we could wait inside of the station, where it’s a bit warmer?”

“They have good hot chocolate here,” Peter offered, leading the way.

“Benjamin,” Abe said, impulsively, when he saw him and the chef turning to follow the others, only to hesitate when the two actually turned around to look at him. “Back there, back at the house…”

“I did mean what I said, Detective,” Benjamin said, but his tone wasn’t unfriendly. “It’s okay, to leave the past in the past. Please, do try and move on from that place, for your own sake as much as any other.”

Abe didn’t answer, beyond a parting nod as the two walked toward the station doors. He had meant to tell them, about what happened with Mark, with the Colonel, with you. But now he wasn’t sure if it would do any good, or if it would just reopen old wounds that both of them had, seemingly, healed from where he hadn’t.

Not yet, at least.

The only other person lingering behind was Mack, who was staring after the train with lost, thoughtful eyes and only seemed to notice the detective when he spoke.

“What about you? You going to keep working for Bags?”

Mack gave a short, unamused laugh at that and said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m a free man, Detective, for the first time in years. I think…I think I’m going to take some time to figure things out, before anything else.”

“Same,” Abe admitted, glancing down at the pair of tickets he still held in his hands. He had a lot to think about, to decide where he wanted to go from here.

The two men stood together in silence before both awkwardly said goodbye and went their separate ways, silently agreeing that whatever soul-searching they needed to do, it didn’t involve a team up with the other guy.

Still, Abe was slow to leave the platform. Slow to leave the train behind, to leave behind what happened there. He looked down at the pair of tickets in his hand, one used, the other not, and sighed.

---

On board the train, Allu Minium and the other agents of the Universal Stability Agency split up, the agents going toward the front and back of the train to do a full sweep while Allu went to the passenger car and, after a few wrong attempts, opened the door to Agent Harold Apless’s compartment and looked down at the body on the floor.

“It’s us,” Allu said, and the agent groaned with relief before rolling over and standing up with a few winces, careful to keep pressure on the gunshot wound on his chest. “How long have you been lying there?”

“Hours,” he admitted. “I only risked calling in when everyone else was in the lounge car and not paying attention, but the detective nearly walked in on me sitting up earlier and I thought it best to keep playing dead.”

“Why did you play along in the first place?” Allu demanded to know while passing the agent some bandages to deal with his wounds. “All you had to do was hide your injuries and they would have been none the wiser.”

“Which I would have done, if I hadn’t passed out as soon as I got back to my room,” Apless said, and at Allu's look admitted, “I might have been a little inebriated. And poisoned. By the time I woke up, they’d already found my ‘dead’ body and there wasn’t much else I could do but wait it out.”

While the Universal Stability Agency employed many species, both Allu and Apless hailed from the same one that could easily shrug off little things like being shot or stabbed. Handy when on assignment, up until the local population that definitely wasn’t ready to know about the universal community at large started asking questions about why you were still standing up after said little things.

“At least they managed to catch the thief,” Allu said. “If this is who we think it is, she’s a repeat offender who’s pawned off dangerous tech in the past—no telling what she could have done, if the power source is anything like what our scans suggest.”

Apless nodded, rolling his shoulders with a crack from his back before saying, “Not bad work from that detective. I believe they put her in this compartment over here.”

He opened said door, to be greeted by an empty room and a conspicuously open window.

“…Ah. Maybe it was this room…?”

After a search of every compartment failed to turn up anything but an extremely suspicious teddy bear donning a monocle and pink mustache that Allu Minium immediately pegged as some kind of guardian totem belonging to one of the locals, Agent Harold Apless was forced to admit that, perhaps, the bandit might have gotten away.

“Well,” Allu said, trying to maintain the usual cheerful optimism, “At least we have the power source. Who knows what that kind of thing could do if it was left lying around on a planet like this.”

“Uh,” one of the other agents said as he stepped into the passenger car from the baggage car. “About that…”

Some time later, Professor Beauregard would lead a pair of agents from a very different agency into the same baggage car, unlocking the crate as she talked about safety measures and countermeasures and radiation measures for good measure, only to find what the USA agents had already discovered: the definite lack of a very obvious, glowing crystal. In its place was a glimmering jewel that the professor only needed a glance at before slamming the door shut on it.

Once the agents were done dry heaving, they agreed that while it wasn’t what they were expecting, the Ohio jewel definitely belonged in protective custody, preferably somewhere deep underground where no one had to look at the thing.

---

Earlier, Illinois had found a private moment with Dorene to explain that when he opened his trunk while packing, he’d discovered that the Ohio jewel was missing, replaced with another gem and a note.

“And what did that note say?” Dorene asked, already smiling when she recognized the scrawling signature at the bottom.

“Says here someone thought I might have an idea about what to do with this thing,” Illinois said, tipping the brim of his hat back. “Or at least, ‘Something more interesting than whatever those men in suits would do with it.’”

“And do you have an idea?” Dorene asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.

Illinois smiled, weighing the jewel in his hand before saying, “Seems to me, this belongs in a museum. Think you could make that happen?”

“Oh, I think I know just the place.”

---

Abe was oblivious to all of that though, as he stood there on the station and studied the tickets before finally coming to a decision.

“Where are you headed?” Wilford asked, smiling when he got a jump out of the detective.

“Where have you been?” Abe asked.

“Touche,” Wilford said, as if both questions were about the same, and fell into step with the detective as he started walking toward the station doors and, somewhere beyond them, the exit. Unbeknownst to both of them, they just barely missed witnessing a very much alive Happy exiting the train with the other USA agents, all of them trying to figure out much the same thing.

“To be honest, I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing next,” Abe admitted. He tore the pair of tickets in half and dropped them in a trash can without stopping. “Should be fun.”

“Oh, I know a few places,” Wilford said, slowing by said trashcan to peer inside before hurrying to catch up with the detective. “How do you feel about boats?”

“Nope, I’m good,” Abe said, picking up his pace. “In fact, you could not follow me—”

Wilford grinned, sensing the tables had turned somehow as he practically chased after the detective. “How about a secluded island, only reachable at high tide? Oh, or a plane! No, wait, not a fan of snakes after the whole Jumanji incident. What about an art museum, get some culture, maybe take some ‘souvenirs’ if you know what I mean—”

Abe pressed his hands over his ears and ran faster, but as he dashed through the exit doors and out into the bright sunshine glinting off of the snow outside the station, for some reason he found a mad smile spreading across his face.

Suddenly it felt like he had all the choice in the world, and he was going to make sure it was a beautiful one.

((End of Part 12, and of Murder on the Warfstache Express. Thank you so much for reading!

And thank you for the patience; I really did mean to get this last chapter out sooner than I did, and overall this story took a lot longer to write than I ever expected (mostly because of personal things going on). Now, in no particular order, my attempt to head off some questions/talk a bit now that spoilers aren't an issue:

In case it's unclear, Allu Minium is "Lady" from ISWM--that name is the one Lio Tipton (the character's actor) suggested in a stream. I'm hoping Happy's non-death doesn't feel like too much of a cop out, but I also think the idea that Abe met not one but two obvious aliens and completely failed to notice a little funny.

I dodged this question ages ago, but this story did take place between ISWM and AHWM--Dark passed the stone to Richard before the story, and Wilford slipped the stone to Illinois/Dorene at the end to make sure it ended up with the museum. Both cases, just for funsies/to see what would happen.

To be honest, a lot of the "this isn't how the story goes" bits in this chapter come down to the suspicion that (someday, maybe) Mark really will do his own version of Murder on the Orient Express. (I can dream, can't I?) But I also wanted Abe to keep up with his character development from WMLW--he's becoming more aware of the story around him and by the end ready to do his own thing for once, instead of just falling into the same old beats (even if Wilford is tempting him into some familiar circumstances...). The line about making beautiful choices and a lot of the stuff Dorene said about choices is directly ripped from her dialogue in ISWM, if you choose to let go at the end.

And...I think that's everything on my mind at the moment. Thank you again for reading, and I really do hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list: @silver-owl413 @asteriuszenith @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @95fangirl @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-star-eyes @shyinspiredartist @avispate @autumnrambles @authorracheljoy @liafoxyfox @hidinginmybochard))

[scarisd3ad]

To the end and back [daryl Dixon x reader]

Chapter two - right where you left me

Masterlist

Taglist

Summary - after the world ended you were sure you’d never find love again but a certain archer catches your eyes and changes the entire trajectory of your life.

Warnings - regular twd warnings

Previous >> next

Season 1 ep 3

'Tell it to the frog'

Edited

We all sat around waiting for the others to return from their supply run to Atlanta. Glenn, Merle, Morales, Andrea, Jacqui, and T dog had gone on a supply run while Daryl had gone hunting. I sat talking to Lori and Shane as Lori cut Carl's hair and Shane cleaned his rifle. Carl isn't pleased about his haircut. He fidgets around and has a pout on his face the entire time. "Baby, the more you fidget, the longer it takes, so don't, okay?" Lori says as she combs out her son's hair, snipping little pieces at once. "I'm trying." Carl whines. "Well, try harder." Lori says, trying to focus on Carl's haircut. I laugh. Carl must've not had a haircut since before the outbreak because he was beginning to grow a little mullet. "If you think this is bad, wait till you start shaving. That stings." Shane laughs. "That day comes; you'll be wishing for one of your mama's haircuts." Shane says as he inspects his gun.

"I'll believe that when I see it" Carl says, making Shane and I chuckle. "I'll tell you what... you just get through this with some manly dignity, and tomorrow, I'll teach you something special. I will teach you to catch frogs." Shane says as he's taking apart his rifle. Lori smiles as she continues to cut Carl's hair. "I've caught a frog before," Carl states as he turns a bit, causing Lori to readjust his head. "I said frogs' plural, and it is an art, my friend. It is not to be taken lightly. There are ways and means. Few people know about it." I remember catching frogs on my grandfather's farm as a young kid. I'd take them back to my grandma and grandpa. Grandpa would be proud, but Grandma was always so disgusted by them. She hated that Grandpa would cook them up and eat them. "I'm willing to share my secrets."

Carl looks back at his mom, brows furrowed. "Oh, I'm a girl. You talk to him." Lori says, turning her son's head back towards Shane. "I used to catch frogs," I say. Carl turns his head towards me, brows furrowed again. "You did?" He asks. Lori turns Carls head straight again. "Yep, on my grandpa's farm when I was your age with my brother." Shane raised his eyebrows. "Brother? you have a brother?" Carl asks. I nod. "had a brother," I correct. Matthew, my little brother, was 2 years younger than me; he had dirty blonde hair as he got older and bright blue eyes that will be ingrained in my memories forever. He died 1 day into the outbreak. I miss him every day I go on without him. I wish he'd met these people because he'd love them. "My grandpa used to cook them up on Sunday nights."

"Why'd he cook them?" Carl asks, face contorting in confusion. "You never eat frog legs?" Shane asks. "Eww!" Carl says, his face contorting from confusion into a disgusted look. "No, yum!" Shane corrects as he leans back in his chair a bit. "No, he's right. Eww," Lori contradicts, "they're actually really good, Carl" I say as I fold my arms over my chest. Every day I wake up, I find these people becoming more and more like family than my actual one ever was to me. "You see, she knows what I'm talkin' bout!" Shane says, pointing towards me, which makes me laugh. Lori scrunches up her face in disgust. "When we get down to that last can of beans, you're gonna be loving those frog legs, lady. I can see it now 'Shane, do you think I could have a second helping, please? Ju..just one?'" Shane says, dropping his country accent to imitate Lori. "Yeah, I doubt that." Lori says with an eye roll as both she and Shane laugh.

I turn to see Amy; she's worried about her sister. She should've been back hours ago, but they aren't yet. Dale is standing on top of his RV with a pair of binoculars, just looking out at the road. "I'm..I'm gonna go check in on Amy," I say as I stand up.

Amy is sitting in a chair under the awning of Dale's RV. "You alright, Am's?" I ask she nods slowly. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she mumbles, "They should've been back hours ago." "I'm sure they'r-" I'm cut off by a car alarm blaring. Amy jumps up, and so does Shane. "Talk to me, Dale!" He shouts as he runs towards the RV.

"I can't tell yet," Dale says before looking through his binoculars. "Is it them? Are they back?" Amy asks. "I'll be damned," Dale mutters as we watch a bright red car drive towards our camp. That car is shouting up a storm, probably drawing every Walker in at least a mile's radius towards us. "What is it?" Amy asks.

"A stolen car is my guess."

Lori has her arm wrapped around Carl and one above her eyes, shielding her eyes from the sun. The car pulls in, and we all run towards it. Out comes Glenn. Such a dumbass. I roll my eyes because that boy always seems to do the stupidest goddamn shit. "Holy crap. Turn that damn thing off!" Dale shouts. "I don't know how!" Glenn says with a shrug and the biggest goddamn smile on his face. I run over, pulling him into a hug. I can't lie and say I haven't been a big bag of nerves since he left because I have, but hugging him always makes me feel better.

"Pop the hood, please. Pop the damn hood, please." Shane says, patting the hood of the car harshly.

I let go of Glenn as Amy runs up. "My sister, Andrea-" she's cut off by Shane shouting, "Pop the damn hood!" and him banging on the hood a bit harder. Shane is very upfront with his role as a leader. He's strong, demanding, and the type of person everyone tends to hate, but I've found it easy to get along with him most of the time. He can be an asshole sometimes, but ever since he promised to keep me safe, I've found it easy to understand why he does what he does.

"What, okay, okay. Yeah, yeah, yeah," Glenn says, retreating back into his car. Amy is still right at Glenn's side, asking about Andrea. Glenn pops the hood, and Shane gets to work on the vehicle. "Is she okay? Is she all right?" Amy asks, demanding an answer from Glenn as he gets out of the car again. "She's okay! She's okay!" Glenn shouts. Amy's brows furrow, but she does let out a tiny sigh of relief as she asks, "Is she coming back?"

"Yes!"

Amy goes right back into panic mode. "Why isn't she with you? Where is she? Is She okay?" Amy continues to interrogate Glenn, "Yes! Fine. Everybody is." Almost everyone lets out a relieved sigh. We had been knotted up in webs of anxiety all day. "Well, Merle, not so much." No one really worried much about Merle. He could be loud, never listened to anyone, and was obnoxious at times, especially when he was mad. It'd be good to get rid of him. "Are you crazy, drivin' this wailin' bastard up here? You tryin' to draw every Walker for miles?" Shane scolds Glenn as he stands with both hands set on the car's hood. The car was a stupid thing to do; it could've drawn every person and Walker to our location. "I think we're okay," Dale says quietly. "You call being stupid, okay?" Shane argues. Glenn finally turns to me, wrapping his arms around me. "M'glad you're alright," I whisper as I wrap my arms around his neck. he sighs as I lean my head onto his shoulder.

"Well, the alarm was echoing all over these hills. Hard to pinpoint the source," Dale explains. Shane turns around with both hands on his hips, giving Dale a look that tells everyone, 'Don't argue with me.' "I'm not arguing. I'm just saying," Dale says with a shrug. It's almost like Dale can read everyone's expressions because I don't think most people could read Shane like that. "It wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?" Dale says, raising his voice a bit at Glenn. Glenn lets go of me and says, "Sorry. Got a cool car." with a shrug. I roll my eyes. It's weird, we're going through the zombie fucking apocalypse, and Glenn can still be the sweetest, funniest, happiest man I've ever met.

A large moving truck pulls in next, making everyone focus on it instead of Glenn. Morales steps out first and then Andrea from the back. "Amy," Andrea says as she runs towards her sister. "Andrea!" Amy cries out. The sisters embrace tightly.

"You scared the shit out of me." Amy cries with a little laugh. Morales's kids are running towards their father. "Papi! Daddy!" They cry out as they embrace their father. We all watch the lovely moments between family members. It hurts a bit to us members of the group who've lost family members along the way, but it's nice to see how happy they get. The closest person to a family I have in the group is Glenn. I get so excited to see his face after he goes out in the city. We never know if it's the last time we'll see each other; one day, they could go out and never return. Glenn wraps his arm around my shoulder and whispers, "Got you something while we were out; I'll show you later."

"You are a welcome sight. I thought we had lost you folks for sure." Dale says as he embraces Morales. "How'd y'all get out of there anyway?" Shane speaks up. Morales looks back to the moving truck before saying, "New guy...he got us out." I furrow my brows. I was pretty sure we were the last people alive; we hadn't seen other people since the early days of the outbreak. "New guy?" Shane asks with his brows furrowed together.

"Yeah, crazy Vato just got into town." Morales says as he turns to the moving truck and hollers, "Hey, helicopter boy! Come say hello!"

Out comes a slim brunette man in a police uniform. He's got both hands on his hips as he walks up a few inches. "The guys a cop like you." Morales tells Shane. The guy looks out of breath as he looks over the group. He points towards Lori and Carl before whispering, "Oh my god." And speed walking towards Carl, who's now running towards him. "Dad! Dad!" Carl cries out. The guy kneels down as Carl runs into his arms. Lori is just behind him. Both boys fall to the ground hugging. I'm just now realizing this is Lori's husband, the dead husband Shane had told me about. Lori wasn't one to talk much about him, but Shane and Carl talked about him a lot, mostly reminiscing. Shane talked about how they worked together in the force, and he died at the beginning of the outbreak, but that man wasn't dead. He picks up his son and walks towards Lori. Lori hugs him. She's in disbelief. Then Lori looked up at Shane with the most betrayed facial expression I'd ever seen. I learned from Lori that her husband got shot and went into a coma. Shane told her he died in the hospital. But obviously, he's not dead. He's right here in front of us. I understand that it could've been an accident; he might've not even heard a heartbeat, but the look on Shane's face tells me otherwise.

-

We're all sat around the fire, listening to who I've learned to be Rick tells us how he miraculously woke up and survived. I've got my head in Glenn's lap, and his left arm wrapped around me. "Disoriented. I guess that comes closest. Disoriented." Carl is laying in Rick's lap, and Lori sits beside them. "Fear, confusion..all those things, but..disoriented comes closest." Thunder is coming from a few miles away, which doesn't worry me much; it just frightens me every time it strikes. "Words can be meager things. Sometimes they fall short," Dale says. Glenn gently caresses my arm with his thumb as Rick says, "I felt like I'd been ripped out of my life and put somewhere else." the crickets provide an excellent background for the silence of the night, so it's not just the dark and the loud groans, and growls of walkers in the city. "For a while, I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from ever."

"Mom said you died." Carl says quietly. Lori looks at her husband worriedly, like he'd be mad if she told their son that, but he doesn't seem upset. "She had every reason to believe that. Don't you ever doubt it." Rick places his hand on his son's cheek, caressing it lightly, while Lori's hand gently pushes her son's hair back. "When things started to get really bad, they told me at the hospital that they were gonna medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta..." she pauses for a second before continuing, "...and it never happened."

"Well, I'm not surprised after Atlanta fell." Lori nods, whispering "yeah"

"And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun." Rick adds the last time I was in the city, it was absolutely overrun; no one was alive, and the entire place had been taken over by the dead. "Yeah, looks don't deceive. I barely got them out...you know?" Rick looks at Shane, making direct eye contact. "I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane...I can't begin to express it." Shane doesn't answer. He stares at Rick, unable to answer; he has a guilty look on his face that says more than words could ever. "There go those words falling short again..paltry things. " Dale says with a chuckle. I look up at Glenn, who's staring ahead at the fire, zoned out, but when he notices I'm looking up at him, he grins.

Before all this, I was 2 years into med school, living in a shitty apartment with 2 shitty roommates. I wanted to be a doctor. That was dream ever since I was little. Little me was wise to choose that because now the 2 years of training I did does work out. After all, now I'm the group's "doctor." my knowledge doesn't help with complex issues because I had only been in med school for 2 years, but I'm a pro with the basics.

Lori is cuddled up in Rick's arms but staring at Shane with a terrified look. Shane looks mad, maybe jealous even. Ed stands up, throwing another log into the fire.

"Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?" We all look at Ed like we're in elementary school again, looking at him like, 'Ooo, you're in trouble'. "It's cold, man." Ed says with his head leaned back before it falls forward a bit. "The cold doesn't change the rules, does it?" Shane says, looking over at Ed. "Keep our fires low, just embers, so we can't be seen from a distance, right?" Shane says just to explain to Rick since his eyebrows are furrowed. "I said it's cold. You should mind your own business for once." Ed argues. It wasn't a good thing to argue with Shane; he's our leader, he makes the rules, and he tells people what to do. If he says no, it means no, that's it. Shane pushes himself to his feet, walks over, and grabs something. I can't really tell what it is. He walks behind Ed, patting him on the back. "Hey, Ed....are sure you want to have this conversation, man?" He asks softly, "Go on. Pull the damn thing out. Go on!"

Carol Ed's wife sits quietly, almost embarrassed of her husband's actions. Finally, she seems fed up with her husband's childish behavior, so she stands up, grabs the log out of the fire, and throws it on the ground. "Christ," Shane mutters. Carol isn't one to really stand up to her husband; I can tell because the look on Ed's face is terrifying. She then walks back around and sits beside her daughter as Shane stomps on the log until it's no longer on fire. Shane kneels down close to Sophia and Carol. "Hey, Carol, Sophia, how are y'all this evening?" He asks.

"Fine. We're just fine." Ed is staring daggers over at his wife. "I'm sorry about the fire." Carol says quietly, almost like she doesn't want her husband to hear. "No, no, no. No apology needed. Y'all have a good night, okay?"

"Thank you," Carol whispers. Sophia looks down at her feet the entire time like she's scared of what her father will do later. "I appreciate the cooperation." Shane stands up and walks back over to his spot. "Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind." Dale says. Daryl wouldn't be happy; he and his brother were the only family they had left. Even though they didn't get along well, he'd be upset.

"I'll tell him. I dropped the key. It's on me." T-dog says quietly. "I cuffed him. That makes it mine." Rick replies. "Guys, it's not a competition. I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy." Glenn says, his arm still wrapped around me, drawing small circles on my upper arm. The Dixon brothers...well, at least Merle was very racist, and I wouldn't be surprised if Daryl was, too. "I did what I did. Hell, if I'm gonna hide from him."

"We could lie." Amy says from her spot curled up in her sister's arms. "Or tell the truth," Andrea sighs. She's right. We needed to tell Daryl the truth; if we didn't, and he found out we lied, our consequences would be worse. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done, or he'd have gotten us killed." She was right again; Merle was out of control, and there was never a way to calm him or tell him what to do. Even if Shane tried, he couldn't. Merle was his own boss, and God bless the person who tried to boss him around. "Your husband did what was necessary, and if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's." Andrea says to Lori. "And that's what we tell Daryl?" Dale asks. I don't think Daryl would just take that as an answer for why we left his brother behind, even if he knew how stubborn his brother was. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?" Dale asks, shaking his head. Dale was a wise older man, like our group's grandfather or even father. He was rational and knew how to survive. People like Shane say that this world wasn't made for Dale, but we'd be dead without Dale. "Word to the wise...we're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt." We would. Daryl would probably throw a fit and try to hurt someone. He was similar to his brother in expressing his anger through yelling and fists.

"I was scared, and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it," T-dog says with his arms crossed over his chest. "We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?" Andrea asks. "I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that..not that chain, not that padlock. My point...my point is..dixon's alive, and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us." T-dog says before getting up and walking away.

"Hey, can I stay in your tent tonight to stay warm?" Glenn whispers just loud enough for me to hear. I nod as I look up at him. I stand up, pushing myself off the ground, and hold my hand out for him to grab. I pull him up, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder. "We're gonna head to bed, goodnight," Glenn says.

We walk towards my tent, his arm still wrapped around me.

He unwraps his arm around me so I can unzip my tent. He gets in first and sits crisscrossed on the far-left side. I get in and then zip the tent back up. I lay down, wrapping myself in blankets, trying to avoid freezing to death. "Do you think this will ever like end?" Glenn asks. I shrug. "I hope so," I whisper. He lays down beside me, propping his head up with his arm. "If this does end, we should get an apartment together." He nods in agreement even though we both know it'll probably never happen. It's so weird. I've only known Glenn for about 2 months, but he knows me better than anyone. It could be because we have so much time to talk. "Where were you before you came here?" I ask in a whispered tone. He lets out a small sigh before saying, "Macon...ended up getting stuck in a pharmacy in Macon with a group of people. they went to some motel, but I ended up leaving to go to Atlanta." I nod before he adds, "They ended up giving me a walkie to keep in touch, but it hasn't worked since I left," he whispers as he lets his head fall onto the pillow. "Do you still have it?" I ask. He nods before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small walkie-talkie with stickers on it. I smile as I ask, "Why is it covered in stickers?" with a laugh. "A little girl in the group gave it to me," he says with a small smile. I let out a small sigh as we sat in a comfortable silence together for a few seconds.

"You should go to bed, Glenn," I mumble as I scoot closer to him. "Mhm, I will." I cuddle up next to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. "Don't stay up too late now," I mumble into his chest. "I won't," he says. I can tell he's smiling by the way he says it.

-

I wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the sunlight peering through the sheer fabric of my tent. Glenn's no longer in the tent. He must've gotten up earlier. I push myself off the ground and crawl over to unzip my tent. I get out, zip it back up, and walk over to where the rest of the group is hanging out.

Carol is leaving some clothes out to dry when I walk up to her. "Morning," I say. She gives me a weak smile but replies, "Morning." She washed Rick's clothes. She's a sweet lady, definitely didn't deserve her asshat of a husband.

Glenn is standing, staring at his red car, arms crossed over his chest. Dale and some other guys are striping it clean of gas and anything they need from the vehicle. Glenn's pissed. I walk over to him. "Look at 'em. Vultures." He grumbles. I give him a weak smile as he says, "Yeah, go on, strip it clean." sarcastically. "Generators need every drop of fuel they can get. I have no power without it. Sorry, Glenn," Dale says, patting Glenn's back as he walks by with a gas can. "Thought I'd get to drive it at least a few more days." Glenn mumbles. He's very obviously upset. I wrap an arm around him. "We'll get you another one like it, Glenn," I say, trying to comfort him. He gives me a weak smile. "yeah, maybe."

Glenn and I walk away from the car "are..are you guys gonna try and rescue Merle?" I ask. Glenn shrugs. "It's up to Shane," Glenn says. I nod. I wanted to go. I hadn't been out into the city since the beginning of the outbreak. I wanted to go on a supply run like Andrea got to, but I was never fucking allowed to! I could handle myself. I survived long enough to get here, but Shane was always against it. He always had some lame ass excuse to not let me go. I understood he just wanted to protect me, but if I didn't get experience fighting walkers, I would die if some came stumbling onto our camp.

Shane drives up in his jeep with water. "Waters here, y'all. Just a reminder to boil before use," he says as he exits. A couple of us walk over to Shane's car and help him carry the water jugs. I grab one, but Shane immediately takes it from me. I hate how he sees me as a child incapable of doing things alone.

A blood-curdling scream breaks our attention from the water. "MOM!" Carl screams. Rick and Lori immediately start sprinting towards their son's cries. "DAD!" Carl screams again. "Baby!" Lori yells. Shane is now also flying towards the screams of two children with a shotgun. "MAMA! MOMMY!"

"CARL!" Lori cries out as she's trying to find her child. "CARL! Baby!" Both Sophia and Carl come running out of the forest. Lori falls to her knees with Carl in her arms, examining him, ensuring there are no bites or scratches. "Nothing bit you, nothing scratched you?" Lori says, hugging at her child.

Most of us are also running that way with guns and weapons. "No, I'm okay," Carl says. Both children seem shaken up by whatever they had seen in the woods.

We finally find the Walker that the kids saw. It's in a small clearing surrounded by trees feasting on a dead deer. I scrunch up my nose in disgust. It smells horrible. Walkers smell awful, like shit, and death. It's just pure death. I stand back as the men go ham on the thing. Beating, stabbing it, you name it, they did it. The sound of leaves crunching makes Shane raise his gun.

Amy and Andrea are standing behind me. We're all preparing for the worst: another walker, maybe a horde of them. But then out pops Daryl with his crossbow and about a dozen dead squirrels. Shane lowers his gun but mutters, "Oh, Jesus." In an almost 'oh god, it's him' tone. "Son of a bitch." Daryl curses as he pushes his way through some branches and over some rocks. "That's MY deer!" As Daryl walks towards it, Rick, Morales, and Glenn step away from the deer. "Look at it. All gnawed on by this..." he then began to kick at the Walker.

"..FILTHY.." kick "..DISEASE-BEARING.." kick "..MOTHERLESS.." kick "..POXY BASTARD!"

"Calm down, son, that's not helping," Dale says, not trying to create conflict but to calm the angered man down. Daryl took it as wanting to cause a conflict, though, so he stomps over to Dale, "What do you know about it, old man?! Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'!" He shouts before turning back around and walking back towards the deer and Walker.

He sighs as he leans over. "I've been trackin' this deer for miles." He pulls out about three arrows from the deer. "Was gonna drag it back to camp, cook us until some venison." He then pulls out a knife. "What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed-up part right here?" He asks as he leans over the deer and points to the gnawed parts of the deer with his knife. "I would not risk that." Shane replies. The deer looks definitely non-salvageable. Its guts are spilling out and just totally gnawed on. If we tried to eat it, we'd definitely get infected. Daryl sighs. "That's a damn shame." He then turns to the squirrels he has. "I got some squirrels—about a dozen or so. That'll have to do," he sighs.

The Walker's decapitated head then twitches, which is a sight to see. It disgusts Amy, who says, "Oh god." Like she's about to throw up. Andrea then escorts her away from the Walker and probably back to camp. "Come on, people. What the hell?" Daryl says as he shoots the Walker straight in the head. He pulls the arrow out of the Walker. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothin'?" He says with an eye roll. He walks past me, giving me a slight smile.

We follow him as he walks back to camp. "Merle!" He shouts. Everyone's giving each other looks like 'who's gonna tell him?' "Merle! Get your ugly ass out here!" He shouts again. "I got us some squirrel! Let's stew'em up." He says, putting his crossbow down.

Shane decides he will tell him; he is the un-proclaimed group leader, after all. "Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you." Shane says. Daryl stops and turns around. "bout what?" He asks, brows furrowed. We're all stopped just a few feet away, watching. We're all crossing our fingers, hoping this won't end badly. "Bout Merle." Shane says as he continues walking past Daryl, "There was a—there was a problem in Atlanta." Shane stops and turns around, putting his hands on his hips. Daryl looks around as we're all kind of gathered around watching. "He dead?" Daryl asks. "We're not sure." As Daryl's brows furrow, Shane replies, "he either is or he ain't!" Rick then steps up and walks over to where Shane and Daryl are. "No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it."

"Who are you?"

"Rick Grimes." Rick replies in his heavy country accent. Someone was going to get hurt; I just knew it. I'm leaning against Shane's jeep, with Glenn standing beside me as we watch. "Rick grimes! you got something you want to tell me?" Daryl shouts angrily. God, I just hope no one gets hurt too bad because I'll have to fix them up.

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there." Rick explains. I can just see Daryl's blood boiling. If steam could come out of his ears, it would be. Daryl turns around, wiping at his eyes like he was about to cry. "Hold on. Let me process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?!" He shouts with tears in his eyes. I actually feel bad for Daryl. If someone had chained my brother up on a roof with Walker able to get to him, I'd be just as angry. "yeah." Rick says quietly. Daryl's face is all scrunched up in anger. He turns around just a bit before launching the squirrels at Rick.

Shane immediately gets in between the two, tackling Daryl to the ground. Daryl falls to the ground with a grunt. T-dog drops the logs he was carrying and is just about to jump in when Daryl pulls out his knife and pushes himself off the ground. "watch the knife!" T-dog shouts. Daryl then tries to swing at Rick but misses. Rick grabs one of Daryl's arms, and Shane comes behind him, both men holding him back. Rick takes a step back, letting Shane take over. "Okay, okay," Shane says, trying to stop Daryl from struggling. We all knew this would happen; Daryl was violent. "You'd best let me go!" Daryl shouts.

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't." Shane's arms are around Daryl's neck in a choke hold, and Daryl grunts and tries to escape Shane's grip. "Choke hold's illegal," Daryl grunts as Shane gets him to the ground. "You can file a complaint," Shane replies sarcastically.

"Come on, man. We'll keep this up all day." Shane warns as Rick kneels down next to Daryl. "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?" Rick asks Daryl. Daryl doesn't answer. Just continues to wriggle around, trying to get out of their hold. "Do you think we can manage that?" Rick repeats like he's talking to a toddler. Daryl is panting, but let's say, "mhm, yeah." Shane lets him go harshly. "what I did was not on a whim." Rick says, still kneeling down next to Daryl. Daryl's still panting as Rick says, "Your brother does not work and play well with others." Daryl stares at the ground as Rick talks to him. "It's not Rick's fault. I had the key." T-dog says. Both men look up at T-dog. "I dropped it." Daryl's brows furrow. "you couldn't pick it up?!" Daryl asks loudly.

"Well, I dropped it in a drain."

Daryl lets out a loud scoff as he looks down at the ground on his hands and knees. He pushes himself off the ground. "if it's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn't." He says harshly as he throws a handful of rocks back onto the ground as walks past t-dog. "Well, maybe this will.." t-dog says. Daryl stops as t-dog continues, "look, I chained the door to the roof—so the geeks couldn't get at him...with a padlock."

"It's gotta count for something," Rick says. Daryl sighs before wiping his eyes again "hell with all y'all!" Daryl shouts as tears begin to form in his eyes once again. "Just tell me where he is," Daryl says desperately, like he's falling apart without his brother. Even though the two fought like cats and dogs, you could tell they loved each other. "so, I can go get him."

"He'll show you, isn't that, right?" Lori says with one hand on the RV door. Rick's breathing heavily as he looks around. "I'm goin' back." Lori lets out a sigh before climbing into the RV angrily. I understand Lori's anger; she doesn't want her husband, whom she hasn't seen in 2 months, to leave again.

"Are you going back?" I ask, turning to Glenn. "If they want me to yeah." Glenn replies with a nod. "I want to go too," I whisper; Glenn's eyes widen. "You can't," he says; I cross my arms over my chest and let out an angry sigh. I don't know why every man I know chooses to treat me like a child. "I can, and I will. I don't give two fucks what you say." Glenn sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. "You. Can't." I scoff and roll my eyes. "I'm goin' anyways. You can't stop me," I say as I push his arm off me and walk over to Shane.

"I'm going with them." Shane laughs but quickly realizes I'm serious, and his smile drops. "no, you're not." I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. I don't know when he will realize I'm a few years older than Glenn. If Glenn can handle himself out there, so can I. "I can handle myself out there. I want to help!" Shane laughs and grabs my upper arm harshly. "I'm sure you can, but I'm protecting you." I hate how he always uses the excuse that he's protecting me: "I'm not a kid. I can help!" I shout; he rolls his eyes and says, "You sure are actin' like one. If you want to help, cook something or wash some clothes." I push him off of me and scoff. "Fuck you."

Rick walks out of his family's tent, dressed in his police uniform. I'll ask him. Maybe he's not like Shane. "Hey, Rick!" I say, running up to him. He stops, brows furrowed together. I realize I haven't really introduced myself, so I say, " I'm y/n, I have a question." he nods in response, so I say, "Can I go with y'all?" He sighs and looks at me like, 'Do you have any experience?' "I was in that city for a week with only a knife. I know my way around the place," he sighs again, asking, "Can you shoot a gun?" I nod. I've been able to shoot a gun since I was 7 years old. That's just the pros of growing up in rural Georgia with a grandpa who loved to hunt. "I don't care as long as you can handle yourself." I smile. I turn towards Shane, who has a scowl on his face. I grin just to piss him off.

I watch as Rick walks over to Shane; they have a hushed conversation. Shane's obviously pissed about something, maybe it's me, perhaps it's Rick leaving again. Rick begins to walk off while Shane follows shortly behind.

I think Glenn's pissed at me too. I understand he cares about me a lot, but I want to prove myself to the group. I want them to know I'm not just some helpless girl that needs protecting. I walk over to him; he's got his arms crossed with a worried look on his face. "You going with them?" He asks. I nod, and he loudly sighs, "What if you get hurt?" I rolled my eyes; I had been out in that city with only a knife as a weapon for a week. I know how to protect myself. "I'm not. I can handle myself. I did it before," I say, trying to comfort him, but it doesn't seem to work. He grabs my hand and whispers, "Why would you risk your life for Merle Dixon?" with his brows furrowed. I shrug, and He sighs as he drops my hand. "You give me so much anxiety, y/n," he says with a laugh; I laugh as well and say, "And you think you don't do the same to me?" He rolls his eyes before He smiles and grabs my hand.

Shane and Rick walk back into the area where everyone else is bickering. "So, you and Daryl, that's your big plan?" Lori asks Rick from her spot sitting by our campfire. Rick turns to both me and Glenn. Glenn lets out a groan. "Oh, come on." I laugh because he should have known he'd have to go, too. After all, he's our designated errand-runner. "You know the way. You've been there before...in and out, no problem. You said so yourself." Glenn takes his hat off and runs his hand through his hair. "It's not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you alone. I know she would, too." Rick says, turning to his wife. "That's just great. Now you're not only going to risk y/n's life but three of our men, huh?"

"Four," t-dog corrects.

Daryl huffs. "My day just gets better and better, don't it?" Daryl says as he cleans his arrows. "You see anybody else here stepping up to save your brothers, cracker ass?" T-dog retorts, which makes me laugh because it is quite a coincidence that T-dog is stepping up to help when Merle hates him. "Why you?" Daryl demands. "You wouldn't even begin to understand. You don't speak my language."

Dale walks over and says, "That's four."

"It's not just four. You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that, Walker. It was here. It was in camp. They're moving out of the cities. They come back; we need every ablebody we've got, " Shane says, getting closer to Rick. "We need 'em here. We need 'em to protect the camp." he's pissed. He doesn't want us out there anymore, especially for Merle. He didn't give a shit about any of us, only himself, so why were we even going. To make ourselves feel better, to not have that guilt on our backs.

"It seems to me what you really need most here...are more guns."

"Right, the guns." Glenn says, slowly walking forward. Everyone, including me, needs clarification about what he's talking about. "Wait, what guns?" Shane asks with his eyebrows furrowed. "Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns." Rick states. "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left. I dropped it when I got swarmed in Atlanta. It's just sitting there on the street, waiting to be picked up." Rick explained. "Ammo?" Shane asks quietly. "700 rounds, assorted." Rick confirms. Shane bows his head, thinking about what we should do. "You went through hell to find us. Yo-you just got here, and you're gonna turn around and leave?" Lori just couldn't understand why he would risk his life, leaving again. But we needed those guns and ammo. Finding Merle would just be a side quest. "Dad, I-I don't want you to go." Carl stutters out. "To hell with the guns. Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He's not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in." Shane runs his hands through his hair as Rick walks towards Lori. Lori stands up and says, "Tell me. Make me understand."

"I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy." Lori looks down at Carl like, 'We have a kid too?!' Rick grabs Lori's hand. "Lori, if they hadn't taken me in, I'd have died." He says quietly, "It's because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta. they'll walk into the same trap I did if I don't warn him." Lori looks down at her feet before whispering, "What's stoppin' you?" Rick sighs before saying, "the walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped, he's got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer."

Shane's now sat down by his jeep, rubbing at his face, stressed, he's stressed. What are you really supposed to do in this situation? We really need those guns, but we could lose people if we did it. "These are our walkies?" Shane asks. Rick nods and says, "Yeah." with a sigh. "So, use the c.b...what's wrong with that?" Andrea suggests. "The c.b's fine. It's the walkies that suck to crap..date back to the '70s, don't match any other bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars" Shane explains. Lori avoids Rick's eye contact, looking just behind or at her feet. "I need that bag." Lori doesn't reply. She's just speechless. Rick walks past Lori and to their son. He kneels down in front of Carl. "okay?" Carl just nods. "All right," Rick whispers as he ruffles Carls's hair.

Glenn turns to me. "We're both coming back alive. I swear if you don't, I will literally kill you." I let out a laugh. "Well then, if you don't, I'll do the same," he smiles. "Deal?" "Deal." We both laugh as I lean my head onto his shoulder.

-

I'm sitting in my tent, riffling through my belongings, looking for the handgun my granddad lent me before I headed off to college. I finally found it hidden under a pile of blankets. I stuffed it into my bag and stepped out of my tent. Glenn's already in the large truck Rick and them brought back. Daryl's in the back with t-dog, while Glenn's in the front. I walk over and hop up into the back with Daryl. "You find your gun?" Glenn asks as he turns back towards me. I nod as I take a seat on the metal floor. Rick and Shane walk up to the back of the truck. Shane places down a large black bag. "Hey, Rick, got any rounds in the python?" Shane asks. "No," Rick replies, shaking his head. "Last time we were on the gun range, I'm sure I wound up with a few loose rounds of yours."

Daryl sits next to me and takes my gun out of my hand. He examines it briefly before asking, "You know how to use this, darlin'?" I scoff and roll my eyes. "Yeah, I do," I say as I grab my gun back from him and tuck it back into my bag. "You know how to use that?" I ask sarcastically as I point to his crossbow. He laughs, "Of course I fuckin' do." Rick and Shane walk away, and Daryl stands up. He walks over and closes the back of the truck. The truck starts up, and we're going.

-

We're driving over some train tracks, which is a bit bumpy but not too bad. "He'd better be okay. It's my only word on the matter." Daryl says to T-dog it's a warning; if Merle isn't alive, he's going to hurt someone, and it'll probably be T-dog. "He will," I whisper. Of course, he will. He's fucking Merle. He'd be able to be hit by a truck, and he'd still be alright. "I told you the geeks can't get to him," T-dog says, leaning his head against the metal wall of the truck. "The only thing that's gonna get through that door is us." t-dog adds.

We come to a slow stop, and Glenn takes out the keys. he then turns to us, "We walk from here." We all get out of the car. Both T-dog and Daryl hop out first, then me.

-

Glenn pushes a broken part of a wired fence out of the way so we can all get through. "Merle first or guns?" Rick asks as he turns around towards us. "Merle! We ain't even having this conversation!" Daryl shouts. "We are." Rick says and then turns to Glenn, "You know the geography. It's your call." Glenn sighs before saying, "Merle's closest. The guns would mean doubling back. Merle first." a little out of breath. Daryl's definitely happy about that.

-

We're walking through a department store, and we're all a little on Guard. I've got my gun held out, ready to shoot any moment. We hear a Walker shuffling around, so we all freeze. Rick spots it and points it out to us before we slowly walk around the store, trying to stay as quiet and out of sight as possible. Daryl approaches the rotten, growling thing, and he raises his crossbow "damn, you are one ugly skank." He mutters. It starts to growl at him, getting ready to lunge, but he quickly shoots it straight in the head. It falls to the ground with a thud, and Daryl quickly pulls his arrow out of its head.

We made it to the top with hardly any more walker interference, which I'm grateful for. We all sprint up to the door that leads to the roof, Rick's there first, holding the chain so t-dog can cut it off. He cuts the chain, pulls it off, and Daryl kicks open the door before he runs out. "Merle! Merle!" he shouts as he gets out onto the roof. We follow him as Daryl looks for his brother, but he's not there, just handcuffs cuffed to a pipe, a saw, and a hand.

"No! No!" Daryl cries out over and over again. I feel for Daryl, I really do, but did we all really think Merle was going to stay up there? There was no doubt in my mind that Merle wouldn't find a way to get his ass off this roof, even if that meant sawing off his own hand.

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[foundationsofdecay]

Thinking again about this post that @a-s-levynn made a while back, as well as @moonchild-in-blue's and @tonguetyd's comments there, about Vessel and the mask's own identity and the idea of the person Vessel used to be before meeting Sleep, this nebulous Him that we hear in intermissions during rituals, was "cocooned" inside a body that was no longer his and is experiencing this all as a spectator, and that Vessel kills the current version of himself that he's become, a spiritual suicide of sorts. How that was done so that He, without the influence of the mask and by extension Sleep, can move forward and start anew even after being irrevocably changed by what He's seen, and Vessel finally obtaining that "redemption, eternal ascension, setting [him] free" that was described in "Ascensionism".

I'm especially thinking about the funeral pyres reflected in Sleep's eyes. This could imply the fates of past vessels of Sleep, or it could imply that Vessel is dead in all ways but physical, or perhaps it could be a promise of Vessel's demise, burned alive and left to turn to ash - or are "those eyes like fire" and the raging flames within doing much, much more than that?

To add a very belated addition to the discussion, I want to bring up something regarding the lyric "I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre." In fact, it is going to be the focus of this entire post. In continuing with this idea of the death and rebirth/resurfacing and possibly rebuilding of the self, and identity fractures that I described in great detail in this post on DYWTYLM, it's important here that I start off stating that there's two underlying assumptions that I'm making, which first is that He and Vessel are both the insect at first, their own selves tangled as noted by Levynn but capable of separation under the right circumstance, like a fantastical version of plurality where they can separate physically while still being connected as parts of a whole. My second assumption is that Vessel meets his death voluntarily, and Sleep is involved, regardless of whether or not Sleep is actually the one to do the job.

I'm using these as bases because in my interpretation of this theory, Vessel has to die, and that even though the two of them connected in mind and soul and often body, He is ultimately able to survive and live on, which requires physical distinction. This separation is in accordance with descriptions in the same song we've been discussing of Vessel fighting back against Sleep. Vessel, who used to fight Sleep's enemies "to let them know that they contend with [him]", now turns the blade against Sleep, his new enemy that he faces for Him. Perhaps this is a show of both his anger and his newfound devotion, a final attempt to damage Sleep to whatever extent he can while he has the chance, not with any hope of surviving but to give Him the best chance to carry on, since Vessel knows firsthand how much Sleep struggles in a weak enough state.

Describing Him and Vessel as a winged insect is a very interesting choice, which is what I ultimately want to focus on here and dissect. What kind of insect would that be, I wonder? I don't recall if there is official artwork depicting that, but without anything official as reference there's a near-infinite number of possibilities to choose from - flies, mosquitos, cicadas, bees, wasps, butterflies, moths, beetles, the list is endless - all with their own symbolic interpretations and impacts on this original theory and extrapolations. I would need an entire separate post to go over all of that, though - imagine examining just the different eyes that vary from species to species! - so I'll just go into one possibility and leave the rest as an open question.

One major question I have about this winged insect, and about Sleep, is this: Does Sleep still have eyes looking in other directions like we had seen several times in previous songs, or is Sleep's attention all on Vessel now, "[taking] aim at him for once" like he used to ask for?

See, there's an inherent contradiction here, going back to the labeling of a pyre. Sure, it's said to be for a funeral, but it's never explicitly stated who it's intended for. Not only that, but we also questioned at the end of the first paragraph if there is something else to be said about the fire and its behavior, what all Sleep is doing with it and plans to do with it. That's the thing about fire - perhaps it's been created and cultivated for a specific purpose, as part of a funeral in this case, but when you take a look at how Sleep has historically behaved, and the kind of language we see used to describe this behavior and motivation, there's other themes that comes up that give Sleep's fire another layer of meaning.

For fire doesn't just burn, it consumes. It has an endless hunger, latching onto anything it can grab hold of that can fuel its existence, taking and taking until there is nothing left. There's a sort of joy in that, a celebration, bursts of light and sound coinciding with the addition of more fuel, greater the more powerful that intake is over time and growing wide and tall in the most ideal circumstances. When the fire is weak, a breeze could snuff it out, but even a pinch of smoldering ash can manage to survive and grow into something that can lay waste to forests and home and towns, nearly apocalyptic when watching it as it razes thousands of square miles and jumps across roads and rivers. It, too, can rush and flood you, and swallow you whole.

Before Vessel, He discovered Sleep in a state like that smoldering ember. Yet, with the fuel of His initial deal and Vessel's inception and overtaking of Him, with every ritual bringing worship in greater numbers and greater fervor enabling rapid growth, this is what Sleep has turned into. This is what Vessel must face, not just a powerful God but one that he fed and nurtured into this state. The fire in those eyes is extreme, but it's also not eternal. It can still be deprived of that which feeds it, and if that were to happen, even be extinguished. There's hope in that.

Throughout the story, we see Vessel always coming back to Sleep, despite the flames that threaten to lick at his skin and singe and burn. Instinctively, perhaps even compulsively, he returns to this source of light and love and fear and wonder, the flame that grows each time he's fed by Vessel's worship. Examining one of the possible winged insects, his behavior is like that of a moth, drawn to the aura and essence of this God that desires him and hurts him in unequal measure.

Recall how one of our basic assumptions is that separation between the two is possible, despite how entwined they've been from the start even as they've been drifting apart. This coexistence and indeed codependency with Him is all Vessel knows, it's quite literally his entire life next to Sleep. If you consider the admission that "it's been two days since the mainframe went down and [he's] still messed up" as a reflection of the breaking down of the connection between Vessel and Him, which we've been seeing accelerate over time in songs like DYWTYLM, with this "life like wires," severing those wires is all it would take, messy and painful as it would be.

No longer would we have "the mouth of the wolf, the eyes of the lamb," but that'd turn out to be the key to Vessel's victory, even as it sealed his fate. It's clear that Vessel would eventually get too close and be brought down by those eyes, but this time it was deliberate in a way that is fueled by something completely different than any self-destructive behavior he exhibited in the past, and it paid off. That lamb survived, by no means unscathed but still not lost.

The one thing that remained the same, persisting throughout their parallel existence that transcends life and death itself, is memory. The autumn leaves, the rain, the night. The lights of his eyes, his grin. This grief that accompanies it will never go away, will never grow any smaller, but He can break though the walls that are closing in on Him, keep running forward, become something new. Most importantly, He has to do it for Himself. He'll be alone, but the memory will always be there, knowing Vessel is just an inch apart from Him, on his own continuum.

[rebornnebulasystem]

As a follow up to a previous (now deleted) post

We are not saying that all Traumagens hate Endogens, and vice versa

It’s just that theres so much fighting between the two that finding an equal ground is near impossible

And while we understand that some people (specifically systems that prefer proven medical stuff) will not take peace as an option, there’s better ways to say your space is unintended for endos, we (as in all of sysblr) should refrain from telling endos to “fuck off”, but rather say that it isn’t a space for them, and maybe even offer alternatives, such as blogs talking about a similar subject that are intended for endos

As for “The Future Is Plural”, I will say that it can be worded better in a way so that it doesn’t imply that everyone will be plural in the future, such as “The Future accepts Plurality” with accepting as acknowledgment that people can, and are plural, some in disordered ways, and some in ways that simply make them function better

And finally for ways that we can have a peaceful, and accepting future for ALL plurals, we need to stop the fighting, come to agreements with what terms can and can’t be used, come to agreements that some genuinely traumatised plural folk need plurality to survive, and that some function better when plural, we’re all plural, and thats who we are

Sure, some people (even endogens) may want to try and recover and no longer be a system, which is completely valid

And even going through rocky territory regarding those who are TransPlural, if you believe that being plural means that you’ll be better functioning, do that, do what will allow you to survive

Once again, peace between origins, thats how we can achieve a future that accepts plurality

[cellarspider]

Qunlat 5/12: Nouns and Pronouns

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Having talked about the aesthetics and phonology of Qunlat in our previous entries, we now begin diving into grammar. This will cover the basics of how nouns and pronouns work, and a special guest appearance by verbs!

Yes, I am excited about this! Grammar is one of the most fun parts of making a language for me. Prepare yourselves!

So, the first rule of thumb: Canon Qunlat’s grammar is simpler than English, or Indo-European languages in general. There are so many words and fiddly bits that these languages insist on that Qunlat does not use. This is sometimes to its detriment, and can limit what we can express in Qunlat, but it makes it easier to learn the canon.

First! There is no distinction between “the thing” and “a thing” in Qunlat. In English, “The” is a definite article, referring to a specific object, while “a” refers to any, indefinite single object: “the cake is on a table” versus “a cake is on the table” gives you a different feel, right? The first one is a specific cake, put… somewhere table-ish. The second is an unfamiliar or generic cake sitting on a particular table.

“Sten ash noms” could mean “Sten looks for a cake” or “Sten looks for the cake”. Doesn’t matter! There are also no clearly defined words for “this” or “that”. However, we do have a potential way to get more specific, which I’ll talk about when we get to pronouns.

Many languages don’t have the distinction between “the” and “a”. Latin, Sanskrit, Japanese, Polish, and Swahili don’t have them, to name just a few. Qunlat doesn’t either. The one article Qunlat arguably does have is one we don’t talk about very often: the negative article.

“Maraas itwasit.”

“Nothing go-out.it”

 “No one is going out”

Maraas is technically a pronoun in most of its uses, primarily meaning “nothing”, but it has been used flexibly enough to also be used as a negative article. Anywhere that English would say “No [noun] [verb]...” should probably use maraas in Qunlat. 

Moving on to plurals, or rather, the total lack thereof: Qunlat doesn’t really distinguish between singular and plural the way most European and North African languages do. While English demands you use tide and tides, Qunlat has only one form: meraad. Even stuff that seems to imply plurality actually doesn’t: -ari as a suffix is referred to in the Fandom wiki dictionary as denoting a group, but this is inaccurate. It means either “person” or “people” depending on context. Qunari is both singular and plural–A person of the Qun, or people of the Qun. The same goes for Ashkaari, Bessrathari, Imekari, and all the rest.

There are many real life languages that lack this feature or consider it optional–hell, English has a lot of words that have no plural or no singular form. One fish, two fish, red fish, an ambiguous number of blue fish. But many parts of the language still cue you into the number: “the red fish is swimming, the blue fish are resting.” Other languages have plural and singular forms for adjectives as well. But some languages don’t care about this plural nonsense.

In particular, New Guinean and Australian languages may not have any plural noun forms, while languages like Japanese, Chinese, Korean and Malay have ways to make nouns function as plural, but don’t require them. In such cases, you’d either count the number of objects (“five friend” “五个朋友”), or use a less specific description (“many friend” “很多朋友”). Or, as long as context is clear, you don’t need those markers at all. The word for “friend” can also mean “friends”.

Qunlat, due to its small dictionary, has limited ways to do this. We have no numbers to work with. Thanks to the term Ben-Hassrath (“Heart of the Many”), we can reconstruct that rath is likely how you’d say “many”: “rath kadan” would mean “many friends”. But you don’t need to do this. You could speak about any number of friends by simply saying kadan. Does that seem vague? Well, East Asian languages get along just fine like that. But Qunlat gives us a second way to specify how many people we’re talking about: Plural pronouns!

Pronouns in Qunlat follow a very Indo-European style. 

Ala - I, me Ara - you Asit - she, he, him, it, they (singular) Assam - we, us Ost - you (pural), y’all  Adim - they, them (plural)

There’s a couple things to note right off the top.

First: There are no gendered third person pronouns in Qunlat. None. And there’s no distinction between a person or any other thing either, so no “it” equivalent either. This is similar to colloquial Finnish, where every single person and object can be referred to with se. 

Second: There is a distinction between singular and plural “you”. Ost and ara are words the games don’t always use right. English-speakers who have no “y’all” or “ye” or “yinz” in their dialect need to be careful around this. Ara is calling one person “you”, while ost is calling two or more people “you”. They are not interchangeable. When an assassin says to Bull “Ebost Asala, Tal Vashoth!”, it’s wrong. Bull is big, but he’s not plural big. He is not two smaller tal-vasoth in a trenchcoat.

Third: There is no distinction by grammatical case–no “She” versus “her” or “I” versus “me”. English and many other Indo-European languages consider this to be absolutely essential for fluent speech: “Me looks for he” or “Him look for I” sounds wrong, it has to be “I look for him” and “he looks for me”.

In Qunlat? “Ala ash asit” and “Asit ash ala.” They do not change. The verbs also do not change–you may have noticed that it’s “I look” but “he looks”: Indo-European languages often alter the verb depending on who’s doing an action (but not always–jeg elsker deg, Norsk!).

Qunlat doesn’t really do this, but it does do something interesting.

Ala ash asit.  Ashala asit.

These both mean “I look for it”. The subject of a sentence–usually the participant doing the action–can be stuck onto the end of the verb. This is a simple form of “verb person marking”. It’s a fun feature that allows Qunlat sentences to be restructured based off of what flows best. 

When you want to explicitly name the subject of a sentence, you can use person marking, or not bother:

Sten ash noms. Sten ashasit noms.

Both mean “Sten looks for cake”. Simple! Flexible! …With a couple irregularities.

Dragon Age II and Philliam, a Bard! agree on one bit of irregularity to verb person marking: rather than “ebara” for “you are”, it appears to be spoken and subtitled as “ebra”. “Ebasaam” also gets rendered as “ebsaam”. The others are unchanged. However, Trespasser lists “ebasaam” in a viddathari’s conjugation practice, so I’d consider -ara and -asaam to be the “dictionary” versions of the suffixes, while -ra and -saam are used as appropriate by fluent speakers.

In one of the very first sentences of Qunlat we hear in the games, we appear to have an irregular third person pronoun: “The tide rises, the tide falls” is said as “Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit.” This is found nowhere else in the language, it’s entirely a one-off. In WoT2, astaar appears unconjugated, indicating the original intention was that the verbs would be astaar and itwas. Either the third person pronoun would have an abbreviated form like (a)ra and (a)saam, or it would just be, well, “it”. …But given the two facts that “asit” unambiguously shows up throughout the rest of the series and is never abbreviated, and that one of English’s third person pronouns is “it”, I’m not a fan of that! I like “aarit” as an alternate form. That’s my decision, it might not be everyone’s, that’s how conlanging goes.

So, I want to demonstrate a couple of options one could take at this stage, to give you a flavor of the choices one makes while conlanging:

Aarit could be an alternate form of asit used next to certain sound combinations like “ast”, avoiding the repetition of astasit. That could make things feel better if we used any verbs ending in -s: resaarit instead of resasit, for example. We have some words that work like that in English: “a cat”, “an alligator”. Given the flexibility of -ara and -asaam, this is possible.

Alternatively, this mystery pronoun could be used to differentiate between individual things: some languages don’t just have a third person pronoun, they have a fourth person pronoun. In English, a sentence like “She looks for him, and she finds him” could mean one person finds one other, but context could change that! It could be saying “Sarah looks for Muneer, and Asli finds him”. Or it could mean “Sarah looks for Muneer, and she finds Steve.” 

In our example Qunlat sentence, “meraad” is the subject for both verbs, but who’s to say the Qunari think of each tide as being the same object? They’re qualitatively different each time. Asit appears to be the default pronoun in simple contexts, but Arit may be wheeled out to refer to a first subject that might be confused with any others you intend to talk about. Complicated? Yes. Languages can be like that sometimes. 

That’s what makes them fun, and makes them really fun to build. You can make something subtle and expressive using little decisions like that. 

Tune in next time for verbs!

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[orange-orchard-system]

Uh, hi. Really odd timing but I'm a different anon to the last one lol

I was wondering how you guys discovered you were plural? Referring to myself with us/we pronouns and just as plural happens subconsciously often and I sometimes find myself as different "personas" with different preferences, names, and slight memory weirdness. But I can't tell if that's plurality or something else going on. Or maybe I've just completely placebo effected myself. Cause the personas feel like different people but also me and I've never been able to like, talk to them.

Idk, been trying to figure it out recently and you told the previous anon that they might benefit from seeing if they're already plural so I was wondering. How do you actually do that?

That's a great question! It wasn't one single moment for us, but rather a series of discoveries spread out across our system, so the answer of "how did [we] discover [we're] plural" is actually a number of different things. That said, the story we usually tell – since it's what led to us being semi-openly plural – involves the Gift Basket, one of our sidesystems. To make a long story short, one of our headmates discovered that there was something odd about the way "he" acted sometimes, like someone else was just pretending to be him, and he suspected he might be part of a system. He began to reach out to this possible other headmate by flinging thoughts out into the void of our brain with the intention of talking to whoever was there, because it was the best idea he had on how to establish internal communication. Thankfully, the other headmate in question received the thought-speak, and the two began to talk. Over time, they connected with other headmates, too, and established a small internal network before talking with other systems and exploring online plural spaces, learning more ways to communicate and finding motivation to keep practicing. Those efforts allowed us to grow into the system we are today.

What you describe does sound a lot like plurality. I listed a few suggestions for figuring out if you're plural in my previous ask post, so I'm going to explain them in more detail.

See how calling yourself plural feels. Does it feel right? Would it explain things that other words don't? If you described yourself with other explanations or terms, would it feel like you're missing something? Try calling yourself plural for a few days and seeing how you feel. You don't have to do anything special, just go about your days under the suspicion that you're plural and see if anything changes or stands out to you. Does anything you previously brushed off now make (more) sense if you explain it as a plural thing?

Keep track of shifts in your identity and preferences. Essentially, a basic form of switch tracking. Every so often, ask yourself a short list of questions about who you are and what you like. What are your pronouns? What's your favorite food? What's your favorite color? What do you think of X? Etcetera, etcetera. If patterns emerge, such as always thinking ice cream is the best food ever while using she/her pronouns and your favorite color is yellow, it's likely that these are headmates and not just personas.

Practice talking to any headmates you might have. If you feel like anyone might be there, try flinging thoughts out at them! Or try assigning each persona a symbol or something and try holding conversations in a notebook you have. If it feels awkward, that's okay – it often feels strange to reach out to others in your head for the first few times. Since you seem to be having some trouble with internal communication, maybe try out external communication for now, like journaling or recording videos where you talk to any possible headmates you have. And remember, it's not necessary to be able to hear your headmates or speak with them internally to be a system.

Again, what you describe sounds a lot like plurality. But I'm not going to say anything for certain, since I think that's something you have to decide – or find out – for yourself. I hope this provided a good starting point for that. If you have the time, I'd also recommend going through the masterpost I mentioned in my last answer post; while aimed mainly at tulpamancers, some of the resources in there may help you, too.