#oh also there's no real meaning to this piece other than color relativity is fun and orange broody lighting is also fun

[hnnny]

I finished Dragon Age: Origins and it's many DLCs somewhat recently, as well as Dragon Age 2 and it's been pretty good so far. DA2 wasn't my favorite, but it did give us these sick series of Grey Warden armor sets, so I'm all for it.

I'll show my Hawke and Inquisitor some other time. I'm just very obsessed with my boy Frederick here :3

[brinehater]

for the ask game, bling and favorite (accessories & accents) for wildrose!

I've rewritten answering these multiple times because I get started and then I'm like "oh this will be multiple pages long if I don't restart completely", they kind of also overlap with each other, but breaking them apart was also the only way to prevent it from getting overly long. Shouldn't take at least an hour to read! Put under cut because mention some spoilers.

bling:

By the later portion of the plot, Wildrose wears probably too much jewelry. To keep these answers nice and condensed, the Arch-Conjuror robe jewelry + Zodiac Charm head piece is accurate as a baseline of what he would wear, though he would have multiple pieces with a larger variety of metals instead of solely plain gold and he'd have quite a few made with intricate filigree (especially on the finger talons and the rings) and switch between them. For rings in particular, even the more plain bands would still be engraved with patterns of flowers, clouds, and/or waves. Any gems are likely small, and more on the common side, aiming more for an extensive range of color than any sort of rarity, and any beads typically are made from colorful stones, glass, or resin.

All of the jewelry does have the surface level purpose of helping conduct his magic better, but the real reason he has so much is he just sincerely likes it. He learns to have fun being what some (many) are likely to perceive as gauche and loud, that there's nothing wrong with taking up space, and decking himself out so much is an expression of that. Even in Unmoored, where he's toned down considerably because there isn't time, he's still wearing at least too many rings and found ways to work other pieces into what he's wearing.

On the not-as-shiny side, he has quite a few ribbons-- lots of reds and the occasional blue-- that he wears subtly woven into some of his hairstyles or tied to his weapons. Additionally has a few worn, battered charms carved from wood or stone that he ties to his belt or also to his weapons, most of which he views as lucky.

favorite:

Rose has two favorites.

The first is a piece of jewelry he's had since relatively early on. After reaching Vernworth with Mint, he made two very simple and a bit rough looking bracelets from some of the more remarkable pebbles he found along the way, and gave one to her and kept the other for himself. They weren't consciously made as friendship bracelets, just a neat thing to share with her to show they'd made it that far, but they're basically friendship bracelets. They mean a lot to him because everything with his new family does, and they're worn all the way to the very end.

The second he obtains when he regains the bulk of his non-dragon related memories (at some point around/during Convergence and/or A New Godsway) and finally remembers where his home is. Still hidden away despite the damage to the house are his mother's old hairpins, ones she brought with her from whatever their home before Vermund was that she never really spoke of. He takes the one she wore most commonly and bequeathed to him shortly before her death, made of a pale, smooth, and reflective stone, carved to depict a bird among flowers. He'd been too terrified to wear it before, both for fear of it being broken and feeling unworthy of it, and had hid it away with the rest. He wears it proudly from then until right before the end of Unmoored, giving it to someone else "to hold on to" for him (though would be after recovering from breaking down realizing there's probably no way Mint and him survive, so "to hold on to" is a bit of a hope really, more given as an unspoken goodbye).

[liliallowed]

As I am a chaotic force to challenge the will of the dust(*cough* father) loving side of things-

How about we actually take a look at the demon. They're teaching us SOMETHING. Sans taught us NOTHING. Oh, nothing against Sans of course, still enjoy the guy. However this demon is doing us a favor.

Did we deserve to be dragged into this? Technically, no. All of us have our faults in this situation. However we make the most of it!

Let's do this: Training can be over for the day or have a break, what else is there to do rather than relax. Haven't we got that one show to finish? Let's invite the demon to watch it with us. Bit of a thank you. But don't be too buddy buddy as a bit of a screw you.

Doing this could lead to us asking why.

Why are they doing this, why us, why does this any of this matter? We were mostly fine before all this. Not like it's been regrettable, unless you count the almost getting killed part. But what's the point of any of this? Giving us the reset, having our own hurtful ANF self destructive situation. What does anyone gain from it apart from senseless action that will only drive us further to crazy town?

fake answer? they're bored

real answer? they feel lonely.

"a break??" they glance at your tired body and sore posture, then back at your face. "right. forgot people actually get tired in this world..."

they hand you a water bottle that manifested out of thin air. seemingly from a pocket dimension called "inventory".

"don't you?" you ask as you suspiciously eye the water bottle, examining it for traces of poison or unsavory chemicals. it looks like an ordinary unopened bottle.

"every once a 6 FULL resets maybe. sure." they chuckle. "that's... estimated to be 15 years of your time and a single day's work for me. if you live 2.5 years each reset."

"w-wait HOW OLD ARE YOU!?"

"meh. time moves differently for me so asking that question is silly. I'm... in my early 20s if relative age is what you mean... literal age? I'd have to calculate... hmm 2X times 365 times 15... more than 109575 years of your time approximately! not to mention I've seen the birth and death of your universe like... 9X times by now... "

"you're joking. what are you, Cthulhu?"

"kinda yeah actually! summed it up pretty well!"

you blink and look at them with doubt. you knew they were dangerous but a world ending calamity and a cosmic horror beyond this dimension seemed a bit much.

"so you don't eat, sleep or rest you just... exist?"

"yep. well, I regenerate limbs and my health when I eat so eating is still benifitial to me. aaand I can't taste, or smell or feel physical pain or pleasure. I can hear and see just fine though."

you instinctively put you hand on theirs, to test it, giving it a light pich.

they did not react. didn't even flinch. their hand didn't seem to be an unfeeling object. it was warm and natural Ike any normal hand but... the lack of response to any tickling attempts you made on it confirmed it.

"how do you... feel things then?"

"it's usually just trial and error. timing, and putting different amounts of strength to something that you can't feel."

"it it like... sensory deprivation?"

"I wouldn't know. it's like asking a blind person what color is... well... after they lost their eyesight hehe. I know the feeling of taste and smell. butttt well, not here."

"oh... is that why you act so extreme?"

"kinda? but also there's always so little consequence to anything I do. so it kinda takes the fun out of it... while also making it more fun... you know? like playing chess. pawns die all the time but you can just bring them back when you reset the board! so... did it even matter that the pawns died?"

"you... see others as... toys? chess pieces?"

"mm... only the ones that forget are pawns. dusty bones is... more of a chess rival rather than a pawn himself. an equal. like you! you're also a newbie to this game that he's trying to get rid of but I won't let him."

you cringe at the thought of the concept of slaughtering people as a game yet decide to listen anyway.

"it's been just me and him for so long. the same dance the same song... and neither of us knew any better. I was scared of change and him forgetting me... or worse, forgiving me. he was scared to forget and let me go because of his vengeance."

"you WANT him to hate you!? WHY!?"

"having a faithful enemy is better company than forgetful friends. it's why I don't sugar things for you hun. I'm a bad person. feel free to rub it in, you'll only feed my ego. I wanted to spice things up a bit in this bland rivalry of ours."

"I'm... am I just a tool to you?"

"no, in fact, y/n you're one of the few people I actually give a damn about. you and riding hood of course."

"I don't know why but I find that even worse -_-"

"hehehe. glad to be a motivator for you either way goody two shoes. try not to cave into the dark side. me and bone head have waaaay too much of boring old edgy drama going on. you're a breath of fresh air."

"you... I... you're a horrible person."

"yes, and? you're point? heard that plenty times darling it starts to lose it's weight after you've committed several war crimes just for the thrill of it"

"is THAT why you gave me the reset and... are trying to train me to defend myself? a stupid GAME!?"

"mmm. yeah. that's about it. it's just cuz I'm bored. besides, dust likes you and he doesn't let just ANYONE in or let his gaurd down easily. something must've been special for him to pick you?"

"but it's NOT! IM LITERALLY JUST THE MOST AVERAGE PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE"

"an average person wouldn't have explored the kidnappers basement to save more victims. or let their curiosity get the best of them. and they wouldn't have the capacity to bother being bone head's partner or remain loyal even after knowing he will kill you despite your relationship" they pause. "or that could just be Stockholm syndrome..."

they pat you on the back. "meh, we're all a bit crazy."

you wonder if that's actually the case. they do seem to have a point... DO YOU HAVE STOCKHOLM SYNDROME!?

"oh that means a lot coming from YOU."

"hehehe. you'll have to set the bar to negative hun."

[blackstarising]

coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

[ldss-interactive]

At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel

Overview:

Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…

You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?

Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.

Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.

You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.

- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!

- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!

- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!

- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:

Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.

- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.

- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!

- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!

- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!

- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!

Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.

Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.

Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.

Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.

Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.

Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.

Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.

Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.

Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.

Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.

Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.

The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part VII)

 Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Sometimes, to understand the present, it’s necessary to pay a visit to the past. While reader is in a deep sleep, their unconscious plays a trick on them by reminding the most important and catastrophic moments in their life.

Word Count: 9.1K

Year 847, a very hot and humid day.

First day of training in the 104° squad. Each of the hundreds of soldiers coming into the slaughterhouse gathered in lines, lined up, waiting for our first orders. Announcement of names and locations. Some serious who didn’t need an introduction, other clowns who didn’t take the training seriously. Instead, I...was  waiting with an empty view towards the horizon, not seeing anything or anyone in particular.

First day, call and presentation; some came from cities, some from towns, but none from a filthy wealthy family of nobility, much less royalty. Most of us simple villagers, presented on a silver platter for the aristocracy, entering our graves on our own. Each one would have their reasons, some simpler than others, some more hypocritical than others, and others more selfish than all of us here.

First day, and there were already a couple on the ground and others being severely punished. Like the tall girl with a ponytail who had the brilliant idea to not only steal, but also cook a potato before training and eat it in the middle of line formation. A village girl, a hunter and faithful to her principles and culture; a girl who wasn’t ashamed to show her true colors on the first day, even if it gave her a punishment that would end up lasting for hours, until nightfall. An incredible example for the most stupid, but equally for the bravest. I think it was hearing where did she coming from that something inside me arose like a flower in the middle of spring, or maybe it was hearing her resound every minute around the training ground until the moon rose. I’m not very clear about it. Maybe I wanted to be nice to someone after a long time, and what better way to start with a person who was humiliated on the first day of what would be our next life.

I wasn’t quick enough to bring her something to eat when her punishment ended, a certain very short blonde beat me beforehand, but I was quick to save her a seat next to me the next night, while saving her a portion of bread. I assumed she would like it, and I wasn’t wrong. She devoured every last crumb along with her ration of dubiously sourced food on a metal plate. Hearing her eat with such enthusiasm brought a smile to my face, it reminded me of the little tadpole children who came and went in my town, asking for a piece of bread or an apple, even knowing that they had food at home. Those playful children who wandered through the small market, looking for some candy and returning disappointed at their doors when they hadn’t found any.

"I didn't hear yesterday where you came from"

Sasha, I think that's the name of the girl in front of me. Apparently she was talking when my mind wandered with nostalgia and melancholy. Her eyes were very fixed on mine, and as much as I looked away, I could still feel them penetrating my skull. I guess you can't dodge the past for long, right? At the very least, I tried to be as cautious as possible when giving my answer.

"I come from a village northeast of the wall Maria, far enough away from the wall to be warned of the fall before a titan reached our town"

She played with the poorly made metal spoon on a piece of carrot that came out of the poor soup, already cold, that this place delighted us for the second night in a row. I made me a mental note to go out hunting every now and then if I wanted to have a good meal and not end up anorexic and a failure.

“And what do you do in your village? In mine we are dedicated to hunting, but they’re taking away the land for the cattle” She took a huge bite of his bread, showing how angry she was. I couldn’t blame her, taking the land out of a hunting village was like taking away their essence, a part of their soul.

"We’re dedicated to raising horses and handicrafts" From our town came the fastest horses that the military police could ask for, some of them stayed for the field and keep the children busy.

Beautiful horses dedicated to the gambling of the nobility, others common for the plowing of the agricultural peoples. Horses dedicated to the race for the survey corps; what the government needed, we provided. It would be hypocritical of me to say now that the horse was my least favorite animal. It was not. For me they were the most beautiful, faithful and loyal creatures in this whole little world. My favorite animal without a doubt.

I wanted to talk about the various horses we managed to sell at a high price to the most authoritarian court on the Rose wall, but a noise from behind our table made my jaw drop.

A "Tsk" echoed throughout the dining room.

I turned my head, hoping to find an animal, or anything but a human like us. To my misfortune, I met the withering look of a brunette with bright green eyes, just as bright as those of the forest, and his hand holding the spoon tightly, as if my simple face angered him.

"Do you have a problem, Jaeger?" I remembered him from yesterday. Serious, tall, with a look that could kill you at any moment. Decisive and lethal. At the same time conceited and childish. He had won the ears and admiration of the majority here with well-used words and a touch of drama.

"Yes, I have a problem" his hand let the spoon escape on the plate, causing some drops to fly in all directions "I have a problem with people like you"

He got up from his seat, walking slowly but steadily toward my table, planting himself in front of me. The lap dog as a friend of his following behind him with a decomposed face, one hand half raised, perhaps to stop him if necessary. But let's face it, of the two, Eren was the one with the most strength, it was obvious to the naked eye.

"And what is that due to? Or do you wait for me to get into your little head and find some clue that can help me understand the cockroach you have for a brain?" At no time did I get up, I wasn’t going to lower myself to the same situation as him.

Half of my body had my back to him, so I was looking at him over the shoulder. He may not have liked that, ‘cause he immediately grabbed my shoulder and turned me around, waiting for me to look him in the eye.

"People like you, who come from villages far from the cities, who don’t know the real danger, are a problem" He looked so angry, angry with the world perhaps? I couldn't find an answer to that anger, nor the source of his feelings. But what I did know, was that he wasn't going to let me be trampled on by a fool who knew the world simply by seeing a titan within his short life.

"Excuse me, but you realize that many here come from villages far from the big cities and only very few saw a titan with their own eyes" And it was those same people who began to get up and look at him with bad eyes. The same ones who looked at him with wonder, as if he were an angel fallen from heaven to bring them the news of the world.

I fervently removed his hand from my shoulder and deigned to stand up, trying to gain some ground in this pathetic discussion. I wasn't going to raise my voice like I assumed the boy in front of me was going to do it at any moment, so my body did it instead.

"I don't understand what your complaints are about, but please, oh great Eren, the one who saw a titan bigger than the wall, explain to me" I could notice how his other friend was approaching towards his back, looking at me with caution.  Now, of the group of three, with her I had to be the most careful.

"Are you making fun of me?" he took a dangerous step towards me. 

“’course not” ‘Course yes, but I wasn't going to say it openly.

"People who don’t see the enemy in the face think they can come out of the walls to face it" did my ears hear that correctly? I looked at him as if a third eye had popped out on his forehead.

"Not having seen a titan in my short life doesn’t mean that I cannot go out to fight them"

"And yet you have no fucking idea what you're up against" the conversation was getting more and more heated, his feet were getting closer to mine and I could lightly feel his breath on my skin.

"That doesn't mean you can come and mistreat me" I instantly threw myself back, but ran into the legs of the table. Sasha's hand rested on my shoulder, unable to encourage me with words, but enough emotionally.

"Fucking villagers" he took a step back, turning on his heel and looking, without seeing, or so it seemed, the crowd around him "you don't know what it’s to see a relative of yours being eaten in front of your eyes!"

Ah, that's where so much hatred for the world came from. But I wasn’t his target. He must express his emotions, his anger, towards a common enemy, not towards a comrade who was going to help him in battle. Taking it with me wasn’t going to help him at all, and the fact I was from a small village didn’t mean I was naive and deserved the anger of the citizens. "I'm sorry that happened to you-"

"My mom was eaten in front of my eyes!"

"I'm sorry that happened to your mom! And I'm very sorry that you had to see it with your own eyes, but taking it out on me is not going to help you ”I pushed him back with my words, unfortunately they were not enough to stop his viper tongue.

"You can't know what it feels like to lose your mother like that" he turned his back on me, and before turning to his blond friend, he turned his head over his shoulder, looking at me again with contempt. "Go back to your village with your mommy and cries on her lap for being incapable of shit"

His comment blew me away.

He had left my mind blank and the only thing I managed to do was throw myself back, and sit down heavily on the hard wooden bench. My eyes stared into nothingness, unable to observe the multitude of eyes that settled on me with sadness, some with regret and support. Sasha sat down next to me on the left, while on the right a figure that I didn’t recognize crouched down to look me in the face. All I could make out of him, or her, were those big round blue eyes. A blue that reminded me of the rivers that flowed gracefully near my town. The same water that landed on a larger lake or river, and… perhaps, on the same sea.

"Hey, Eren-" I heard someone yell. From the tone of their voice I thought I distinguish Jean's annoyance.

I didn't have a second to reflect on what I was doing and before I could blink, a plate full of food was flying in the direction of the two boys, impacting on the wooden wall and scattering the pieces of vegetables on the floor and the people who unfortunately was close.

The two boys turned to see where the plate had come from, finding my hand half raised and smeared on the thumb of the cold soup. My body was euphoric, my breath hitched and my chest rose and fell quickly.

"You ... you don't know shit about me, or my family, or my people" I started slowly what would be the best speech I would have given in my 13 years, a speech that would bring me problems, as well as friends. “I’m so sorry about your mother, but in the same way, she was devoured by an enemy of which we still do not know exactly"

I came around the table and approached the brunette, meeting his friend halfway through. Without stopping, I hit her shoulder with mine, pushing my way over her.

"While mine was shot by the people who had to protect her" now my body was a few inches from him, taking Jean away from his side "my mother was killed for the simple fact of wanting to see the sea"

His blond friend, who hadn't been separated from him at any time, widened his eyes, even more than the person who bent down to comfort me. His eyes stared at me in amazement before turning to understanding and sadness.

"Judging by your friend's expression, he understand what I'm talking about" There was little space for me to move calmly, so I chose to get closer and closer to Eren, keeping my face a few inches from his. Even with the slight difference in height, I could manage to have an aura of warning and seriousness.

I raised my hand to his forehead slowly, preventing the girl from earlier from pouncing on me thinking I was going to hit him.

"The military police took her out of my house, placed her to the center of the village and with a pistol in the middle of her forehead" I closed my hand except for two fingers, simulating the muzzle of the rifle, and placed them in the same place as they did it with my mother "they shot her in front of her little child"

I detached my fingers from his forehead and with a "bang" I simulated the same shot that, to this day, continues to haunt me in dreams, after 6 years. My eyes observed his expression, the color had disappeared from his face, he was so pale that it seemed he was going to faint at any moment. There was no longer a trace of his anger towards me or towards the titans; An immature child had been left in front of me, from whom they had taken food for not knowing how to appreciate it.

I walked away carefully, noticing the trembling in my body, in my legs, and took small steps towards the door, leaving everyone who wanted to give me their condolences and emotional support behind.

"You are lucky that your mother was eaten by a spice stranger to her, mine didn’t have the same fate"

*** Weeks passed from that terrible night. The golden trio hadn't deigned to approach me, and for my part I longed for it to stay that way for the next three years. I didn't want people like Eren or his friends to get involved with me, I preferred the company of people like Sasha and Marco, Jean and Connie, as empty-headed as they were. I preferred to spend my free afternoons practicing archery, preventing some stupid from passing through the shooting range or next to the bullseye from getting a head shot.

"Here, I fixed your glove, now you are supposed to be able to put your thumb in without it opening" Marco had his hand extended, grabbing a leather glove, which I’d found in the storage bag of the training set.

The leaders had been very understanding when explaining the training I wanted to follow as free time. Although no faction was going to need a bow and arrow for sure, due to its inefficiency, I had given my point of view that it would end up being useful if an expedition needed more days than predicted and more food and provisions were needed, a bow was going to be of great help when hunting.

"Thanks Marco, you are an angel in this place" I proceeded to put on the worn glove and test its elasticity with the arrow and the bowstring.

"See you at night" and with that, the freckled man marked himself towards the canteen, greeting Jean in the distance who was waiting for him at the door.

The shooting area was not far from the entire training ground, close enough to observe everyone who came and went on the field, everyone who wandered without any direction or aim, and everyone who wanted to train. As well as being close enough to the training area with the movement equipment, equipment that was being used a lot recently by many colleagues in need of balance. One of them turning out to be the annoying brunette with bright green eyes, who was walking very dangerously with his friends on the target at the time I was about to release the arrow.

The small deadly weapon shot out and ended up hitting the red dot in the middle, grazing Eren's neck. He put a hand on his skin and when he saw the arrow stuck on the straw object he turned to look at me angrily.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? That almost hit me in the neck "

"If you saw where you walking you would realize you’re in the shooting zone, if an arrow hits you it’s not my fault" I yelled at him from a distance, preparing a new arrow to launch.

When I saw him take a couple of steps towards me, I stretched the arrow back as a warning, I wasn’t going to laid on a rose’s field while he went back to being a fucking asshole. Armin, I knew his name in these weeks when listening to a conversation he’d with another person, he grabbed his arm while Mikasa put herself as a shield. They both took him away from the target and I was able to shoot the arrow without taking my eyes off them.

I followed them until they positioned themselves on one of the balancing machines, helping Eren onto the equipment. I was about to accommodate a third arrow when I heard a scream coming from his direction. My head spun at the same speed an owl would, given countless hours of practice in the woods, and I watched the last second of Eren's fall, watching in broad daylight as his head hit the stone floor. The blow could be heard from a distance, even where I was located I could hear it as if it’s next to me.

Seeing him lying swaying on the floor, half hanging from the equipment made me burst out laughing. I couldn't stop the laughter from coming out of my mouth seeing him in such bad shape. He was going to have a safe bump and maybe some neurons would end up rearranged. My laughter didn’t go unnoticed, the commander Sheith passed on his way to the shooting area and stood in front of me, looking at me with that serious, expressionless gaze.

"Cadet (Y/S)!" I settled myself as best I could, putting the bow to one side and the arrow on the back sleeve before standing firmly "help young Jaeger heal his wound"

I was puzzled and my face reflected it.

"But, sir, why me?" I begged with my words to let me go, or at least give me a couple of hours of punishment, whatever it was before starting a conversation with that selfish man, much less heal his wound.

"Are you arguing with me, cadet?"

Every movement or prayer that I could make to try to accomplish my task vanished like a leaf in the wind. I lowered my head, avoiding his frivolous gaze and waited for him to leave, snorting. I reluctantly put down the bow and arrow sleeve next to a target and headed towards the three of them, Armin and Mikasa were trying to lift Eren off the floor as they took the equipment off his hips.

"Come on, I have to heal your wound" I didn’t stop to greet them, or to explain the situation. In the same way that I approached, I went towards the canteen, without looking back.

On the short drive I overheard Armin asking about my rare kindness, to which I replied dryly that if it weren't for the commander, I'd be breaking my asshole on the floor by laughing. We walked and walked, me in front and the other two physically stable, keeping the dark-haired boy as best they could, lifting his head so that he wouldn't hit himself again. Upon reaching the canteen stairs I yelled "Sasha, I need a bucket of cold water and a washcloth!"

I opened the door for them and pointed to a table near the kitchen door so they could seat Eren. I warned them to keep his head steady, to keep him from going forward or backward, and to keep him awake at all times.

"I didn't know you knew so much about medicine" Armin pointed out when Sasha came out with the bucket of water and a cloth floating in it.

I let out a slight "hmm" before positioning myself behind Eren, squeezing the hands of the other two and allowing them to let me do my job. I ran his hair back, trying to locate the wound and notice any cuts. Finding none, I proceeded to feel the area, finding the slight bump on the upper side of the forehead. I down the cloth in the cold water, letting it soak, and placed it on his head. The water was so, so cold, it had even made me shivered, but for some reason, Eren didn't seem to be fazed at all.

I didn’t give it much importance and I passed the cloth over the bump, waiting a few seconds for it to deflate a little before going through the sides, preventing the area from becoming inflamed as well. I soaked the cloth again and laid it on the side of his forehead, indicating to Armin to press down and not move his hand while I looked for a handkerchief or some bandage to cover the blow. In the same way, I explained to Mikasa to keep watching Eren, to talk to him, even if he wasn't waiting for an answer, to keep him awake for fear of having an accident in his brain.

I found what looked like a used bandage, quite disgusting for my taste, but I wasn’t going to take much longer of my time for "patient" who didn’t deserve my treatises. I stretched the bandage as far as I could over his head, giving it two full turns before pinning it around the back of his head.

"Try to find a better bandage for the blow" I washed my hands with cold water, hoping to get rid of all the irritation the situation had caused.

"Thank you" Armin sounded really grateful, with a hint of ... sympathy perhaps? With my hands clean, I grabbed the bucket and started to put it back in the kitchen when the blonde asked me again "where did you learn all this?"

I sighed not once, but twice, the kitchen door was open and I was about to enter when I threw a look over my shoulder "everything I know, I learned from my mother's books"

And with that I closed the door behind me a second time to the golden trio.

***

Year 850, a beautiful spring night.

The night before our graduation. A hectic night. Between the well-deserved nutritious food, meat and bread that we have longed for the past three years, and the shouts of encouragement for each of us who were present that night, a great party was put together. Many people defected and others didn’t have the ability to move on. Many were frustrated when they fell short of the top ten, fearing they would be sent to the survey corps, others claimingthey had contacts in the military police and had an assured position. Others fought for their point of view before such faction; and with others I mean the same suicidal brunette. Eren, finishing 5th out of the top ten, undoubtedly deigned to throw me in my face.

"Three years and I'm still better than you, your little village tactics were useless" he smiled wickedly and his eyes showed that characteristic glow when he won a fight. Although there wasn’t a fight here, therefore, there was nothing to be gained.

"Congratulations Eren" I turned around without waiting for an answer and walked briskly towards Marco and Jean, they were both heading towards the boys cabin and I followed them to the entrance, leaving a fuzzy Eren behind.

Now, tonight, with the years of training in the past, it was time to rest, have a night of peace before the real deal began. I never thought it would arrive the next morning.

From my position, far from the main entrance to the Trost district, a thunder crashed into the ground, followed by hot smoke covering our feet. The famous colossal titan stood imposing on the side of the wall, watching my companions who were a few meters from him. From where I was standing, I could see his arm rise and run the guns and the others, burning and blinding them with its smoke.

An calvary that started very early and had no intention of ending soon. Death and dismemberment in every corner, blood flying through the air, comrades being eaten. At each step we take, each turn a building took to dodge a Titan or go after one to kill it, a comrade fell in battle; with each step I took, it was one step closer to my own death. But, call it a miracle, call it divine grace, or simple luck, I managed to reach a roof of one of the many houses destroyed by the attack. From the roof, I could see the disaster more clearly, and I could examine my own disaster with great concern.

The pants were torn in the knee area, the tips of my boots brushed my bare skin and apparently bruised from some friction. I had a blood stain in the abdomen area, apparently from a person who was eaten near me and I didn’t have the dignity to see it. I didn’t have the strength or the courage to unbutton my shirt to see the disaster that surely my body had taken in the hours we were surviving in the city. I had enough of the bruises and cuts on my hands and cheeks thanks to some small rocks flying through the air from the impacts; I didn't need to see if my ribs were in place.

In the distance, perhaps three, four houses in from where I was, were a few comrades sitting on the rooftops of another house. It seemed a few had survived and came together to rest, there weren't many titans in sight and the few there were were wandering around without looking around. Those idiots gave me the chance to jump houses, without looking down. If I looked down I would’ve see the cobblestone streets stained red, I would’ve see limbs scattered right and left. I had a goal in mind and I wasn’t going to lose focus on the death around us.

I landed on the fireplace, hitting both knees when landing, I was running out of gas and it showed. The movement wasn’t being so fluid anymore. I scrambled down the stone wall of the fireplace, landing right next to Armin. My movement gear hit his, jerking my hips and torso on impact, nearly knocking me off the roof. Armin didn't flinch, he was just looking at the tiles, but given his expression, I think he wasn't looking at anything at all. He was just preparing to stare and lose himself in the terrors of his mind.

"Armin, what happened? Ar you alright?" stupid questions. Obviously he wasn’t alright, it was reflected in his empty and dark eyes, but my mind couldn’t process correctly.

It was in automatic mode, only thinking about survival, not the correct questions for each of those who were spread out on two rooftops. Of the many who had graduated, we were reduced to two dozen, maybe a little more without counting those who were in that huge building with the gas parts. Others may have taken refuge in a house, waiting for the right moment to move and reach us. But there was little hope, even if I didn’t say it out loud, unconsciously I knew there wasn’t much to do with the people who were not among us, because after all that was exactly what was happening ... they were not with us, they weren’t in the land of the living.

How pessimistic my thinking, right? I wasn’t wrong at all.

"Armin, where is Eren?" want to know the worst?, I already knew the answer before Armin could lift his head and scream the terrible news with his lungs.

In the end, the boy who so wanted to fight the world, succumbed to the terrors of him.

But what had impacted the most was that, minutes after hearing that news, minutes after arriving at the building for gas supplements and saving the comrades who had barricaded themselves, minutes after being saved by that fighting titan, we saw the same Eren, the same brunet with bright green eyes, appear. Alive.

The surprise we all get when we see him emerge from the nape of that eccentric titan. He was fine, his skin pink and hot from the smoke of the decaying body from his titan. His titan? There was no time to understand the situation. If that, how to understand it? We saw him resurface, like a phoenix, among the ashes of a dying body, fully alive. He had all of his limbs, even the ones that had been eaten; I could see the limits of his pants and the sleeve of his shirt torn, with perfect and huge bite marks.

I stood to the side watching the scene, Armin and Mikasa crying uncontrollably when they saw his heart beat. Scientifically and medically that was impossible. Technically speaking, nothing we were witnessing was possible; And yet there was the suicidal bastard, breathing normally. His eyes closed, his lashes drooping over his lids and his hands being held by his childhood friends. Jean couldn't believe the scene before his eyes, even the other trio was hesitant to say anything, with serious faces and completely stiff eyes at Eren. Each and every one of the reactions present entered what would be a normal reaction, missing one who wanted to kill him immediately.

And I think I rushed a couple of minutes.

***

Days after the expedition to the giant tree forest.

With Annie crystallized and guarded underground, a bit of tranquility arose within the walls; a calm that only attributed to the survey corps. Citizens panicked, not understanding, not comprehending even ten percent of what the latest information was being advertised in newspapers and billboards. The general did everything possible to give us time to resupply and rest from such a hard fight. The patrol had been divided in two, and I had remained as Jean's auxiliary escort, the poor man wanted to vomit all the trip when he had to suffer the terrible order of disguising himself as Eren.

And when the time for action came, we were both prepared to assist Eren in his titan form. I wasn’t still used to seeing him at a height of more than 15 meters, but his characteristics were still there: eyes, now huge, green and shiny, as if that shine never went away, no matter how violent or dark the situation turned upside down, and his dark haired, he looked silkier and smoother in this way that the originally he modeled.

Now we where here, Armin, Mikasa, Jean and I watching him and examining his vital signs. He had fallen into a coma for the second time. I couldn't blame him, I guess controlling a titan of that caliber used up a lot of physical energy, let alone the psychological, but to be honest… mental health had already leaked out the window.Each of us were standing in a corner of the room, sometimes Armin wandered between the door and the window, sitting close to his friend on the bed when he couldn't take it anymore from the anguish. Mikasa always sat next to him, holding his hand at all times, faithfully waiting for him to open his eyes. For my part, I was watching the sun set outside the window, as the sunset gave us its warm rays and prepared us for the cold night.

Every once in a while, whenever I heard a snort or movement coming from the bed, I would turn my head and come closer to feel his breathing. He was stable, and showed no signs of any disturbance. He was completely healthy, except that he was absolutely tired. Like all of us.

There was a couple of knocks on the door, pulling all of us out of trance. Jean and Armin were being needed to give testimony in front a small assembly, before the leaders continued speaking with Commander Erwin.

Silence reigned in the room. Mikasa was still willing to maintain her position in the chair, even if the sleep weakened her with each passing minute. I could see how her eyes were closing and her head fell from fatigue, it was obvious that she needed some rest. I put my hand on her shoulder, pulling the scarf out of her hands and trying to lift her up at the same time.

"Come on, you're very tired, you must get some sleep" I led her to a sofa that was doubtfully placed on the other side of the room. Normally our rooms were only furnished with a couple of beds, a desk and a closet, ah... and a paltry window. We couldn't bother with expensive decorations or furniture like a sofa. Above all, when we didn’t receive a decent salary.

"But Eren ..." I laid her on the few cushions, not very comfortable, brown and beige, that matched the small room. When her head touched the doubtful softness of the pillows her eyes closed completely and her breathing became calm, it was a matter of seconds before she fell completely asleep.

"I'm going to take care of him, you rest" I adjusted her hair before noticing she had entered the realm of dreams. Apparently my words were enough to give her that peace of mind to go to sleep.

I knelt to remove her boots and set her feet on the lap of the sofa. Notice her legs stained with dirt, I'd bet she'd have a couple of bruises around her knees and ankles, maybe even her feet. My body was moving heavily as I searched for a blanket among the few scraps of cloth lying in the closet. In the end, I ended up finding one a bit small for her body, but it perfectly covered her torso and stomach, that way she wouldn't take cold while she was in her defenseless state.

I wanted to look out the window again, but there was nothing to observe that I hadn’t seen before, a sad and dull orange sky. I settled into the chair, feeling that I was usurping Mikasa's place for some strange reason, and I kept analyzing the young man lying on the bed. His hair was matted and a bit dirty, a shower every now and then wouldn't hurt, although he smelled conveniently well, like freshly cut wood or dry grass. A scent that, while I was destined to smell more than necessary thanks to the expeditions, I felt no discomfort smelling it on Eren. It fit him very well indeed. I might even get used to being around him if it meant smelling such a sweet scent.

Seconds that seemed like minutes, and minutes that seemed like hours. Time seemed to play against me and I felt like my body began to weigh me more and more, and more, until I fell forward and lay my face on the hard mattress and the soft fabric of the sheet. Second-rate cotton, if you would let me say so, but it did the job. It was comfortable, too comfortable, enough to let me rest for a moment and close my eyes, making time flow more quickly.

I felt a hand gently rest on my head, moving and caressing me with a tenderness I hadn't felt in years. I opened my eyes immediately expecting to find my father in front of my eyes, but instead, I spotted a still asleep Eren, scratching himself and trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.

I pulled his hand out of my head quickly, but without being rude, and laid them on the bed. I rubbed my eyes and gave him a half smile "Good morning sleeping beauty"

It took a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the little light that filtered through the window and when they opened they surveyed the entire room, still drowsy.

"Where is Mikasa? Armin? " he coughed after feeling a little hawking in his throat.

I stretched out on the chair, accommodating the bones of my back and immediately moved to the side, letting him see a sleeping Mikasa, comfortable and warm under a blanket. Eren inspected her, perhaps trying to find any signs of injury or complaints, but finding none he turned his gaze from her to me.

"Mikasa is asleep" I settled back on the chair, this time stretching forward a bit and resting my elbows on the bed, holding my head on my hands "Armin and Jean had to go to give their testimony for the paperwork"

Ere didn't say anything, he just nodded and gave me a brief "hmm" before looking out the window. "How do you feel?" was the last thing I said before the room fell silent again and neither he nor I deigned to say anything else.

Years of hating each other weren't going to go away, just like that. It was going to be a long road now that we were in a much worse mess than when we were 13 years old. But at least, we could talk to each other without the need to jump on each other's jugular, that's progress, right?

***

Why couldn't this bastard have a little sense of preserving of his life? Why wasn't he a little more careful, and since we are, a little more common sense? Why couldn't he stay calm for a few seconds, analyze the situation and act according to his surroundings?

Now we had to do a search party to find the damned "last hope of mankind". Galloping as fast as the horses would allow us, avoiding on all sides dozens of titans, even when one fell, five more came out. It was an order that had become more and more dangerous. And to make matters worse, having to be behind two of the most dangerous titans we could have encountered was a suicide mission and most of us knew it. We were giving it our all for an idiot, who I don't think he knew the value of the lives that were being lost in battle.

Sighted in the distance, ranks breaking and each one trying to survive while we tried to have enough time to rescue him from the armored titan, large numbers of soldiers were being eaten or crushed. You know the terror I had in my eyes to see Captain Erwin being bitten on the arm and dragged towards God knows where? If a great man like him could be defeated so easily in the blink of an eye, what was in store for us? What was in store for me?

I kept galloping, begging Phillip to keep going as fast as he could, that he never stop and be careful of everything in his path. I was so scared that I didn't know exactly to who I was saying it, the horse or myself. For sure, I knew the horse wouldn’t understand me perfectly, but he was the only thing that I could grab to at that moment, the only one that could save me.

Both left and right, titans ran everywhere, the boys had managed to reach the battleship while the others did what they could to give them time, seeing Ymir was also a sight worthy of admiration if it wasn’t because I was givind my life at this moment. And surely she was helping the blonde of "girlfriend" instead of us.

In that sway between giant bodies and tiny soldiers, the ground rumbled, the earth fell away, even trees fell at our feet. When trying to reach Mikasa before she fell, a titan came out of nowhere in front of me, trying to dodge it would be a feat, especially when he had his immense mouth pointing almost completely in my direction. I will never be able to thank the soldier who cut his neck, for seconds later to be grabbed by another titan and break his spine in such a grip. With the body decomposing and the other titan out of focus, I was able to move on, circling the smoking mass, ready to support Mikasa when another mass fell very close to me, causing the horse to jump from the force of the impact. In that second of distraction I turned my head to look at what had fallen, the ground began to crack under Phillip's legs and it only took a footfall from the armor titan to completely break apart and pieces of earth and stone came out, shotting everywhere.

As I turned my head back forward, I saw clearly how a stone flew directly towards my head. Call it reflections, call it having a guardian angel on my shoulders, but I was able to move my head in time, causing the stone to impact the gap between my shoulder and neck. I shot backward, hitting my head against the hard ground. I felt my shoulder dislocate and I noticed how by leaps and bounds the shirt, previously white, was staining with blood, as well as the jacket and the floor. My head was probably bleeding from the back as well, but the pain in my shoulder kept me from focusing on anything else. It was impossible to move it, I tried to scream for help, but my words stuck in my throat, and even if I had been able to scream, it would have been overshadowed by the hundreds more screams that were begging for help. The grass around me felt a bit comforting, like a cold hug in the last minutes of life. Body pain prevented me from reacting to the sight of a five-meter titan approaching where I was lying. Tears began to flow, falling down my cheeks; I wanted to scream, say my last goodbye, but I was so petrified that I just closed my eyes.

If I was going to die, I would rather die without seeing the horrible face of that damned titan. I preferred to have the image of my family in mind one last time. The ground began to rumble, I thought more titans were going to come for me, that I was going to be smashed into pieces, but the longer it took to feel the huge hand or a pair of teeth, I opened my eyes, finding myself, not a pack of hungry titans, but with the clear evening sky.

I raised my head and to my surprise, a bizarre surprise, all the titans that were chasing us at the time, were now going towards one of the highest. I couldn't understand what was happening, I looked around trying to find someone, to see if someone else was seeing the same thing as me. In the distance I found Armin holding a figure, I couldn't quite see who, trying to breathe normally and stand up. I tried calling out to him, but my vision started to blur and it made me dizzy from trying to lift my head even higher. I brought my hand to my head and confirmed the blood that flowed behind it, I was completely soaked in my own blood and at any moment I would end up fainting if I didn't treat my wounds.

The grinding of a horse brought me back to a state of consciousness, Phillip was back next to me and he lowered his head towards my good shoulder, pushing it up and lifting me little by little. Standing back on both feet, I leaned on his stomach and in an attempt to walk towards Armin I heard Eren's terrified scream in the distance.

Both he and Mikasa were looking at the scene without understanding anything at all, and what bothered me the most was that those stupid were still sitting on the ground, without any intention of moving. As I could, I got on the horse's lap, lying on my stomach, both arms hanging at the side, and I told him to run as fast as possible towards the two figures in the most dangerous area that could be at that moment.

"Stop looking and start moving!" I yelled at them a few feet away. They both turned their heads in my direction, wanting to say something, but only managed to gasp a few times before I arrived.

I grabbed the collar of Eren's shirt and with what little strength I had left, I lifted him off the ground "NO TIME TO TALK, LET'S GO"

Seeing Mikasa being picked up by Eren and placed on his back, I indicated to Phillip to leave the area, to try to get to safety, along with the other soldiers. At our side ran the couple of stupid who almost devoured, wondering what had happened. Their words sounded more and more distant and the ride put me in a calm trance until I was unconscious.

***

Year 851, a beautiful summer day to go horseback riding without the hassle of a titan in the area. At the same time, a beautiful day to visit the forgotten and destroyed towns.

We took our time, observing the landscape. Trees that had fallen and left their tracks on the ground and on the trunk were beginning to show traces of vegetation in their wood. The grass crushed by large feet was beginning to heal and new shoots were coming to the surface, some flower buds could also be seen. The few stone paths were smashed, small cobblestones were smashed, and there was no possibility of repair unless they were remade. Today was the day; the day it was my village's turn to be toured. We leave early to the northwest, guiding us along the river, me in the lead. The night before I hadn’t been able to sleep, to close an eye, I was nervous, very nervous, I couldn’t even eat anything for breakfast. After four years, I returned to my home, or what was left of it.

Endless nights I dreamed of returning to my small village, touring the oldest houses and greeting its inhabitants, seeing the children run, now older, and helping them take an apple from the market. I dreamed of reassembling one of our horses, of stroking and caressing them, earning me one, perhaps two licks to the face. But what I most dreamed of was to see my father's face again, to see his eyes full of dark circles and sadness at having lost his wife, the woman he loved the most in the whole world; I wanted to hold hid hands again, see them splintered after carving a piece of wood and turning it into a beautiful work of art. I wanted to lie down by the communal fire, hear stories from the elderly, shameful stories, and love stories. I wanted to be able to repeat my childhood years, to see my mother one last time, to be able to say goodbye properly.

I wished my village had been intact, but at the entrance my heart shattered. There were no standing houses in sight, all had sagging roofs, broken windows, and dried blood marks from years painting the walls.

I got off the horse looking at the damage and I was leading him forward by the mooring. Slowly, being careful not to trip over any stone, I entered the town more and more, seeing the withered flowers and their dried petals lying on the floor. Children's cloth toys, a odd wooden horse broken in half. Some walls were burned, others full of holes, the clothes hanging outside the houses torn into pieces, the stable reduced to nothing. The center, where the market normally took place, full of rubble and garbage, on the left a path of dried blood, on the right as well. I approached a stall that had not been completed, a fruit and vegetable stall, now reduced to nothingness itself. I picked up the chunk of splintered wood and found underneath what scared me the most. An arm.

I didn't know who it was exactly, the clothes were almost the same for everyone, but I assumed it was a man's; It was in the process of decomposition, pieces of meat were half detached. Beside him, a porcelain doll broken on its head, its brown curls discarded, and only dirt and fiber remained. I picked it up with both hands and kept walking in the direction… in which direction? I couldn’t tell. Only my body was on autopilot looking around me for a sign, the slightest hope that someone had survived. But one look at the stables from the beginning was the only thing that put my hopes in the trash: there were pieces of horses lying all over the ground. Not even our pride had survived. My feet stopped walking, dragging on the ground, and stopped in front of the house that saddened me the most. Mine.

Of all, this was the one in the best condition, part of the roof had fallen to the side, not on the house, and a hole led directly to the living room. The walls were completely burned, not from the destruction of a horde of titans, no. Those burns were from years before, produced by the military police. Seeing that wreck brought me the vile memory of the day of her execution. The people were scared, they implored not to kill her, but those brutes turned a deaf ear and executed her without mercy. My mother was a very dear woman to everyone and no one denied her dreams of leaving the walls, my father loved her more than anyone ... but that love of his was not enough to save her.

"(Y / N)?" I heard Eren's voice behind me.

His voice echoed in my ears, but I couldn't fully register it, I was just looking straight ahead, towards the hole in my house, looking from the outside for fear of entering. "These were the borders of my life"

I took a step forward, then another, and then another, until I collided with the first stones of the house. From that place I could see how the fire from a small oil lamp had fallen on the floor and burned part of my father's favorite armchair. I took another step, fully entering what was left of my old home. I ran my hand over the dry, scratchy fabric, dust had collected over the weeks, maybe years. Given how advanced the bloodstains were, I couldn't exactly calculate the time that had elapsed. In front of the chair was still a small desk full of sheets, most of them ruined by rubble, but some survived. Some of these had broken tips, other were left with black spots, and others were flawless, as if they had been made yesterday. Beautiful drawings of people, others of nature, others of birds or city buildings.

I kept looking for more sheets, running those that were hopelessly damaged, and under my foot I came across a paper somewhat harder and thicker than the others, even framed. The glass was broken but it revealed perfectly a small family, a man, his wife and their child. "In this dusty and destroy little house, where an artist love his wife"

I took the drawing with me, holding it tight with both hands, until I reached the only standing door in the house. The door leading to the master bedroom. I stood there for a couple of seconds, wondering if it was right for my sanity, if it was right for my conscience to open it up and find whatever was on the other side. I inhaled and exhaled a couple of times before sliding the door open. Next to the bed, on the side where my mother used to sleep, was my father's top. I wasn't brave enough to turn around and see his face. I closed my eyes when I saw the scene and left what was left of the facade with my head lowered. "The house of my childhood is gone"

***

A couple of days after hitting the ocean.

We had settled next to the shore. Jean, Sasha and Connie were playing with the small waves that were breaking in the sand, Armin was inspecting small seashells and Mikasa was dedicated to dipping her feet in the cold water. We had made a small fire to cover ourselves from the cold of the coming night. Eren and I were in front of that same fire. He watched as the small sparks flew over the small sea of ​​flames until they exploded and died in the blink of an eye. Some fell into the sand before exploding, others continued to rise until they rose higher and became part of the beginning of the starry sky.

My feet were barefoot in the sand, letting the little grains get between my toes and tickle every time I twisted them. I dropped my head on Eren's shoulder, giving me the chance to close my eyes and reopen them after a few seconds, admiring the sea towards the horizon.

After so many calamities, after so many deaths and losses, a moment of quiet was more than necessary. Maybe being this close to the bright green-eyed brunette wasn't so bad after all.

I could get used to this.

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[choiwrites]

kth | wolfgirl (m.)

Words: 10k  Genre: twlight!au, it’s new moon but taetae as jacob, ur bella but you have a personality :o, oh also smut and a little angst Warnings: no protection and no fcks given, language ig?, descriptive seggs lol, vampires and all that bs if that triggers sum of yall, oral (f receiving), tae is younger than u and kind of a sub (dom tae is overdone we need change in this country) i cant think no more no thots hed mt Rating: 18+ Song: Iron & Wine - Flightless Bird, American Mouth Summary:  During your stay at your Aunt's house in the wet town of Forks, you never thought the boys next door will change your perspective in how you see the world.

The weather in Washington was something you’re not used to. You can never go places without getting mud on your shoes and it takes more than your patience to clean them every time before going out. Sure, it was great to experience a different weather other than the blazing sun in Los Angeles, but it was hard to adjust. You weren’t ready for it with all the sleeveless and loose tops you brought from Los Angeles.

After months of debating with your mom, you decided it would be a great way to spend your summer vacation turning your camera focus into something more dark and cloudy. Your professor had also suggested that it would look good in your portfolio if you try different moods in photos other than the hot weather in Angeles. So, you thought about it for months before asking your mom to buy you tickets to see your Aunt Sylvia who you're currently living with for the meantime.

She was in her mid-thirties, but she looked younger than her real age. She knew how to groom and with the way she looks, she probably had that life during her high school days. You rarely see her though, you can remember all the conversations you both had. She leaves home early for her duty at the police station as an attending desk officer. Her place wasn't big, an average suburban house painted in cold tones of white and gray with dark furniture inside. It's not your typical definition of cozy. Good thing you brought your two sweaters — one with a Christmas tree embroidered on it and one with the phrase "'tis the season!" Wearing a sweater in Los Angeles only means one thing, and that is the season of giving. But who cares, it's not like anyone was going to notice, right?

About to finish the second cup of black tea, an idea pops into your mind about what Sylvia had said about the landscapes nearby the house. However, she had warned you about the risks of a few wild coyote appearances, but one could call you a junkie. There’s no fun in danger, but dangerous does rhyme with adventurous.

A cool whip of breeze enters the thin fabric of your sweater, immediately regretting stepping out of the doorstep after locking the door. As you are approaching the back of the house to enter the woods, young laughters echo through the area, lessening your fear for a bit. It must be safe if a group of teenagers are hanging out in such a secluded forest.

Unbothered by the noises, whether they were from teenagers or not, you make your way further into the woods of coppery branches on the endless verdant ground with subtle eau de nils. It’s like walking into a surreal three-dimensional render of a forest, too perfect to be right in front of your eyes.

It was quiet and serene in the woods. Aside from birds chirping, it felt like out of this world. It was an alien planet. Everything was green — the moss surrounding the place, every tree had some sort of fungi beneath it, the soil dark brown as if staring right into the earth’s eyes. The very healthy kind of earthy, and it was easier to breathe in the forest than it was in the city of Los Angeles. No wonder why they're both on the opposite sides of the country. They're literally poles apart. Being at Forks, it's as if you were able to be in a different country. It was secluded, unlike in Angeles, there are people in every place you go.

While changing the film of the camera, a strong gust of wind on your left side. So strong that your body stumbled onto the ground. You were on your knees, camera shattered as it hits a hard medium-sized rock. You break a couple of curses to the wind.

The camera looked hopeless with lenses separated from it, lying in pieces against a rock.

"What the hell was that?" 

There had to be some kind of a fast animal that ran from your side, which quickens your pulse, but the devastation you felt for the camera overthrew that fear. When you caught a glimpse of the 'wind,' it was human-like. It ran around in every direction surrounding you,  freezing you into place. The only thing you were able to do was to keep watching the human-like creature run in circles like lightning. You tried standing up, but it approached you in a rapid current that you fell into place again. But you couldn't see it, you weren't able to look into its eyes.

"You shouldn't be out here alone,” behind you says.

You whimper, embarrassed when the deep voice sends hums into your nerves.. 

"Why didn't you run?" He looks at you with knitted brows as he approaches to help you get on your feet. He’s far too attractive to be a wild coyote, you slap that stupid thought away.

"I... I didn't know what to do,” you force out, still affected by the broken camera and creeping fear.

He was around four inches taller than you. He looked about your age. Dark thick hair, with light brown irides inside his almond-shaped eyes. His skin was of a rich walnut tan, and his dark green hoodie complements that. 

"You must be Sylvia's niece. I'm Taehyung,” he said in a sultry manner as he offered a hand for a handshake.

"How do you kno-"

"She told us. My family's close with Sylvia. Our mothers used to be best friends, y/n." He puts his hand back in the pocket of his hoodie.

A tinge of embarrassment brushes through your cheeks, feeling guilty that you didn't give him a handshake. But all of that is ignored when he smiles.

"Did I creep you out?"

You chuckle softly. "No, of course not. I'm just still in the moment... of processing." You ease him, as if you were able to read the tension in his undecipherable eyes.

There was a few seconds of silence before Taehyung spoke again when he noticed your camera on the ground.

"Hey, we have a technician at home, maybe he has some tools he could help you with."

He was absolutely gorgeous. You find yourself lost in his face, studying his features and every little action he does. He would look so good as a muse. If only you could capture him right now, he'd be perfect under the clouds that create shadows that contour his cheeks and makes his eyes even more mysterious.

"Don't worry, you can trust me. Sylvia knows where I live,” he adds. 

Though that doesn't really solve the problem, you find yourself walking with Taehyung in the woods, drifting away from the devastation and fear from earlier. 

The laughters were from them. The laughs you heard earlier before entering the woods were from Taehyung's friends. They confirmed that they were walking around the woods earlier and that they passed by your house. All looking friendly with similar doe eyes, almost like they were relatives. They were all in a circle, all of them sitting on a chunk of thick logs, dressed in a similar way. The men were younger than you, but there is a girl who's older than you. She didn't seem as friendly as the others as you notice the judging glances towards your way. She had shoulder length of hair and she was just as tan as Taehyung. Taehyung discussed each of them one by one to you, all of them introducing themselves in an endearing manner except for her. Only saying her name was Leah and that was it, which made you feel an ounce of intimidation.

"So, y/n, how long do you plan to stay?" Embry, the one with the shortest hair, asks as he plays with the two twigs he'd been digging up dirt with the moment you arrived. His color was a tad bit darker than the others. He had a grin that could steal every girl's heart. He was gorgeous. They were all just as gorgeous as Taehyung.

"Oh, one month. I have a college application to fix back home,” you answered surely. You were only here to take photos for your college portfolio, and making friends was out of the picture until today.

"Sucks for Tae, I had a feeling you could be more than a willing candidate to be his girlfriend." Everybody laughed except for you and Tae who exchanged awkward glances at each other.

"Stop it, Bry." Taehyung wanted to laugh along but embarrassment got the best of him.

"She looks so out of place. You probably party a lot in Los Angeles, don't you?" Leah gives you a stern look, seriously waiting for your response. She only wants to get a reaction from you and you weren’t the only one to get the feeling as the group feels the rising tension between the both of you.

"No, I don't go to parties. Mom is very strict." You tell her. You didn't want the group to feel that you were intimidated, after all, you wanted to befriend everyone.

"She'd be perfect for our overnight tomorrow then." She prickly grins.

"Right! Want to join us in La Push? It's the nearest beach out here. We'll have bonfires and such," Seth, the youngest one with the tiniest body (still bigger than yours), expresses in excitement. Out of all of them, Seth was the friendliest. 

"I'll go talk to Sylvia for you, if you want." Taehyung raises his brows. He had been laughing quietly ever since he had brought you to meet his friends - which seems like he regrets, additionally. He was more mysterious than you thought. He didn't share much of his life during the discussion, only three things: his last name was Kim, he’s 20 years old, and he lives at the rez along with the rest of the team.

"Sure. I'll just bring my other camera." You smiled.

Taehyung said that he'll get Chase, a friend of his who wasn’t part of the circle, to fix the broken film camera. He assured that it will only be a matter of three days before the camera is all yours again. After a few more useless fun discussions, you had forgotten that the sun had settled for a while. When Taehyung realizes your face of worry, he offers to give you a ride home. Great, a ride with the wild coyote who had immediately earned your trust by rising a brow. You wouldn’t be so shocked if you end up ‘missing’ in the news in the next hours.

He owned a Chevy pick up truck. It was red, but faded, making it seem vermillion in color. It had a few dents and you were sure that it wasn't one of the smoothest rides you've ever had. But Taehyung made a few jokes about how he feels uneasy with the truck as well, only to reveal that it has been with him ever since his birth.

"It's great. Very retro." You gave him a smile to let him know that he doesn't need to feel embarrassed with his truck.

"Shut up, Y/N. I know it sucks, okay. I can't even play a single song here without a static." He laughs and you admit it.

He gave a charming wave to your window and had a small chat with Sylvia, who’s been home for hours, before leaving, probably about the La Push trip for tomorrow. Once you've changed into your pyjamas, Sylvia knocks on your door as you are about to settle in bed.

"Tae told me about the La Push camping tomorrow,” she began.

"Are you gonna let me?"

She smiles in an assuring way. You can't deny how lovely she looked with her hair down, her waves framing her heart-shaped face. "Of course, honey. You better wake up early tomorrow. Tae told me that he'll pick you up by seven." She winks and rubs your shoulder before heading downstairs.

A beach trip in a cloudy town without bringing any hoodies with you? Sounds about perfect, if you’re looking for a hypothermia attack. And you were never a morning person either so it’s a big mystery why you even agreed to go in the first place. The waking time in Los Angeles was ten in the morning. In Forks, it was seven. 

When Taehyung arrived, he was wearing a black shirt and a black leather jacket, pairing it with slightly oversized pants. He looked bigger than yesterday, maybe it was the jacket that made him look buff. He waved softly before you even stepped out of the doorway. He was carrying a medium-sized paper bag with small wet stains.

"My sister made us breakfast. Just in case you didn't have enough time to prepare," he opens the car door for you and waved to Sylvia goodbye, "thought you'd take more time because you probably wake up late in the city."

“I’m somehow a little offended with that assumption,” you cooed and he replied with a stammering laugh, unsure whether to take it as a joke or not.

He fumbled with the stereo and it played better than yesterday, giving you a sloppy smile as the first chords of Creep by Radiohead plays.

"You fixed it?" You take a bite from the sandwich his sister prepared. You thank God his sister prepared it for you, your stomach would be growling by now.

"Yeah. I just didn't want us to have that awkward silence along the way." He breathily laughs.

Everything Taehyung has is beautiful. He had an amazing laugh, a deep sultry voice, and doe eyes. He's simply astonishing. You were sure that everyone he has met so far had fallen in love with him. You weren't one to deny that either.

It took around fifteen songs before the both of you arrived at the beach — thanks to Taehyung's amazing playlist. It was quiet, the weather didn't change much in the place. Still cold and dark, untouched by a glimpse of sunrise. It was windier than the rest of Forks, and you wore your Christmas sweater to at least help with the cold a bit.

It was weird to say, but Taehyung radiated heat whenever you were near him. It's like when you're not around Taehyung, you feel the coldness of Forks. His truck didn't even feel cold though his air conditioning was on, you just felt a sense of unfamiliar comfortable heat you found yourself curling in your seat minutes ago. The group welcomed the both of you except for Leah of course. Sooner or later, you knew you'd start to hate her.

"You guys are early,” you tell Embry and Paul as they greet you with warm hugs.

"Of course, we are. It's La Push, baby." Embry gives you a wink and you blush.

"Okay, Bry, I haven't had my breakfast and you're already winking." Paul fake puked and the rest of the group laughs.

They started setting up tents as Taehyung offered to take your bag when he noticed how it's weighing you down. Before he could put it in the tent, you took your digital camera and started roaming around by yourself to take pictures of the view. Astounding as you had expected. It's like you were in the middle of nowhere. Only Taehyung's friends were at the beach which was a lucky shot for you and the group.

"Set up the fire, Tae! We're having breakfast." Leah yells across the place as she places the logs in the middle of the circle the tents are built in.

Taehyung sighs loudly. "Get ready for the Quileute Tribe stories." 

"You seem tired of it, you joked.

While Taehyung builds a fire with the rest of the boys, you secretly take pictures of him busy as the both of you keep talking.

"It's always the story every camping day. The Quileute Legends, you know? The scary stuff." 

You knit your brows when the word ‘scary’ comes into play, bringing your camera down to take a better look at the almost sweaty Taehyung.

"Scary stuff? How scary? Thrill me." You weren't aware as to how much Taehyung also studies your features. He wanted to know you better, but he was afraid of scaring you away by asking too many questions. It had always been his issue, scaring people away from him. And this time, he didn't want to let you in like the others, he just wanted to be acquaintances. But the more he spends time with you, the more he wants to be near you as if there were magnets pulling you together.

"I don't know what would thrill you, y/n. But the world is darker than you think, it's not always safe." He gives you a look. It was impossible. You were five feet away from him, but you could almost see your reflection in his eyes. It was too comforting. You were devoured by his eyes, falling steadily into his charms.

"I know. It's just as scary in L.A., I mean," you gulped, "crime is everywhere. Can't really stop it." You explained.

"It's not always crime that's scary, y/n. I'm talking unexplainable things." He smirks.

"Like paranormal?" You gaze away from him, starting to take pictures of the beach. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from Taehyung, your eyes keep falling on him.

"More than paranormal. Ghosts are easier to believe in."

You inhaled sharply. "I mean those are just legends, right? What's with the obsession in the Qui-Quileute Tribe?" You struggled pronouncing the word.

"It's not me. It's a tradition." There was a moment of silence before you could think of what to say again.

"Delete my pictures by the way." He scoffed.

"I thought you didn't notice."

"I was posing." 

You laugh at his joke, still certain you're never deleting any of his pictures, most definitely the one when he accidentally looked at the camera.

"You look sort of beautiful in the camera." Your lids flutter like a high school girl. “Not just in the camera, I mean… haha.”

He stares at you in confusion, and somehow you always find yourself frozen and embarrassed whenever he looks at you. "Sort of beautiful? You're more naive than I thought." He removes his jacket and throws it on the log nearby, revealing his buff body. You look away in discomfort, you didn't want to find yourself checking him out. "I'm not what you think I am. And I don't think you want to know."

"Maybe I do." You point the camera towards him and take a shot of his reaction. You wink.

The clouds hovering above the clamorous sea tell that there's probably rain coming, but it seems like the group wasn't bothered by it at all. You were sitting next to Taehyung two feet away from you on the logs nearby the fire that Seth had given up trying to help making after a couple of failed attempts. His heat never failed to linger around you though.

Sam was discussing the Quileute Legends and the group was very fascinated with the story, even though Taehyung had confirmed earlier that they've already heard the story too many times from their own families. Sam was good. He had a way in telling stories. You find yourself actually believing the legends. Werewolves and vampires? Shapeshifters and Children of the Moon? You weren't one to believe in such fantasies. You liked to watch historical movies more than fairytales, but with the way Sam elaborated every part of the legend, you can't deny the shiver that you felt when he discussed the cold ones.

Fast like lightning. Beautiful and alluring. Undead without a soul.

You thought it was ridiculous for Sam to even give out a warning about the cold ones. You were suppressing your laugh a little bit, and you were sure Leah already had her eyes on you. Why would Sam give out a warning about the cold ones? It's not like they were actually real. He also mentioned a treaty. And he sounded pretty serious about it too, even Taehyung was carefully listening. All of their eyes were on Sam, except for Leah.

Sam talked about a specific family of the cold ones, that they proposed a treaty. These cold ones are not allowed to hurt anybody from Forks, or else the mentioned werewolves are allowed to pose a fight with them. He talked about it like it was a plan.

It was afternoon and the clouds were still as thick as it was in the morning, but rays of sunlight shone through the gaps between the dark clouds. It looked ethereal, an aesthetic you'd only see in paintings. You thought those paintings are only manifestations of amplified emotions of the painter, but here you are, smiling to your camera as you take hundreds of shots.

"Save some memory for the other landscapes," Taehyung says beside you, throwing pebbles to the water, each bouncing impressively for three times.

"I know, I just can't get enough of this. You don't see that in L.A." You pointed your index finger towards the horizon of the sea.

"Yeah, but at least you can swim in LA. It's too cold out here to even go for a swim,” he emphasized.

"Not when you're around. It's weird, but I feel like you have a fever. You're too hot."

He raises his brows . "I know I'm hot," he chuckles.

"I didn't mean it like that,” you protest, though you know for a fact, Taehyung right. If he were to live in L.A., he'd be escorted many times by a modeling agency.

"So, I'm not hot?" You knew he was teasing and your embarrassment was obvious enough because of the blood rushing through your cheeks.

"You're attractive. I'm sure you know that." You roll your eyes, trying to keep everything casual — which is getting harder and harder every time he's around.

"No, I don't,” he teased. He was obviously getting pay back on you for taking candid shots of him earlier.

Your eyes landed on Sam and Emily play-fighting in the sea, just the sight of them being happy made you feel a bit of a heartache. You were a sucker for romance. The boys told you earlier that they were engaged for three months now. Leah was Sam's ex-girlfriend and Emily was Leah's ex-best friend. Finally putting the pieces together why Leah was one of the hardest to be with. She was extremely hurt and broken. She would rather shut the world out rather than let anybody in. She would rather be alone, than find anyone again who could possibly hurt her.

"Look," you poked Taehyung who was too busy throwing pebbles, "Sam and Emily are swimming. We should too!"

Though you were shivering, you bravely took off the mustard jacket that Taehyung had let you borrow. You were left with your thin brown tank top and denim shorts. He's still in his black shirt, unbothered to even take it off nor his jeans.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You tell him as you walk towards the sea.

This was a bad idea. It felt like ice was draping all over your body. How can Emily look like she's having fun when you're over here freezing just by stepping into the water? Half of your body was shivering from the wind, the lower half was for sure numb. You wanted to slap Taehyung for taking so long to get in with you, and you weren't even sure why you were so desperate for him to get in with you. It's not like he had a heater with him.

It took Taehyung a few more seconds before he started taking his shirt off, revealing his caramel skin, but it wasn't his color that caught your eyes, it was how built he is. His body looks like it was sculpted by the most talented and precise sculptor. It was defined, and shadows are doing magic in giving it silhouettes in the right areas. The best part about it was how shy he was taking off his clothes, like a teenager getting ready for his first swimming lesson.

He was for sure planning to swim today, revealing the gray trunks he’s wearing underneath his jeans. He needs a bigger one that fits him better, because the trunks he's wearing isn't doing him any justice.

Okay, no. Maybe it was justified by a subtle outline of his —

Don't even look down there, y/n, you tell yourself.

You didn't know where to focus. His thighs were just as eye-catching as his abs. Just as toned and thick. It would be such a material for thigh riding, you thought and you quickly shake your head at the idea. It has to be the waters that did this to you. Time has never been more relevant when he was walking towards your way, as he scoops water with his hands to wet his hair, while biting his bottom lip and giving you a small smile after.

"Freezing?" He smiles, eyes pierced on your small body. You were hugging yourself, embracing yourself from the fact that if you let go of your hands, you might touch something else.

"You were taking so long." 

He chuckles before holding your arm, taking it off your body. "Come on, dip your whole body." He pulls you softly towards the ocean, the sound of walking through water comforting your ears.

He was a foot away from you, the water level was on his chest and so was yours, but slightly higher. He looked even more godly. His hair pushed back, and to see his face in its entirety was a blessing, a gift.

None of you dared to talk, and you thought it was better that way. You just get to stare at him, as the sunlight lands itself upon his bronze eyes with specks of gold if you would close enough, majestic indeed to see something like that once in your life. You'd wish to wake up to that every morning.

There was this comfortable silence between the two of you. Drops of water fall under his eyelashes, fluttering them as he struggles to stare back at you. The moment was ruined when he suddenly smiled and looked towards Embry and Paul. Embry was sitting next to Paul, staring at the both of you while laughing. You shrug, feeling invaded.

"Why? What is it?" you asked Taehyung.

"They're thinking ridiculously."

 You furrow your forehead. "How do you know?" He tightens his hold around your arm as he keeps you steady near him, aware of you struggling to touch the floor.

"I just know," he softly plants circles on your arm with his thumb, "trust me."

"Maybe we shouldn't stand too close to each other then. I think they're making a big deal out of it." You didn't want to come off feisty, but you guessed it went that way for Taehyung as he moved away from you without letting you go.

"No, they're not. They're just teasing." When he said that, it was like he only said it to get near you, to assure you that it was okay to be close to him like that.

"Still cold?" he asked.

"Not so much anymore." You muttered. There were so many questions you wanted to ask Taehyung, but your voice isn't very trustworthy at the moment. You know it will betray you the moment you open your mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts? Why did you want to swim?" His voice was soft, calming as the ocean.

"I wanted to test how warm you can make me, even in freezing water."

He laughs breathily. "Seriously?"

You nod. He wanted to tell you a lot about himself, but like you, he was just as scared. Skinny dipping wasn't really your thing, especially in cold water, so after a few more moments of swimming and small talks with Taehyung, you let yourself dry by sitting next to the tent, keeping yourself busy by viewing all the pictures you took.

It was four in the afternoon, and the sun looked like it was already setting. Time was almost irrelevant at Forks, you wake up and the next thing you know, you're already getting ready for bed. Even though today was quite eventful, the clock still ticked quickly.

Feeling dry enough, you walked to the other side of the beach, Embry had mentioned that there was a cliff nearby along the woods. Though Taehyung was busy drying himself and laughing with the others, he glanced your way as you were heading towards the woods. You lifted your camera so he knew what your motive was, and he flashed a sly smile.

Trees. Cliffs. Birds.

The place could be a haven for the National Geographic Channel.

"I thought the pack wouldn't ever leave you alone like this." A deep voice spoke behind you, his english accent was thick and strong. You were sure that if you turn around, he’ll be ten feet away from you. You regret blinking your eyes, because the next thing you knew, he was right in front of you. His expression with so much thirst, so much hunger. For what?

You only inhaled sharply, first thing coming into your mind, confusion overpowering your nerves. You examined the man before you quickly. Olive skin, dark ruby eyes. His skin was inhumanly shiny, he almost looked dead, but in a mesmerizing type of way. He had dark purple circles, but his eyes were beautiful enough to distract you from it. He mirrored a cement under sunlight, he had fragments of diamonds and glitters on his skin. It wasn't your brain consuming you but his visual, his aura.

"Didn't bring your dog with you?" You weren't sure what he meant. He takes a step forward to lean into your ear, and your feet beg to stay, your eyes staring deeply in his beauty. You were too engaged, everything about him had you in place.

"You smell different from the others. Are you aware of that?" His breath touched your skin and there the exact opposite of heat seeping in your skin. “La tua cantante. I can hear your blood flowing through your veins. I can hear your heart. It's beautiful." He sniffs your neck as he hisses.

He wasn't human, and this time you were sure. He had danger lingering in his eyes, but it dressed so captivatingly beautiful, you found yourself lost.

"It won't hurt, I promise. It will be just a tiny bite, you won't even feel it."

There were words coming out of your mouth, you swore that. But nothing, your mouth still and close. It's sort of like he had power upon you, controlling and manipulating your body to be a mannequin. 

"Shh, don't fight it. You won't win over me." His teeth were grazing on your neck, seeking for a soft spot. You were unsure of his nature, what could he be?

An alien from this alien planet? An experiment gone wrong that escaped from a lab, perhaps? Maybe a demon, or an angel. A greek god of some kind?

They were all terrifying.

At the corner of your eye appeared a shirtless Taehyung, but he didn't look like himself. He was red, smoke flaring around his body. His chest expanded by time, and when you felt a small sensation of sharpness on your neck, Taehyung jumped towards the man.

No, it can't be.

This isn't Taehyung. Taehyung was gone. Maybe you were imagining things, but you felt all of them happening in front of you. As the man got distracted, your senses came back, falling on your side from losing balance. You pushed yourself away from the two monsters, as you would describe it. This wolf was huge, enormous. Any man who would try to fight it will easily lose. It stands almost seven foot, three bears wide.

Without trying, the creature had already decapitated the man. You weren't sure how to feel — safe or worried — but you were sure that you are mortified, and your face clearly expresses that.

You were only moving away from this huge thing in front of you, maybe that'll help you escape. But you don't even know if you wanted to escape. A part of you believes that Taehyung is inside that wolf, maybe eaten alive, or a spirit. 

So much for the wild coyotes, thanks for the heads up Sylvia.

Your eyes met his. Dark bronze eyes with specks of gold if you look close enough. You could almost see yourself in them, they were that kind. His eyes had a message for you, to approach him, to pet him, that it was okay and he will never hurt you. Before your hand could land on his lowered head, Sam and the others came running to help you, obviously seeing the wolf, but not even being bothered like you were.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Sam helps you stand on your feet.

Sam and the wolf had some kind of connection. Sam stared at it and the wolf left.

"So, wolves are normal here?" you spoke with a weak voice.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking of how he can explain what just happened. You know that he knows something, and he was struggling to tell it.

"Where's Taehyung?" You scan their faces with no sign of Taehyung.

Holy shit! The wolf ate him! you thought. All you want to see right now is Taehyung. To prove himself. He can't be that wolf. The wolf must have eaten him. It is far too impossible for Quileute Legends to be real.

"We should get going before the other cold ones get here." Sam assists you to get back in the tents, completely ignoring your state of bewilderment.

Maybe it's a Forks thing to be mysterious and quiet. It irks you so much that none of them are even acknowledging what happened. This would be a great story for your mom.

Hey, Mom. Just wanted to call to tell you about how great my day was. So Taehyung, right? Aunt's neighbor, really hot guy I'd totally fuck, got eaten by a werewolf. But that's not too crazy, an incredibly beautiful medieval British man held me hostage, telling me he wanted to suck my blood. What a Forks thing! And everybody saw this huge tall wolf, I'm talking as big as a shelf kind of wolf, but they all acted like it was some puppy leaving the scene. Anyways, Mom, I'm traumatized. Going home in a week.

There is no way you can paraphrase that. No way you can make everything happening right now to sound normal at least one bit. This must be normal in Forks, but this is some Hollywood work in LA already. Things like these don't happen unless there was a shoot next door.

"Hey, you okay?" Leah approaches you. Her concern is seemingly genuine.

"I'm alive, guess I am okay. Where's Taehyung?" You don't bother to look at anyone at all, you drive your attention to the waves landing on the beach, hoping you could synchronize your breathing with them.

"Taehyung's fine. You don't have to worry about him."

"I saw him there. He was... he was red! Like he was burning! And... and there was smoke. Then I blinked, then there's a wolf. I swear it ate him!" Leah looked at you with wide eyes, but her lips were shaking trying to hide a smile.

"You're not taking me seriously! That wolf killed that guy! I don't know. He sounded British!" Leah bit her lip. "That was horrifying. I saw its head removed, there was no blood! What was that?" Leah inhaled sharply before looking at you with assurance.

"Can you calm down? The wolf you saw, don't you think it was described like the one in the legends?" Leah almost shouted, yet still controlling her laugh.

"Shapeshifters? Those are legends, Leah! The wolf ate Taehyung!" 

She chuckled. "No, they are real," she protested.

"The British man there was a cold one, a literal vampire. Taehyung didn't kill him, he was already dead."

No.

"Shut up, Leah. I know you hate me, but this is no time for jokes." 

She laughs harder. "You're right about me not liking you, but I'm not joking. That dark brown werewolf is Taehyung. One and only Taehyung. 20 year-old Taehyung who lives at the rez. That Taehyung."

'The world is darker than you think. It's not always safe.'

Taehyung had already given you clues from the start. But a word from Leah wouldn't be enough to stop your mind from going everywhere. You needed to hear this from Taehyung.

It was twilight already and the group had decided to spend the night in their cabin, instead of the beach. Sam explained that it was for your safety which until now he hasn't elaborated yet. Emily offered newly baked muffins, but it was too late before you could grab one when all the boys devoured around them. You gave Emily a smile.

"You can have the next batch." She shied away.

Emily looks like an average girl next door. She had fringes and medium length hair, they were very flat. Her skin was like the others, tan and healthy-looking. One thing you haven't examined deeply about her were her eyes. Embry had told you once that staring at Emily would bother Sam, and when you first saw her, you knew immediately why. She had a scar on one of her eyes, they looked painful. It looks like a cat scratch, only if that cat was a lion. It covered half of her face, but that didn't stop her from being lovely. She was still pretty in every way.

Taehyung arrives at the cabin, looking at everybody except you, his body resting on the door frame. He was heavy-breathing like he just finished a race. Sam came after him, giving him a small pat then walking towards Emily. Taehyung's eyes remain on the floor. His actions were complicated. You haven't figured him out yet.

"Y/N, Tae, maybe you can talk outside alone." Sam smirks at Taehyung, and Taehyung smiles back.

'This is no time to be smiling!'

Taehyung finally looks at you before leaving the door and you follow. But he still hasn't talked. And your rage is piling up inside you, you finally take a step forward.

"Care to explain what the hell happened there? I thought you were swallowed by that — that thing!" He gulps, stopping his tracks and turning around to see your face.

"I was scared," you muttered.

He totally understood why you were scared. Because he was just as scared and confused as you when he first discovered who he was, and just like you, he chose to deny it in every way he can, and he hoped that denial can make a change.

"You're not supposed to know about this. I didn't want to put you in this position — of knowing what truly there is." His eyes are sad, like he was a missing child.

The same day Taehyung figured out what he was, his eyes looked exactly the same; with fear, agony, and deprecation.

"So, you're a werewolf?" You felt his pupils dilate.

He looked at you in disbelief as if he hadn't given enough clues yet.

"Werewolf. Shapeshifter. Monster. Dog. Whatever you call it, it wasn’t my choice." His voice was weak, almost ashamed of what he had just said.

"And you kill —"

"Vampires." He finishes your sentence before you could assume. "Just vampires. The cold ones? Those that violate the treaty? They’re real." And so the legends were correct and real, and the evidence stands right in front of you, breathing and staring at you.

But no matter what angle you look at him, he wasn't a monster. He is not what he is described in the fairytales. He wasn't a merciless creature, not even harmful. He was just this young boy who lived near you.

"I get that you're afraid of me. Trust me, so am I."

"I'm not scared of you. If it weren't for you I would be bloodless by now." You bit your lip. "But I'm still a little overwhelmed." You gulped.

He had no words, but he was relieved. And you knew that when his eyes twinkled, the kind he gave you when you were jamming to the songs he had in his truck.

"If it's okay for you, I'm inviting you and Sylvia to my birthday tomorrow. It's just a small gathering."

"Will there be drinks?" you kid.

"Sam doesn't really want me taking any drinks for the meantime." He chuckles.

"Why not?"

"He said that I can't be on alcohol during my first six months of phasing. Why? Do you drink?" he innocently asks.

"Was just teasing." You playfully pushed him before proceeding to walk back in the cabin.

Before you even knew it, Taehyung was irrevocably infatuated with you. He wouldn't have thought that a college girl would give a small attention to someone younger than her, or even finding out about who he truly is and still staying by his side. He had spent so much time denying who he was, but maybe being a werewolf isn't so bad after all, if phasing is what it takes to protect you or anyone at all.

You were just like what he thought you would be — kindred spirits.

The party isn’t filled with loud chats and crowds, it is a gathering. Taehyung tried his best to always stand by your side to give you ease in enjoying such an unfamiliar place as Sylvia gets indulged in conversations with the others, completely forgetting you. Every minute though, he'd have to leave you alone on the couch but he'd return as soon as he can.

There weren't much talks between you and him either, only a couple of smiles exchanged whenever Embry and Quil do something embarrassing in front of the both of you.

It seemed as if the night was the longest night of your life, only occupied with listening to others’ stories and Taehyung sipping a punch from his red cup. He had asked a few questions to keep things interesting, but it was hard to keep the mood flowing. You had asked about his hobbies and all the boring stuff you could think of, and surprisingly he would reply with enthusiasm like he have always wanted to be asked those questions. This makes you more curious how his daily life goes, how many people does he actually talk to.

When the hand of the clock drops at ten, you were just patiently waiting for Sylvia to get on her feet and cut the conversation with the others but she seemed to have consumed more alcohol than she could tolerate and the next thing you knew she was laughing like a maniac. You were stuck in a loop circle of smiling so thinly to everyone you get eye contact with.

You distract yourself with admiring the intricate designs of Taehyung's small home, and the thought of a young Taehyung growing up in where you're sitting currently makes your heart jolt. It's uplifting seeing his pictures on the wall, but there was a difference between his smile before and his smile now. One can easily tell which was more true. You had no clue what it's like to be his kind, hell even now you still can't believe what he is. But it sure shows in the way he had changed judging from the innocent photos that hang on the wooden walls. You've never known him since then, yet you wanted to restore this angel-being beaming at the sight of a camera who now hates being in photos because he thinks he's some sort of a monster.

You wanted to ask him about the pictures, the one where he was wearing a towel with a headband, the one where he was framing his face. All of them speak some kind of connection with you, maybe it's your love for photography that makes you feel this way, but innocence is one of the hardest thing to lay your lenses on.

Then you finally got it. What your professor was talking about, drawing something intangible to your camera. This is what he meant. Your gallery is only filled with landscapes, mostly the aesthetic of architecture and nature. Taehyung is what you needed to change the mood of your photos, not the weather, not the dark ambience of Forks, but his story. If only there's a chance for you to grasp his mystery in a single picture, his adventurous smile in one flash.

A pang of pain in your forehead pulls you back into reality, and the lights that stood above you only made it worse. You needed to leave immediately before the pain has you grunting. Welcomed with a wrapping breeze, you brace yourself and regret wearing the dress Sylvia begged you to wear. She said it was her favorite when she was your age, a Prussian blue dress that stops before your knees with tulle around the hem and a lighter blue ribbon on the chest.

Of course Taehyung who sits beside you would notice your leaving, and before you can inhale the fresh air from the porch, he was already asking what's wrong.

"I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna have to go home alone since Sylvia's still occupied," you said, pushing on your temples with your thumb and middle finger.

"I can drive you home. I don't think they'd notice that we left, they're all pretty wasted." He chuckles, complementing the high tones of the strong wind that travels past your bodies.

"I'm really sorry. I'm being rude, I mean this is your party... your birthday party and you're going to drive me home."

He places the sippy cup on a coffee table near the entrance, and he was palming his pocket to reach for his keys.

"It's fine, y/n. The party's been dead four hours ago and I can't send you home alone. Do you have the house key or should I go back inside and ask Sylvia for it?"

"She gave me a duplicate. I think it's best we go now. My head's really killing me."

It was unusual, headaches. They rarely come to you since you monitor your phone usage and water intake. You hate getting them because you hated taking meds for it, and you just hoped Sylvia would have a stock of it. Your fingers have been roaming your forehead for a while yet you can't seem to navigate where the pain is, where it's beating. It would be better if you could massage it along the ride but you were struggling to even keep your fingers raised.

Taehyung stops the car in the middle of somewhere as you are hitting your head continuously on the head rest. It was quiet, a deafening silence that rang your ears that brought you to open your eyes. Taehyung wasn't in his seat anymore, only fog filling for his place crawling under your skin.

There was your breathing, crickets, and rustles of trees that travel the air. You weren't sure how to react but one was definite, you were scared. The hand resting on your thigh turning white and wet, breathing faster and heavier as the air seems to be corrupted with toxic poison that does nothing but suffocate you.

Don't get out of the car, don't get out of the car, you chant internally hoping it will help your situation.

"Hello, dear," a slinky voice says through the window, almost similar to the man— vampire from yesterday. Could it be? Could there be more? "Don't make me wait, dear. Open the door and make this easy for the both of us, hm?"

It sounds the exact same as the accent the man had with an alluring tone that draws you to open the door. However, it wasn't just her tempting attempt into convincing you to endanger yourself, the pain in your head inflates as you try to control yourself.

"You want it hard, my dear?" She smirks, you weren't sure but you hear the spread of the corner of her lips.

Then she was in front of the headlights, filled with rage, her eyes dark and dangerous as she showed her predacious teeth. From here, you can feel the vibration of her anger as if she had the ability to let you feel all the harnessed emotions inside her. You can count them one by one: anger, vengeance, and the feeling you get before success. None of them were positive emotions, none of them was mercy. She came here to accomplish one thing.

Your death.

Finally understanding it, inside her browbeating eyes were agony and mourning. She was here to avenge the death of the vampire that Taehyung had killed. She was as beautiful, as seductive with her pale skin and ruby lips, curly strawberry blonde hair that flows until her shoulders.

You discovered that there was a split second of slow agonizing memory of your life before it's taken, and you wished there was none. She runs towards you, careless whether she bashes her head into the glass. She takes your neck, her fingers poking specifically at the sides and right before you can regain your breath your eyes open.

Gasping and catching air, awakening in the seat with Taehyung by your side who drives in silence as Midnight Rambler by The Rolling Stones plays from his rusty stereo.

So if you ever meet the midnight rambler

I'm coming down your marble hall

Well, he's pouncing like a proud black panther

Well, you can say I, I told you so

He sits there, unaware of the chaos that repeats in your head. It all felt so real, the grasp on your neck that locks your throat, you could've sworn you've given your last breath. The pain had stopped, replaced by dizziness that you knew would pass as minutes go by. 

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head. "I didn't know I was staring."

That's right. You didn't know you were staring. There was so much comfort in knowing he never left, the heat of his presence brings you a feeling of security. It's okay now. Taehyung's still here. By your side.

Once reaching home, Taehyung does his best to assist you as though you were ill. It's cute how he acts that way, so careful, so gentle. Upon reaching your room, Taehyung stops before your bedroom door, almost waiting for an invitation.

"I should get going now. I'll tell Sylvia you felt sick." And before he could say good bye, you're already wrapping yourself in the blankets as he passively makes a step away from your door.

"Taehyung," you said, reaching out. "Thank you for today."

He doesn't turn back. "You're welcome. Also, thank you for coming."

A shiver spreads across your back when your lids start to fall, and your body jolts upwards. The beautiful woman from the early nightmare visits your mind again, her face inches from yours close to ripping it apart.

"Taehyung," you whispered, but he heard you within the thin walls of the lonely house. "Can you... stay for a sec? I... I had a nightmare earlier... felt so real. C-can you?"

He walks back, eyes landing everywhere except your body that waits for him on the bed. Is she serious? he thought as you opened the blankets for a space behind you.

"Until you fall asleep?"

You nod. He kicks off his shoes and he positions himself behind you, both of your breaths synchronizing as he lies down softly. You bury your cheek into the pillow when you feel his warmth wrap the room, the security coming back. You turn your head to see him watching you inches away, his hand keeping his head up as he rests his cheek against it. You take his free hand that lies on his right side, pulling it to your stomach requesting for him to scoot closer until his body brushes your back.

You can stay like this, for longer than you can imagine. Just the sounds of your breaths and the hums of his loud thumping heart that makes its way to your upper back, the release of breath from his nostrils that flies over your hair. Peaceful. Safe and sound.

In his embrace, you forget everything: the packing for Los Angeles, the fear of not getting into any university, the supernatural that you had discovered that you still cannot comprehend, the clouding fear that something is coming to get you. In his arm, it's like they never existed. The worries are nothing but disappearing sea foams, a water in heat that evaporates into thin air.

You enclose the hold in Taehyung's hand above your stomach, intertwining them for ease. Falling back into his embrace, he subtly moves away hoping you wouldn't notice. His warmth turning into heat, breathing ragged, hold on you tighter and stronger. Then you feel it, a gentle thrust behind you and he pretends to adjust position. He pulls you closer with the hand on your stomach and you sigh which caused a poking at your butt.

You may not be the smartest person on earth, but it doesn't take a book to know what it was. Taehyung murmurs an apology, his words passing by your neck which sends your stomach into a spiral. You rub your thighs together hoping to dissipate the throbbing in your core, not now.

Not now that Taehyung's beside you. Or maybe it should be now that Taehyung's beside you, you were open for a helping hand. His hand over your head tucks a strand of your hair, the finger brushing on your temple made your aching much harder to ignore. There would be no distraction, no having to worry about who will hear the both of you, for God's sake the house was built in the middle of nowhere, so you thought 'Fuck it.'

You tug his hand to the middle of your chest, to rest them between your breasts as your head turns to face him. He gulps, looking at you intently with lust hovering over his hooded eyes. You lean towards him, your lips reaching his and he pulls away for a second before diving back in. He had pillowy lips, and if it weren't for your hot need at the moment you would let your lips sleep on them for a longer while, but as of right now there are a lot of tensions that need handling.

You leave his hand on your chest while he's still shy to grope one of your breasts. Your hand then wrapping the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, he sighs. That sigh caused the aching to grow, shaking your behind to feel how needy he was and he sighs again. His hand that was on your chest now pushes below the curves of your breasts to pull you closer, to have more friction, to thrust into you.

Until he couldn't take it anymore, he wants you below him as much as you want him on top of you. He hovers above you, his knee swift in spreading your thighs open and he is bucking in a steady pace on your clothed entrance.

"Take me, Taehyung," you breathe the second he leaves your lips.

He takes it slow, burning your insides, as his fingers pull the bow on your chest, untying the effortless knot you had made in the mirror. Too slow to keep up with your throbbing heat, you trail his hand to open the loose front, exposing

your nude bra. His eyes are pinned on yours, and you would make quick glances at his moderate hand you're directing. You unclasp the front of your bra, and when he hears it setting on the bed, he kisses you as if asking if you were really sure. Beneath the feverish endless kiss were words of fear from him, what if he wasn't truly ready.

The last time he had experienced this was long ago, a time before he knew how dangerous he could be. Careless of what his hands could bring, when he hadn't given a single thought for any of his actions. Well, it was one time, only once with the first girl he had ever loved. And the first was always the quickest, but it was unforgettable, he had kept every detail of her daisy fresh skin remembered under his fingertips. The laughs they had shared in between, a significance of the innocence they were about to lose. His head loses in doubts, questions that can only be answered if he risks hurting you tonight.

Then you whisper, "It's okay, you're not going to hurt me." Because in your mind, that was the last thing in his abilities. You smile, "It's okay." Rubbing circles at the back of his trembling hand, his jaw clenches.

Once he had started kissing you again, you parted his lips with your tongue in which he had replied with a tender bite causing you to moan within your throat. This motivates him to grope your breast, aggressing as seconds pass by, pulling a nipple in between his fingers and you arch your back. You rest your feet on his back, synchronizing with the movement of his hips. You admire the way his head moves downward, stopping after every inch of your skin to place a soft kiss until he reaches your breasts to which he places a long stripe lick moving from one bud to another while his eyes remain on yours. He's going to be the death of you.

You pant, trying to reach his hips that came to a halt. His hands pushing the hem of your dress higher, stopping at the middle of your waist. And his evil slow hands, still taking his time, move behind your thighs to pull them away from his back and placing them on his shoulders as he gets comfortable right between them. With gaze pierced on yours, he flats his lips on your clothed slit, tracing the wet spot visible in your white underwear. The thought of you being almost naked underneath the dress ever since earlier brought Taehyung into insanity, he could've fucked you with his fingers on the couch, he could've removed them and left your pussy out in the open as he keeps it in his pocket, he could've done so many things if only he knew earlier how much you'd wanted him just the same.

You look at the empty ceiling, too affected by the darkness in his stare, you were scared you would cum too quickly if you remain watching. He pulls your garment upward to put his bare thumb against your clit, until you couldn't take it and you look down again to see him putting the said thumb in his mouth. Sweeter than the cranberry juice he'd been tolerating to drink, adding that to the list he could've done earlier while your panties were in his pocket; enjoying the sweet fervor of your cunt on his tongue. He plays at your clit, tongue curling to lap up the wetness that increases as his spit mixes in. He knows so well what he's doing, the fragile scoop of his bottom lip from your opening to your clit where he stops.

Everywhere around his lips glistens as the bright light from the hallway outside your room shines upon them. His hands still holding your thighs steady, he slips his tongue inside you which has you shaking and he had to adjust the control in his grip. Once they've settled, he puts his touch above your breasts, flicking both buds in each hand.

You were crumbling under him, desperate for release, grunting in a throaty voice as you tried to keep yourself together. Tears huddle in your eyes, blurring your vision until he stops, now smiling above you while he pulls your underwear away from your body. It doesn't take long for him to get naked and you take time to admire his build. His skin was made of honey, toned and reflective of the warmth he emits. His cock slapping his tummy before he could fully get out of his tight boxers, his tip reaching his button.

He returns to his position between your thighs but this time around he was the one to wrap your legs around his waist. His shaft falls between your slit and he makes subtle movements in burying himself between them.

"I just want to say," he began, "how amazing you are." A gravelly moan of your name escapes his lips as you take matters in your own hand, thumb going over the head of his cock while the rest of your fingers rest wraps his cock.

He thrusts into your hand. His face forming wrinkles, frustration painted across his face. Until he falls on both arms caging your head, bucking for more friction, enjoying the suppleness of your touch. He was groaning, panting, and making a mess of himself to which all echoes from one wall to another. You put a hand on his abdomen to break his movement. He obeys, feeling you part yourself for his cock, torturously slow in entering you.

You pull your hands to your sides, getting a hold of Taehyung's biceps. Opening your lids to watch his pupils dilate as he rams the rest of his length inside your beating entrance.

"Y/n," he groans, brow knotting together when you clench around him. He's going to fall apart, he thought. You wrap him tighter, letting go of yourself in ecstasy, careless whether you melt into the bed or break it, all is well as long as you're looking into his eyes.

He chants your name again and again in a symphony of continuous moaning, and all you could say is how good he sounds. A compilation of ah's and oh's whenever he reaches your spot, his head brushing against it and it felt like nothing but heaven. More, he wants more, if only he could fuck you endlessly he would. The bed hits the wall in coordination of his sharp thrusts, and he's losing himself in you he couldn't care less if he breaks the walls. In sync with the sounds he makes were your gasps and high-pitched whispers of his name that he can see himself in the near future thinking of them and fucking himself alone in his room as he recalls them.

"Tae— oh fuck, Taehyung," you cried out causing his cock to twitch inside you, you call out for more. His name and a couple of curses were the only words you could spew out. Trembling, you feel an explosion of euphoria inside you, letting go of the tight grip around Taehyung's arm.

With one last fluid thrust, he pulls himself out and spills himself on top of your stomach. Both of your breathing slows until they were no longer audible. He rolls to his back beside you waiting to cool down and you take care of yourself by wiping his cum away with the tissue from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry, I made a mess," he says, breaking silence.

You didn't reply, instead you lie on your side to face him and wrap his cock in your warm hand. His cock still hard and wet under your touch, he breathes out a long sigh. "I made a mess of you too."

He chuckles before placing one last kiss on your forehead, and you watch him fall into his dreams. You shut the door, thankful Sylvia didn't come home during the circumstances earlier. You make a note not to leave it open next time.

Next time? Were you actually hoping for a next time? It's not long until you're leaving. Forks is not your home. Your home is on the other side of the country, and everything you grew up with awaits there. Forks is not your home, you tell yourself. The night grows along with your need for sleep, falling onto Taehyung's chest and getting lost in a slumber. You wake to Sylvia opening the door, an indication of her coming home, and you fall asleep again.

The next time you wake up, the sun shining alight from the windows to your eyes, Taehyung was sitting at the end of the bed fully clothed. His head turns slightly, feeling the sense of your waking.

"Y/n, there's not just one who wants to kill you," he says but you couldn't make out a single word, "there's a whole coven of them."

a/n: happy new year! pls dont take the bella comment seriously. also team jacob ftw!!! also appreciate my banner work owo.this is my first descriptive smut like i actually write them having sex idk i hope yall like it tho :* i love y’all! 

[daveeddiggsit]

The Plan

WIDEOUT MASTERLIST

Series: WIDEOUT (chpt viii)

Note: Thank you @braidedchallah for proofreading. Reminder — before you kill me — there is one chapter left (and an epilogue). Keep that in mind. Enjoy. Feel free to yell at me afterwards. If you’re reading this, I’m sorry for what you’re about to experience.

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Football Player!Thomas Jefferson x Tutor!Reader

Warnings: angst. possible breakup. perhaps some crying. implied sex (more than once). thom being a perfect boyfriend. thom looking fine af in denim (i’m trash).

Summary: Goodbyes are hard.

Tags: @coololdsoulpoetlove @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @lilangeldevil006 @pana-ce-a @merrahonthawall @katierpblogg @thespianbooks @a-hopeless-fan @uniquelystarchildthedragon @wcreech @sabbrriiinnaa @imperial-martian @harpersmariano @icanneverbesatisfied @underthewillowtreerycb @i-know-i-can @astralaffairs @braidedchallah​ (if i forgot anyone i apologize, just lemme know for next time)

As one of the smartest kids in your graduating class, you have a certain reputation to uphold. Maintaining a perfect 4.0 GPA isn’t easy, which means that you have to choose all the right answers and make all the right decisions. 

As it turns out, you seem to be pretty good at that. Being right about a lot of things, academic or not, seems to come naturally to you. Especially when it comes to a certain curly-haired athlete who also happens to be your boyfriend of over a year.

You had been right when you told him that he would recover from his ankle injury on the night it happened. Well, you can’t be entirely sure of that yet since he’s still not clear to engage in full-action sports, but it’s incredibly clear that he’s well on his way to recovering fully.

Almost exactly seven weeks after the incident, he’d gotten his cast removed and replaced with a boot so that he could put weight on his ankle again. Since then, he’s been in physical therapy almost daily in order to make sure that he’s healing the right way. According to him, he’s progressing well every week and is slowly regaining his mobility, strength, and speed. Just two weeks ago he ditched the boot so that he could finally put on a pair of shoes; you remember the grin on his face when he gave you a little dance to show off the new kicks he’d gotten as celebration.

He’s not 100% healthy yet, and he certainly won’t be back on the field (or track) for another couple months until he’s clear to practice, but you’re proud that he’s been able to recover as much as he has in relatively so little time.

On the night of his injury, you’d also been right about another thing: the fact that Thomas would receive college offers.

And that’s what you’re celebrating today.

After weeks and weeks of advocating for himself and sending his player reel and personal letters to the head coaches of schools he wanted to attend, he finally got an offer from one of his top college choices: the University of Virginia.

While their football team isn’t the most notable in the nation, their program is one of the best in the state of Virginia at a Division I level, and that’s pretty much all Thomas wants. After he recovers fully, Thomas will make an excellent asset to the team since one of their starting wide receivers is entering the NFL Draft after this year. 

At UVA, Thomas would get the play time he needs to shine and show his true colors and talent as a wide receiver all while having a coaching staff there to support him and his every need. Their academic program for liberal arts is also something Thomas has been looking at in a school since he plans on majoring in English.

With all of that said, the Jefferson household decides to host a special dinner for their son in celebration of the wonderful news. 

And while under normal circumstances, you would feel happy and excited for your boyfriend and his amazing accomplishment, instead you have a voice that lingers in the back of your mind reminding you of the similar news you had received just a week prior.

Thomas isn’t the only one with a huge scholarship offer.

After applying to many different schools with somewhat notable engineering programs in-state (because let’s be real, out-of-state tuition is absurdly expensive), you’ve received only a few grants from NYU and Syracuse University, but it isn’t enough to cover all of tuition.

But when you’d received an email last week from the one out-of-state school you had applied to last minute, your heart had just about dropped from your chest.

UCLA is offering you a full-ride.

You should be happy that you have an incredible offer. You should be elated for Thomas with his scholarship offer, too. However, you can’t help but feel a looming sense of stress every time you think about telling him.

That’s why you haven’t told him yet; it’s been nine days.

“Y/N?”

Thomas’ voice snaps you out of your thoughts and suddenly you are brought back to reality. You’re dressed up and sitting at the dinner table with Thomas across from his parents. The menu of the night consists of a couple different French dishes that his mother had learned to make a few years back when they visited Paris for an entire summer. His mother’s rendition of the food is nothing short of amazing.

Your eyes meet the warm brown ones that belong to your boyfriend as you turn your head to glance at him next to you. “Hmm?”

”You didn’t hear anythin’ I said, did you?” Thomas chuckles, biting his lip as he watches you put on a guilty simper.

“No, sorry.” You breathe out a small laugh in order to cover up your underlying nervousness. “I zoned out for a minute there. What were you saying?” 

“Well, I’m arguin’ a case here. Technically, a hot dog — a piece of meat held together by two pieces of bread - is a sandwich, right? In simple terms and by definition this should be true, so don’t overthink it. My dad keeps saying it’s not, but please, Y/N, you gotta side with me this time.”

You take a breath in and click your tongue. “I don’t know, Peter, I think I gotta go with Thom on this one.”

“Yes!” Thomas celebrates, throwing his arms up dramatically. “I told you!”

Mr. Jefferson’s mouth drops at your response. “How dare you take his side. Did all those other times teaming up at dinner and making fun of him mean nothing to you?”

If it hadn’t been evident prior to this moment where Thomas gets his overdramatics from, then it’s certainly clear now.

“Case closed.” Thomas smirks, crossing his arms, proud of himself.

“What are you talking about? The case is far from closed.” His father retorts, splaying his arms out, causing Thomas’ mom to speak out. 

“Hey, calm down, you two. You’re gonna make a mess if you keep on bangin’ the table like that.” She chastises them. They both mutter their apologies before Thomas’ father continues on defending himself.

“Y/N, why’d you choose his side? You know I’m right. Don’t let that boy guilt trip you; he’s still gonna love you if you disagree with him.”

“Sorry, Peter.” You shrug, sneaking a glance at Thomas who’s watching you with a glint in his eyes. “As much as I don’t want to agree with your son on this one, I unfortunately do.”

Thomas pauses to narrow his eyes as you in puzzled manor. “‘Unfortunately?’ Your words wound me, sweetheart, really.” He says in a teasing tone before his smile turns smug as he directs his attention towards his father. “But you see, Dad? It’s 2 against 1. ‘M sorry to say, but your opinion is overruled.”

Mr. Jefferson waves his son off dismissively. “That’s horseshit; your mother hasn’t sided with anyone yet. We still have one more vote to count.”

“Language, Peter.” The woman in question warns, giving him a look that’s only half serious.

“Well, honey? You agree with me, don’t you?” Peter asks his wife with pleading eyes, causing her to roll hers.

“Sure, sweetie.”

You shake your head and smile, leaning back in your chair to watch the antics unfold.

“What? Ma, why you takin’ his side?” Thomas jumps in. “I’m supposed to be your favorite, you know.”

“Of course you’re my favorite; you’re my only child, Thomas.” His mother deadpans, causing Thomas to frown.

It’s Peter’s turn now to smirk at Thomas and you. “See? Now we’re tied. Opinion very much not overruled, thank you.”

“Wait, what was your side of the argument again?” Mrs. Jefferson asks her husband. “You said a hot dog is a sandwich, right?”

“No, that’s what I said.” Thomas interjects.

“Oh, well then I agree with Thomas.”

“Ha!” Your boyfriend exclaims, pointing at his dad. “I told you! Your opinion is not valid. Hot dogs are sandwiches. End of story.”

“They are not sandwiches! They are a different entity. How can you compare a ham and cheese to a weiner between two buns? Well I’ll tell you. You can’t!”

“For the last time, Dad. It’s a piece of meat in between two pieces of bread. That is classified as what? A sandwich!”

“With that logic, you’d say that a burger is a sandwich, too?”

“Yup.”

“There is somethin’ wrong with y’all.” Peter shakes his head, picking at the leftover food on his plate. “I thought I raised you better, T. Y/N, I expected you to take my side on this one.”

“Sorry, Mr. J.” You shrug. “Tommy’s right. A piece of meat in between two pieces of bread does indeed technically classify it as a sandwich.”

“Y’all got me thinkin’ that I’m the crazy one now.” Peter sighs defeatedly.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that nonsense.” Thomas’ mother chuckles, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “Thomas, honey, your father and I are very proud of you and are excited for your opportunity at UVA.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Thomas grins. “I’m excited, too.”

Under the table, Thomas’ hand finds yours and laces your fingers together. Its warmth is comforting and the small moment makes you forget about everything for just a moment. A small silence stretches on for a bit before Peter speaks up.

“So, Y/N, how are your college applications going? Have you gotten any scholarships yet? I feel like you’re too smart to not get anything.”

Your stomach drops at the question. You really hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this, and while it is a simple question that you should be able to answer quickly… you don’t. You hesitate and Thomas notices. 

You want to tell the truth, you really do, but you can’t. This is Thomas’ night to celebrate and the last thing you want to do is mess it up with news that you’d be going to school across the country. Tonight is supposed to be about him, not you.

So you lie.

“Oh, um, no, not yet.” You chuckle nervously. The hand holding Thomas’ fidgets slightly and he squeezes lightly to try and help calm your nerves. “I mean, I’ve gotten into NYU and Syracuse so far. Still waiting to hear from Columbia. I haven’t heard much as far as scholarships, though, unfortunately. I’ve received a few grants here and there, but nothing too big.”

“Columbia, wow. What’s their acceptance rate? 10%?” Mrs. Jefferson asks, seemingly interested.

“6%.” Thomas jumps in to answer before glancing at you with a small smile. “I don’t think Y/N will have any trouble getting in, though.”

You send him the biggest smile you can muster, though you feel like it sort of comes out as a grimace. “Thanks, T.” You say softly.

Beat.

“What time is it? I think it’s past my bedtime.” Peter yawns, checking his watch. “10 o’clock? Where did the time go? Y/N, are you going to be okay driving home this late?”

“It’s not that late, Mr. Jefferson. I should be fine.” You’ve definitely driven home from Thomas’ place past 10pm before (multiple times), but you’re not telling him that. “I do think I should probably leave soon, though.”

“You wanna go get your things upstairs, then I can walk you out?” Thomas asks you with a mischievous look in his eye. Knowing him, he probably just wants to get you alone for a bit before you leave. Even through your nervousness to tell him the truth, you can’t deny his charm.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Tommy.”

Then, both you and Thomas excuse yourselves from the table. You make sure to thank Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson for dinner and the invite. You’re always honored to be included in their family events even if it’s something as small as dinner on a Friday night.

When you make it up to Thomas’ room, he doesn’t waste another moment before he kisses you softly, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek after he gently shuts the door.

“Been waitin’ to do that all night.” He grins afterwards, softly brushing over the skin of your cheek with his thumb.

You smile as you bring your hands up to his shoulders, wordlessly leaning forward to sweetly press your lips to his again.

“Missed you.” He mumbles as he pulls away to lean his forehead against yours. “Feel like we haven’t been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

He’s right. With both of you not having any classes together this year, you both worried about college applications, Thomas not in football season anymore and in and out of PT almost constantly, you two haven’t been seeing each other as much as you’d like. Another reason why you haven’t been able to tell Thomas about UCLA (aside from the fact that you simply don’t have the guts to do it).

“I know.” You sigh, looking off to the side for a second. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S not your fault. We’ve both been busy.”

“Yeah, but still.” You say softly. “Feels bad. I miss you.”

He chuckles. “Well, I’m right here, baby. Don’t need to go far.”

You smile haphazardly and roll your eyes as you bring your hand up to the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss. Who knows how many more of these you’ll get before you both graduate and have to go your separate ways.

Before it can go too far, you pull away again.

“T?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m so proud of you.” You say genuinely because you really want him to know. You feel like you don’t tell him enough (even though that’s not the case).  “Really, I am. You deserve that scholarship and so much more.”

“Thanks, love.” He murmurs while a soft smile adorns his face. “Hey, if none of these in-state schools give you anything, I think you’d have a good chance at getting something at UVA. They have an honors college that gives up a ton of grants and shit, you should look into it. I’m not sure if the applications are still open, but worth a try.”

You purse your lips before you give him your response. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“I’m sure you’ll get something anyway, but just wanted to bring that up and let you know.”

“Appreciate the thought, Thom.”

Thomas grins, giving you one last peck on the lips before finally turning away to remove his overcoat. He double takes when he sees your face drop slightly. His eyebrows furrow as he notices your mood shift. “Hey, what’s wrong? Somethin’ botherin’ you? Not gonna lie, you’ve been a little off all night, sweetheart...”

You hesitate, not able to look him in the eye, the guilt eating you alive. The pressure of holding everything in is building up and while Thomas is normally your rock, the one you can go to for anything, you can’t this time, and you can feel it wearing you down.

You take in a shaky deep breath before you go to sit down on his bed, eyes cast towards the ground. “I’m okay, T, I’m just… stressed. With school.” You say, finally willing yourself to look up into his caring gaze. It hurts to lie to him, but you keep telling yourself that it’s his night.

“You sure?” He asks, taking a seat next to you to gently grab your hand in his. “Seriously, baby, I know when somethin’s up. What’s on that brilliant mind of yours, huh?” He lightly bumps his shoulder against yours in a teasing gesture, causing you to let out a half-hearted chuckle. He always knows how to get a laugh out of you, doesn’t he? “I know you’re worried about more than that stats test you have next week. Tell me what’s really botherin’ you.” He says softly, catching your gaze again.

Sighing once more, you tear your eyes away from his pleading ones. “I um…” You trail off after trying and failing to come up with another lie or excuse. 

Thomas always draws your worries and frustrations out of you; he knows you so well to the point where he knows exactly what to say to convince you to tell him something. Honesty has never been a problem in your relationship, and the last thing you want is to push it to a point of no return. You already feel terrible for withholding the truth; you want to be free from this secret you’ve been holding.

And suddenly seven words echo in your head:

“Tell him. He’ll understand. He loves you.”

Your eyes flit back up to meet his concerned gaze. Here it goes.

“I did get a scholarship. All tuition and expenses paid. I got the email a week and a half ago and I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes widen at the confession, taken aback by how big the news is.

“Holy shit, Y/N, that’s… that’s amazing, baby. I’m so proud of you. Not surprised, but proud nonetheless.” He says genuinely, a smile evident on his face before it drops slightly. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?” There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Wait, why’d you lie at dinner when my dad asked?”

You give him a sad smile before you look away again, fidgeting with your fingers on the hand that Thomas isn’t holding. “I didn’t want to take over your night, T. And I didn’t tell you when I found out because… the school’s in Cali.” You say, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

He cocks his head to the side slightly, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you only applied to schools in-state.”

You shake your head, pursing your lips before you respond. “That’s what I had planned originally, but my advisor pushed me to apply for this scholarship program at UCLA and… well, I got in.”

Thomas goes silent for a few moments as he looks off to the side, breathing deeply. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling. Then, he lets out a low whistle. “Full-ride to UCLA, huh?” He says softly before he turns to look at you. 

“Thomas…” You start, your voice soft and full of worry, but he continues to talk.

“Are you going to accept it?” He asks and you nod slowly. 

Ideally, you have no other real choice; by going to UCLA you’d graduate with zero debt. And with UCLA’s engineering program and opportunities that other schools can’t fulfill, it fills all the boxes you want in a university.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Really. I’m glad they recognize how amazing you are.” The tone in Thomas’ voice is fond and he’s absolutely sure of the words he’s saying. “It’s far away, I know, but we can make it work.” 

The emotions in his eyes are conflicting, but they still hold unrelenting love and support in them. When you hesitate to respond, his eyes search yours, trying to find some sort of answer in them, but before he can decipher anything, you tear your gaze from his.

“Right?” He asks as his grip on your palm loosens until your hand falls back into your lap, the warmth from Thomas’ fingers completely vanished. “Baby, talk to me. Please.”

“Thom, I… I want to think that but I’m not sure.” You admit quietly, and having said that, you can see something in Thomas’ composure crumble.

He shakes his head. “Nah, don’t you say that. We can make this work, Y/N.” His voice wavers slightly as he stands up and runs a hand over his curls, smoothing them back and away from his face. “I haven’t accepted the offer at UVA. I can decline and apply to UCLA—”

“T, I’m not going to ask you to do that—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to ask me, love. I’m willing to do this all on my own. Like I said, we can make this work. I’ll improvise. My parents can afford it, then I can just join the football team as a walk-on. I’m confident I’ll make it. Since they didn’t give me an offer I’ll prove them wrong and be the best damn walk-on they ever had.”

“Thomas, don’t—”

“I can also have my dad send the head coach a letter. I didn’t wanna pull that for any other schools because I wanted to earn all my offers — and because of the whole nepotism thing — but I’ll make an exception for—”

“Thomas, please!” You raise your voice and when he finally stops, you immediately regret it. You’ve never raised your voice like that with him before and doing so right now feels terrible. 

“Please, T, just stop. I don’t want you to do any of that for me. How long have you been waiting for UVA to give you a chance? How many letters have you personally written to Coach Michaels, begging him to consider you for one of their open receiver positions?”

Thomas is silent as you speak, knowing full well that you have a point. You continue.

“You’ve been set on UVA as your top school for a couple months now. Don’t forget how hyped you were when you finally got the offer this morning. And now you want to just throw that away? No. I’m sorry, Thom, but I am not going to be the one to take it away from you.”

“You’re not.” He says earnestly. “Taking it away from me, I mean. I want to do this for you. For us. UCLA has a good football program, too, all I have to do is pull some strings if you’ll let me.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay, well I’m not letting you do that. Thomas, it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. Think about this, okay? Think about yourself and your football career and all the opportunities that you’ll have for yourself down in Virginia. Don’t let me get in the way of that! I don’t want each of us to be an obstacle in each other’s successes.”

Thomas gives you an incredulous look and stills himself. “Are you serious? Is that what you consider our relationship? An obstacle?”

You look away, sighing. “No, T, I… I didn’t mean it like that, you know that.”

“No, Y/N. I don’t know that.” He looks at you with a distressed gaze, all traces of comfort and playfulness gone and replaced with hurt… caused by you — something you never would have thought you’d see in his eyes. 

“Look, I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Today’s supposed to be your day.”

“Let me get one thing straight, Y/N. Our relationship is not an obstacle… it never has been and it never will be.” Thomas says coldly and you cringe when he calls you by your full name in a tone that’s less than friendly.

“I just don’t want our love for each other to get in the way of…” You trail off, but decide against speaking mid-sentence. “You know what, nevermind.”

“Get in the way of what?”

“Thomas,” you start, making eye contact with him once again. “I don’t want to get in the way of your football career. It’s unfair; I can’t do that to you, T. You deserve to make the most of your career in college so that you can make it to the NFL. That’s your dream, right? To play in the NFL for the New York Giants like your father did. Am I right?”

His jaw clenches slightly as he nods, and you continue.

“The coach at UVA believes in you — even through your injury. Why are you going to throw that away? In order to be with your high school girlfriend? Do you see how childish that sounds?” A beat of silence passes before you continue in a softer tone. 

“I just… I don’t want you to do that, Thomas, it’s too big of a risk. You have a solid spot at UVA to prove yourself on the field. If you drop that for a walk-on position at UCLA, it’ll be a mistake. Instead of proving yourself to NFL recruiters, you’ll be set on proving yourself to college coaches just to get a chance on the field. I want you to have the best chances at making it to the NFL.” Now it’s your turn to stand up. You pace away from him as you continue to speak. 

“Let’s say you do follow me to UCLA and join the football program. What if… what if something happens while we’re in college and we’re not together anymore? What will happen? You’d have potentially messed up your career for me and I don’t want that to happen, T. I’m sorry but I won’t let that happen.”

Thomas holds a hand up to stop you from your ramblings. He speaks his next words slowly.  “Wait, wait, hold on now. You think we’re going to break up in college?”

You roll your eyes in frustration, crossing your arms defensively. “That’s not what I said—”

“No, no that’s exactly what you said.” He responds coldly, narrowing his eyes at you. “I’m starting to question our intentions in this relationship, Y/N. Did you ever plan on us being long term?”

“See, this is why I didn’t wanna tell you. I didn’t want this to happen.” You say, annoyed that it’s gotten to this point of you two having an argument.

“You just gonna ignore my question?”

“Before applying to schools, T, I wasn’t even thinking about the future. I was taking things day by day. We were both pent up in our little perfect world, but right now we need to face reality.”

“Okay, so then why’d you keep this a secret from me? Were you plannin’ on keepin’ this to yourself until graduation? I don’t know if you knew this, sweetheart, but a relationship is a two-way street and involves a little somethin’ called communication.” His snarky tone fills the room and has you rolling your eyes again. “Girlfriends aren’t supposed to lie to their boyfriends and then get mad at him for reacting a certain way when she finally decides to tell him huge news.”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” You say, breathing out another sigh and softening up at his last sentence. He’s right; you shouldn’t have kept it a secret. “I wanted to tell you, I just, I don’t know what’s gonna happen after we graduate, okay? And I’m scared.”

“You don’t think we can work through that together? As a team?” Thomas’ eyes are begging you to reason with him. “I’m scared, too, but we’ll figure something out. Right?”

The look in your eyes is distant as you cast them down to the ground. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we could do a long distance thing. I’ve seen other couples do it.”

You fiddle with a loose thread on your sweater. “I don’t know, T. We’ll see if we can come up with something.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a hot-tempered laugh. “Okay.” He says shortly.

“What?”

“So you don’t want me to drop everything and go to UCLA with you, which is fine. I understand that. But now you’re telling me that you don’t wanna do long distance?”

“I didn’t say that, I just— we need to be realistic, Thom.”

“What does that even mean?!” He yells, and it’s the first time he’s ever raised his voice at you. You hate it.

“We have to keep the future in mind!”

“I want you in my future! Don’t you want me in your future?”

“We both have different ideas of what we want. Different dreams, okay? You can’t have your dream of making it to the NFL and also have me when I plan on going to an engineering program across the country!” 

You’re deflecting and he knows it.

“Answer the damn question, Y/N.” He says lowly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Of course I want you in my future, Thomas!” You say exasperatedly, looking at the ceiling. “What kind of question is that?”

“Forgive me if I’m strugglin’ to believe that when you’re actin’ like this.” He says, his voice taking a more neutral tone, but he sounds exhausted. “You’re going to school across the country and you were hesitant to tell me - fine. I fucking get it. But you can’t just say that we’ll probably break up in college and think that that is fucking okay. It’s not! And you can’t say ‘I don’t know’ about dating long distance when that’s literally the only other option we have.”

“That’s the thing, Thomas. I don’t know if that’s the only other option we have.”

His face looks puzzled as he looks at you for a few seconds before realization finally settles in. Thomas narrows his eyes at you once again, his gaze cold, making your heart drop in your chest. “You wanna break up, don’t you?”

“No.” You state, choosing your words carefully. “I don’t want to. But we have to think about—”

“Our future, yeah. I get it.” Thomas snaps, cutting you off. “You know what? You want to talk about the future? Fine. Maybe we should.” He says simply, crossing his arms. “If you think we’re just going to break up in college anyway, maybe we should just speed up the process and get it over with.”

You shake your head at him. “Thomas, don’t do this. That’s not what I want.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s not.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe.”

“I’m done arguing with you, Jefferson.” You breathe out tiredly, running a hand through your hair.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks completely drained as he speaks again, his voice now calm. “What are we doing here, Y/N?”

A small silence fills the air before you answer quietly. “I don’t know, T.”

What are you both doing? Arguing about whether or not your relationship should continue after high school? Maybe you are being a little irrational about it, implying that you should break up before college and all. Thomas’ reaction to it all is understandable because he doesn’t want to lose you. However, he needs to be truthful to himself. Is this relationship going to work when the two of you are seeking entirely different career paths on opposite coasts?

What a fucking mess.

You hate that it’s gotten to this point. Your fear about telling Thomas and it going downhill has come true, and knowing that makes you even more emotional.

“Tommy… I…” You say sotto voce, on the edge of tears as you slowly reach for him, but he puts a hand up stopping you from moving any further. He turns his face so you can’t see his expression.

“Don’t, Y/N.” Thomas’ voice is firm, but it breaks slightly when he says your name. “Just don’t.” He whispers.

You watch him and he struggles to keep himself together. You hate that you’ve done this to him, that you’re making him feel this way… you hate that you’ve caused this.

“I’m gonna go…” You voice (barely above a whisper) after a long silent pause, not trusting your normal voice due to the shaky deep breaths that begin to rack your body. You’re on the verge of breaking down.

Thomas nods. “I think you should.”

And that breaks your heart.

You feel weird leaving like this, gross even. You don’t want to leave things off like they are. You don’t want to leave things unresolved and you don’t want to leave with Thomas still angry at you. Still, though, you grab all your things and head to the doorway of his room.

Pausing to look back at him, you open your mouth to say something, but hesitate. Deciding against it, you turn to open the door and leave without another word.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

You call Maria as soon as you get to your car. She helps you keep your composure as you drive to her house, keeping you company via phone. You make sure to send your family a quick text of your whereabouts and that you plan to spend the night at Maria’s place.

As soon as you arrive in her bedroom and drop your bag to the ground, you break down and begin to sob, crashing into the welcoming arms of your best friend. You cry until you can’t anymore, and Maria is there for you the entire time hugging you and easing you through it.

She stays there, quiet and still, allowing you to let out all of your emotions. You don’t tell her the details about what happened until after you have no tears left to cry.

“Don’t be mad at T, please, none of this is his fault.” You sniffle, wiping at your nose with a tissue Maria gave you. “It’s all mine.”

“Y/N, don’t blame yourself for all this. You just want what’s best for the both of you in the long run. If he doesn’t understand that, then he’s just not seeing the whole picture.”

“I just hate arguing with him, Maria.” You say weakly, wiping at your face to dry your tears. “This is our first fight and I hate how I feel right now. I don’t want things to end on bad terms. How am I supposed to get over this feeling once we… if we break up before college?”

“You don’t have to end things on bad terms, Y/N.” Maria says softly. “You both need to be on the same page about this. If you both make a plan and sort things out, then maybe you can leave things on a positive note. Not as a goodbye, but as a see you later, you know? And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. You’ll meet again one day and you can pick up where you left off. But if it’s not, then at least you guys can cherish what you had when you were just two kids in high school who didn’t know any better and made the most of their teenage years.”

You nod slowly. She does have a point, and this is all what you were thinking when you had even brought up the thought of breaking up after graduation.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“It’s my best friend superpower. I can’t help it.” She shrugs, making you laugh, even if it was only a half-hearted one. “Seriously, though. You two need to have an honest conversation with one another.”

You sigh, wiping the rest of your drying tears away with the tissue. “I think we both could use some space right now, though. I’m going to wait until Monday.”

Maria nods. “Monday. But you have to talk to him. You can’t chicken out. I know you, Y/N.”

“Sometimes a little too well…”

“All for the best.” She grins.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

After a long and lonely weekend, Monday finally comes and you make sure to wake up earlier than usual in order to make it to school in time for when Thomas comes out of his physical therapy session with his track trainer.

You haven’t called, texted, or seen each other since Friday night and the guilt and heaviness from what happened still weighs on your chest despite the reassuring words from Maria. 

Patiently and nervously, you wait outside the boys’ locker room like you have countless times before, only this time, things feel much different. The anticipation lingers in the air surrounding you and you feel the stress push at your shoulders until the door finally opens and Thomas walks out.

After over a year of dating, you still get butterflies at the sight of him even though he’s just wearing simple black jeans and a t-shirt.

As he shrugs on his jean jacket and backpack, he glances up through a few stray curls that fall down in front of his eyes. His eyes flicker to you as he walks in your direction before he rips them away quickly. 

“T, hey how was…?” You try to speak to him, but he just continues to walk past you.

You watch him as he goes on like nothing, completely disregarding your presence.

“You’re still mad…” You trail off, falling into step with him and his pace doesn’t falter.

He doesn’t say a word.

“Listen, I know you probably don’t wanna see me right now, but please hear me out.”

Still nothing.

You know he’s still upset; he only gets quiet when he has a lot on his mind or he’s going through something. Taking in a deep breath, you speed up so that you can get in front of him.

“Thomas, hey, stop.” You say, putting a hand on his chest. You know that if he really wants to charge past you he can, but instead he stays there, halted by your touch. He looks down at you, his face nearing yours, and your eyes plead with his. “Please.” You whisper, your fingers curling into his black shirt to hold him there (or maybe it’s more of a way to ground yourself).

Thomas’ detached gaze lingers on your face and as your eyes search his, you note just how devoid of energy he looks. 

“I just want to talk. I…” You watch him as he breaks your gaze to look at the ground. “I know I fucked up; I said some things I shouldn’t have. Just please let me make it up to you. I need you, T. I want to fix this while we still can.”

You sneak a glance around you to see that you’ve attracted some attention from your fellow classmates who are unapologetically staring. Do they know about you and Thomas’ fight? How could they possibly know? You two are hardly making a scene, but then again… people are vultures who will perk up at even the slightest bit of drama.

“Can we go somewhere private? Please? Just the two of us.”

Thomas licks his lips as he looks around, then back at you lazily. “Can this wait? We have class in six minutes, you know.”

“Let’s skip.” You say, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “This is more important than class today, okay? How about we go to that diner down the street?”

“It’s a little too early for a milkshake and fries, isn’t it?”

“They have eggs and waffles, too.” You say, your eyes pleading him to accept your offer. “Please? I know you love breakfast.”

He’s quiet for a few more minutes and you wait in anticipation for his answer. Just when you get your hopes down and think he’s going to reject you, he speaks up.

“Okay.” He responds finally. “But only because I really don’t want to watch boring presentations about the social cognitive theory in my Psych class…”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “That’s good enough for me, T.”

“Bribin’ me with breakfast. You know that shit’s my weakness…” He mutters under his breath as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if he’d meant for you to hear that, but either way it makes a hint of a grin form on your lips.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When you get to the diner, it’s fairly empty except for an elderly couple at a booth and a man at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. The smell of eggs and bacon wafts through the air and enters your nostrils as you breathe in.

A waitress greets you when you two slide into a booth, sitting across from each other. She hands you both menus and gets your drink orders before she’s off.

Silence fills the air between you as you both look over your menus. Thomas doesn’t say anything and it feels weird, suddenly reminding you of why you’re here in the first place. While from an outside perspective it may look like a normal outing between you two, you can feel the lingering tension in the air that’s leftover from Friday night. Unspoken feelings and unresolved problems still remain. 

You sneak a glance at him over your menu only to find him already staring back at you. As soon as your eyes meet, he looks away.

“I feel really bad about Friday.” You finally break the silence, your voice small. Wanting nothing more than to let him know how you feel, you try to catch his gaze. When his brown eyes finally meet yours, you continue. “I hate the way we left things…”

“Me too.” He finally says softly. You two stare at each other for a few more seconds and Thomas opens his mouth to continue. “I…”

Then, the waitress comes back with a couple water cups and two black coffees, interrupting whatever it was that Thomas was about to say. You and Thomas direct your attention to her with fake smiles as she asks for your orders. 

After she takes your menus and leaves, you let out a sigh as you look down at your fidgeting hands.

“Listen, T…” You begin, regret and guilt evident in your voice. You make sure to look up and meet his gaze one more time before you continue. “I'm sorry for lying to you and your family — I should have told you the day I found out, but I was too afraid of losing what we have. And I'm sorry for fucking up your day when we were supposed to be celebrating instead.” 

You stop to take in a shaky deep breath, looking down at your hands once again. “I’m so sorry if I made it seem like I was doubting our relationship or… or if I made you feel like I didn’t… like you weren’t…” Struggling to find the right way to express how sorry you are, your tone gets more and more emotional as you stumble over your words.

Thomas saves you from your struggle, however, as his hand reaches across the table to cover yours, causing you to look up at him with surprise. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“What?” You voice breathlessly. “I… I thought you were still mad. It shouldn’t be that easy. Why are you…?”

He shrugs slowly. “Because you’re not entirely at fault… and as much as I want to stay angry, I can’t stand seein’ you in distress like this.”

You purse your lips and squeeze his hand in yours. “I’m still really sorry, T. I want you to know that. I said some things I regret and…”

“I know you are. Especially after seeing you try to fix things today by not takin’ no for an answer earlier. We both said some things we regret and it’s okay, Y/N. Really.” His voice is soft as he responds. “I’m sorry for yellin’ and not fully listenin’ to what you were sayin’. And for bein’ kind of a dick to you earlier when I ignored you. I was in denial. I just felt like you were givin’ up on us too quickly and I… I don’t wanna mess up what we have. I really don’t.”

Your eyes soften at his words. “I know. Me neither.”

You both are quiet for a few seconds as you both struggle to find a way to address the elephant in the room. 

Luckily, you both get interrupted by the waitress again who comes back with your orders. You let go of each other’s hand when your plates are placed in front of you. Your mouth waters at the sight of your food, and you thank your waitress before she leaves again, telling you to let her know if you need anything else.

A comfortable silence falls in the space between you and Thomas, and though you feel that the tension from Friday night has now dissipated, the stress of the upcoming conversation still sits on your shoulders.

Surprisingly, Thomas is the one who initiates it.

“So…” He starts after chasing a mouthful of pancakes with a sip of water. “I’m guessin’ you won’t be comin’ back to town on holiday breaks?”

You cringe at the bluntness of the question. “What made you assume that?”

He shrugs, chewing his food before swallowing. “Just the way you were so helpless with your options. Thinking back to it, I figure that you probably wouldn’t have jumped to the possibility of breaking up unless you’d already thought things through somewhat.”

Very observant of him.

You nod before letting out a small sigh. “Yeah. My family’s planning on moving to Miami once I move out. Apparently they’re tired of the cold weather and wanted to wait to move until I graduated high school. They let me know when I told them the news.”

“Erik, too?”

“He’s staying in Philly until he graduates next Spring.”

“Well, that sucks.” He says, picking at the leftovers on his plate.

“Yeah.” You reply softly. “I just… I don’t know what to do anymore, Thomas. I thought the answer was clear, but now I’m not so sure.”

He sighs, putting his fork down before looking up at you. “I think I do.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you tilt your head in confusion.

Thom sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Well, for starters, you’re always right, let me just put that out there.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Well, for this instance, at least.” He says simply before he continues. “As much as I hate to say it, I don’t think we’ve got options here.”

“Yes we do, you said it yourself, T.”

“We don’t, Y/N, you were right. I didn’t wanna believe it before but now, I don’t think I have a choice.” He says, holding your gaze firmly. “The two of us going to the same school is out of the picture. Especially with application deadlines already being passed - I checked and I don’t know what I was thinking on Friday. And with us not going to be able to see each other even on holiday breaks… I don’t think that leaves anythin’ else on the table.”

“Thomas, really, you don’t have to do this. Don’t let me pressure you into something you don’t wanna do. Like you said, a relationship’s a two way street. We can work something out. I don’t know what, but we’ll try something else.”

“You’re not pressuring me, Y/N. What would that ‘something else’ be? Long distance? The chances of us visiting each other are slim, especially since I’ll be stuck at UVA for the majority of summer break for training camp. Especially since you’ll be in California and especially since you have no incentive to come back to town after you graduate.”

“You’re my incentive, T.”

He licks his lips and lets out a small laugh. “Baby, don’t fight me on this; you wanted this. Why the shift?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You say, voice quiet and close to tears.

Thomas reaches out across the table for your hand again. You lace your fingers with his and hold tightly. “I know. I don’t want to lose you either, but you were right, sweetheart. Seeing each other once a year isn’t good enough, let’s be real. I think we’d be hurting more than we'd be happy.”

You let out a long, deep sigh, squeezing his hand. He’s absolutely right and you knew this when you started this conversation on Friday — doesn’t mean that you don’t want to avoid it, though.

“We… we should…” He hesitates to continue the sentence. “We— God, why is this so hard?”

“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to, T.”

He takes a deep breath before the words finally come out. “We should break up. This summer.”

It sounds foreign coming out of his mouth and his change in viewpoint surprises you still, even after talking it through with him.

“I don’t wanna be your shackle, Y/N.” He says, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I want you to do great things without worryin’ about me. Just like you were sayin’ on Friday. And I don’t wanna risk getting to a point where we grow too distant we lose all hope.”

Your eyes tear up a little bit and you reach up to wipe at your eyes with your free hand.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you off easy, missy.” Thomas looks at you pointedly, his voice wavering slightly. He lets out a small bittersweet laugh before he continues. “I’m gonna consider this more of a ‘see you later’ than a ‘goodbye forever’ kinda thing. At some point, I don’t know or care when, we’ll continue where we left off. Mark my words.”

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. You’ve definitely heard those words before. “Have you been talking to Maria lately?”

He gives you a confused look. “No, not since we went on that double date with her and Ellie like two weeks ago, why?”

“She said a similar thing to me when I vented to her this weekend.”

“Really? Oh. I thought I was clever for that one.”

“You were.” You smile, rubbing small circles on the top of his hand.

A comfortable silence settles. The waitress comes back with the check and you give her your card against Thomas’ protests. It’s not long before she comes back and wishes that you both have a good rest of your day.

“This is gonna fucking suck.” Thomas suddenly says bluntly.

“Yeah, it is.” You sigh. “But you know what? We’re gonna make the most of the next three months. We’ll laugh together, we’ll cry together, we’ll enjoy the good times, and when the time comes… we won’t look back. Then, maybe one day, when I’m an engineer and you’re in the NFL… we’ll meet again.”

He sends you a watery smile, giving your hand a small squeeze. “I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.”

You reciprocate his smile as a small silence stretches in between you two.

Thomas’ eyes fall onto his untouched (and probably now cold) coffee and with his free hand he reaches for the cream. You take that as a sign to let his hand go to let him tend to his glorified bean water, but as you try to withdraw your fingers from his, he just holds on tighter.

“Um, excuse me? What do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, glancing at you like you just committed a sin. 

“Don’t you need to pour creamer?” You raise an eyebrow, wondering what the big deal is. “I don’t want you to spill it.”

“Girl, I can pour creamer with one hand, thank you very much.” And there’s the Thomas you know and love, not that he was ever absent in the first place, but it’s good to see him messing around again. “Let me hold your hand in peace because God knows how many more times I’ll get to do it. I gotta savor it.”

“Stoppp.” You whine, drawing the word out. “This is how you’re gonna act until graduation, isn’t it?”

“You complainin’, sweetheart?” He fake pouts as he carefully pours the cream in his coffee and stirs with a spoon. “I thought you loved me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I love your dramatic ass.”

“Mhm. In more ways than one.” Thomas hums before he takes a sip of his coffee. He cringes when he realizes it’s cold and you laugh at his reaction.

“Ready to go yet?” You ask, amused.

He nods. “We’re not going back to class, though, are we? Because if that’s the case, then no.”

“What? Hell no. Who do you think I am?” You say as you both mutually let go of each other’s hand to get up from the booth.

“A goody-two-shoes, that’s what you are. Really, baby, I didn’t expect you to mention skipping class. That’s like… blasphemy for you.”

You shrug as he holds the front door open for you. “Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

Thomas gives you a suggestive look and that causes you to smack his arm. “God, Thomas, not like that. Jesus.”

He lets out a full-bodied laugh as you approach your car and he grabs you by the waist as he leans back against the driver’s door. He presses a kiss to your forehead, hugging you close to him. “Just messin’.”

You roll your eyes before you pull back to look him up and down.

“When’d you get this jacket? Haven’t seen you in it before.” You muse, bringing your hands up to grab the denim on each side of his collar.

“A week ago? Maybe two? This is my first time wearing it, though.” He answers before he smirks. “Why? You like it?”

“Yeah, you look good in denim.”

“Do I, now?” He cocks his head slightly, amused as your face drifts closer.

“Mhm. The jacket really suits you.” You hum, releasing the material with one of your hands to slide it up to his jaw. You give him a soft kiss on his lips before you pull back. “Might look better on the floor, though. I don’t know. We’ll have to try and find out.”

Thomas’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise; he hadn’t expected you to turn the suggestive talk around on him. A smirk forms on his lips as he presses them to yours one more time.

“Your parents home?” He mumbles against you.

You pull away slightly to think about it for a second. “No, actually.”

“Well, then I guess we’re about to find out.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Over the next few months, you and Thomas keep the promise you gave to each other at the diner. You’ve stayed positive and lived in the moment and, to be honest, those three months have probably been the best three months of your life.

You and Thom are both making the most of your time, making sure to spend almost every weekend together. 

You study together even though you don’t share any classes. Most of the time is spent doing homework in silence, but you still enjoy each other’s presence.

For spring break, you go on a trip to the beach with Thomas, Maria, Ellie, James, Aaron, and a few more mutual friends. The week is full of banter and lots of fun-filled memories that you’ll remember for many years to come. It’s definitely one of the many highlights of senior year.

Thomas, being his over-the-top self, asks you to prom by spelling ‘Prom?’ out with bouquets of roses on your front lawn. And as if that isn’t enough, you wake to the sound of a live orchestral quartet playing your favorite song. You groggily walk over to your window to see where the sound is coming from and you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend grinning up at you with his arms gesturing around him proudly.

Of course you say yes. 

You would have said yes even if he had asked you casually — but what can you say… you’re a sucker for flowers and he knows it.

Prom night is an absolute blast. You feel like a stunner in your dress and Thomas looks unbelievably handsome in his fitted tux. You stay together the entire night, dancing, singing, laughing, and joking around with both your and his friends.

You almost lose track of the amount of date nights you have with Thomas. You have movie nights, some nights you go rollerskating, concerts, restaurants, hell, you even go paintballing together, which is something that neither of you had ever thought you’d get into.

But as June grows closer and closer, you can’t help but feel that heaviness settle back into your chest. You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t thought about backing out of this agreement the two of you have. In fact, you’ve spent countless nights lying wide awake (sometimes right next to Thomas), trying to figure out how things would go if you decide to stay together.

With your parents deciding to move down to Miami a week after you graduate, it pushes the day you move out to LA earlier than you had originally intended, which makes the idea of staying together seem next to impossible. Your mother says that it’ll be a good opportunity for you to get to know the LA area before classes start in August. 

This causes you and Thomas to have a more in-depth conversation about the plan and it ends with you two deciding to break it off a week before your big move. Both of you are in agreement that it would be best for the both of you, so that you have some time to recover. You figure it will be easier that way.

So, when the time comes to start packing your things for your move to California (and your parents’ move to Florida), you get stressed out. You notice that Thomas’ and your enthusiasm/positivity starts to fade as the date of graduation creeps closer and closer.

Which brings you to the present.

On the day of graduation, reality finally hits you. Because not only are you recognizing the fact that you’re leaving the love of your life in eight days to go to school in Cali, you’re also leaving Maria who has been a constant in your life since elementary school.

Maria plans to stay in town and go to community college to knock out all her general education classes before she transfers to a four-year university. Luckily, her girlfriend Ellie has the same idea, so they’ll be taking the same path after high school.

At least they will be together.

Unlike you and Thom, who are currently posing for a photo together for his and your parents who stand behind their phones grinning and teary eyed. You both give your best smiles to the cameras, trying to preserve the memory as best as possible without breaking.

Surprisingly, you and Thomas have stayed strong despite the impending suspension of your relationship that lingers in the atmosphere between you. Although teary eyed because you are saying goodbye to a lot of friends and faculty you’ve gotten to know over the years, you and Thomas don’t cry on graduation day. You don’t cry during the ceremony, you don’t cry during the many pictures you take that day, and you don’t cry at the large family dinner the Jefferson household holds for both you and Thomas.

You’ve both toughed it out both privately and in public. But graduation day eventually comes to its inevitable end, and the day after begins, marking your last day with Thomas Jefferson as your boyfriend.

The two of you make your last day special and have a day-long picnic in a nearby park. You wake up early and spend the entire day together, laughing, kissing, talking, and having as much fun as you can with the inevitable future looming over your heads. You both make the best of your time together, and that’s really all you can ask for.

As the day goes by, your time together begins to run out. And both of your composures begin to fade as each second passes.

While your curfew to be back home is 10pm, you and Thomas decide to hold onto each other a bit longer, so he drives you home and you sneak him into your room when your parents are too busy packing in the basement. They know that this is your last day with Thomas, so when you’re distracting them while Thomas makes his way up the stairs, you tell them that you’re going to sleep early. They comfort you for a few minutes but leave you to your own grief, knowing to respect your wish of ‘sleeping the night off.’

Little do they know, you and Thomas decide to have one more special night together. 

When you finally make your way up to your bedroom, Thomas is sitting on your bed, glancing at the half-empty boxes in the corner of your room that need to be filled. Half of your room is packed up, but you’ve put off packing lately to spend time with Thom before you physically can’t anymore.

You let out a sniffle and you don’t realize that you are on the verge of crying until you see Thomas begin to break, too.

“Come here.” He murmurs, standing up from your bed to pull you into a tight hug. 

You both cry into each other’s shoulders, fully letting yourselves go emotionally as you let out your pent up sadness. You’re getting each other’s clothing wet with tears, but neither of you care as you cling onto each other, not wanting to let go.

You don’t know how long you stay there or how long it takes until both of you calm down enough so that your tears fall silently.

“I told you this was gonna fucking suck.” Thomas mumbles against you, causing you to let out a laugh and sob at the same time.

You don’t respond, but after a few seconds, you pull away from his shoulder to look at him. Silence stretches between you before you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you.” He echoes without hesitation before he leans his forehead against yours. You both bask in each other’s presence for a few more beats until Thomas speaks again, his words shaking. “Football won’t be the same without you, Y/N. I won’t be the same without you.”

“You played football for years before I became a part of your life. You’ll be fine, T.” You say quietly, though you are absolutely sure of your words. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek and wipe some of his tears away. “You’re gonna move on and be great and show people what you’re capable of.”

Silence stretches between the two of you before you take a step away from him as you remember something. Thomas frowns at your sudden withdrawal, but you explain yourself as you both wipe at your faces to dry them as best as each of you can.

“That reminds me…” You say, digging into one of the open boxes in the corner of your room until you feel a familiar piece of fabric. You pull out Thomas’ purple hoodie — the one he gave to you the night you officially became a couple. Damn, it feels so long ago now, but it hasn’t even been two years. “Here. You should probably take this back.”

He lets out a small laugh and takes the purple fabric from you to examine it. He seems lost in thought, but after a few moments, he shakes his head and hands it back to you. “Nah. Keep it.”

When you don’t take it, his hand reaches out to one of yours and he wraps your fingers around the fabric. You try to protest, but he continues.

“Don’t want you forgettin’ about me, now, do we?” He chuckles dryly.

“I won’t forget you, Thomas.” Your voice sounds so sure of your words that Thomas has no choice but to believe you.

He swallows and looks down for a second before he glances back into your eyes. “I know.”

“You’re gonna forget about me, though.”

Thomas shakes his head and his eyebrows scrunch together and he looks like he’s about to break again before he reaches out to pull you close.

“Never.” He mumbles into your hair before he pulls back. “Hey, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I will never forget you, Y/N Y/L/N. I couldn’t even if I tried.”

He brings his hands up to cup both sides of your face. His thumbs brush some fresh tears away before he continues to talk. “These eyes? Unforgettable. This beautiful face? Ingrained in my brain forever, sweetheart, I promise you that.” One of his thumbs lightly brushes over your lips. “Don’t even get me started on these lips. I’ll miss them for sure.”

Thomas pauses for a second before his beautiful brown eyes gaze into yours, letting you know that he truly means his next words. “I’m never going to forget any part of you, Y/N.”

You stay there, gazing at one another with nothing but pure love and admiration. Without breaking eye contact, you gingerly put Thomas’ hoodie (which is apparently yours now) back in the box you removed it from. You reach up to pull Thomas’ lips down to yours passionately. 

Thomas responds, instantly reciprocating the kiss with the same amount of emotion that you pour into it. He moves his hands from your cheeks to pull your body closer to him. Your hand digs into the material of his shirt and suddenly, you can’t get enough of each other. You both need more — to be closer — but neither of you rush anything. You take it slow and try to take in every little detail about each other.

As layer after layer of clothing comes off, you two savor the feeling of each other’s lips, bodies, and touch. Every soft moan, every sigh, every gasp, every kiss… each and every moment that you spend with each other is savored in one final heat-filled act of love.

Afterwards, you both lie in your bed under the blankets, Thomas’ arm around your naked body and your head on his bare chest. You cherish each other’s presence for one final time, basking in silence until Thomas finally breaks it, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You still sure about this, sweetheart?”

You are quiet for a few seconds before you answer, sotto voce. “Yeah, T.” You listen to his steady heartbeat as you bring your hand up to rest on his torso. “You?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah.”

A few seconds pass and you subconsciously trace little circles on his abdomen with your thumb. Thomas’ arm tightens around your waist as he pulls your closer.

“I’m sorry things have to end this way.” He mumbles against you, his deep voice reverberating throughout his chest.

“Don’t be.” You murmur, exhausted from the emotional toll this day has taken on you. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world — unless there’s a way where it doesn’t end with you and Thomas going your separate ways.

You shake your head at yourself for thinking so negatively. You promised each other something back at that diner.

“It’s not the end, T.” You speak out loud, shifting so that your head rests on the pillow and you’re face to face with Thomas. “You said it yourself before and now it’s my turn to say it: this is a ‘see you later,’ alright? So I better fucking see you later, or else.”

He laughs (oh, you’re gonna miss that laugh) and his hand slides up the curve of your hip to pull himself closer to you. “Back at ya, princess.”

You both sniffle, but you know that your time together, for the time being, at least, has come to an end — especially as both of you begin to drift off no matter how hard you try to stay awake.

“I don’t want to say goodbye.” You whisper in Thomas’ warm embrace.

Thomas responds after he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to.” 

So neither of you do. 

And you both fall asleep, bodies entangled with one another, content to be in each other’s embrace one last time before you move away.

The next morning, Thomas wakes up before you do and he slowly untangles himself from you as he wills himself to stay strong. He dresses himself as quietly as he can before he presses one last kiss to your temple.

Then, he takes one last look at your sleeping form before he leaves, keeping his word to you and not giving either of you a chance to say your goodbyes.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━   ♛   ━━━━━━━﹤⋆

A week later, your heart beats frantically as you drop a box of things you plan on leaving behind against the wall outside of your room.

It’s minutes before you’re supposed to leave for the airport — you want to leave early in case something goes wrong and you get delayed. Sighing, you walk back into your empty room to check for any last things you may have missed packing into the many boxes that are already stashed into your parents’ car.

“Y/N?” You hear your brother call out from downstairs. “I think there’s someone waiting for you outside.”

Who could it be? You’ve already said your goodbyes to Maria earlier that day when she’d helped you finish packing.

Erik gives you a sad smile as you pass by and you give him a confused look.

“What? Who is it?” You ask, eyebrows raised. “You know we have to leave in a few, right?”

“You’ll see.” Erik says, causing you to sigh.

After determining that your final sweep (even though you’ve done it three times now) is done, you make your way past Erik and open the front door. When you make it onto your driveway, you’re shocked to see Thomas Jefferson standing there with a sheepish grin and his hands in his pockets, looking as handsome as ever.

“Thomas…” You trail off, surprised to see him after your last day together the week prior. “What are you doing here?”

Your boyfriend (well… ex now, technically) walks closer and takes his hands out of his pockets. You can see him fidgeting with his fingers as he speaks. “I uh…” He breathes out a nervous laugh before one of his hands reaches up to rub the back of his neck. 

You watch him from a few feet away as he struggles to get his words out.

“Well, I… as your… not-boyfriend wanted to say goodbye.” He says softly, shifting his eyes to the ground briefly before looking back up to gaze into yours. “I changed my mind. Leaving without saying goodbye just gutted me and made me feel like we had unfinished business. I had to see you one more time, Y/N. I-I’m sorry.” Thomas’ voice is unstable as he apologizes and you feel tears well up in your eyes as he continues. “I know this breaks our agreement and everything, but I couldn’t just let you leave before—”

You cut him off by stalking forward to wrap him into a crushing hug — a hug the two of you desperately need at the moment. Thomas doesn’t waste a second before his arms encircle your waist to hold you just as tightly to him.

Even though you had spent the entire day with each other just a week prior, the need to see each other — to feel each other — one last time has consumed you both. You agree that waking up to an empty bed without saying a proper goodbye (even though it’s what you had initially wanted) had crushed you, and it had caused you to be an emotional wreck to the following two days.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, sniffling before letting out a bittersweet laugh. “I just made this so much more fucking difficult for us.”

“It’s okay.” You reciprocate his laugh as tears stream down your face. “It’s so worth it, T.”

A few minutes pass by as you hold each other close.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I’m really gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, T.” You say quietly. “So much.”

You’ve lost track of time and your mother is the one to finally bring you and Thomas back to reality.

“Y/N, we gotta go, honey…” Your mom speaks as softly as possible from her position at the front door, and you can see the guilt on her face as she watches her daughter’s heart break. “You’re gonna be late for your flight.”

You turn back to Thomas and give him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. You gave me the best year and eight months I could ever ask for… so thank you.”

You look up at him for a second before you sob and crash into his chest. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.” He replies softly before he steels himself. “But you have a flight to catch. Which means you need to go.”

You give him one last kiss, it’s watery from both of your tears but neither of you care.

“Go be great.” He says when you pull back. “You deserve the world, Y/N.”

He holds your hand until the grip slips when you take a step towards the car.

“See you later, Thomas.”

He smiles through his tears before he replies. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

You get in the car and a few seconds later, your mother pulls out of the driveway (apparently Erik and your father are going to drive separately). As the car drives away, Thomas waves from your driveway until you can’t see him anymore. You know that’s the last you’ll see of him for a while.

And maybe, just maybe, you regret leaving him behind.

But a voice lingers in the back of your mind that gives you some sort of relief:

If it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

[365days365movies]

January 16, 2021: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

I am a massive comic book nerd. Not unusual these days, to be fair. But I’m definitely up there, as far as my obsession with Marvel and DC go. And, yeah, I stick mostly to those two houses, and their various imprints.

Why do I bring this up? Well...remember this movie?

Kick-Ass was a pretty big deal when it came out in 2010, as it was a Marvel Comics movie that was completely unrelated to the relatively new Marvel Cinematic Universe. Based of a 2008 comic book written by Mark Millar and drawn by John Romita Jr., the film was directed by Matthew Vaughn, and featured a more realistic take on how real-world superheroes would actually work.

Vaughn and Millar by this point at least, were friends. Around 2012, they’re getting drunk at a pub together, and talking movies. The topic of spy movies come up, and how there hasn’t really been a good, non-parody, fun spy movie, and that there should be. And that was the bulk of their conversation.

Enter Dave Gibbons, a legendary comic book artist, whom you may know from drawing the comic book that was turned into this:

Oh yeah, he’s a big deal. Gibbons and Millar end up getting together to write a fun spy comic book based on this idea. Vaughn, meanwhile, is getting ready to direct X-Men: Days of Future Past, the sequel to X-Men: First Class, which Vaughn directed. That’s a good movie, by the way, even if I have...issues...with the treatment of the X-Men in film. Maybe one day I’ll get into that, we’ll see what happens. Ask me about it if you’re curious.

Anyway, Millar goes to Vaughn with this script, and Vaughan looks at it and realizes that he needs to direct this movie before somebody else makes it. So he leaves Days of Future Past, and he signs on to...

I feel like it’s an obligation, as a comic book dude, to watch this film. I should also read the book, but I didn’t do that with Kick-Ass, so to hell with it! Let’s get this recap started! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Starting off with some Money for Nothing, and somewhere in the Middle East, 1997! We go into a stone temple, where some kind of mission is taking place. A surprise grenade causes the loss of one of the agents. The surviving agents are Merlin (Mark Strong), Lancelot AKA James Spencer (Jack Davenport), and Galahad, AKA Harry Hart (Colin Firth).

Hart, feeling guilty over the death of this agent, tells his wife, Michelle (Samantha Womack) and child Eggsy (yes, Eggsy) of his sacrifice, and gives Eggsy a medal.

From there, we jump forward 17 years, to Argentina where...Mark Hamill?

Holy shit, it’s Mark Hamill! Apparently, he’s playing Professor James Arnold, and being held hostage by a group of mysterious men. Just then, he’s rescued by Lancelot, showing up with some classic James Bond-style swagger and asking for a cup of sugar, sardonically.

He kicks the asses of these guys, but is SLICED IN HALF BY A MAN WITH SWORD LEGS WHAT THE FUCK????

I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was watching the best thing I’ve ever goddamn seen. And as if that weren’t enough, she’s working for Samuel L. “Motherfucker” Jackson, playing Richmond Valentine. I am...I am so pleased.

We go to the Kingsmen headquarters, where Lancelot is being mourned by the Kingmen and their leader MICHAEL CAINE, REALLY, HOLY SHIT

Ahem. Sorry, uh...the star-studded cast has basically caused me to have a minor aneurysm. Caine plays Arthur, the leader of the Kingsmen. Get it? I can dig it, I’m a sucker for a good Arthurian reference. Anyway, now that Lancelot’s dead, it’s time to find a new candidate. Apparently, the man that died 17 years ago was part of an “experiment” by Hart, which Arthur says has failed. Galahad calls Arthur a snob, and says that they need to evolve with the times. \

Speaking of that former candidate, how’s his son doing?

Not stellar, it seems. His mom is dating a very unsavory gentleman, and not really taking good care of her youngest daughter. Eggsy (Taron Egerton), on the other hand, is a carefree delinquent. After engaging in an entertaining backwards car chase with the police (it’s cool), he gets arrested. He refuses to give up his friends, and he instead asks for a phone call.He looks at the medallion around his neck, and remembers that he can use the number of the back to contact someone for help. He uses a specific code phrase, but it appears not to have worked. But then, Eggsy is turned loose with little more than a phone call. That’s when Eggsy meets Hart.

We find out that Eggsy has a high IQ and Olympic-level athletics, but has dropped out of the Marines, and has been arrested for drugs and other illegal activities. After being read out by Hart, Eggsy goes on an anger-filled diatribe about the differences in privilege between the two of them. Although it’s short, it’s a powerful speech.

But that speech is interrupted by the owner of the car that Eggsy stole the previous night, as well as his gang. They’re yearning for a fight with Eggsy, and they threaten Hart. He doesn’t take that well, as he shuts the doors and windoes to the pub. Time to teach a lesson.

Yup, I’m giving this fight the posted video award. It might be short, but it’s also one of the best and coolest sequences I’ve ever seen in a spy movie. And OH, it’s giving me that gadget shit I was missing from the Bond movies.

After one of the most enjoyable fight sequences I’ve seen in a while, Eggsy’s understandably stunned. So is his stepfather Dean (Geoff Bell), the leader of the gang that Hart beat up in the pub. He’s not happy, and he beats Eggsy in their apartment, and that scene is...WHOOF. Much to their surprise, however, Hart’s left a device on Eggsy’s back. He threatens Dean through the device, and tells Eggsy to meet him at a tailor that he’d mentioned.

Once Eggsy escapes from Dean and the gang via nest parkour tricks, he makes his way to the tailor, where Hart officially brings him into the fold, giving him the opportunity to become a Kingsman. He exposits the history of the agency as a private group of spies, meant to protect the world while not bowing to the bureaucracy that plagues government-affiliated spy institutions.

We get to go to Kingsman Headquarters proper, and yeah...yeah, it’s cool. As compared to the other recruits, Eggsy’s pretty obviously out of place. This, of course, is part of the point, as Hart believes the Kingsmen could use someone with different life experiences and background. That would be the experiment mentioned earlier.

Eggsy’s competitors include Roxy (Sophie Cookson), who appears to actually be polite to him, unlike most of the potentials. They settle in for the night...but not for long. Their quarters fills with water, as the entirety of the Kingsmen head towards the showerheads and toilets for air. While they all succeed, Eggsy is the one who actually gets everyone out, by literally punching the window.

Unfortunately, for one of the candidates...it’s too late. These candidates could die in the hiring process. Rough.

Sadly, Mark Hamill also doesn’t quite make it, as Hart finds him, surprisingly freed from Valentine’s capture. As he’s questioned, Valentine is forced to kill him via Suicide Squad implant, and barely escaped from his men. Valentine and his henchwoman, Gazelle (Sofia Boutella) are trying to figure out who the Kingsmen are, to no avail at the moment.

Back with Merlin, who’s training the Kingsman candidates! They’re all told to get a puppy! Aw. Eggsy chooses J.B. a pug, under the mistaken impression that it’s a bulldog. And I’m not a pug person...but that puppy is cute as shit.

Time marches on, and the Kingsmen continue their training. Eggsy’s colleagues continue to discriminate against him, especially Charlie (Edward Holcroft). Hart, who was knocked out by the explosion, eventually wakes up. Valentine goes around to political leaders and proposes his plan to “save the world,” whatever that’s about to mean. Apparently, that includes giving the King of Sweden a surgical implant of some kind. Huh.

This, of course includes some, uh...conflict with Gazelle.

Awesome.

Eggsy’s in the final 6! As Hart congratulates him over this, we finally get some exposition on Richmond Valentine’s plan. See, that implant is the Suicide Squad bomb that killed Hamill, and Gazelle also has one. Additionally, he’s released a plan to the world that will provide free internet and phone data...forever. Not ominous at all, that.

After a cool skydiving training sequence, only three candidates are left. Hart, meanwhile, poses as a wealthy philanthropist, donating to Valentine’s cause. As a result, he’s treated to an extravagant dinner...of McDonald’s. Yes, it is the best product placement I’ve seen in a while, in case you were wondering. That reveal was hilarious.

Anyway, their conversation turns from talking about climate change studies and concerns, to their opinion of James Bond movies, in a lovely little piece of meta flavor. At this point, they would appear to understand each other’s role in the play, as it were. Forgot to mention, Valentine’s been kidnapping anyone who disagrees with his goals, while also distributing his free internet cards. So, there’s that. But he’s also trying to figure out what exactly the “Kingsmen” are. Speaking of...

Our three remaining Kingsman candidates are assigned a mission to seduce a young dignitary. However, all three of them make a mistake, and allow themselves to get drugged at a party, by someone wanting to know who Hart and Kingsmen are. When Eggsy wakes up, he’s been strapped to train tracks. Uh oh.

Despite an oncoming train, Eggsy doesn’t give the man any formation. Which, of course, was the point. It’s Hart, helping to give the Kingsman candidates a little loyalty test, which both Eggsy and Roxy pass with flying colors. But Charlie...Charlie’s a coward who immediately gives everything up, including Arthur himself.

Eggsy gets to spend 24 hours with Hart, before being thrown headfirst into a mission. Hart explains that being a Kingsman means being a gentleman, which Eggsy isn’t. Hart, of course, plans to fix that.

They head to the tailor, and check out some spy gadgets. And much to their surprise, Valentine is also there, under the guise of getting a suit. Hart takes the opportunity to recommend a hatter, who gives him a top hat with built in listening devices. I love it.

Eggsy, meanwhile, speaks with Arthur at Kingsman HQ. He’s commanded to perform one final test: kill his pug, J.B. Which...yeah, damn, that sucks. He doesn’t do it, understandably. Unfortunately...Roxy does kill her dog. She succeeds...and Eggsy’s kicked out of the Kingsman candidacy. Which feels like a bullshit play, if I’m honest.

Eggsy steals Arthur’s car, then goes back home. As he’s about to confront his stepfather, Hart brings back the car via remote access, then explains to Eggsy that the gun was filled with blanks, and that Eggsy ended up giving up his shot. He also reveals that the first candidate to die...didn’t actually die! It’s been a ruse all along, meant to test the candidates under the strictest of conditions. Which sucks, obviously, because Eggsy’s out of the program.

And at that point, Valentine says something of note, revealing that he plans to go to a hate church in Kentucky to begin his master plan. Hart heads there, and tells Eggsy to stay put.

We get treated to just...just the loveliest of sermons. Disgusting. But then...

...that’s the point, isn’t it?

Because Valentine uses the SIM cards to create a signal that drives the parishioners crazy. Hart’s also in the church, however, and he also starts going crazy. Which leaves the question: what happens when a highly trained spy goes up against untrained civilians, has a bunch of gadgets...and has absolutely no restraint whatsoever?

A MASSACRE, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS. And most surprisingly, it’s a massacre that we actually SEE. Hart basically kills almost EVERYBODY in the church. I’ll put the video up, but...y’know, be warned here. It ain’t pretty.

Hart comes to, and realizes exactly what he’s done. He leaves, only to be confronted by Valentine and his men. The Bond metaphor finally comes full-circle, explained directly by Valentine. But instead of explaining his whole plan and devising some complicated way to kill Hart that he’ll inevitably escape from...

He just shoots Hart in the head. Holy shit. And this is while Merlin, Arthur, and yes, Eggsy watch on through Hart’s home feed. Looks like a new Kingsman is needed.

Arthur tells Merlin to assemble the Kingsmen. But Eggsy...Eggsy has other plans. Thinking on Hart’s words about wanting to do something good with his life. He goes to Arthur to talk to him about Hart’s death. Arthur invites him in for brandy. And that’s...when my mind exploded.

HE’S FUCKING IN ON IT?!? Michael Caine, NOOOO! Turns out that Valentine’s convinced Arthur of his true plan: a culling. He believes that the Earth’s temperature because there’s simply too much humanity, like a body trying to kill a virus. And so...he’s going to make the virus exterminate itself. And that argument’s enough to win Caine over.

Turns out that the implant is meant to protect those individuals against a neurological signal emitted by the SIM cards, the same one that went off in the church. Arthur, realizing that Eggsy understands exactly what’s going on, poisons him, then asks if he would like to join them. Eggsy refuses...and Arthur sets off the remote poison to kill him.

But NOPE! EGGSY SWITCHED THE FUCKIN’ GLASSES! I love this movie. Arthur dies, and Eggsy uses the opportunity to dig the implant from his neck. He takes that and Arthur’s phone to Merlin and Lancelot, who realize that they can’t trust anyone at this point. And so, the three of them - yes, the three of them - go to stop Valentine.

And, yeah...I can dig it. OH HOW I CAN DIG it.

Roxy goes up in an experimental vehicle to bring down the satellite, Merlin is flying the plane, and Eggsy...Eggsy’s the one going in disguised as Arthur, in order to infiltrate the mountain lair of Valentine. Here, he and the other beneficiaries wait it out, while the world literally tears itself apart. Now wearing a bespoke suit and playing the role of a gentleman, Eggsy enters the lion’s den.

But as expected, it’s time to hit some snags. Roxy waits juuuuuust a little too long, and one of the balloons in her craft pops. As for Eggsy, he meets an old “friend” of his in the form of Charlie, who’s now working for Valentine.

The missile’s fired just in time, as Charlie’s taken out and Eggsy runs for the plane. AWESOME climax here as Eggsy escapes. I mean it; it is VERY cool. They succeed JUST in time, and the satellite is destroyed. However, Valentine’s still managed to partially start the process, and they can’t do anything about that.

Eggsy’s gotta go BACK in, before Valentine gets another satellite to trigger the signal worldwide. Now armed with Hart’s AWESOME umbrella, he makes his way there under heavy gunshot. They’re also teaming up against Merlin in the plane, so he’s not doing great. And that when Eggsy has the idea...to turn the implants on. ALL of them.

It’s amazing. Violence in fireworks. So, it’s too bad that it doesn’t stop the signal. It works, and people start to tear each other apart all across the world. But only for was long as Valentine has his hands on the desk. Eggsy manages to stop that by laying down some suppressive fire.

That provokes a response.

..This movie is, for lack of a better term, fucking rad.

Gazelle and Eggsy have an awesome fight, worthy of any James Bond movie, seriously. I really want to give it the video post honor, but I’ve done that too much already. For god’s sake, I literally JUST did that.

Gazelle dies (it’s kinda goofy how she dies, if I’m honest), and Eggsy kills Valentine with her prosthetic leg. It’s over, as the signal ends, and Eggsy even gets the girl. Not Roxy, the Princess of Sweden. Not going into it, but it’s funny.

And that’s Kingsman: The Secret Service! Honestly, I gotta say, that was a rad-as-shit movie, and...

Ooh, a mid-credits scene! Eggsy goes back home, to the pub, where his stepfather and mom are hanging out with the gang. And let’s just say...Dean’s gonna get a little comeuppance. Manners, after all, maketh man.

OK, THAT’S Kingsman: The Secret Service! And that, again, was pretty rad. See you in the Epilogue in a few!

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Detours on the Road so Far - Ch 1

Detours on the Road so Far

- Or - 

Why Sam and Dean Need Actual Adult Supervision

Summary: Shenanigans. Lots of them. Crack. Probably some pie. (SERIES SUMMARY)

Warning: Shenanigans. Unintentional drug use. Crackfic. 

Rating: Let’s call this one at least Teen, if not Mature. See Warning above.

Word Count: 1700-ish

Author’s Note: THIS IS CRACK: unapologetically, unequivocally, utterly crack. Some of it makes little sense. Some of it makes fun of our favorite characters. I love these guys; this is just for fun. The stories are not in any particular order. Time frames will be referenced at the beginning of each chapter. Also, I was having some formatting issues, so if this ends up looking really wonky, please let me know, and I’ll do what I can.

This story is dedicated to a wonderful friend who let me behind the scenes into their writing process and watch the development of a wonderful story, a friend who fiercely has their folks’ backs and is the first on the scene if support and flails are needed. To a writer who can write action, romance, intrigue, and brothers being brothers. @stunudo​ , I am so glad I met you, and even gladder you didn’t absolutely fire me for all the awful puns.

ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 1: Everything is Awesome (set sometime in season 8...ish)

Sam yawns as he shuffles down the hall, scratching the back of his head and grinning to himself. It still amazes him, even after the months they’ve been here, to have an actual home and comfortable bed to come back to after their days and weeks on the road. Even the hours crammed in the car with his brother and his painfully slow evolution of music is more bearable, knowing there are clean sheets, peace (relative peace, anyway) and quiet, and their very own refrigerator waiting for them at the other end.

He pauses as a new sound drifts towards him from the kitchen, and he frowns. It’s not a bad sound, exactly; he knows exactly what it is. But Dean doesn’t tend to sing this early in the morning, and not ever in the kitchen. It’s not the most wrong thing Sam has ever heard, but it’s strange enough for him to take notice.

Well, he can’t be possessed, so...hex bag, maybe? Their last case in Colorado didn’t involve witches, but there was always the chance they’d run across one without realizing and pissed him or her off somehow.

Dammit.

 He cautiously enters the kitchen, hoping that he’s just assuming worst case scenario. He is greeted by the sight of Dean seated at the table, staring intently at a large, clear glass coffee mug as he adds creamer to the steaming brew. 

“Morning,” Sam says, stretching. Dean waves distractedly, his concentration focused entirely on his coffee. At least that part is normal. He doesn’t usually add creamer, but it’s not unheard of, so Sam simply shrugs as he turns to the fridge. 

At least the singing stopped, or (better yet) maybe he just imagined it in the first place. Maybe he just hadn’t been fully awake yet. Sam opens the refrigerator, his eyes already moving over the contents to find something for breakfast that won’t add to Dean’s cholesterol issues his older brother tacitly refuses to acknowledge.

Except there aren’t any contents to peruse. The entire refrigerator is completely empty. Not even a wrapper.

 He turns back to Dean, the questions dying on his tongue as he watches his brother continue to add creamer to his coffee, dark brown and beige swirling in the clear mug. Dean finally sets the creamer down, watching the coffee cup as if he’s been interrogating it and it’s finally about to break.

 “Sammy,” he says, his eyes glued to the mug, “we are never using anything but clear coffee cups again. This shit is magic.”

 What?

“Seriously, Sam,” he continues, his eyes lit with pure, childlike innocence and curiosity. “It just...it mixes itself. Food doesn’t do things to itself, Sam. I mean, yeah, Jell-O moves by itself, but no other food does that. But Jell-O is evil, anyway, so yeah. Wait, except for Jell-O shots. Jell-O shots are awesome. But otherwise, Jell-O is a slime creature sent by Eve to torment small children into thinking they’re getting a real dessert when it’s really just ectoplasm’s third cousin. Twice removed.”

 And then Dean giggles.

 Sam stares at his brother, his jaw hanging down, absolutely clueless as to how to proceed. First, Dean has never said that many words together in his entire life. Second, what the fuck? Third, what. The. Ever. Living. Fuck.

 Dean adds more creamer.

 “I think...I think that’s enough, Dean. You’re going to spill your coffee.”

 Horror washes over Dean’s face, and he slams the creamer container on the table, dropping down to eye his coffee along the top edge. “Sacrilege! I wouldn’t do that, Sam, you know I’d never waste coffee like that!”

 Sam knows he needs to close his mouth at some point, but it’s just too damned early to go with the flow on this shit.

 “Dean, are you feeling okay? I know we got back pretty late last night, but you’re acting a little off.” But his brother isn’t acting tired, not exactly. Sam realizes that his brother is also still wearing yesterday’s traveling clothes.

 “Dean, did you sleep in your clothes?”

 Dean reaches out a finger and slowly pokes his coffee mug. The cream swirls lightly through the dark liquid, further mixing the two, and Dean...giggles.

 Again.

 “It’s kinda sad when they finally get all mixed together,” he says, frowning a little. Then his face brightens as he grabs the mug. “But now I can drink it, so that's less sad, right? I mean, you can’t really be sad drinking coffee, Sam. You should drink more coffee; you’ll be less sad all the time.”

 Sam’s jaw clenches involuntarily as he watches Dean alternate between sips and sloshing the cup around to watch the contents. His brother is obviously not in any distress, but spells have started out like this before, seemingly harmless and then, before you know it, hearts are exploding or organs disintegrate or something else equally nasty.

 “I can hear the colors, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, tapping the mug gently. “I think...what, would you say? Beige? Ecru? Does it sound like ecru to you?”

 Sam was unaware Dean even knew those colors existed, much less how to pronounce them. Luckily, since Dean is wearing yesterday’s clothes, it makes looking for the hex bag easier. After two unsuccessful attempts to get Dean to go through his own pockets (“But the coffee isn’t in my pockets, Sam, it’s in my hands. Why the hell would I put down the coffee to look through my pockets?”) Sam gives up with a sigh that holds the burdens of the world in it and searches his brother’s clothes himself.

 “Knock if off! That tickles; you’re gonna make me spill the coffee!”

 For fuck’s sake.

 His search proves frustratingly fruitless. But if the hex bag isn’t on Dean, then what? A spell? A curse? What the hell is going on?

 Sam’s stomach growls, adding another question to the long list. Where the hell is all the food? Well, that, at least, he can ask Dean and maybe get a straight answer.

 “Dean, do you know why the fridge is empty? It was pretty stocked when we left. Where’d all the food go?”

 Dean grins and points down at the stomach of his shirt, which is a bit rounder than normal. “In mah belleh.”

 When Sam’s face finally emerges from his palms, he finds Dean staring at him with alarming concern.

 “Are you hungry, Sam? We can go to town and get breakfast! That would be awesome, breakfast is awesome! Do you want pancakes or waffles? Nevermind, you’re huge, you should eat both. You need to eat more, Sam, you’re too skinny.”

 “Seriously, dude, are you feeling okay? You’re acting...weird.”

 “You know what’s weird, Sammy? I ate two pies, a block of cheese, and all those protein bar things you hide in the back of the pantry. And by the way, you don’t need to hide those things from me anymore, they are absolutely vile. But then I had those bags of chips, and...what else. Oh, yeah, there was some bologna, I think, and I ate the bacon, and whatever was in the vegetable drawer, which actually ended up not being horrible. But I’m still kinda hungry.”

 Sam is speechless. It doesn’t happen often, but apparently it can still happen, even after all these decades of living with his brother. He just can’t wrap his head around-

 Wait, what pie?

 “Dean, we didn’t have any pie before we left, and we didn’t stop on the way home yesterday. What pie did you eat?”

 “Sarah gave me two pies as a thank you. It would have been rude not to eat them. I had a piece last night after you crashed, and it was -awesome- so I had another piece, and then I had to try the other pie, and it was friggin delicious, and then I looked up and some asshole had eaten the rest of both the pies.” He eyes Sam suspiciously for a minute, clutching his coffee mug a little closer to himself.

 “And then I got hungry, so I had a snack.”

 “What was in the pies, Dean?”

 “Dunno,” he says, slurping coffee obnoxiously loudly. “Deliciousness. Sarah didn't say what kind they were, just said they were her way of saying thanks for getting rid of the ghost. Called it her ‘University of Colorado Specials’ or something like that. But those pies were made of magic, Sam, delicious, delicious magic.”

“What else did Sarah say, Dean?”

The elder Winchester thinks long and hard for a moment, frowning. “She didn’t. She winked a lot, though. Do you think she had something stuck in her eye?”

 Sam leans on his hands to keep from using them on his brother. He takes a deep, steadying breath and tries again.

 “Can you tell me anything else about the pies, Dean? Anything at all?”

 He thinks for a long moment, then his face melts into a dreamy expression Sam is pretty sure he’s never seen on his brother’s face before. “One of ‘em was this lemon thing that was like a citrus tree starred in a porn. The flavor just explodes in your mouth like-”

 “I don’t need to know!”

 But Dean is still going.

 “A firecracker, Sam, a Roman Candle of delicious. And the other was this...chocolatey, coffee, creamy thing. Coffee, Sam! Coffee and chocolate in a pie! They can do that now! What’ll these crazy college kids think of next?”

 He grins at Sam, taking another long slurp of coffee. Sam bites his lip, considering Dean for a long silent moment. He’s pretty sure now that Dean will be just fine and more than likely back to normal by the end of the day...maybe.

 “I’m gonna go check in with Sarah. Just make sure she hasn’t...erm...seen anything else weird.”

 “But, Sam, we ghosted that ghost!” Dean stops, thinks about what he just said, and giggles.

 Again.

 “I just want to see...how much...we ghosted that ghost. And maybe get the recipes for those pies. I’m sure everything’s fine. You know me, I just like to be sure.”

 “That’s awesome, Sam, you’re so awesome! We could make the pies together! And you could even eat some! You still need to eat more. Can we go get breakfast now?”

 Sigh.

 “Yeah, Dean. We’ll go get breakfast. I’ll call Sarah on the way.”

 Dean grins, his whole face lighting up, and Sam allows himself to see at least a little humor in the situation.

 And then Dean starts singing that song from the damned Lego movie, and Sam. 

Just. 

Can’t.

[millenniumpuzzle]

it’s beginning to look a lot like checkout

summary: Joey is trying to survive working as a cashier during the holiday season. When a cute customer manages to turn around his entire day, he doesn't think he'll ever see the guy again. But when he keeps turning up, will Joey manage to form a relationship with him?

howdy! yes, i’m posting a multi-chapter fic for once. you can also read it on ao3 here <3 hope y’all enjoy!

Not for the first time today, Joey eyed the speaker embedded in the ceiling above his cash register and wondered how difficult it would be to smash it from the ground. Sure, it was a few feet up, but if he threw something hard enough at it, he could probably damage it, right? The stapler at his register wasn’t too heavy, but it was solid enough that it might fritz it out. Then again, he would almost certainly be fired, but he would take that if it meant that the speaker was at least non-functional. Anything to stop being forced to listen to that damn Christmas music.

Normally, he couldn’t really hear the music pumped through the hardware store at which he was (regrettably) employed, being too quiet to hear over the general din of a retail environment. The only exceptions were with songs he knew, which he was able to pick out easier, or when there was hardly anyone in the store making noise to drown out the speakers overhead. However, that all changed when Thanksgiving ended. Once that happened, corporate switched their generally palatable 70’s playlist to Christmas music, and Joey’s annual nightmare began.

That’s not to say he didn’t like Christmas; he wasn’t religious, so he didn’t really celebrate it except in the most bare-bones sense of getting his dad and sister a present on the day, but he thought the holiday season in general was fine. It was listening to the same damn songs for hours on end that was driving him up the wall. While he might hear a repeat or two on the standard playlist if he had a long shift, when Christmas rolled around, it was very possible to hear the same song three different times in only a few hours. If Joey ever met the person that designed this playlist and told their store to play it, he would give them a piece of his mind—and a piece of his fist besides.

Damn brain, he thought, resting his chin on his elbows, which were crossed on the counter. Can’t pay attention to somebody when they’re talking to me, but I can’t stop paying attention to Christmas music. Figures.

Furtively, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 3:15 pm. Only forty-five minutes until he got to clock out, but he knew this would be the longest part of his shift. It was after lunch but before most people got off work, meaning that business had slowed to a crawl. Normally, he was grateful for any downtime at work, especially later in his shift, but as “Silver Bells” started up for the fourth time that day, Joey was actively wishing someone would come to his register, just so he would be able to tune out the music.

The irritation from the music just added to everything else miserable about working in retail; Joey’s knees were killing him from having to stand all day on a concrete floor, and he was in that half-bored, half-stressed state that came with a slow moment at the register. He wanted to zone out, think about what he would make for dinner or come up with something fun to do with Serenity over her school break, but he couldn’t risk getting interrupted by a customer. So, he was stuck, unable to sit and rest his knees and forced to pay attention to his surroundings. Which, unfortunately, included the music.

The tell-tale beeping of a register being activated was a welcome distraction, and he picked his chin off his elbows to look in the direction of the noise. It wasn’t especially eventful; just his coworker, Ryou, being forced into scanning some lady’s entire basket, despite the fact that she was at a clearly labeled self-checkout register. Joey felt bad for him; Ryou was a sweet guy, which meant that he often got roped into doing way more than he should. He did, however, have more than a passing interest in the occult, which he weaponized against customers that pissed him off, so he was helpful to have around when dealing with someone annoying. He was a real wild card; Joey appreciated that about him.

“Hello? Can I check out here?”

God damn it.

“Yeah, sure thing!” Joey said, putting on his best Customer Service Voice. He whipped his head back around, coming face-to-face with the customer who had managed to sneak up on him, despite his earlier promises to not zone out. Immediately, however, Joey forgot everything about work, his mind going blank except for one thought: this guy was cute.

At first, Joey had made eye contact with his hair, rather than his face, given that the customer was pretty short and his hair was pretty tall. After a stray thought as to how much gel someone had to use to get it to stay that way, his eyes dropped to his actual face; that was when his brain had really started to short-circuit. How was he supposed to focus on making this guy pay for his stuff when he had such clear, violet eyes, such a friendly smile? Joey was only human, after all. The glimpse of a leather choker underneath the scarf the customer wore only made things worse.

“Is everything alright?” Fuck, the customer must have asked him a question. Not only that, but all his stuff was on the counter, and he was looking at Joey with an expectant, if confused, expression.

“Uh, yeah, just zoned out for a second.” It wasn’t a lie; he had zoned out, but he wasn’t going to tell the customer why. He grabbed the customer’s first item—a string of white Christmas lights—and scanned it as quick as he could, hoping to make up for lost time. “Did you, uh, find everything okay?”

“Yes, I did, thanks,” the customer responded, sounding just as friendly as he did when he first asked to check out. “I’m glad you still had some white lights! I really needed them, and they were sold out at the first two stores I checked.”

“Oh yeah? I’m glad we could provide, then.” Joey continued scanning his items, noting that they were all Christmas decorations. He found it odd that the only lights the customer wanted to buy were white and blue, but maybe he was going for an unconventional Christmas tree design. Joey wasn’t here to judge people’s purchases, only make sure they happen. “Alright, your total is $32.64, cash or card?”

The customer held up a debit card in response, and Joey indicated the card reader in front of him. He finished paying in relative silence, leaving Joey to almost-zone-out at least a dozen more times, getting stuck on different aspects of the customer’s appearance. How much work is it for him to dye his hair three different colors? His nose scrunches up when he concentrates, that’s cute. Would it be too weird to ask for his number?

Too quickly, however, the card reader beeped, prompting the customer to remove his card. “Thanks so much!” he said, with a smile that was too charming for Joey’s poor, flustered heart to take.

“No problem,” he managed to say, despite being sure that he was going to ascend out of his body at any moment. He grabbed the customer’s receipt from the printer and handed to its owner; if he held it in a way to where he ensured that their fingers didn’t brush, well, that was self-preservation. “Thanks, and have a nice day.”

“Thanks, uh, Joey,” the customer said, peering at his name tag, “and happy holidays!” He waved goodbye with the hand not holding his bags, still with that blinding smile on his face, and turned to leave. Joey propped his chin back on his hand and watched him walk to the exit door, smiling at the way he pulled his scarf up over his nose before facing the cold.

“Fall in love with a customer, Joey?”

Joey yelled, losing his balance and nearly smashing his chin onto the counter, before he caught himself and spun around to face the person who had just spoken. “Ryou, what the fuck? You can’t just sneak up on me like that, you’re gonna get me killed.”

Ryou giggled, his elbows on the low wall that separated self-checkout from Joey’s register. There wasn’t a customer in sight—which meant that Joey was now fair game for ridicule. “Not my fault you were distracted. He’s cute though, did you get his number?”

“No, I don’t even know his name,” Joey grumbled. That made him remember that the customer had said his name, though, which made his face heat up. Didn’t think my name could sound that nice. He peeled open a new plastic bag, just for the sake of having something to do that meant he didn’t have to look Ryou in the eyes. “Besides, I can’t just ask a customer for his number! What if he thinks I’m weird, and writes me up, and gets me fired?”

“You have a point.” Ryou hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. “But what if he thought you were also cute?”

“It’s not like I’ll ever find out.” Joey sighed, putting his head in his hands. “He said he went to other stores for white lights before he found them here, which means he probably doesn’t live around here, which means I’ll probably never see him again. Better to just forget about it.”

Ryou made a sympathetic sound, and Joey didn’t have to see his face to know he was looking at him with pity. “I suppose,” he said slowly. “Still, you seemed happy when you were talking to him. You never smile like that when you’re working, it was a nice change.”

Joey just sighed again, before the clearing of a stranger’s throat made him look up to realize that someone was ready to check out—right as the strains of “Blue Christmas” reached his ears from the damned speaker above him. Right, he had work to do, and on-the-nose Christmas music to endure. He plastered on his Work Smile, ready to greet his customer with all the fake friendliness a retail employee could muster.

Ryou was right; while talking to that cute customer, he had been genuinely happy. Unfortunately, it made his return to dismal reality all the sadder.

[neapolitanadonna]

cottagecore has taken over my life. can i request a scenario where human au England is living in this little cottage in the flower fields and he sees this strange girl in the fields all the time? He just kinda watches her and admires her and stuff and cute soft cottage core things ack I'll leave the creativity to you THANK YOU!!!

Oh you KNOW my cottagecore ass had fun with this one. I genuinely felt soft writing this so I hope everyone feels soft too. I love getting the opportunity to make imperialists look soft, its by far my favorite hobby of this quarantine. 

Also this is a bit long, so remember to click keep reading!!

Arthur was a hardworking man in the government who, despite practically signing his life away to it, hated the government. His London flat, aggressive cabbies, black coffee at 5 in the morning, three piece suit everyday life was something that got him far in life, it was a shame that most days, he couldn’t care less about it. 

After his grandmother passed, she left him her small brick cottage in Painswick. At first he thought of selling it, not that he needed the extra money, it would just be a shame to leave empty real estate. He didn’t think he would ever spend his days in the little place, but in a time where he tried to manifest nothing but peace, the universe brought him to the cottage. 

He spends his weekends there. It isn’t big government buildings and the bustling streets of London, but to him, it’s perfect. If he wasn’t tethered to the responsibilities of being an adult, he would pack up everything he had and move to the cottage. He considered it often, he had nothing left in London for him, anyway. He lived alone in London and in Painswick, but Painswick felt less lonely. 

His grandmother's cottage was relatively secluded, far enough from the little village to be truly alone, but close enough if he needed to walk to get anything. However, oddly enough, even if there were no other residences near him, one particular creature always showed up in his backyard. 

He wasn’t a fan of judging a woman by her physical traits, but he remembers the first time he laid eyes on her perfectly. It was cinematic, and if it was a film, he would watch it again and again. She wore a baby blue dress with a flower print that fell just above her knees. Her hair was pulled back into braids with two little bows the same color as her dress. He couldn’t quite see the color of her eyes from his window, but they held some sort of power in them even from afar. As she gently walked through the flower fields, she tucked the wildflowers she picked into the weaves of her braids, filling them with Bluebells, Columbine, Daisies, and Cornflowers. She didn’t trip over plants or roots that peeked through the dirt. She seemed to thank the earth each time she picked a flower. As he watched her card through the flowers, spin in the field, then sit under the Crab apple tree up upon the hill, he figured he must’ve been hallucinating. It had been a long week of work, he had gone through so many rough emotions that it was possible she was an angel and he was on the verge of death. 

Until she showed up again. 

Her visits to his field were almost scheduled, but sporadic all at the same time. She would come, sometimes pick flowers, others leave them alone, but dance among them either way. She would sometimes bring little baskets of peaches and bread for herself, other times she came with nothing but herself. She once got close enough to a deer that it let her pet its head, the same thing happened another time with a rabbit. His grandmother used to tell him stories and lore about Painswick, how faeries disguised themselves as humans to lure them in. He couldn’t help but wonder if his grandmother wasn’t just telling old tales. There was no way this girl was human. 

She seemed devoid of any human flaw. She couldn’t have been any older than 20, but even though Arthur was 23, his position aged him five years. She always seemed so happy, so carefree, like nothing in the world could have made her upset. If anyone else came through his property to take his flowers, he would be sure to lecture them, but she was his only exception. 

It was a Saturday morning when Arthur woke up feeling less on edge than usual. He was so used to having a migraine that waking up without one felt like a giant weight off his shoulders. The light filtered through the old blinds just perfectly, hitting the old paintings of flowers on the wall. It occurred to him that he did more staring out his window into the fields than he did outside. Maybe today would be the perfect day for him to spend a day out there, no stress, no work, and definitely no migraine. 

The sun was still rising as he walked out into the fields. He never noticed it before, but bumble bees danced around every honeysuckle and corn flower. He supposed they would be hard to notice from far away. 

He set down his little blanket at the base of the crab apple tree. It made him feel a certain sense of anxiety knowing that this is where the ethereal girl usually spent her time, that he was sitting in her spot despite it being his property. He looked out on the fields, the sun rising behind them, and began to realize why the girl loved it here so much. 

He spent a good while like this, staring off into the fields, down at his cottage, the trees and wood that extended beyond the fields. He only stopped daydreaming when he heard humming. 

He recognized it as Donovan’s “Sunny Goodge Street” before he processed who the humming could have possibly come from. When his brain finally did process, yes, it had to be none other than the voice of the girl, he felt his heart leap into his throat. She must’ve been coming up from behind, and his best option was to sit absolutely still from the other side of the tree hoping she would walk the other way around and avoid him completely. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her, but he couldn’t quite admit that he was afraid. She had all the odds of the universe on her side, she might’ve been mother nature herself, and who was he compared to that? Unfortunately, his desires came to a fault. Her humming stopped, and her footsteps got louder. A soft, faint giggle could be heard from behind the tree. 

“Hello?” Arthur’s heart leaped to his throat again. Such a sweet voice she had, too. In retrospect, he should've moved, stood up to greet her and introduce himself, but he was frozen. He spent all week talking and negotiating with big government hot shots, yet he couldn’t face a silly girl who spent her days in the flower fields. 

“Are you hiding from me?” She giggled again, and then she was next to him, standing above him. He couldn’t help but exhale deeply the moment he saw her. His cheeks were for sure red, such an embarrassing thing for a grown man, he thought. She wore the same blue dress she wore the day he first saw her, her hair let loose and gently curled around her shoulders, instead. 

“Are you the funny man who lives down in the cottage there?” She asked, taking an uninvited seat in front of him on his blanket. She smelled like honey, roses, and the morning. She was even more beautiful up close than she was from his bedroom window. 

“Lots of questions you have for me. I should be the one asking who you are. This is my property” Arthur replied. The moment he said it, he felt a pang of guilt. He had a hard time talking to somebody without being defensive anymore. The girl didn’t seem to care. 

“I’m really sorry.” She smiled, almost solemnly. “I’m __. There was this sweet old lady, Mrs. Kirkland, who lived here quite a bit ago. She was a regular at my nans flower shop in town, she used to invite me over quite a bit to have tea. Before she passed, she told me I could still visit the fields whenever I wanted. It never occurred to me that somebody else would be living here after she…” 

“Oh, don’t worry, __.”  Was all Arthur could muster up saying. The way her name spilled off his tongue sent a shot of adrenaline up his spine. __. So very fitting. 

He found it strange from the start that his grandmother left him her cottage, of all things. Maybe, somehow, this was her funny little way of playing matchmaker for him. The blush rose back to his cheeks. 

“I’m Mrs. Kirklands grandson, Arthur. I’m sorry for making accusations.” 

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “I’m sure if I saw some strange girl on my property I would be curious, too.” 

“How did you know I lived here?” Arthur asked, meeting her bright __ eyes. 

“It just feels less lonely when you’re here.” She smiled. “That, and I heard you drop your mug one morning. Your reaction wasn’t all that discreet.”

She giggled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, for fucks sake, you mean to tell me you saw that?” 

“I promise I’m not a stalker,” her smile seemingly permanent on her face. “Just observant, is all.” 

“I wasn’t accusing you of being one.” 

“Oh, but I can tell you’ve thought about it.” 

Arthur wanted to tell her he didn’t think any malice of her. He wanted to tell her that even if she was stalking him, it was the best intrusion of his privacy he’s ever had. He wanted to grab her little hand that rested upon her knee, but he knew he couldn’t. He’s never felt so intimidated by another person in his life. 

Arthur said nothing to her in response, and instead for a moment, __ studied him, then stood up. 

“Don’t leave.” He said, suddenly. It wasn’t even his intention, it came out of him on instinct. She looked back down on him and smiled, and shook her head. 

“I wasn’t planning on it, darling.” She giggled. “I’ll be right back.” 

Arthur watched her as she tumbled down the hill to the fields, the tall grasses and flowers welcoming her like she was a part of them. He finally had the opportunity to sigh, and run a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop thinking about how his grandmother probably set this whole thing up for him, she was always a clever woman. 

__ came back a few minutes later with hands full of flowers. She sat back down in front of him, and carefully broke the stems of the flowers to make them shorter. He wanted to question her process, but instead just watched her. He finally made a noise when his breath hitched as she moved to push some of his hair out of his face. 

“You have the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.” __ marveled, her own eyes gentle as they looked into his. 

“I- Thank you.” Arthur held back a stammer. She brushed his hair from his face again, then gently placed a daisy behind his ear. 

“Perfect.” She giggled, pushing his hair away from the other side of his face to make room for another daisy. 

“You’re ridiculous, woman.” He shook his head, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Who on god's earth are you?” 

She shook her head, and shrugged. 

“I’m just trying to enjoy the life I was given. No use in living unless you spend every day the way you want.” 

“Do you work?” 

“At my nans flower shop, yes. It’s not as much about money as it is enjoying my time with my nan.” She shook her head. “Besides basic bills and the likes, everything I need I make myself.” 

“Do you drive?” 

“A bike. I never felt the need for a car.” 

“Do you have a cellphone?” 

“Of course, I like to live naturally, that doesn’t mean I’m a barbarian.” 

“I was just wondering.” Arthur chuckled, making the bold move of pushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut and a small smile spread across her face. He grabbed a cornflower and tucked it behind her ear. He felt breath against his arm, there was something so intimate about her breathing. It had barely started to occur to him that this was the girl he’s admired from afar for months. 

“Perfect.” He teased, eliciting a giggle from her. His hand still touched against the softness of her cheek, lingering there, but she didn’t seem to mind. She gently reached for his hand, lowering it from her face, and instead threading her fingers in between his. The softness of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the sweet little chime in her voice, everything about her overwhelmed him. 

God, he wished he could thank his grandmother for this.

[crusherthedoctor]

Crusher Elaborations #1: Thoughts on the Aesthetic of Sonic’s World

If someone came up to me and asked “Which do you prefer, Classic Sonic or Modern Sonic?”, my answer would start off with “Well, technically Classic Sonic because...”, and then I'd get cut off by the other person immediately lecturing me on why I'm wrong and why I'm the worst kind of fan imaginable. Should they finish their rant, I would then explain to them in the midst of them basking in their flock of easy Twitter likes that I didn't necessarily mean it in the way they predicted.

If we were talking about the games, the characters, or the character design, I'd be fairly neutral, since I like both halves equally for the most part. In fact, when it comes to characters, Modern might actually have the edge believe it or not, since the sheer number of characters introduced from SA1 onwards naturally means a lot of my favourites were introduced from that point on, such as Tikal, Rouge, Gamma, Omega, Blaze... But then again, Classic introduced Eggman and Tails, and the Hard-Boiled Heavies are technically Classic as well despite being relatively new...

Anyway, the point is, I'm not talking about any of that today. I'm talking about the world that Sonic and his multicolored chums live in. Or rather, the aesthetic of it.

NOTE: This is purely about the game universe. While I do have my thoughts on Sonic’s world as presented in other continuities, that won’t be the focus here.

If you're familiar with my blog, you'll know that as a general rule of thumb, I much prefer colorful and creative worlds in my Sonic universe, and that rings true for my reasoning here. And I know what you're gonna say: “But Crusher, isn't there plenty of that in the Modern games as well?” Yes, there is, and I appreciate them very much. But this is why I feel the need to make a post of this sort to begin with, because I'm NOT saying “Classic cool, Modern boring” and calling it a day. There's a little more nuance to my tastes here.

When I say I prefer the Classic aesthetic for Sonic's world, I don't mean it in the literal sense of disregarding everything about the Modern aesthetic. Let's put it like this: when you're asked to paint a picture of these two sides of Sonic's universe in your head, a specific image will likely come to mind. When you think of Classic, you'll probably think of Green Hill first and foremost, whereas with Modern, you'll probably think of something like City Escape or Rooftop Run before anything else. In other words, when you think Modern Sonic, you're probably imagining the more realistic kind of locations first. And between the two mental images that come to mind, I personally prefer the Classic image. Shock, horror.

I wish I could swim in a sea that’s probably radioactive.

Now keep in mind, I'm not saying that City Escape, Rooftop Run, and all similar environments in the series look bad, because they don't. Unless they're painted with the '06 brush, they generally look fine, and the locations in Unleashed in particular are undeniably beautiful from an graphical standpoint. The problem is that although I can picture this as a world that Sonic could be in, I can't necessarily picture it as Sonic's world specifically. Because when it comes to the more realistic environments, I feel there's not much of an attempt to let it branch out as its own thing.

I know that might seem harsh, especially for Unleashed, since the real world angle was the deliberate theme of that game. And Sonic taking cues from real places is a fine concept, there's no issue there. I'm not gonna complain if there's a France Zone with an Eiffel Tower in the background. In fact, Sandopolis Act 1 has one of my favourite aesthetics in a Classic zone (mainly because the background is really pleasant to look at), and that zone is essentially Egypt Zone. But if you're making a Real World Zone, there needs to be more to it than that, otherwise you don't truly get a Sonic interpretation of our world... you instead have our world as it is with Sonic characters awkwardly stapled on.

When I look at City Escape, it may not be completely unfitting for Sonic (the posters and billboards in particular are actually a really nice touch), but when I look at it, I don't see Sonic's interpretation of San Francisco. I see San Francisco with Sonic shoved in. When they morph these places to Sonic's liking, they'll add rings, loops... and that's it. They rarely take the concept any further, which is a huge shame, particularly in the case of Rooftop Run, where I otherwise do like its visuals a lot, but it just doesn't go far enough with the concept for my liking.

At least you get to murder car owners, and give G.U.N. a legitimate reason to arrest you.

So which Modern games do I feel did the best job at making Sonic's world... er, Sonic's world? Well the truth is, most of them actually do a decent job in this area, regardless of the level design quality or the game’s quality period. SA2 has Pumpkin Hill, Eggman's Pyramid Base, and... SOME levels aboard the A.R.K (mainly the “outside” ones, like Final Rush). Shadow the Hedgehog, a game that reveled in how brown and gritty it was, still had highlights like Circus Park and Digital Circuit. Even '06 of all games had Aquatic Base, which was pretty cool from a conceptual standpoint. And although Unleashed as a whole might be a touch too vanilla in the creativity scale, it still had the glorious Eggmanland at the very end. But if I had to say which of the Modern installments did the best job overall...

- For starters, I'm gonna give a shoutout to SA1, because even though it was the first Modern game, and thus it was technically responsible for the more focused angle of realism in Sonic's world in the first place, it didn't take it quite as far as later games would, and although it may not be a perfect 1-to-1 representation of the world we saw in the Classic games, it does well enough with what it brings to the table that I can still accept it without any issue at all. Some of that has to do with the fact that you still have wilder areas like Windy Valley and Red Mountain to balance things out, but even with the other half, the game's use of colour is enough for it to go a long way, oddly enough. Take the At Dawn section of Speed Highway for instance:

From innocent times, when the radar wasn’t a piece of shit.

Technically, it's really not that different to the urban environments you see in SA2 or Unleashed. But something about the sleepy morning approach gives it a subtle, almost dream-like edge to it that I really dig, and despite it being pretty similar to the likes of City Escape, somehow I have an easier time buying into the idea of this place being part of the same world as zones like Sky Sanctuary.

And seeing how I already mentioned Red Mountain, let me compare it to Flame Core:

Yes, I know bringing '06 into this discussion at all is inherently and hilariously unfair, but let's put aside the game that Flame Core comes from for a moment. Aside from maybe the purple crystal caves indoors (and that's assuming you can even see where the fuck you're going in there), Flame Core is pretty boring to look at as far as Sonic levels go. Red Mountain is vastly more interesting, even though it's basically the exact same concept, and a lot of that has to do with - you guessed it - colour. Sure, it's day time, that's one thing, but you'll also notice that for a lava/mountain stage, it surprisingly has a few grassier sections, sort of like Hill Top in that regard. A little bit of green among the brown and red, and a great contrast to the volcanic nightmare you'll experience when you head inside.

Now this might seem like a fairly minor detail... and yeah, it is, but the thing that SA1 does so well is that it combines so many of those small details to make a complete, well-rounded package. This is why SA1 meshes well with the Classic style despite not being an exact replica, because just as the Classics excelled at, it wasn't afraid to use colour in interesting ways. It understood that a fire level could have more than just red and orange, in the same way that a grassy level could have more than just green and blue.

But of course, as I mentioned, SA1 is not an exception. There are other Modern games that did a great job on the whole...

- Heroes is an obvious answer, since it's translation of Genesis-style environments to 3D is probably one of the most recurring praises the game receives, and rightly so. Not much to say here, except that Hang Castle is still cool as hell.

And plenty of opportunity to admire the not-broken-in-half moon.

- Colours is another obvious one, though something of an ironic one given that the premise of the game involved going to other worlds, and those worlds were all converted against their will by Eggman. Yet, they did an equally superb job at creating fun, unique locales, and Aquarium Park in particular remains a favourite of mine.

Gotta love that red/blue contrast.

- The Riders series has a more futuristic bend compared to the rest of the series, but even when it's not all high-tech, it's got some pretty cool environments of its own, and I feel they even do well at mixing the real world side of things on top of that. Gigan Rocks comes to mind, as does Aquatic Capital.

Reminds me of when Perfect Chaos peacefully protested against Station Square.

- Regardless of my thoughts on the game itself, Secret Rings had some undeniable winners in this depertment. You tell me with a straight face that Night Palace doesn't look amazing.

A wonderful palace for a domestic abuser.

- And lastly, they might have had an early advantage since they're already 2D, but the Advance trilogy and Rush duology deserve a mention. They had some fantastic ideas for zones, like Planet Sonata Music Plant, and they did great with the colours as well. Hell, throughout these five games, the sky was practically every shade of the rainbow at one point or another.

Oh look, another completely whole moon.

Also, quick shoutout to another minor detail akin to the grassy sections of Red Mountain: these pink tunnel sections in Ice Mountain. No elaborate point to make here, just another perfect example of how much I adore these games' use of colour and contrast.

Seriously, I could go on for hours about good contrast.

Although I do bring up these small details for another reason, and in turn, another layer to my more nuanced take on Sonic aesthetics. By this point, we get the basic jist: Crusher likey when Sonic levels unique and pretty. But this can - and has - lead to a couple of misconceptions, so I'd like to address those and then laugh at them.

“So you want Sonic's world to be exactly like Mario?”

A common complaint that Lost World received was that it was too much like Mario, in more ways than one, and part of this was to do with the game's visual style. The zones may have been upbeat, but they often consisted of a bunch of things floating in the air and not much else, ala 2D Mario. While I didn't outright hate it, it’s definitely not what I have in mind for Sonic.

Of course, all complaints about being too much like Mario suddenly turn into praise when Eggette gets brought up...

And why is that? Because yes, I like my Sonic locations to be fun and lively... but I also want them to be firmly established within the context of this universe. The Lost World approach is fine with Special Stages and the sort, but outside of that... well, Studiopolis is a perfect example of what I'm talking about:

On one hand, it's very unique when compared to other cities in this franchise, and it's full of quirkiness, great use of colour, and all that good stuff I've went on about. But at the same time, it's grounded just enough so that it still feels like an actual city that the people of Sonic's world could feasibly live in, rather than a basic and empty video game level with a tacked on city background. Studiopolis may be a level from a video game, but you can totally believe it's a fully fleshed out place from its own perspective.

Naturally, this praise also rings true with the Modern games I listed earlier, and is yet another reason for why I approve of their settings.

“So you think Sonic can't have darker locations?”

It might be easy to take my compliments at face value, and assume that I'm immediately opposed to a zone that's not brightly colored. This is... very obviously false, as even the Classic games have their share of less-than-cheery areas, such as Scrap Brain and the Bad Futures in Sonic CD.

However, when you're making a grittier location in Sonic's world, regardless of the context, it still needs to be interesting. The problem with a lot of them in Modern installments is that they're boring. Crisis City is a generic city on fire. Westopolis is a generic city with aliens firing lasers from above. The prison levels in SA2 - and the indoor ARK levels not named Cannon's Core - are just grey hallways for the most part. That shit isn't exciting, and it doesn't get my mind speculating. It just makes me want to move on.

Let the eggsperts take care of this.

By contrast, Eggmanland is a prime example of how to do it right. Eggmanland is a magnificent theme park as envisioned by the good doctor, but it's also, at its core, a giant metal hellscape fueled by the energy of a dark entity, and it only gets more ominous the further you go through it or try to before you give up because it’s too fucking long and you died at the end. So it sets the mood to be sure, but it's still visually compelling to look at, and interesting to think about.

And since Eggman is apparently the only one who can show us how it's done, here's a shoutout to Titanic Monarch as well:

Like Heavy King, but Heavier and Kingier.

When comparing the final zones in Sonic games, I especially love this zone's visual approach, because it manages to be dark and colorful at the same time, and in a strangly organic way. It's got a spooky atmosphere, with a moody moonlight backdrop to match, and the titular robot is foreboding as hell as you climb up it and traverse through it... all the while having red floors, green and yellow wires, blue and pink buildings, and stained glass windows of Eggman and the Heavies for you to marvel at. So even putting aside the unique scenario of climbing up and then through a Kaiju-sized mech, the mood of the zone alone manages to be extremely memorable.

So what have we learned from all this? Aside from the fact that I’m way too interested in this subject? We now know that when I say I prefer the Classic “style” over Modern when it comes to the way that Sonic's world is presented:

- I don't mean that literally.

- There are certain qualities that although both of them possess, they tend to be more immediately associated with Classic in the collective consciousness, even within the fandom.

- The environments that I love the most in Modern games are often the ones that would also fit perfectly in the Classic style.

So whenever I express the basic nature of this opinion in the future... just imagine a small asterisk at the end of my sentence.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas  {{ December 21 }}

Christmas tree shopping, ornament making, and decorating reveal some unresolved feelings...

The rest of the chapter after the break:

The door slammed open, clattering against the wall harshly.  Kaiba blinked in the bright light from the hallway, headache blooming at his forehead.

“Atticus wants you to come shopping for a Christmas tree.”  Joey announced, slamming a thermos of coffee and a small bottle of Tylenol on the side table.  The clattering noise was calibrated to exacerbate Kaiba’s hangover, and from the way his eyes squeezed shut, it worked.  “You left some stuff, I stuck it in the guest room closet, so help yourself.”

Joey tried to lower his voice as deeply as possible, make it sound as truly menacing as he could, but the follow up sentence, “Waffles are ready,” just didn’t sound very scary.

For his part, Kaiba just rubbed at his eyes.

When Kaiba rolled into the kitchen forty-five minutes later, he looked completely put together.  The picture of a man who could compartmentalize absolutely everything that had ever happened to him.

As he wandered toward the plate of waffles, Joey could feel the ghost of years past.  Of Seto wandering over, pecking a kiss to his cheek on his way to the coffee machine.

Instead he watched his ex-husband greet the kids and collect the plate set out for him at the counter.  Just the waffle and a bit of butter—no syrup, nothing sweet.  Kaiba sliced into the waffle surgically, and swallowed a small bite of it.  From the look on his face, he was too hungover and sick to really eat.

“Tell your Oto-san to eat his breakfast,” Joey said, pouring a glass of orange juice on the corner of the counter.

Kaiba sent Joey a death glare as Atticus announced that he had just the song.  As Atticus launched into the highly repetitive “Breakfast Song”—an independent composition—Kaiba winced as if he had taken a thousand life points of damage in a shadow game.

The thermos of coffee stayed in Kaiba’s hand as he wove through the driveway.  One of his cars had been left at the house—a black Mercedes that he had no real attachment to.  Kaiba must have tracked down the spare key from the hooks on the wall of the garage.  Kaiba was looking back towards the garage, as if he had a say in the matter.

Joey honked the horn of the minivan, startling his ex-husband and drawing another full body flinch from the man.

“I’m not movin’ Alexis’ car seat! Get in.”  Joey shouted out the window.  Kaiba revived his glare, only to lose it to a frustrated wince as Joey slammed on the horn again.

Kaiba froze, coffee “I swear,” Kaiba said, his voice menacing.  “She’s six, she doesn’t need a car seat.”

“Look, it’s a height thing now.  Ya can’t fire me, Kaiba, so unless ya got other plans, get in the car.”  He punctuated this demand with another ear-scorching honk.

Grasping at the last threads of his dignity, Kaiba straightened his back, schooled his face with as much focus as he could bear, and strode over to the minivan door.

Kaiba flung it open with a theatrical flair that would be more appropriate on a blimp than a minivan.

Joey opened his mouth to deliver an admittedly tepid comment—he was thinking “look who decided to join us”—but he was silenced by the kids cheering when Kaiba sat down in the car.

“Oto-san, can we listen to the Chipmunks Christmas?!” Atticus pleaded from the backseat.  

Joey didn’t bother holding back laughter and Kaiba clenched his jaw and nodded.

. . .

The adventure at the Christmas Tree farm started relatively smooth and uneventful.  Atticus and Alexis were good kids, even if Atticus could be a little loud and demanded a lot of attention, and Alexis was a bit shy.

For his part, Kaiba did an excellent job of standing and observing the process.  With stoicism, he posed at the back of the family and watched as Joey picked a tree, earned the approval of the kids, and tried to chop it down with the farm-provided axe on his own.

Tree chopping was harder than anticipated, and Joey’s struggles were equal parts frustrating and humiliating.

Kaiba couldn’t hold back a snicker, about 15 minutes into Joey’s battle with the tree.   But that was his miscalculation: the perfect opening for Joey to shoot back, “You think yer so strong, pretty boy?  Give it a go.”  And Joey all but tossed the axe in his ex’s direction.  Joey could have used a better, safer and more careful form when he handed his ex-husband the axe, but he was trying to catch his breath, and the haughty bastard had goaded him with that laugh.  Kaiba caught it easily anyway.

“Step back,” Seto announced, as if he was about to perform a magic trick.  The rest of the family formed a slightly more distant semi-circle.

Kaiba posed, axe high behind his back.  He made brief eye-contact with Joey before hefting a massive swing. The arc was long and graceful, and bit into the tree-bark savagely.  It took Joey’s four-inch indent and turned it into eight-inches, fully three-quarters of the way through the tree.

Kaiba smiled, pleased with his work.

“Alright,” Joey offered after a few seconds.  “Now, you pull it out.”  Joey resisted making any further innuendoes in front of the kids.

Kaiba nodded and reached for the axe.  It didn’t budge.  He adjusted his feet in the snow to gain more purchase—to no avail.  He lodged one foot against the tree, and still the leverage was insufficient.  It was as if the tree had accepted the axe as a new branch, and wouldn’t let go.

Kaiba pulled out his phone and started tapping.

“You lookin’ up how to get an axe out of a tree?” Joey challenged.

“No.”

“Oh my god are you trying to buy a better axe? And have it air dropped or something?”

Kaiba’s clever, snarky glance up from his phone told Joey exactly everything he didn’t need to know.  “Would the children have any interest in owning a Christmas tree farm?”

“No!” Joey jumped over, moving to try and steal back Kaiba’s phone before he could pull whatever insane business move required to buy out the family-owned farm.

Kaiba had been a capable “keep-away” player for decades, and hadn’t seemed to allow his skills to get rusty in the intervening period.

Joey still had some signature moves—and certainly could have brought the taller man to his knees if he had a yo-yo on him.

As it stood, the side tackle that Joey settled on was perfectly effective.  They rolled in the snow a bit, Kaiba able to twirl and pass the phone between his hands deftly and Joey ready to brute force the situation.  He had no qualms with getting snow in his ex-husband’s hair or up his nose.

What was surprising was when Kaiba stopped fighting.  He had been pinned down pretty well, back digging into snow, wrists held by Joey’s determined fingers as if handcuffed over his head, flakes stuck to his eyelashes and drenching his scarf.  Joey had one knee jamming Kaiba’s thighs into the ground.

Joey paused with those hands in his vice grip, feeling Kaiba’s muscles relax under his hands. The palms were facing him, and they were empty.  The only metal that Joey could see was the one thing he had longed to forget—Kaiba was still wearing his wedding ring.

“Is that?” Joey asked softly.

Kaiba had been baring a smug smile at Joey, confident in his plan to abscond with the phone—even in the compromised position.  That smile vanished at Joey’s question.

“I didn’t want to field any questions as to whether we were… I wanted it to be clear that we’re both their dads.”  Kaiba should have blushed, but he didn’t.  Instead he looked wild and scared, like he had been caught in a terrible lie.

Joey drew a slow breath, processing the information as the ice melted on Kaiba’s face.

“Oto-san!  I got the phone!” Atticus cheered, waving the slim black device in the air, instantly breaking the tension.

“Excellent execution,” Kaiba said, moving one powerful thigh to dislodge Joey’s entire hold.  He went tumbling back into the snow, and Kaiba stood up and straightened himself.  He held out his hand expectantly, and Atticus handed him the phone.

“How attached are you to this specific tree?” Kaiba asked Alexis, with the same intensity he would levy a question at a board meeting.

With the same seriousness that Kaiba had summoned, Alexis responded ,“I have no attachment to this tree.”

“Atticus?”

The boy shrugged.  Kaiba nodded.  “Then we will acquire another tree by alternative means.”  Kaiba tapped at the screen a few times.  “Any objections?”

This question was directed at Joey who also shrugged.  Joey eyed the axe, buried deep in the trunk of the tree.  It was not promising.

“What’s next on the holiday itinerary?” Kaiba asked, as if he was going to complete the Christmas activity list with the same ruthless efficiency he took to the business world.

“Decorating ornaments.”

. . .

It’s not just that it was fun to watch Kaiba struggle with things—though Joey thought it usually was—but his ex-husband, eyes narrowed in concentration, brows strung in frustration, long fingers dripping golden glitter glue…

Joey could have laughed the entire time.

Atticus had nicely decorated a music note.  He had diligently written the year and his name and his age on the thin piece of wood, and then doodled colorful lines around it.  Alexis had decorated a ballet slipper with surprisingly delicate shading and the same information.

Joey was relatively pleased with his own decoration: a nicely colored-in icon of the Time Wizard, with the same information.  He had hesitated to put his age, but it was tradition, and Alexis would surely bust him for breaking the rules.

But Kaiba had to be ambitious.  Usually his abilities could keep up with his formidable plans.  But this year’s image of the Thousand Dragon had not gone according to plan.  He had foolishly done the Blue Eyes White Dragon for the first year, and burned through it’s permutations by the time they finalized the divorce.

The underlying coloring wasn’t terrible—and the silhouette of a dragon was distinct enough that he couldn’t quite make it unrecognizable.  But the glitter glue gambit hadn’t paid off.  Instead of an extra level of pizazz, the glue had chemically interacted with the ink of the pens underneath.

Like a craft drawer Icarus that had flown too close to the sun, the careful coloring underneath melted into an absolute mess, blurring the relevant information, as well as the face of the dragon.  The whole work turned into a muddled, blotchy, glittering thing.  Yellows and marigolds combining to look more like a splotchy watercolor, but it lacked intention or grace.

Joey’s smile was wide and his jaw was clenched from the effort of not laughing at Kaiba’s very sad ornament.  “You can go back to the craft store and get a new blank one,” Joey managed to eek out, with only minimal giggles spilling into his speech.

“It’s…” Kaiba pushed at the glue with a sticky fingertip, as if he could reset the colors by sheer force of will.  “I will… write the information the back.”  Kaiba flipped the ugly ornament directly on the disposable plastic table cover, glitter glue oozing out.  He wrote his name in Japanese characters, and the date.

“It doesn’t look like a dragon, Oto-san,” Atticus protested.  “You have to try again!”

Kaiba nodded, and affixed two googly eyes to the head.

Joey completely lost it at the plain wooden outline of a dragon, wings stretched, blank except for the name, date, and age on it’s belly, glitter glue leaking from under it, as if wounded, and two plastic google eyes quivering as the table shook with his laughter.

Joey thought he spotted a soft smile on Kaiba’s face, but by the time he caught his breath again, it was gone.

. . .

Joey tried to push down the warmth in his chest that swelled when he saw Kaiba wrapped around the tree, diligently stringing holiday lights.  True to his word, he had an assistant from Kaiba Corp. USA’s New York branch sent out on an emergency hunt for the perfect tree.  Without much thought, by the time the family had made it home from the Upstate adventure and trip to the craft store, a tree was already staged in their house—perfectly conical and even.  As flawless as plastic, but full of that distinct pine scent.

Putting lights on the tree had been an intuitively “Kaiba” sort of activity.  He was taller, more electrically inclined, and better suited to the less nostalgic Christmas elements.  Although Joey had handled the task just fine, Kaiba’s persnickety nature did contribute to him spreading the lights evenly and nicely.  It was sort of frustrating for Joey to see the lights look so smooth and flawlessly distributed.  Especially when two years ago they had looked so uneven.

The off-year, when Kaiba had the kids for the winter holiday, Joey hadn’t bothered with any of his own decorations.  He had just visited his sister’s place, skyped with the kids, and moped.  He’d fallen asleep watching “Elf” alone on the couch.  It ranked high on his list of worst Christmases ever.  

Joey wondered a little, while Seto fought with the fragrant pine-needle branches, whether this would top the list of worst holidays.  Somehow, already, it didn’t feel like a bad holiday at all.

Joey held out a warm mug to Seto, once his task was finished.  It was one of the older ones, white with that navy-blue KC logo imprinted, but faded over the years.  

Kaiba raised his hand to reject the offering.  “I’m avoiding processed sugars. Last night was an exception, not the rule.”

Joey rolled his eyes.  “Trust me, if you’re going to sit through any of tonight’s concert, you’ll appreciate the… heh… innovation.”

With a skeptical look at the hot chocolate and half-melted marshmallows, Kaiba reluctantly accepted the mug.  He took a slow sip, before his eyebrows raised, recognizing the heroic volume of Baileys that had been surreptitiously mixed in.  Kaiba nodded in approval.  “I stand corrected.”

Indeed, the adulterated cocoa was fully drained over the course of Atticus’s hour long performance of every Christmas song he knew, plus a few piano remixes of various children’s show theme songs, and an original composition which was actually just smashing on the keys and smiling.

Kaiba remained steadfastly bound to the couch while Joey and Alexis actually placed all of the ornaments, whispering about what should go where.  A few times, Joey looked over, just to see if Kaiba had left.  Instead, he stayed, eyes darkened by some unknowable emotion.  When the concert was over, and Joey and Alexis’s task was finally complete, the three stepped back to turn off the overhead lights and bask in the eclectic glory of the tree.

Only then had Kaiba vanished.

. . .

Joey wandered into Kaiba’s study.  After the last night’s stunt, he expected to see the decanter open on the coffee table.

Instead, Kaiba was illuminated by his laptop, the rhythm of his typing on the keyboard sounding just a little like music.  “What do you want?” Kaiba asked, not looking up from his computer.

“I—” Joey shrugged, flopping down on the chair opposite Kaiba.  “I want to talk, I guess.”  

“About what?” Kaiba asked, though it didn’t quite come out like a question.  There was not a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Us.”  Joey looked over at Kaiba.  “You’re wearing the ring, Kaiba.” Kaiba looked down at his own hand, as if he had forgotten that he’d put it on and failed to take it off.

“Yeah.  And we were outside: there’s no blizzard anymore, Kaiba.  It blew over last night.  I’m no meteorologist, but you’re definitely cleared to fly.”  Joey placed his hands on his hips, pleased with his own argument.

“The ring was unrelated,” Kaiba said, emotionless, glued to the computer screen.  Joey rolled his eyes.  “And the children have expressed that they’d like me to stay for the holiday.  If you will not allow me to, that is a different matter.”

“Of course you can stay, but we need to talk about us.  What’s going on here, Kaiba?”

“You’ve made it clear, enough times, that you don’t want me, not in the way that I want you,” Kaiba added, typing speed not diminished in the slightest.  “None of that has changed, like you said.  And so I don’t know why you are bothering me, now.”

Jou shifted slightly in his chair, his stomach tuning over.  Sitting next to Kaiba hadn’t given him this sort of anxiety for so long, maybe ever.  He was used to hot anger, coursing through his veins, pooling in his fists.  This uneasy détente felt simultaneously unsustainable and like the exact tar pit they’d been drowning in for the last three years.

“I don’t know that I meant that.  I mean, yeah, in the moment, I meant it.  But,” Joey leaned back, trying to reposition himself so that he might be more comfortable.  There didn’t seem to be any decent way to sit in his own damn chair.  “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all.  A little.  Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Kaiba’s typing speed finally slowed, acquiescing to the intensity of the conversation.  Frankly, as Kaiba drew one hand to seal the lid of his laptop, Joey was willing to call that a change.  He hadn’t even had to literally ask Kaiba to stop working.  “Jounouchi.  Tell me what you want to hear.”

“Fine.” Joey straightened his shoulders.  “I want to know what happened when you went back to Domino.”

There was a long pause.

“I stayed on Mokuba’s couch for three months.” Kaiba crossed his arms defensively.

Joey burst out with warm laughter.  Kaiba didn’t blush, but he raised an eyebrow, as if to signal his ex-husband was not being the image of social grace.  Maybe he’d forgotten to whom he was married.

“And how’d he like that?” Joey said as his breathing steadied.

“He liked it fine.  He has always appreciated my cooking.  His fiancé did not.”

And like that, Joey was lost in another cacophony of giggles.  “Why didn’t you go back to the manor?”

Kaiba looked away, suddenly fascinated by the crystal decanter that had returned to the end table.  “It was… uncomfortable, after all this time.  After Mokuba’s partner made her opinion clear—”

“God, I can only imagine what the arguments were like,” Joey smiled again, bright as sunshine.

“It was not pleasant.  Obviously, my brother and I are still very close, but there were certain problems that arose—”

Joey leaned back in the chair, and balanced his feet on the coffee table.  To the untrained observer, it could have been mistaken for casual.  But all of the muscles of his legs were tense, the tendons that collided with the table strung like the strong of a bow.  “I bet I can guess: you show up at 2 am, you make whatever noise you’re gonna make with no regard for anyone sleeping, you sleep in all day after a couple of all-nighters unpredictably—”

“Yes,” Kaiba said, his voice somewhat soured.  “Everything that you hate about me, unsurprisingly was also loathsome to Yui.”

“That’s not… Kaiba its not things I hate about you,” Joey shifted again in the chair, picking at his nailbeds.  He looked as if he had been called into the principal’s office again after a fight.  “It’s shit that you do, that you choose to do, that’s disrespectful to the people around you.  I’m glad to hear that Yui didn’t take it.”

“After a time, you didn’t either, right?”  Kaiba responded, the sadness seeping in a little.  From the longing glance he shot at the whiskey, the allure of the crystal decanter was strong; the urge to not deal with his ex-husband in this mood, fully sober, was perhaps stronger.

But there was something about Joey’s words that seemed to put up a forcefield around the bottle.  “But it doesn’t mean, you really didn’t change at all.  A little.  Or that you couldn’t change… enough.”

Joey rolled his eyes, pressing fast-forward on the tired argument.  “That wasn’t all of it, and we both know that you know better.  But just tell me what else happened.”

Kaiba’s sour expression and defensive posture continued.  “After that, I got an apartment near the office.  I only used the manor in the Summer, when the children came to visit.”  Kaiba eyed that bottle once more.  “It was disconcerting to be there alone.  I thought… that this is what he must have… felt like.”

As if saying his name would have brought him into their life, awakened some other dormant form of him trapped between this world and the Hell he so surely belonged in.

They sat there, soaking in the ghosts of the past a little longer.  Joey wasn’t going to say anything to break the silence—he knew from experience that with enough stubbornness, Seto would eventually be forced to say something to change the subject or actually talk about his feelings.

After just a couple of minutes, Joey was proven right.

“Are you really happy working at the daycare?” Kaiba asked.

“How did you—” It was only natural that Kaiba would have Joey at a loss again.

“Yugi is a game developer, you know that he collaborates with Kaiba Corp.  We talk… sometimes,” Kaiba said, feigning nonchalance.  It was not persuasive.  Kaiba’s intensity for everything was too strong.  Joey was quite certain he’d never had a casual interest in his entire life.

“Yeah.  Things are good,” Joey answered the original question.

Kaiba nodded at the input and reopened the laptop.  The glare illuminated the wire framed lenses, hiding any expression within his eyes.  “I’m getting back to work.”

Joey considered putting up a fight.  But it had been a long enough day.  In a move reminiscent of his ex, he rose from his seat wordlessly and went his own way.

[purplesurveys]

1180

The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? Yeah, I’m pretty paranoid and always feel the need to use conditioner because of a bad rebonding job from like a decade ago that stiffened up my hair as soon as it would get wet. It lasted for around a year, so I formed the habit of always using conditioner every time I shower. I don’t think I’ve ever used just shampoo since then.

Do you prefer light or dark jeans?  Dark, but I suppose it would be nice to start experimenting with lighter shades as well.

When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen?  It depends if I know the lyrics or I’m feeling the song at the moment. Obviously with my new obsession with BTS I can’t really sing along to entire songs, but I do sing the few English lyrics they have per song, hahaha.

Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook?  Yeah but she’s been muted for like half a year already, as is the rest of her family. I do have plans to unfriend her entirely; I’m just not sure when I would push through with it, and I already gave Angela permission to log onto my account one of these days to be the one to do the unfriending.

Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person?  Gabie. I miss the friendship sometimes; I don’t think I’ll have a friendship as deep and connected as the one we had, so I will always feel sorry about how that went to waste. But I don’t really think about our relationship anymore as I’m pretty good at blocking off certain memories, so I don’t miss her in that sense.

How many cars are parked at your house right now?  Two.

Do you have any Italian ancestry?  I highly doubt so. If anything there’s probably a tiny drop Spanish blood in there but that’s the most European I’ll ever get.

Do you prefer water to be ice cold or at room temperature?  Like, drinking water? Ice cold, always. I hate warm water.

Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak?  Not to my face, but I know I’m one so I’m sure other people have said that about me at least behind my back.

Do you know anyone who has gone missing? If so, were they ever found?  Yes, my friend Mik and one of my aunts. They were both found eventually.

What was the spiciest thing you’ve ever eaten?  Eating ghost pepper instant noodles was a pain I would never want to go through again...I threw that shit out after my first forkful, lmao.

Do you need to talk to someone?  No, not in particular. In a more general sense I do wanna start gaining more friends though, so I’ve been meaning to expand my circle by creating a new Twitter account just for my BTS dump. In other words, I am a 23 year old with a stan Twitter HAHAHAHA

Is something confusing you at the moment?  No, I’m good.

When was the last time you had a real deep chat?  Maybe my conversation with Andi a couple of nights back. We were talking about a tricky situation with their ex-friend who turned out to be a real dick when they came out to him a year ago, and they just wanted to get my perspective on how I would handle it.

Who did you last see on webcam?  The PR manager for one of our clients, who we all despise because he doesn’t know how to do his job. Thankfully he’s resigning soon so we’re all just waiting for him to leave and finally meet a much more competent replacement.

What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)?  Angela has two dogs, Hailey and Kennedy. Andi had Apollo, who I wanted to meet so badly but sadly he passed away a week ago at 15.

Have you ever taken a picture while laying in the grass?  There are photos of me sitting on grass, but not lying in it. I would imagine that would feel very prickly and uncomfortable.

Who’s your favorite Disney character? Baymax or Flynn Rider.

Have you ever deliberately tried to get someone drunk?  I’ve made my friends chug drinks or down shots and it’s happened vice versa, but it was always in good fun and we never made each other harassed from it. It’s just your typical college rambunctiousness, and if anyone felt uncomfortable or iffy then we didn’t hesitate to move on.

When was the last time you used a pay phone and who were you calling?  I’ve only ever seen those in my first school, when I was in kindergarten. I never got to use it and they also took them out not long after.

Do you like being kissed on the neck?  Yessssssssss

Have you ever had sex with someone you weren’t dating (but had feelings for) in the hopes that they would ask you out later?  Nope. I don’t think I would have sex with anyone I wasn’t dating.

What’s the most you would be willing to spend on a good bra?  Probably a couple thousand bucks if I thought I looked good in it.

Do you have any of your teachers’ personal cell phone numbers saved in your contacts list?  I don’t think so. I never tried getting close with any of them, and I always tried to stay hidden as much as possible. I was just in class to get good grades and pass.

Do you ever stalk peoples’ personal blogs, even if you don’t know them very well?  I never really scroll through people’s Tumblrs anymore. That was more of a thing I did in like 2013, but these days going through my dashboard is enough.

What’s one thing about today’s generation that you just can’t stand?  Some social media trends done for clout make me revolted, especially when it has anything to do with wasting food. I also hate when they do extreme pranks that I know I wouldn’t find funny if I were ever the victim, like tossing someone’s phone into the ocean.

Be honest: how do you feel about abortion?  Pro-choice. 

Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to?  I would love to catch up with Katreen at some point, but I know we’re at different points in our lives now and it would probably never happen.

What is your favorite piece of art you own?  I commissioned my sister to make an artwork of the 2D1N cast, and she did a great job making it! I haven’t gotten to use it or promote it yet, but I will soon. It’s really well-done.

What’s the one thing you apologized for this month?  Replying late.

My favorite color is ______?  Pastel pink.

I wish I had _____?  Longer weekends.

What did you buy today? Nothing – I’d call that a success lmao, I’ve been spending money as if I had a million fucking bucks over the last week. I did have some packages arrive today though: my own copy of 2 Cool 4 Skool (my first physical BTS album!!!!!!); the official poster from their album BE; the Ivy Park sneakers I ordered earlier this month, and an Ivy Park bucket hat Bea had apparently gotten for me as a birthday present.

What has challenged your morals?  Vices.

What made you pick up the last book you started reading?  I had to read it in preparation for a one-on-one session with my employer’s CEO.

What about your life concerns you the most? Whether a stable future is in the cards for me.

What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend?  Probably Filipino-American comedians or influencers who use stereotyping of Filipino accents and habits as a punchline; they do more harm to the culture than good. I can tell you not one Filipino who lives in the Philippines actually finds those funny, and Bretman Rock is probably the only personality who’s able to flaunt the culture in an entertaining and hilarious yet classy way.

When it comes to being offended, I guess it depends on the context. My humor can get pretty dark and low-blowy, but I would have a problem with someone who I know has genuinely problematic views.

What was the last series you finished watching? Do you have any plans to begin another?  I think it may had still been Start-Up from last December. I’m not too big on Korean dramas since I find one episode waaaaaaayyyyyyy too long. I don’t think I’ll be starting on anything soon, Korean or otherwise.

What is one way in which you are different from a year ago? What is one way in which you are still the same?  I’m single now, for the first time in technically six years. I also think I’m doing better and happier, breakup notwithstanding. OH and I love wasabi now, hahah. As for what’s unchanged, I still like taking surveys and I’m still stuck at home, though the latter’s not really in my control anymore.

If you could learn about anything without the stress of grades or cost, what kind of classes would you take?  I’d just go back to UP for the free tuition. We also have the widest range of programs out of any university in the country, so it’s a damn good deal.

Name a song you’ve listened to today?  Fly To My Room - BTS

When you were younger, did you have a swing set or a playhouse in your backyard?  We didn’t; but one of our relatives that we’d regularly visit did have a playground that I’d use all the time. It’s still there, just very unmaintained since no one uses it anymore.

Is your mall nice?  Which one? We have five different malls nearby lol. Mall culture here is on another level.

Do you have a Sonic near you? If so, what’s your favorite drink from there?  No. I’m not so sure what they serve there, either. I’m guessing milkshakes?

Will you be voting in the presidential elections next time around?  I’ll always exercise my right to vote.

How do you feel about chocolate-covered strawberries?  I hate strawberries and I hate fruits, so even if you coat that shit in Nutella and cookie butter and chocolate syrup I still wouldn’t touch it.

Did you ever stop having feelings for someone and then started having those feelings again for them? No.

Do you hate the last guy you had a thing with?  I’ve never had a thing with guys.

To whom did you last give the finger?  I haven’t had to do that in a while.

What was the last musical instrument played in your presence?  My sister’s keyboard.

Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream?  Not particularly. They make things look cute, but they never taste like anything tbh so I never saw the point in paying extra just to have them on my desserts.

Honestly, have you ever crashed a party before?  Nah. I cringe thinking about that.

Do you know how to do the moon walk?  I don’t.

Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice?  Never gotten that specific compliment before because I know I don’t have one.

Onion rings or french fries?  Onion rings.

Has anybody ever described you as a heart breaker? No.

Has anybody ever told you that you talk too fast?  I don’t think so, but I know I have the tendency to do so occasionally, especially while I’m presenting a deck. Once I notice it I make an effort to pace myself.

Who is the best cook that you know?  My dad and both my grandmas all deserve that title.

Which meal throughout the day do you skip the most?  I literally never have lunch ever.

What’s the largest amount that you can juggle at one time?  I can’t juggle.

What was your favorite thing to go on at the playground as a kid?  Sandboxes, since I liked the texture; the sandboxes in school were also often empty, which worked well for my introvert self. I find that it’s carried over to today, since I still enjoy touching things like slime and kinetic sand.

Do you know how much you weighed at birth? How much?  I think 5 or 6 lbs, I’m not exactly sure but it’s definitely somewhere in that small range.

Which aspect of your daily routine takes the most time? What do you do?  Work, for sure. I work a normal 9–6 so that’s already 8 hours out of my day, but I also OT a lot after hours, and I work throughout my lunch break as well so that technically makes it 9 hours. I also like getting up earlier and starting some work before my shift so that I would have less tasks on my plate for the day.

Do you enjoy buying gifts for others, or could you do without this?  I LOVE getting people gifts. Food is especially my love language, and I always get food delivery for my friends, family, and my team at work.

What is one thing you are expected to do, if anything?  I mean, I have work deadlines tomorrow so there’s that.

How do you tend to view driving? Monotonous or entertaining?  I love driving. I don’t think I ever complained about having to do it. It’s calming and relaxing when I’m doing it alone or with a partner; and it can be entertaining with the right set of people.

Do you enjoy talking about music with others? Not always. If I don’t listen to the artist then I can find the conversation quite boring, like if my friends would get into a full-blown discussion about Taylor Swift.

Is acting something you enjoy?  No. It wouldn’t even be something I’d be interested in doing.

When do you feel most accomplished?  Finishing a work day with no tasks left behind.

Do you think Manwich is amazing or completely gross?  Idk what that is.

How many best friends do you have?  Two.

Are you a smoker, drinker, pothead or none of the above?  I drink sometimes. I also kinda smoke, I guess.

If you have your ears pierced, when did you get them pierced?  My mom had them pierced when I was a month old.

Do you own any exercise machines?  My mom has this rowing equipment thingy. I don’t have any of my own, though.

On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings?  No.

Have you ever drawn or painted a self-portrait?  I remember having to draw one as a school assignment, but I’m pretty sure I half-assed that because I couldn’t care less for art class back then.

Who was your last voicemail from?  We don’t have voicemails.

Have you ever been falsely accused of something serious?  I don’t think so. That’s the sort of situation that would stick out in my memory if ever.

Did you ever set up a lemonade stand when you were a kid?  No, not a thing here.

When was the last time you spoke to someone in a different language?  Around an hour ago when I went downstairs and chatted with my sister briefly.

Have you ever received an anonymous gift?  Nope.

Have you ever camped out somewhere for an event the next day?  Nope but I definitely still wouldn’t be opposed to doing that haha.

When were you the saddest in your life? 2016 was fucking miserable. < I’d have to agree. 2017 was also awful.

Do you know anyone, personally, who is in an abusive relationship? Are you?  I used to know one but she got out of it. In a sense, I suppose I also was in one.

If you have siblings, have they moved out or do they still live with you?  Well they’re younger, so they definitely still live here, with our parents. I’m the first one expected to move out, but I’m taking my time.

Have you ever gotten searched by the cops?  No.

Do you like fried rice?  Of course. I like any kind of rice.

What was the last thing you drank?  Water.

[hasmashdoneanythingwrong]

Please! The Elder Scrolls lore!

Oh man bad wording on your part, we’re going to start from the beginning and I am going to have fun with this!

The literal blood sweat and tears of creation

So, like all good cosmologies, this one starts with a good old fashion “in the beginning, there was nothing”. And then, from this nothingness came two... let’s call them gods, that’s the closest term we have. Really, they’re more akin to the Greek Protogenoi In that they were closer to sapient forces of cosmic power than anything else. These two gods represented what many will call the great dichotomy: Anu, God of Stasis, and Padomay , God of Change. Another way to think of it is as order and chaos, but more in the sense of “things staying the same” and “things changing constantly”. These two just kind of sat around doing cosmic forces things...

When BAM! Another cosmic force (Likely representing the idea of creation) appeared. Her name was Nir, And she was so sexy that all two other people in creation at the time were like “Holy shit...!” And then Nir looked at Anu And was like “Holy Shit…!” So of course, the two of them immediately hit it off, got to work making worlds, and we’re really really happy together because they exist in the universe before “Being a shitty person to your spouse” was a concept. However, you know what was A concept? Murder and also maybe jealousy. Padomay Looked at the two of them being happy and was like “That should be me, those fuckers!” So he went up to Nir And was like hey you should ditch my stupid brother and go out with me instead we can make all sorts of cool shit. And Nir was like “What am I a cheater? Go away jerk”.

Padomay did not like this. So he went full Yandere and killed Nir and her 12 or so children/worlds.

Anu did not like this, because he helped make those and even in a timeless primordial void life was sacred.

So Anu was like “Stop! You violated the law! Pay the court a fine, or serve your sentence! Your stolen goods are now forfeit.” Padomay obviously said no and Anu was all like “Then pay with your blood!” And started fighting Padomay. However, unlike the average city guard that makes the exact same speech, Anu Was actually a powerful individual, and proceeded to rip Padomay So many new assholes that Padomay died. Then Anu was like “My wife... My Children... There’s only one thing left to do here...!”, took their shattered remains, and began piecing them together into something new. If this sounds weird and/or creepy to you, consider our own real world mythologies, and realize honestly, by creation myth standards, This is pretty tame and actually kind of nice.

But before Anu could really do anything...

Padomay: (DBZ teleport noise) Omae Wa Mou... Shindeiru.

Anu: Nani?!

(Both proceed to explode into massive puddles of blood and soul)

And from there, these massive pools of blood and soul (now named Sithis (Padomay’s Blood, The Primal “Is Not”) and Anui-El (Anu’s Blood, The Primal “Is”)) began to expand out infinitely. Where they touched created this weird sort of… Not order not chaos but also yes order and yes chaos area that we will simply call… The Aurbis.

Of course, truth is this is but one variation of How It’s Made Aurbis Edition. Some versions have snakes, some have Anu and Padomay simply eject their souls into Anui-El and Lorkhan/Sithis, who can say. All of them are technically true and false at the same time anyways. But more importantly, all of these variations are both canon, non-canon, and quasi-canon. Fun!

Hakuna Et’Ada

So in this bloody pit, The Aurbis was not the only thing to come out of this. From these three blood settings (Anu, Padomay, and Mixed) came the original spirits, which later peoples would call Et’Ada. Depending on who you ask, certain spirits originated from particular mixtures, But the reality is different spirits just sorta became different things regardless of which blood puddle they originated from. Some claim what would become the Daedra came only from Padomay’s blood, But if that were the case, then Jyggalag is hella weird since that would make him a Chaos God of Order. And Meridia was a Magna-Ge so... yeah. So for now, lets just assume every named Et’Ada that isn’t Lorkhan came from evenly intermingled blood.

Anyways, as all these spirits came to be they emerged to what is best described as a the metaphysical equivalent of a pyramid made of tesseract spirals colored RedOrangUrPinCyan but also YellOchErmilliFuchIte being formed into a pentagon. That is to say, hella interesting to watch. So the Et’Ada were kind of content to couch potato and watch the resulting three way of the 3rd, ith (as in the imaginary number), and -680th dimensions.

All but one. See, one Et’Ada was purely Padomayic/Sithic, and his name was Lorkhan. And being essentially the embodiment of Chaos and Change, Lorkhan was like “Man this isn’t exciting enough”. So he kept getting bored, until one “day” (day as a relative term since time didn’t exist yet) he got so bored he went to the edge of The Aurbis and saw it looked like a wheel with 8 spokes. He said “huh that’s weird” tilted his head to the side and immediately Understood(tm) because he beheld the letter and concept “I”. Except not really, because as an Et’Ada he could never Understand. But he understood he did not Understand, so he knew how other spirits could Understand. So he was like “I have an Idea” and left to tell/cajole/convince the other spirits to participate. Some didn’t like his idea, bust secretly they kind of did. So they fucked off and made their own worlds out of themselves while retaining all their power. The 13 most powerful became the Daedric Princes, and all together the spirits that did not participate in Lorkhan’s plan became known as the Daedra (An old word meaning “Not Our Ancestors, singular form Daedroth (not to be confused with the crocodile like Daedra)). Meanwhile, all the other spirits thought this totally sounded cool, especially the one who would become Kynareth/Kyne (note that many creation myths have her heavily associated with Lorkhan and/or his equivalent figures, like Shor). One of these Et’Ada, a mighty spirit of mostly Anui-El named Magnus, was of course chosen to be the Architect and planner, for he understood the concept of order and planning better than anyone save maybe Auri-El/Auriel/Akatosh, who was basically Anui-El’s equivalent to Lorkhan. And eventually, after many not-months and a whole lot of untime later, Magnus was like “It’s done, let’s put this bad boy together!”, and Lorkhan was like “It’s Just According To Keikaku”, and unfortunately he said this right as the spirits were in the middle of making Lorkhan’s Cool Thing and realized it was kiiiiind of killing them to do. Also unfortunately for Lorkhan, they all knew Keikaku means plan. So Magnus and his closest followers/diciples/apprentices were like “fuck this!” And tore holes into reality to escape to Aetherius, which is what surrounds the bubble of reality Lorkhan’s Cool Thing exists in. However, Lorkhan immediately said “It’s Just According to Keikaku” again because by doing that, Lorkhan’s Cool Thing was exposed to Magicka, and also that made the stars (with Magnus’s exit becoming The Sun).

Never let it be said Lorkhan didn’t know how plans worked.

After that the remaining gods decided to Convene upon Lorkan’s Cool Thing to decide on how to punish him for saying the old memes and also for nearly killing them. This meeting (called Convention) was held upon what would become Adamantine Tower, aka Ada-Mantia. Eventually, it was decided that Lorkhan was to be executed for being a massive tool who tricked the Et’Ada into sacrificing themselves for Lorkhan’s Cool Thing. They also decided to rename Lorkhan’s Cool Thing to Nirn as they realized that Lorkhan’s creation had sort of recreated Nir as she was before Padomay killed her (I forgot to mention his killing Nir kind of maimed the fuck out of her too) without really bringing her to life again. So eventually it was decided that Lorkhan was to be executed, but that didn’t work out as well since everything they tried to do to him just didn’t work. So Lorkhan once again said “It’s Just According To Keikaku” and Auri-El was like “Anu and Padomay dude what do you even mean by that?!”, to which Lorkhan explained:

“My Heart is the Heart of the World, for one was made to satisfy the other!” (By the way I’m 90% certain he actually said something like this.)

So hearing this, both Auri-El and a spirit named Trinimac proclaimed “If your heart is so satisfied by the world, then the world can have it!” (Not really, But it builds up to what they really did). Then, Trinimac tore Lorkhan in half and pulled the heart out before Lorkhan could be not torn in half, then gave it to Auri-El who fastened it upon an arrow and fired it from his bow.

You may know this bow, it takes a form mortals can use sometimes. Which bow? Think of Auri-El’s other names.

Anyways, as the heart was flying over what would become Tamriel, it’s blood flew all over the damn place. Most of the blood would become the metal Ebony, which is why it’s so powerful a metal as it’s essentially dried god’s blood. Other places, such as... oh, let’s throw out the middle of Cyrodiil for no reason, the blood would crystalize. Oh, and I lied because I threw out Cyrodiil for a reason and that reason is one crystalized blood lump would become the Chim-El-Adabal, and later the Amulet of Kings, a very important necklace.

Meanwhile, the other gods used Lorkhan’s halves to make the Moons, because what else would you do with dead god corpse parts?

Eventually, the Heart of Lorkhan would hit the ocean, where it would give rise to a massive volcano island people would later call Morrowind, and from this volcano Lorkhan’s heart would give one last “It’s Just According To Keikaku”, for this too was planned. For you see, by doing this Lorkhan subconsiously introduced the concept of a straight line to Auri-El, the spirit of time. And by doing that, it forced Time to go from one point to the other instead of doing what it wanted. The first two Towers were made, and Nirn was at last out of Beta and in Release Phase. Bugfixes and stability patches (more Towers) to follow later.

Realizing they could not live forever with their divinity drained into Nirn, the Et’Ada (now renamed Aedra, meaning “Our Ancestors”) began to have descendants, the Ehlnofey (Earthbones, aka Demi-Gods). These Ehlnofey were the creators of the laws of physics, so to speak, known as Truths. Some created gravity, others said “hey maybe all this magicka floating around should be usable” and invented magic, and so on and so forth. These became known as The Earthbones. That said, many Ehlnofey simply had children, what would become Mer (elves) and Men. Argonians, meanwhile, came about because a chunk of one of those old worlds Nir created landed on Nirn in the form of the Hist. And the Khajiit... uh... I have no clue actually, I’ll get back to you on that one. Something involving the moons I know that much.

Towers, the Tacks of Reality

So, I’m sure you’re wondering, since I’ve mentioned the concept at least twice now, “hasmashdoneanythingwrong.com, What are The Towers in the metaphysical sense?”, To which I say… This is actually a very interesting concept. It’s best explained with The Map Metaphor. Imagine, if you will, Mundus (the pocket of reality Nirn resides in within the Aurbis) as a corkboard. Now, lay a map of Tamriel/Nirn over the corkboard. And now, take several pins and/or tacks and place them in areas roughly akin to the following areas:

High Rock’s Adamantine Tower

Morrowind’s Red Mountain/Red Tower

Summerset Isle’s Crystal Tower/Crystal-Like-Law

Cyrodiil’s White-Gold Tower/Imperial Palace

Yokuda’s Orchalc Tower (just imagine it somewhere in the ocean. You may notice a problem here, we’ll get to that soon...ish.)

The Dwemer’s Numidium/Walk-Brass/Brass Tower (pin this one pretty much anywhere on the Daggerfall region, basically somewhere in High Rock or Hammerfell). This one’s weird because it’s techincally in the future but active now. For best bets represent it with a tack made of transparent plastic.

Valenwood’s Green-Sap

Skyrim’s Snow-Throat/Throat of the World

Keep a few other pins on hand in case Bethesda reveals a tower in either Akavir, Pyandonea, or (unlikely but possible) Thras.

So, now you imagine the map, right? These pins, The Towers, hold Mundus/Nirn together and keep them from sinking into Oblivion.

So of course here’s where it all goes to fuck. Do the following:

Remove Red Mountain, Crystal Tower, White-Gold Tower, and Orichalc Tower.

Pull Snow-Throat half way out (while not deactivated it is “damaged” somehow.)

Not a whole lot of pins left, eh? But, one good piece of news: there is one more force holding Nirn/Mundus out of Oblivion.

Do the following:

Put a metric fuckton of gold tacks around the edge of the map, and imagine them being set up to automatically pull the Tower Pins out if they all get pulled out.

What tower is that? None! It is instead Talos, who is secretly holding the world together. Horrifyingly, this means killing the dude in Whiterun that preaches about Talos is bad, as Talos needs worshippers to maintain his power. Which means the Thalmor will unmake reality if they completely remove Talos Worship.

Don’t worry, they know and are banking on that happening. Why do you think that one Thalmor in the College of Winterhold questline was so excited about “the power to unmake the world at [his] fingertips”?

Wait, no. Do worry.

And somewhere, Akatosh is complaining about his neck and his back.

Time is a funny thing on Nirn. Turns out, making Time be based on making a single god know what a straight line is is very... unstable. Unstable enough that it’s possible to Break it. Yes, capital B. A Dragon Break is what they’re called. When a Dragon Break occurs, Time goes back to what it once was and becomes... fucky. Children birth their fathers, mothers divorce men they never met until five years from a prior divorce they never had, and dogs and cats decide now’s a good time to be friends. Fun! So when this happens, the Jills come out to Shout at Time until it bitches down and stops being broken, like a hoard of shitty therapists. If you’re wondering what a Jill is, basically it’s a female Dragon. Well, female by mortal standards. See, dragons’ genders are based on whether they want to fix thing or break things, and I am completely serious on that. So far, the most famous two Dragom Breaks occured:

When the Maruhkati Selectives, a rabidly Anti-Elf cult sect of an already pretty Anti-Elf group known as the Alessian Order, attempted to purge Auri-El from Akatosh because Auri-El was the aspect elves worshiped. As you can imagine, that went horribly.

The endings of Daggerfall, where at parallel points in different timelines several factions attempted to use Numidium all at once. The end result was the Warp In The West, Mannimarco becoming a God of Necromancy, Orcs getting rights, and the Illac Bay not being a massive clusterfuck (mostly). Numidium tends to do that, being the Dwemer’s walking middle finger to reality.

More Fun Facts about stuff available upon request, But for now I need to stop or I’ll make this too long for anyone.