#save me persona 4 first years.....

[almoststedytimetravel]

I think about this cover for the arena Manga so often. What did they mean by this.

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - The Beginning of the End (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: I got so many thoughts on this so bear with me. I didn't have the brain power to write this as a full fic so accept the various drabbles that will come out of this concept. Also If anyone has done this before, please let me know! I would love to read that! Warnings: MDNI, Sexual Themes, Slight Violence, Angst

You're currently on a probationary period to be the permanent Intelligence Operative for Task Force 141. Despite being trained and recommended by Kate Laswell herself, Laswell found a hard time finding a team that would treat you with the level of respect you were warranted as many saw you as a glorified assistant.

Frustrated by the blatant disrespect, Laswell calls Price, despite knowing that he doesn't like to work with strangers. After singing your praises and promising him that he would not be disappointed, Price concedes and decides to give you a chance. If after a year you managed to prove your worth, you would earn yourself a permanent position on his team.

But by the 3-month mark, Price and the rest of the team knew you were here to stay. They honestly couldn't believe that no one wanted to work with you. You were exactly everything that Laswell promised... heck, even more if you asked any of the 141.

You were always on top of your work as well as the boys', even jumping in when it got too much. Your attention to detail was impeccable as you managed to save the team both time and resources from faulty intel or bad leads. But, what really cemented your place on the team was the way you managed to worm yourself in each of their hearts. 

Before Soap even had a chance to pursue you, you sought him out first. Whenever you had a problem, instead of calling the Captain, or the Lieutenant, or even the older Sergeant, you always called him first, the Sergeant that still feels like he has a lot to prove. And when Johnny asks why, you say that he's already proven himself, which makes his heart soar. So of course, the Scotsman thinks of you when he's thinking of strategies to suggest or jokes to pull out during the next meeting. 

And when Kyle asked for your attention, you gave it without hesitation. While everyone else on base focuses on Soap's jokes, Price's wisdom, or Ghost's commands, you eagerly wait for Gaz' input, conscious of what it feels like to be talking while no one listens. You are enamored by everything he has to say, giving him your utmost attention, a rare thing for the Sergeant. Even when he pushes back on orders, you're the first one to listen and ask the rest of the team to just consider. So of course, Kyle looks for you whenever his mind begins to race.

And when Price falters, you're there to pick him up, never with an ounce of judgement. You're the first in his office, with a coffee or snack in hand (since you know he's probably forgotten to eat), and the last to leave it, putting as much time and heart in strategizing as he does. You remind him that he deserves to rest as much as his boys and that you'll never see him as less when his Captain persona cracks. So of course, when John finally has a chance to unwind, he thinks of you and your warm smile.

And finally, when Ghost tries to intimidate you, you stand your ground. You were aware of his reputation, but it didn't really phase you. He wasn't the first person that's tried to unnerve you. But instead of scaring you off, you managed to intimidate him after he catches you chewing out two rookies for bad-mouthing him. When he confronts you and asks why the passionate defense, you just shrug, reasoning that that's what teammates do. He has your back and you have his. So of course, Ghost becomes your shadow, jumping for the chance to protect you.

That's why when you're all at a bar, celebrating your 4 months with the team, the guys are loving by the fact that you drank more than usual. You've become much more bold in your affection for each of them. And they won't lie and say that they didn't like the heavy-handed compliments or even the intimate touches. However, it's when you start talking about a future with them that their patience nearly snaps.

"You know I'd gladly marry any of you." You admit as you finish your 7th beer. With your laughter in the background, they all still as they imagine what that would be like. Dressing up and waiting for you at the altar, his breath held in anticipation for you to bless the place and his life with your presence. Going to your now-shared home and taking you over, and over, and over, and over again until your body is leaking with his spent. Willingly giving you his mind, body, and soul for as long as the world allows him as a sign of gratitude for choosing him when you could have picked anyone else. They all stare at you as they all realize how badly they wanted to snatch you up and make this a reality.

You're so drunk, you fail to notice your teammates' hungry stares. But, they don't. Jealousy seeps in their bones as they realize that their captain, their lieutenant, their sergeant, and their fellow sergeant were all thinking the same thing.

So obviously, infighting starts. They still manage to get their work done but now it's a competition to see who can earn your praise. Now, the Captain's orders become suggestions. The Lieutenant's bark is just that. The sergeants' playful snips turn into snarls. The growing need to put the other in their place festers in each and every one of them. It's not great, but it's manageable... until it's not.

While Price and Ghost are arguing over the plans for the next mission, they get called into the gym. On entrance, they find Soap and Kyle lunging at the other's throat. Price grabs Kyle and Ghost grabs Johnny, pulling the two SAS soldiers off from one another. The damage isn't serious, but it's there: Kyle's lip is torn and the corner of Soap's eyes is bleeding. It's clear they're not done yet as Kyle snarls at the Scotsman, telling him that you would never go for a fool like him. Soap retaliates and barks that you wouldn't go for a wimp like Gaz.

Realizing what's happening to his team, Price calls an emergency meeting in his office. With all men inside, the room is tense. No one speaks.

"We need to put a stop to this," admits Price with a heavy weight in his heart. As captain, he knows that for the sake of the task force, tough decisions have to be made. They were soldiers first before men. The men shrink under his gaze, realizing what has to be done.

"So from here on out, they're off limits. Whatever relationship you have with them, end it." Kyle and Soap open their mouths to argue, but Price quickly silences them.

"And if you can't control yourself, I'll have them transferred. Understood?" John felt his stomach lurch with his statement. He couldn't imagine kicking you off the team, but he had to push that feeling aside right now. If him and his men didn't get their shit together, innocent people would suffer.

"Yes sir," grunts out Ghost. He slowly makes his way to the door.

Soap nods his head, eyes sharp and jaw tense. He's right behind the Lieutenant.

Gaz waits a bit and stares Price down. "You sure about this?" he spits at his captain.

Returning the stare, Price stands firm on his decision. "Positive. It's what best for the team." Gaz just nods and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

You're not entirely sure what happened in that emergency meeting, but with the way the guys walked out of Price's office, you knew it wasn't good. Ghost walks past you, completely ignoring you. Soap looks at you but quickly turns his head when your eyes meet his. And Gaz shoots you a grimace, but doesn't say a word.

Despite not knowing what happened that day, you quickly feel its consequences.

Word Count: 1310

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (16)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer is faced with a dangerous confrontation. wc: 3.4k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

A/n: this part went through so much editing until I was satisfied with it, also, can't believe this is ending soon!!

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

EVERYTHING FINALLY FELL INTO PLACE. Although it took longer than it normally did to solve a case, Spencer finally gathered every piece of information, every obscure clue, and every small detail he unfortunately missed before to make a clear profile.

Eric Adler—or Henry Wyatt as Garcia discovered through her meticulous sleuthing—was a master of disguise. He had concealed his identity under a different persona, changing his name the moment he packed his bags and left the town he grew up in. Oliver confirmed this discovery when Spencer visited the hospital the following day, once he had regained consciousness.

"Eric... he's a stranger to me," Oliver had said, his voice carrying a tinge of disbelief, a foreign look gleaming in his eyes. "Henry, on the other hand, was one of my closest friends."

"I'm assuming something happened for you to drift apart."

Oliver's gaze shifted. "We grew up in a very tight community. Religion was all we were taught," he began, his voice tinged with defiance and nostalgia. "I guess we became close from our rejection of those traditional values and practices."

Spencer acknowledged his words with a nod. "Your files showed there were a lot of crimes you committed in the past."

"I-I was very rebellious."

"I would say forcing yourself on a young, innocent girl was more than rebellious."

Oliver winced. "Listen, I'm not proud of my past," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "But yes, my friends and I grew up doing things that were out of morals."

Spencer studied him. "What happened then?"

"A lot of pointing fingers," he admitted. "Our community leaders eventually found out and threatened us with severe punishment. From the outside, it was simply community service, but from the inside, it involved a lot of restraints and, well, whips."

Silence stretched between them. "It was how they punished the bad," Oliver explained further, his eyes searching Spencer's for comprehension. "They always say it whenever they were going to abuse us; 'The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free.'"

"Proverbs 11:21," Spencer mumbled under his breath, recognizing the scriptural reference.

A hint of surprise flickered across Oliver's face. "Are you a religious person?"

He shook his head, implying a depth of knowledge that surpassed the boundaries of religious beliefs. "Was that what made you drift apart?"

"Partly, yes," Oliver answered with a sigh. "We didn't admit to it at first, but then under the pressure and the constant threat of punishment, I guess I became weak."

"Did you betray him?"

Oliver acknowledged the truth with a slow nod. "We were both punished, along with the others who were involved, but our leaders always wanted one name whom they could sacrifice, a name who held all responsibility. The initiator of all sins."

"So you put the blame on him," Spencer summarized, understanding the dynamics that had led to the fracture in their friendship.

"It was the only thing I thought of doing to save myself," he confessed. "He became a sacrifice. All the punishment turned onto him until he was cast out of the community. When his family didn't even try to interfere, he eventually left town. Never heard from him ever since."

"And then years later you saw him again."

His shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug.

"I didn't even recognize him at first. He had a different name, different hair, different style—he was practically a different person. When I realized who he actually was, I tried to confront him  but he never acknowledged me." He then looked away, the emotion in his gaze concealed. "I just thought he didn't want to be associated with the past anymore."

It explained everything. The revelation about Eric's past and the harsh punishments he had to endure shed light on the motivations behind his actions. It explained why he felt compelled to punish people, as it was the only method deeply ingrained in his brain.

Their shared upbringing, the weight of betrayal, and the scars of their past had shaped his sense of justice, leading him down a dark path of vengeance. And with that new knowledge in mind, Spencer passed on the information he had discovered when he came to work the next day.

Everyone was gathered by the round table, an unusual thing to happen given that they were typically scattered in their assigned tasks, but all of them were present for once. Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing in contemplation after Spencer finished his thoughts. "So let me get this straight, Eric's vendetta against Oliver is personal. Goes beyond just catching a killer then."

"It's a cycle of betrayal." JJ, standing by the door with crossed arms, agreed aloud. "He attempted to shift the blame onto Oliver, something he also went through in the past."

Spencer nodded as he started to pace around the room. "Psychologically speaking, his actions seem to be rooted in a need for retribution, a manifestation of the punitive measures ingrained in his upbringing."

"So we're dealing with a man who sees himself as a guardian angel dispensing justice, even if it means resorting to extreme measures."

"A guardian angel while simultaneously executing his revenge," Emily mused from the other side, her words laced with a blend of contemplation and concern. "Very personal indeed."

Hotch crossed his arms as he stood by the table, and scrutinized his team with his usual detached and professional expression, devoid of any visible emotions. "We need to understand his patterns," he began. "If we can predict his next move, we might be able to intercept him."

"He clearly has a deep affection towards Y/n." Morgan offered, prompting Spencer to halt his pacing and turn his attention toward him at the mention of her name. "He probably has a list of people who he thinks have hurt her in the past."

Rossi studied everyone in the room, attentively listening to their thoughts. He tapped his finger against the wooden table, directing his focus on Morgan. "We should find out who might be on that list. It could give us insight into his next move."

Hotch agreed with a curt nod. "Morgan, Rossi, work on compiling a list of individuals connected to Y/n. Garcia, cross-reference it with Eric's history. Let's see if we can predict his next move based on the people he might target."

Garcia instinctively rose from her chair and nodded. "Yes, sir," and waltzed out of the room with determined steps, making her way to her office.

The others shifted from their spots, while Morgan, unlike the rest, kept his gaze on Spencer. He observed the frown stretching across his face and pondered whether to voice what he had in mind. He hesitated, acknowledging that Spencer's involvement with their witness wasn't strictly his business. Yet, considering the recent events, he felt compelled to express his thoughts.

"I don't want to be that kind of person to bear bad news, but I think—I think—there's a high chance that pretty boy here could be a target," Morgan declared. Spencer quickly met his gaze.

Everyone else, momentarily suspended in a collective pause, turned their attention toward him. He could feel their penetrating gaze, which started to make him uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by. He didn't want to entertain that possibility, but it made sense. Considering Eric had been with her right after he had hurt her, he could very well be the next target.

JJ, breaking the silence, voiced what lingered in everyone's thoughts as she took a step closer to him. "We should keep you safe then. If you're a potential target, we can't afford to overlook any possibility."

Spencer glanced over at her, noting the concern in her eyes. He sensed a silent plea in the way she looked at him as if she were urging him to agree, to step back and act on what seemed to be the logical thing to do. However, despite that, the gears in his mind were turning. If he was a potential target, it could offer an easy opportunity to get closer to their Unsub.

"No," he said, a conviction in his voice. "You can use me as bait."

The room held its breath as his unexpected proposal hung in the air. The team, still processing the revelation of his potentially being a target, turned their focus to his daring suggestion.

JJ simply stared at him, dumbfounded by the audacity of the idea. "You're crazy."

"No, think about it." He turned towards Hotch, knowing the older man would at least consider his idea. "We can get to him by luring him in."

Hotch held his gaze. The weight of leadership rested on his shoulders as he considered the risky proposition. "Reid, it's too dangerous. We can't—"

"If Eric believes he has a score to settle with me, then let's use that to our advantage. We set up a controlled scenario, anticipate his moves, and ensure we have the upper hand."

Emily looked at him with worry, taking a step forward from the other side of the room. "Reid, it's too risky. We don't know how he'll react, we can't even guarantee your safety."

"Yes, you can. You'll keep an eye on me." His eyes traveled around the room, meeting each one of their concerned gaze. "It's not something we haven't done before; we've used this method to lure an Unsub, and right now, we have no clue where he is. The only way we can draw his attention is by using me."

Hotch's gaze shifted between Spencer and the rest of the team, weighing the potential outcomes of such a high-stakes plan. It was undeniably risky, but Spencer was right. This wouldn't be their first time baiting an Unsub, and given their past success, a part of him believed the outcome would work out according to plan.

After a moment, he slowly nodded. "Alright, but if we proceed with this, we have to ensure everyone's safety." He gave Spencer a pointed look. "Especially yours, Reid."

He quickly nodded as a moment of understanding passed between them. The room suddenly filled with noise, and amidst the bustling movements, he felt a desperate grip on his arm, pulling him away from the group.

"Spence." JJ's grip tightened as she voiced her concern. "You could be putting yourself in danger. What if this goes wrong?"

That was the thing. It was the nature of their job—there would always be different outcomes. There was no certainty about what could transpire. But with nothing else to do, Spencer was growing desperate for more answers, so he held her gaze, determination etched in his eyes.

"If it means stopping him and knowing her whereabouts, I'm willing to take any risk."

It was raining when it happened. It had been pouring for the past few days as they started to plan the operation. The team decided to elevate the stakes by choosing his apartment as the bait location, aiming to create a scenario that would be emotionally charged for Eric, potentially triggering a faster and more decisive response.

They studied Eric's patterns and behaviors, gathering insights into his actions and motivations. Garcia, constantly stationed at her desk, continued to monitor social media, public records, and any other available data to gauge Eric's movements. She had identified potential triggers that might prompt Eric to act, such as media coverage or public discussions related to Y/n.

In addition to electronic surveillance, Morgan and JJ conducted physical surveillance on locations connected to Y/n's past, anticipating that Eric might revisit places with emotional significance. They strategically placed themselves in key positions, ready to observe and intercept any suspicious activity.

And then the clock ticked away, the minutes stretched into an agonizing waiting game, every second pregnant with anticipation. 

Until it finally came to that night.

Everything felt strange. His apartment. The weather. Himself. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, and Spencer watched the raindrops hit his windowpanes from his couch.

Weeks ago, he sat in the same place where he was now. The only difference was that he was alone. There was no faint smell of chocolate or the sweet melody of laughter. She wasn't here, gracing him with her smile as she nestled on his lap. Her whispers of his name were absent, and the cruel thing was, he didn't even know where she was now. 

He had never felt so much pain before, the ache of not knowing where someone was, all the while having to keep his head up high. It was a facade he learned to put on. Pretending that the hidden cameras strategically placed in his apartment didn't unsettle him, or the discreetly wired microphone, or the inconspicuous headpiece nestled in his ear. He had to act as though the looming potential danger didn't faze him.

But then it finally happened, a sudden shift in the atmosphere permeated the air—like the calm before the storm. And in an instant, Garcia's voice crackled over the communication devices, urgency lacing her words. "I've got movement. Eric's online activity just spiked."

Morgan and Prentiss, stationed discreetly around the apartment complex, receiving the signal, tightened their surveillance. The external cameras around his building captured a figure approaching, shrouded in the shadows of the rainy night. 

Within the confines of his home, his senses heightened. The rain outside intensified. A streak of lighting flashed through the window. A loud sound of thunder echoed in the background. Spencer waited with bated breath, his gaze fixated on the front door. Then, with a creak, it slowly swung open, revealing a silhouette of a figure in the doorway.

Water dripped from his clothes, leaving a trail of wetness as he crossed the threshold. Their eyes briefly locked, and a smile played on Eric's lips as he observed the way Spencer scrutinized him, closing the door behind him.

"Dr. Reid," his sinister tone sliced through the silence, his words dripping with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "I see you've been waiting for me."

Spencer watched him, maintaining a composed exterior despite the tension in the air, and met his gaze with a steely resolve. "And I see you've been busy."

Eric cocked an eyebrow.

"Carving your path of justice one victim at a time."

His expression remained unyielding. Stepping further into the room, Eric left a trail of dirty shoe marks on the floor as his eyes observed the dimly lit apartment. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Spencer slowly rose from his seat. "And what is that?"

"Punishing those who have wronged her."

"You're not her savior. You're a vigilante with a distorted sense of righteousness."

"And that's where you're wrong. You don't know the pain she's been through. I'm the only one who can protect her."

Spencer silently watched as he continued to survey his apartment. Eric's eyes swept through all the framed certificates on his wall, his finger delicately tracing the edge of each frame. When he was met with silence, Eric turned back to him, narrowing the distance between them.

"You were always the one she trusted, weren't you?" He shook his head with disdain. "Yet you're the one who hurt her the most."

Aware that each word could either defuse or escalate the situation, Spencer continued to engage him. "I haven't hurt her," he responded carefully. "I've been trying to protect her from someone like you, someone who's lost sight of justice."

Eric let out a scoff. "You think I've lost sight? No, Dr. Reid, I've found clarity. I've seen the darkness that lurks in the hearts of those who pretend to be righteous."

"Your version of justice is a perversion. You've become the monster you claim to fight against."

The room crackled with tension as they held each other's gaze. "Do you even listen to yourself?" Eric retorted, his eyes narrowing with accusation. "You claim to protect her, yet she's left alone in the darkness you couldn't save her from."

The air in the room seemed to thicken as the weight of his words hung between them. His heart quickened its pace while he tried to maintain a calm facade. "Where is she?"

Eric's laughter cut through the air. "You think I'll tell you voluntarily?"

Spencer's gaze remained steady on him. "What do you want?"

The sinister grin on Eric's face revealed a gambit. "You." He took another step closer. "Come with me and I'll take you to her..."

There was definitely a but. It was never that easy, and the way he trailed off his words prompted Spencer to ask, "On what condition?"

He smiled, eyes narrowing as he conveyed a sense of menace while he delivered his proposition.

"Cut off all communication with your team."

Tension lingered around the room like an invisible web, each word contributing to the growing stakes. Eric's laughter, a haunting sound, followed the slightly alarmed look on Spencer's face. 

"You think I didn't know?" he taunted. "Two of your agents are outside this building, and come on, you could've hidden that earpiece better than that." He pointed towards the device. "Your hair might be long, but it's not that long."

Eric then picked up a framed picture sitting on his shelf. It was a photo of him and his team casually smiling to the camera. He remembered that day, it was one of the many times they visited Rossi's house for dinner, and Garcia decided it was the perfect time to capture the moment. To preserve the happy times, she had said, and true to her words, he was happy that day.

His mind suddenly raced, considering the options and potential consequences of complying with his demand. He finally responded. "What if I refuse?"

"Then you'll never find her," Eric retorted, looking back at him. "It's a simple choice. Sacrifice your precious communication or lose her forever."

He wanted him to step into his trap willingly. It was a cruel choice, and it seemed he wasn't the only one who agreed. As Eric's demand hung in the air, the team's voices crackled urgently through his earpiece. Panic and concern infused their words as they frantically implored him to reconsider.

"Spence, step back!"

"Reid, don't do it."

"Stand down, Reid. We're coming through."

The chorus of concerned voices reverberated in his earpiece, each team member contributing to their worry. Despite the chaos of emotions echoing through the line, Spencer remained outwardly composed, his mind working swiftly to navigate the dangerous situation.

"Don't—" he urged, his gaze piercing on Eric while his voice pointed towards his team. "Stay where you are."

Eric watched him with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Seems like your team is in quite a frenzy there. Are you really willing to risk her safety for their voices in your ear?" He continued with a sinister grin, reveling the chaos he had stirred. "Strip away your lifeline, Spencer. The battle is between you and me."

Spencer stood there, calculating his next move. He weighed the possible outcomes of his choices and realized that nothing good would come from either of them. Eric, observing his contemplation, smirked with a twisted satisfaction.

"Come on, Dr. Reid, time is ticking." He tapped the watch around his wrist. "Make up your mind."

Spencer inhaled a sharp breath. Eric was right, there was no time to waste. The more he contemplated his answer, the more danger she was in. He needed her safe. He needed to see her. He needed to know where she was. And there was only one way to find out.

At the other end of the line, Garcia, stationed at her desk, watched Spencer through the screen with a growing sense of urgency. His gaze slowly swept over the room, and she could sense the critical decision looming. Her heart raced as his eyes fell on one of the hidden cameras.

"He's onto us," she muttered to herself, her fingers flying over the keyboard. She tried to maintain the connection as he walked over to the device and unplugged it.

Garcia cursed under her breath. "No—" She pressed on her intercom, her voice tinged with frustration. "I'm losing him."

One by one, the video feeds from the hidden cameras in his apartment turned black. The loss of visual contact with each camera felt like a punch to the gut. Her frustration mounted as the screens blinked out, leaving her staring at a grid of darkness.

"No, no, no," she muttered, fingers dancing over the keyboard in a desperate attempt to reestablish connection. But there was nothing else she could do.

The earpieces crackled with an ominous quiet before a sudden crash echoed through, the sharp sound of impact reverberating. A groan. A thud. A grunt. The team exchanged alarmed glances in their respective locations as the audio crackled with static, and their heart raced at the uncertainty hanging in the air.

Then, abruptly, there was nothing else but silence.

>> NEXT PART

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[hyesk3y]

nobody gets me (you do)

Lee Heeseung x reader

synopsis : Little did you know that you would be the ones to save each other.

w.c : ~10.9k

warnings : comfort fic! mainly fluff with brief mentions of drugs, alcohol and sex, slight angst, mentions of side character death, mild kissing and some skinship, lmk if anyth else!

song rec🪽: nobody gets me - sza

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

Getting here wasn't a breeze, the hardships you endured just to be able to be call Lee Heeseung your boyfriend would have been enough to drive anyone else away. After all, he did have a certain reputation. Having to bear with the countless rumours that left you crying yourself to sleep at night, the countless encounters with the girls obsessed with him in the girls' bathrooms. The number of times you've both argued and fought just because you "caught him cheating" after seeing pictures of girls in his lap at a party, or when people told you he was hooking up with someone behind your back, when in reality he was in fact not interested in anybody but you, rejecting every other girl without a thought, shoving them away, and flipping them off. This barely even suffices to highlight how much you have gone through because of him, but still you stayed. Why? 

{more under the cut}

Park y/n, a name that everyone in Decelis Academy knew. It was the name that was at the top of every grade report. Regardless if it was for the most useless subjects like physical education, or if it was for the subjects that would determine if one would even graduate. You were known for always being so on the ball when it came to your studies. Never one to really associate herself with anyone else besides your best friend, Sunoo. A "goodie two shoes" they said.

Lee Heeseung, the boy who'd earned himself a permanent spot at the bottom of the grade report for his year. The boy who seemed to have a never-ending line of girls waiting for a chance to get with him, the boy whose life revolved around parties, alcohol, drugs and sex. 

One would question how in the world he managed to get accepted into the most prestigious and exclusive academy in the country with a lifestyle like his. He was the typical bad boy from a wattpad story, the epitome of delinquency. He always stuck with the same group of friends- doing all the illegal shit together, as if it were the activities of a typical person at that age. Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon were Heeseung's closest friends. Though many thought that the only reason the 4 hung out together was to create trouble, party and get high, they were simply misunderstood. They knew each other's darkest secrets, ones they’d carry to their graves, and they would have done anything to protect each other. They were all each other had, as thick as thieves, inseparable. 

Heeseung liked to make himself think that he had all he needed: money, popularity, good friends. But he’d always known that deep down there was one thing he yearned for the most. Hell, it kept him up some nights, some nights it's what helped him fall asleep when he wasn't high. And it was the desire for someone who could love him for himself, flaws and all. Someone to fill the void in his heart.

He knew the effects of his reputation, the kind of people it attracted. And none of them could have been that person who really understood him. 

So why did you stay? Because you knew him. Not the whole "high all the time and couldn't give a fuck about anyone but himself" persona. But the persona of the broken boy behind all of his facades that managed to fool everyone but yourself. The boy that you found on the school rooftop one day, smoking a cigarette while the traces of tears on his cheeks dried from the sun, grieving the death anniversary of his mother. 

You too had your fair share of problems and were trying to escape them. You had received your report card and to your absolute dismay, not only did you fail a subject  for the first time since you were 14, you failed multiple. miserably. 

You never had a good relationship with your parents who wanted absolutely nothing but perfection from you, in all areas. To any other parent, you would have been a star in their eyes, their trophy child. But to your parents, you were nothing but disappointment. Nothing you did was good enough for them. Absolutely nothing. And when you looked at that piece of paper, you wanted to die. You thought that maybe even death would be less painful than the punishment you were to receive from your parents. You wanted to run away. From them, from the expectations of the world, from yourself even. But you found him. 

Despite being the boy everyone sought after for his good looks and sex-appeal, Heeseung's life wasn't all that, either. He had lost the only parent that genuinely cared about him not long before practically getting abandoned by the man he once called "father", who had grown sick of his delinquent lifestyle, miserable grades and the people his son surrounded himself with. It’s not like he cared about him anyways, always doting on his other son who was the exact opposite of Heeseung. Even while Heeseung’s mother was around, it was as if Heeseung didn’t even exist in his world. Her passing only allowed her husband to completely write himself off as Heeseung’s father. 

His father had cut off all personal contact with Heeseung, leaving him with a penthouse apartment in the city to live in, a nice sports car to drive and a bank card which he said that he would deposit money into every month. This didn’t really bother Heeseung, at least it meant being away from the man that he’d grown to despise, but what really ate Heeseung alive, was the loneliness and longing for affection that only his mother had been able to provide him with. 

She had been the one that stopped him from truly hitting rock bottom, the one who showed him the value of life. But now that she was no longer around, he was truly left alone and he no longer saw that value. 

Yes, he had his friends that would have dropped everything to help him, that were undoubtedly there for him. But that didn't seem to be enough to stop him from slipping into habits much worse than what he was already accustomed to. All he wanted was for someone to save him from his misery. From himself.

That was until you came along. That day changed both your lives. You both sat on that rooftop for hours, talking to each other until the sun had set. You didn’t even realise when you started telling him about your worries until you saw him holding out his arms, offering a hug. You couldn’t possibly describe the emotions you felt stepping into his embrace. It just felt so safe. And eventually the emotional floodgates opened once again, and you began to sob more. 

If you asked Heeseung, holding you in his arms reminded him of the times he would be consoled by his mother after being beaten up by his father. And from that day, he swore to himself that he would do his best to be your place of solace in this evil world. He had even briefly shared about his own worries, barely scratching the surface of them. And after hearing what he had to say, you found yourself crying even more, holding on to him tighter as if he’d disappear if you didn’t. You two got significantly closer after that day, but you couldn’t help but feel entitled to be there for Heeseung the way he had for you.

It took much more effort and time to get to know Heeseung, because of the number of walls he had up protecting his heart. It was not easy, considering that even his friends struggled and are still somewhat struggling to do so. But you were more than willing to go the lengths to gain his trust. He was terrified. Terrified that once you got to know the person under it all, that you would leave him and hang him and his worries on a platform for all to see. 

But you never did. You were the only person that was successful in trying to get to know the person under all the walls he put up around his heart. From the day you found him on the rooftop, You stuck with him through it all. Despite his problems, his reputation and his less than legal habits, you never once left his side. 

He never left yours either, fighting for you against your own parents, holding you as if you were made of thin glass when your emotions got the best of you. He understood that under your own facade of being a top- student, someone who had everything under control, there was a girl who longed for validation and affection, just as he did. 

He would do anything under the sun, just to see you happy. Whether it’s just his mere presence, or buying you the most expensive gifts. To him, you were the one that hung the stars in his dark and empty sky. 

Eventually, his nights of getting high and drinking til he was black out drunk turned into late night study sessions with you, one night stands with random girls he’d just met turned into movie nights in his living room with pizza he had ordered in for you both, sleepless nights turned into sleeping soundly with you in his arms. He never thought that he’d reach this point, where he would finally be able to say that he was happy with where he was in life. Everything seemed to have fallen into place. He finally had good grades, he was able to have genuine fun with his friends without being intoxicated, he’d gotten rid of his delinquent-playboy reputation and most importantly, he’d found the person he yearned so long for. 

And you had never felt happier. Being with Heeseung taught you so many things, like what it felt like to truly be loved by someone, what it felt like to have someone to lean on. You were even able to finally move out of your toxic household, and into your now shared apartment with Heeseung. And as much as he taught you, you retaught him the meaning of life, showing him the value of it that he had lost sight of.

So much had happened, but you would both go through it again and again, if it meant being able to be where you were now. 

“Angel, you're zoning out. What’s going on in that precious head of yours, hm?” Heeseung says, shaking you from the daze you were in. You were lying in bed with him, supposedly watching Big Hero 6 for the umpteenth time. You sat up slowly, readjusting your position so that you were now lying on his chest facing him. “You know, I’m so glad we found each other. I’d go through everything again if it means I can spend every lifetime of mine with you. I’m just so happy,” you say softly as you put your ear against his beating heart. “I know, angel. I would too. I had never felt so misunderstood and alone. I thought I was happy, doing all the things I did, but really all I was doing was just distracting myself from the pain." He paused. "But in the end, we found each other didn’t we? We are here together now, and that's all that matters.” You lift your head once again to face him to see him already looking at you, a smile tugging at his lips. You feel his hands cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek gently as he connects your lips in a soft kiss, one that reassures you that he isn't going anywhere anytime soon. 

Later that night, when he thought you had already fallen asleep, he placed a kiss on your temple, saying something so quietly it was almost inaudible, and as if you had heard him, you snuggled closer to his chest in response.  “Nobody seemed to get me, but you do.”

a/n : hi everyone! hope you guys like this one, its the first long fic, and my first post on enhablr so i don't really know what to expect...soo, if you guys liked it do interact by reblogging and leaving a like!

[chaosjunkieman]

Save Me (Five Hargreaves x Reader)

Based on the end of Season 4. LILA AND FIVE NOT CANON.

Warnings: A N G S T. Not proof read, not time line proofed etc. roll with it :D

A/N: uhm yes hi hello? is this thing on? first time writing fan fic for the umbrella academy woooo!!!!! please please please for the love of GOD let me know if this good, bad, ugly or just straight mid. k thanksssss <3

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: She's the missing puzzle piece after all.

“Five what you doing?” She asked sternly.

Lila had dragged her family and her children into the runaway train that Five got lost in. Seeing this pristine train was an unsettling sight. They could hear the Durangos roar in the distance. Time was of an essence.

“You’re going with them.” Five spats.

A look of disbelief washes over her eyes. Looking towards the man she’s loved all these years with tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes. She wanted to pull him close. Comfort him despite this big manly persona he led everyone to believe.

“No.” She states. Crossing her arms in protest.

Above them the chime of the train departure interrupts their conversation.

“Five, no-“ She’s about to reach out to him when he shoves her roughly. She stumbles into the train car and into Claire.

“No! No!” She screams as the doors begin to close in front of her. Fighting against Claire and Lila’s father, she breaks freak from their grip.

She starts to pound on the glass. Tears streaming down her face as Five lets loose the ones he was holding in. The train starts to move. She’s screaming at the top her lungs now. How could he. How dare he go on this journey alone?

The train starts to speed up. Throwing her off her feet. She lands on the floor and curls into fetal position. Their memories running through her head a mile a minute. Her heart shattered. No more shared moments between the two of them, no more laughter, and love. How could she live in a world were he was a distant memory?

~~~~~~~~

She’s pulled to her feet by Ronnie. A cherished family friend of hers when the train comes to a halt. She looks around confused at how she got to where she was. Being with Ronnie and Anita’s family, and Claire. Claire was sniffling, holding on to a ripped and crumpled note that read, ‘take care of my daughter.’ Something in her gut told her that Claire was her responsibility now.

That was months ago.

Instead of splitting off into separate lives, Claire made the argument that they had to live close to Ronnie and Anita. Claiming that some weird intuition told her to do so. So, that’s what they did. She bought a condo not far from the home that the Pitts purchased. The condo felt familiar in some odd way. Like déjà vu. This overwhelming sense of love and admiration flooded her senses when they first toured it. She didn’t even need a day to think on. She put an offer in that same hour, and within that same hour it was accepted.

Claire stayed with her, finishing high school and moving off to college. Their goodbye was tearful and heart felt. Claire promised to visit her during holidays so that way she wasn’t lonely. Despite having their friends to visit each year.

During the summer she found a job within the local city library as a librarian. She found peace and solace in the quietness. The smell of books seemed to fill this whole in her heart. She also started therapy during this time. She had these magical dreams about this man. But he really wasn’t a man. He was a man stuck in a young adult body who had magical powers. Him, and siblings all had magical powers. She dreamt of the world ending. The apocalypse beginning. Being stuck in 1963 in Dallas. But, that boy was always by her side.  

These dreams felt so real some days. That when she awoke she could’ve sworn that the man she was dreaming of was in her room. Only to fade away with the morning sun. Shortly after the dreams began, she started to receive bouquets of flowers each week. The card only ever reading -MH. She had no idea who, or what that meant. The only possible explanation for the H was Hargreaves. But that couldn’t be possible. Hargreaves was the last name of the man she dreamt of. And he wasn’t real..right?

One particular week, she was gifted these beautiful marigolds, nothing else. She had trouble bringing home the bouquet because of how large this particular one was. She fished around the bottom cabinets of her kitchen to find a vase big enough for them. She filled it up with water and placed them in. Something told her that they needed to be in the bedroom with her. She smiled as she placed them on the other side table. They seemed to glow within the room itself.

That night, was the worst of the nightmares she had. She watched helplessly as the man she seemed to have love and his siblings die. But she wasn’t there fully. Like she was a ghost watching a show. Until the Cleanse seemed to reach up at her. Just as her foot was sucked in, she shot up in bed. Breathing heavy she rose out of bed and went to open the bedroom window to let in the crisp air. Sitting on the bench that adorned the window, something from the shadows down below caught her eye. There was absolutely no way what she was seeing was real. The man she dreamt about was below her in the alley way, looking up to her. He smiled brightly before turning and disappearing into the darkness.

Jumping from the bench she ran to her front door. Grabbing the oversized black coat she wore and slipped on her shoes. She rushed down the stairs in hopes to catch him. Her heart racing with each step. Finally busting out of the back door that lead into the alleyway, she sees what she believes is to be his shadow further down.

“Hey!” she yells towards him. The man briefly looks over his shoulder before making a left. Disappearing into darkness again. She takes a deep breath. This is crazy right? Going after a shadow in the dark? But her gut screamed at her to follow. She had to follow.

Sprinting down the corridor she makes the same left turn he did. She sees his shadow illuminated behind the street lamp that was across the street.

“Hey!” She screeches again as she comes up to the sidewalk.

The man still not saying anything turns, and starts to head down a flight of stairs she didn’t even know was there. Gulping, she makes sure to look both ways before sprinting across the avenue. She stands at the top of the stair case. The man’s back disappearing under the overhang. Debating on whether to follow, she decided to. She had come too far without knowing who the hell he was.

She entered into a train station. Too clean of a train station to be atypical city train station. But, the noise of music and rattling dishes pulled her from her thoughts. Around a corner, bright lights illuminated onto the train station tile to which she followed.

As she turned the corner, a bright neon orange sign read MAX’S DELICATESSEN. It was a diner in the middle of a underground train station. Totally not odd. She opens the door to the diner and steps in. Almost immediately regretting it as multiple heads turn her way. Her breath caught in her throat. They were all him. The man she dreamt about. Scared, she was about to step back when one of them from the middle booth rose in his seat.

“Please! Don’t go,” he shouted. Looking flustered as the others of him in the room snickered at his attempt.

“That’s not how you treat this particular guest Five,” The one behind the kitchen counter spat.

He came out from around the counter. Wiping his hands over the waist apron he wore. She looked at him curiously. After padding down his hands, he stood to attention with a smile.

“Miss, Y/N, your table awaits, follow me please.” He said with a wink. A small giggle arose from her chest. Which caught her by surprise.

“And here you are, coffee, black I’m assuming miss?” The man in the apron asks as she settles into the booth seat where the other man was.

“Yes, how did you know?” She asks. Looking between the two men.

“We know everything about you Y/N,” he said with smile before turning on his heel back towards the counter.

The other man who sat in the seat across from her seemed nervous. He was fiddling away with his thumbs. They sat in silence until the man in the apron brought her fresh cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She brought the hot cup of coffee to her lips. Taking a brief sip. Her face contorted at the bitterness of the coffee.

“Apologizes, the coffee is shit.” The man in the apron said with a grin before he made his way back over to the counter again.

Groaning, she set down the cup and pushed it aside. With the empty table space in front of her, she clasped her hands together and rested her chin on top of them. Starring towards the man in the booth who had picked up the newspaper he was reading. Clearing her throat, he peaked from over the pages. With her eyes, she signaled to him to set it down. His eyes darted between her and the paper before sighing loudly. Setting the paper aside.

“So-“ The man across from her coughed as he took a sip of his own cup of coffee. His face mirroring that same expression she did before.

“So, who are you?” She asks. Eyes narrowing. She watched closely as the man gulped and tugged at his tie.

“Five-“ he responded.

“Five?” She repeated.

“Five Hargreaves.” The man stated before her.

“You’ve been in my dreams.” She sighed, lowering her hands to the table. Shifting to allow her back to rest against the backboard of the booth.

“I know.” He stated through gritted teeth. It seemed like whoever he was, was having a hard time being there too.

“Why?” She asks with a stale flick of her tongue. She was growing impatient at this point.

“I’m your husband.” Five responded. His expression briefly softening before turning stark cold again.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” She chokes on her words.

“From another timeline.” He continues.

“Oh spit it out mate!” Another Five from behind the counter pipes up. They all seemed frustrated with the one in front of her.

“I’m your husband, I’mean- we’re all  your husbands. From different timelines. Different points of existence. Each of us loosing you in some way.” The Five in front of her continues. He brushes the bangs from his face and starts to shimmy off the black over coat he adorned. Too similar to the one she was wearing. She notices a cut on his upper left eyebrow. Taking a alcohol pad she had in one the pockets, she opens it to presumably clean the wound. He coughs, making her look at him, and back down to the pad. Confused on how natural it all felt.  

“What do you mean by lost?” She asks.

“You died in my arms on the night we got married.” A Five from one of the corner booths huffs out. Twirling the ring that sat on his ring finger.

“I lost you to a fire,” One of them whispers from behind the counter. The other Fives pat him gently on the back.

“And you?” She asks, turning to the Five in front of her.

“I sent you away.” He bluntly responds.

“This train station that you’re in?” He motions to outside of the diner.

“I pushed you into it with Anita and Ronnie and Claire. To save you from The Cleanse.” His voice drifted off at the last bit.

“The Cleanse?” She asks curiously.

“To much to explain darlin’” A Five from behind her says in a deep southern tone.

“So why am I here?” She questions. Her heart felt whole just seeing the other man in front of her but unsure why.

“I need to get you back to the correct timeline. He’s there, right now, dying with him family. Those are the dreams you’ve been seeing. But I gave him the wrong advice. He didn’t need to die. They didn’t need to die. Youre the final key to stop the cleanse.” Five reaches out from around the table and his fingers graze across her neck. She melts at the touch of his skin on hers, but he pulls forward the chain to her necklace.

It was a Umbrella necklace.

“This necklace,” Five saves slightly tapping the main parts of the umbrella folds that begin to shimmer.

“Has an elixir. It was there in front of me all along.” He sighs.

“But I don’t have any memories of him, of you-“ She starts, and Five puts up his hand to stop her mid-sentence.

“Follow me,” he replies, climbing out the booth and holding out his hands to hers.  

She grabs ahold and he pulls her from the booth. Dragging her outside the diner, she can hear the other Five’s say their goodbyes.

Five pulls her towards the train that was mysteriously there now. The doors opening once they were toe-to-toe with the platform.

“I’m not-“ She stutters, looking panickily between the train, Five, and the entrance to the train station. Thinking about Claire.

“He needs you, now more than ever.” Five whispers. He cups her face between his hands. Turning her towards him.

“What are you doin-“ She asks when Five places his lips against her forehead.

Simultaneously, a blue orb of light starts to engulf the two. And a massive headache came along with it.

“Ah-“ She grunts, pulling away from the man before her clutching her head and tumbling into the train.

“Wait, no!” She screams, still clutching her head.

The train speeds up and almost tosses her to her feet. However, the same blue light from mere moments before shots out around her. Unbeknownst to her, her eyes glow as well. A light blue shade, similar to Five’s.

As the train comes to a stop. She regains consciousness. The memories of her life before returning. The love she felt for the man she spoke with flooding her blood stream. Above, she could hear crashing and the sounds of civilians screaming.

“Cmon’” She whispers, jumping and shaking out her hands.

In a full on sprint, she darts out of the train. Just has her feet reach the tiled platform she blips.

Landing roughly on a set of stairs. Groaning from the fact that she just time traveled technically, she can hear the shouts of others in front of her. Her blurred vision coming clear. She gasps at the sight.

They all were being engulfed in the Durango.

“Y/N? What the HELL are you doing here? HOW?” Five shouts. She can see him struggling against the Durango.

“It’s the necklace!” She responds as the Durango screeches overhead.

“It has an elixir that Reginald hid. Bitter old man!” She curses to the skies.

“An elixir? What are you talking about?” Five screams from his spot.

The look of fear and pain was washed over his features and she wanted nothing more than comfort him. But she had a bigger job to do.

Whistling, she grabs the attention of the Durango.

“Y/N NO!” Five cries out.

“I love you!” She screams as she turns on her heels. A full sprint down the corridor and out the front door.

Her heart hurts at the sight of destruction. But the roar of the Durango pulls her from her thoughts and she continues her sprint down the street. Hoping to save them in time. She didn’t care if she died here. Just knowing that her husband and his family was safe from the horrible childhood they had to endure that they didn’t ask for.

After almost a block away, she stops. Cooing at the Durango to come just a little closer. But, one of the tentacles from the Durango captures her at her feet. Struggling against it, she takes a deep breath. Allowing the puss to climb up her legs. Just as it reaches her waist, she yanks the chain from her neck. The Durango was fulling on top of her at this point.

“Come get it asshole!” She screams. Tossing the necklace towards the mouth of the Durango.

The Durango catches it as the puss reaches above her chest. In the distance behind the Durango she can see all of them sprinting towards her. Five ahead of them. Unable to make out what he was saying, she smile brightly at him as the puss was beginning to swallow her neck. Just as she’s about to see her lover one final time, the Durango glows blue. Screeching at the top of its lungs, it explodes. The puss around her shattering and the force of it shoots her backwards. She’s launched into a street light pole, and the world around her goes black.

~~~~~~~~

She groans as her eyes flutter and try to adjust to the ungodly bright light. Coughing, she tries to move her head around but is met with sharp pains shooting up and down her neck. Softly moving her head to the side, she can see Five in a chair, fast asleep but holding on tightly to her hand. Mustering up all the energy that she could, she squeezes his hand. His eyes fluttering open at the sensation. His hair was longer now, but his features were just as handsome as the day they met.

“Y/N,” Five whispers. Gently caressing the hand he held.

“Where am I?” She asks through a bitter cough.

“You’re in a hospital. We made it.” He laughs quietly.

She grins at his response. The sense of relief washes over her shoulders, lifting some of the pain along with it.

“How did you know?” Five asks from beside her. He had scooted the chair he was in closer to her hospital bed and started to caress her bruised cheek.

“You told me-“ She hoarsely replies.

Five’s gaze softens into confusion when there’s a knock on the door.

“Can we come in?” Luther asks from the door way.

She smiles softly and nods. The rest of the siblings begin to pile into the small room that she was being treated in.

“How long has it been?” She croaks.

“It’s been a year, you were in a coma.” Klaus replies. Sitting next to Five in one of the chairs.

“How did you know I was awake?” She asks.

“Silly goose, I always know.”  Klaus jokes with a smile and swat of his hand.

The siblings catch her up on everything that happened while she was out. Expplaining that their powers are gone for good now. That Lila, and Diegos family was back, and Allison had Claire again. None of them remembering their lives in the other timeline.

Five sat quietly beside her, caressing her hand the whole time. At some point in the night, the doctors ushered everyone out besides Five so they could run some tests. Determining that she was able to go home at the end of the week. Time didn’t matter for her at this point.

After everyone had left, they two of them remain in the same position in silence. She could hear her heart beating in her chest. That same sense of overwhelming love that poured from such a small man engulfed her. She couldn’t believe that she had such a devoting husband after all this time.

“You stayed,” she comments with a small smile forming on her lips.

Five was puzzled as he was pulled out his thoughts, and she repeated her statement again.

“You mean everything to me, after that suicide mission-“ Five pauses and lets out a cold laugh.

“I love you-“ She interrupts him as he goes to continue his sentence. Not wanting to hear any bashed talk from the man.

“I love you.” He responds with a half crooked smile.

Patting beside her, she motions for him to join her on the hospital bed. About to protest, she stops him. Sternly pointing to the spot beside her. With a groan, he climbs onto the bed. As he settles into his spot, she lifts her head to place it on his chest. Her hand resting over his heart. Feeling it beat beneath her made her sigh. Knowing for sure they were alive lifted a weight from her shoulders. She smiled as Five places a sweet kiss on the top of her head. Pulling her impossibly closer then she already was.

Appreciative of the fact that they got to keep each other after all.

[skelebellie]

okay this is something i’ve been thinking about since watching hazbin hotel

tdlr: the four horsemen and its correlation to hell, heaven, and power of overlords.

so, i’ve been doing a lot of research about christianity for a hazbin hotel oc/persona, bc i was *accidently* put into a christian cult/future megachurch as a child and this is what they call healing. as such, i’ve been doing research into the book of revelations vs. the book of ezekiel. SPECIFICALLY the interpretation of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. typically these are interpreted as death/pestilence, war, conquest, and famine. now, there’s two interpretations of the four horsemen. one where its interpreted as the four horsemen being on the ‘good’ side since their released by jesus/lamb of god/lion of judas by unlocking 4/7 seals of the book in gods right hand.

the other, which I interpret more, is the idea that the four horsemen of the apocalypse dont belong to a side. their whole shtick is that they enact chaos and destruction by virtue of gods will in order to prep for the rapture. their very existence is contradictory of each other, to be an enactment of god (which is considered good or holy), yet enacting destruction and chaos.

which brings me to this little thought.

i wondered /what/ gives a sinner power in hell. we’ve seen that deals certainly do something, but it seems as if some demons just spawn in hell with a shit ton of power. at first i thought ‘oh yeah its gotta be dependent on how bad they are or what sins they committed’, but that DOESNT MAKE SENSE. 1) (i only number this and nothing else) alastor is one of the most powerful sinners in the pride ring yet even he has a moral code (re: vizies q+a answer about alastor having similar morals to dexter). And for someone like Valentino, who I would argue as the most ruthless evil motherfucker out there, to have less power than a walking and talking TV, it just doesn’t make sense. Of course- the originals sins we see in Helluva Boss are going to be powerful because they are the original sins, but what about everyone else, about humans.

That’s what the rapture is about, clearing the earth and saving the “good” people, the idea that humanity has become too poisoned and we need to start over (they shit on humanity for 90% of the show, justifiably). But the four horseman represent everything in humanity that remains eerily constant. there was always been war, famine, death/pestilence, and a need to control others (conquest). they are but facets of what already exist. so what if a sinners (previously humans) powers come from their enactment of these principles during their living life. Alastor embodies a lot of famine (cannibalism) and death (serial killer), Vox has a need to control (conquest) others, Carmilla literally runs her entire company based on the fact that people need weapons to fight against angels (war).

and it would make sense why adam, despite being the supreme douche leader that he is, hasn’t been cast out of hell. he does what he does because he believes its a necessarily act, but all it does it scream war and death like a 5 year old on caffeine. the four horsemen do not choose a side, so no matter where their represented, heaven or hell, its still a justifiable fuel for power.

anyways autism speaks and sure is it loud. this is a very whishy washy theory but i think it’s an interesting idea and i am 100% down from criticism from people who understand the bible way more than me.

[p0p33-k3da]

MEET THE ARTIST!!

I just realized I never did one of the introduction thingys to my page so I hurried up and made one right now yyyaaaayyy....

First things first,

I didn't add all the names I can be called because it would take up to much room probably...

I like to be called Keira, Keith, Shield, Spade, Jay, and honestly a lot more I guess.. But those are the top ones that I like being called.

If you for some reason cannot read the certain music artists/bands then I decided to waste my time and type them out below!

-Vial -GFM -Will Wood -Insane Clown Posse -Queen -Baby Guts -Dazey and the Scouts -Random Encounters -Cheap Perfume -The Oozes -A Verbal Equinox -Human Zoo -Jack Stauber -Destroy boys

I do like a lot more bands and artists but I'd rather save my precious fingers.

My fursona's name is Spade, My Persona's name is Shield.

The flags shown in the picture are Omnisexual and Omnigender, but I also could be pangender.

My favorite colors are...

Orange, Forest green, and brown!

★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰ ★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰★∻∹⋰⋰ ☆∻∹⋰⋰

I am into MANY different fandoms.. If you can't tell. But some of these fandoms consist of,

-SMG4 (5 years inconsistent)

-Sam and Max Freelance Police (watched when I was itty bitty, didn't know there was a fandom until recently, like a month ago, so idk)

(SIGHHHH) Wreck it Ralph... Mostly for Turbo though.. (Watched it a ton when I was a kid, my siblings can vouch for me... So maybe uhm.. 7-8 yearsss veerrry inconsistent)

-Gravity Falls (8 years inconsistent childhood show)

-Popee the Performer (6 years inconsistent

-BFDI series (6 years inconsistent)

-Inanimate Insanity series (6 years inconsistent

-Animatic Battle (about 2-3 months)

-It's time for the (also about 2-3 months

-Good Omens (1.5 years?)

-What we do in the Shadows (2 years inconsistent)

-Our flag means Death (2 years inconsistent)

-Doctor Who (4 years inconsistent)

-Insidious (1 year??)

-Saw series (1 year)

-and a LOT LOT more..

☆⋯⊶≕≍≖⋆≎≢≣⁂≋∺∻⋰⋰۰☆⋯⊶≕≍≖⋆≎≢≣⁂≋∺∻⋰⋰۰

I AM A MINOR!! PLEASE DO NOT BE WEIRD.

I have done art my whole life and have been really into it, but the age I started to get a lot more into it was when I was like 6-7

Some of my art!

My art style changes constantly.

(Please do not criticize any of my art!)

▅▄▃▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▂▃▄▅

I REALLY LIKE ANIMALS.

Some of my favorite animals are SNAKESSS, PUPPIESS, KITTIESSS, BIRDIEESS, and a LOT LOT LOT more eheheaa

Two of the 10 pets that my family has:

snake in the picture: Pheonix

puppy in the picture: Milo

My other animals

Puppy #2: Jasper

Puppy #3: Sophia

Puppy #4: Carter

Snake #2: Elliot

Snake #3: Leo

Snake #4: Noodle

Kitty #1: Zeus

Kitty #2: Tigger

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭ ▬▭▬ ✦✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭ ▬▭▬ ✧

I hope this was in depth enough for you to understand what kind of a person I am! (Might update here and there)

[sephirthoughts]

The Ghost of Shinra Manor

Chapter 4 of this

summary: It's been two years-ish since the events of Dirge of Cerberus. Cloud visits his hometown, and investigates a rumor of a ghost, haunting Shinra Manor. If you're surprised by who it turns out to be, you are beyond my power to save, comrade.

tags: g-g-g-ghosts!!! sefikura, sephiroth x cloud, sane!sephiroth (sort of), post advent children, post dirge of cerberus, canon timeline, delusions, intermitten amnesia, low drama, enemies to…whatever the hell they have going on

warnings: references to death, PTSD, child abuse, etc. all of hojo's greatest hits, canon-typical violence

rating: teen and up [BE ADVISED: THIS RATING WILL CHANGE]

Part 4: Resolve

Cloud didn’t check his phone till they were back at the cabin, by which time he’d accumulated a number of alerts.

MISSED CALLS(4): Tifa

MISSED CALL: Barrett

New Messages(5)

He decided to deal with them in order of priority, and opened the messages app first.

Strife: hey what do you know about ghosts

Chadley: Hello, Cloud. It’s good to hear from you. Ghosts aren’t really my area of expertise, unless you’re referring to occurrences of unusual fauna, which are often erroneously reported as ghost sightings. May I ask what this is in regard to?

Strife: like how to identify one and how to get rid of it

Chadley: Hm. There are a number of so-called spirit mediums and exorcists, who claim to be able to detect and communicate with spirits, but since there isn’t an established scientific discipline, I’m afraid the field is fraught with charlatans.

Strife: so there’s no one who knows anything?

Chadley: Don’t lose hope, my friend. It just so happens that an acquaintance of mine is what I would call the world’s foremost lay-expert in spectral phenomena. If there’s anyone who could answer whatever questions you have, it would be him.

Strife: lay-expert?

Chadley: That means he’s highly knowledgeable, but it isn’t his day job.  

Strife: what’s his actual job

Chadley: He works as the concierge for the Haunted Hotel, at the Gold Saucer.

Strife: tell me you’re not talking about that upside-down lunatic bellhop

Chadley: Oh, are you acquainted?

Strife: forget it. i meant someone sane

Chadley: Don’t let his sense of whimsy deter you. That’s his professional persona. He’s actually a very astute and level-headed person. I assure you, there’s no one more knowledgeable in the field.

Strife: really?

Chadley: Indeed. Shall I put you in touch?

Strife: yeah ok

Chadley: Excellent. I’ll give him your contact information. Good luck!

Strife: thanks

Tifa: hey you, just checking in to see how you’re doing. how’s the job going?

Tifa: btw denzy managed to fix that old bike they found. he even rode it around today

Tifa: marley took these pics of him aren’t they cute? .img .img .img

Tifa: good news! i just got off the phone with barrett and he’s going to be in town friday. we’re thinking of having a big bbq dinner for everyone at the bar. you’ll be back by then right?

Strife: won’t be back by friday. something came up i have to deal with

Several minutes passed.

Tifa: i guess there’s nothing you can do when a rush job comes up. when do you think you’ll be back?

Strife: can’t say. could be a while

Tifa: oh i see

Tifa: ok well try not to stay gone too long ok? the kids miss you

Cloud was attempting to formulate a human-sounding reply, when his phone lit up with a new notification.

UNKNOWN: greetings cloud! my name is benjamin hopkins. my friend chadley said you’d like my help with some ghost related information. feel free to give me a call any time, and I’d be happy to assist you however I can.

He stared at his phone screen. A bellhop. Named Benjamin Hopkins. What the fuck ever. Of course that weirdo in the mummy bandages would have a weirdo name.

Sephiroth’s high-school AU version was still wearing the Gold Saucer t-shirt, with the addition of a pair of Cloud’s black jeans, which fit him far too well for Cloud’s liking. At the moment, he was sitting at the camp table, staring into space, because Cloud didn’t have any chores for him to do except wash dishes, and he’d done that already.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud said, giving him a start.

Big, blue-green eyes looked up at him, full of hope and trust. “Yes, sir?”

“If you want something to do, why don’t you go out and chop some firewood, before we’re ass-deep in snow. From the look of things, we’re gonna need it.”

Sephiroth jumped up eagerly. “Yes, sir. How much should I get?”

“Just whatever you can cut while I’m on the phone,” Cloud said carelessly. “The axe is hanging up over there. Shed is behind the cabin. I’ll come check on you, when I’m done with my call.”

“Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

“Sephiroth.”

“Mn?”

“Jacket.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And knock off that sir shit. Call me Cloud.”

“Yes, s—Cloud.”

With a sheepish grin, the boy pulled on the old down jacket Cloud had given him, grabbed the axe, and strode out into the snow, full of determination. Cloud stared at the closed door for a full thirty seconds, after he’d gone, and had to physically shake himself out of the reverie.

Seeing Sephiroth this way was wreaking havoc on his emotional state. The child version had been easy. Similar but unfamiliar. Cloud was able to dissociate him from the mental index he had for Sephiroth, and just see a little boy. The adult version was even easier. He was fully familiar and fit neatly into Cloud’s ‘mortal enemy, hated with the fire of a thousand suns’ index.

The teenaged version was more complicated. This was the Sephiroth who had been his idol and hero, when he was the bullied and ostracized poor kid in this tiny shit town. His reason for never giving up, when things seemed hopeless.

This was the Sephiroth he’d fallen in love with, in the innocent and wholehearted sincerity of childhood. The Sephiroth that a part of him, no matter how forcefully denied and deeply buried, still loved.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed the ache in his throat. If some fragment of himself was still idiotic and delusional enough to harbor anything approaching love for Sephiroth, that was just one more reason to quickly figure out how to end him, once and for all. The sooner the man was gone for good, the better. With fresh resolve, he pulled out his phone and dialed the bellhop’s number.

“Benjamin Hopkins, how can I help you?” said the man’s (not quite as deranged as Cloud remembered) voice.

Cloud sighed audibly. “Is that your real fucking name?”

“No, it’s not,” he retorted. “If you must know, my real name is Subject N-2, and thanks for bringing up that very painful memory. Would you like to talk about ghosts, now?”

“Uh. Sorry,” Cloud muttered. “Is this a good time?”

“Good as any. I’m at work, but it’s a pretty slow day, to tell you the truth, so I’m just hanging around.”

Cloud stifled another sigh. “Did you say that because you’re literally hanging upside-down right now?”

“Eh? Have we met before?”

“Couple years ago. My friends and I were looking for rooms at the hotel. One of them may have been a bit…aggressive.”

“Oh…oh! Are you the little blonde who came in with the giant, the vampire, the cowboy aviator, and a robot cat?”

“I’m impressed you remember us.”

“Ah, ha ha. Mr. Strife, how many times do you think I’ve had an arm-mounted minigun shoved in my face, at my place of employment? Just, ballpark estimate.”

Cloud swallowed. “Is it…one time?”

“Ding ding ding! Correct! Just the one time. So yes, I remember you. A man doesn’t tend to forget that kind of character-defining life and death experience.”

“Sorry about that guy. He has anger issues and trust issues and impulse control issues, and also he’s scared of spooky stuff, so he was acting tough to hide it,” Cloud explained, blithely throwing Barrett under the bus. “But, now that I think of it, I remember you seeming pretty chill about the gun. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Ok, you got me,” the bellhop tittered. “I was exaggerating about the character-defining life and death experience stuff. I’ve been through way worse than that.”

“You have?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all part of my tragic backstory. However! It was highly inappropriate of your friend to threaten a member of the hotel staff with a firearm. Imagine if a normal employee had been the one at the counter, instead. They’d have trauma! I’m sorry to be strict, but for the safety and mental health of the staff and guests, I’m afraid Mr. Barrett Wallace is not welcome on Haunted Hotel premises, until further notice. I hope he takes the opportunity to reflect carefully on his actions.”

“Fair enough. I doubt he’d go back there if you dragged him, anyway.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, let’s talk about your ghost problem. What seems to be the trouble?”

“That’s part of the problem,” Cloud said, feeling a little stupid saying any of this out loud. “I’m not even sure it’s a ghost.”

“Ah, say no more. I happen to have my ‘Got Ghosts?’ checklist handy. Why don’t we go through that, first. More often than not, the phenomena people misidentify as evidence of hauntings are perfectly mundane, explainable things.”

“Um. Ok.”

“Do you have any of the following: shadows or other unexplained movement in your peripheral vision?”

“No.”

“Sensation of falling, while seated or lying down?”

“No.”

“Cold spots in the house?”

“This is Nibelheim. The whole house is a cold spot.”

“I’ll go ahead and check no for that one. Voices laughing, or speaking in whispers/low tones?”

“No.”

“Thinking you hear someone call your name, when alone in the house or with others who deny having done so?”

“No.”

“Scratching or tapping on walls or under floors?”

“No.”

“Sound of footsteps, from empty rooms?”

“No.”

“Lights flickering, or inexplicably being turned off?”

“No.”

“Waking up to the certainty that there is a terrifying presence in the room with you, but unable to move or call for help?”

“No.”

“Pets behaving strangely, and/or interacting with something that is not there?”

“No pets.”

“Objects moved to strange locations, cabinets found open, doors opening or shutting on their own, et cetera?”

“Nope.”

There was a pause. “I’m a little confused, Mr. Strife. If none of these things are occurring, what leads you to believe you might have a ghost?”

“I found a dead person—”

“You found a body??”

“No. Let me finish my sentence, will you? I found a person who I know to be dead, except he’s not acting dead, and he was hanging around in an abandoned basement, naked and crying.”

“He was…that’s uh…wow. A lot to unpack. You’re sure he wasn’t just abducted, and presumed dead? Because, to be honest, that’s kind of what it sounds like.”

“I’m sure. I killed him, myself.”

The bellhop choked audibly. “I—I see. And, uh…the person you found in this basement, who resembles the person you killed—”

“Not resembles. It is him. He answers to his name and knew where he was. But he doesn’t remember me. He seems to be having some kind of weird amnesia, where he’s only getting parts of his memory back.”

“And, um. Not to belabor a point,” the bellhop said gingerly, “but, what makes you think he’s a ghost? I mean, apart from the fact that you claim to have killed him and are definitely one-hundred percent certain that he did actually die.”

“He’s pale. Like, corpse pale. His body is ice-cold. All of it gets kind of transparent, sometimes, but mostly his hands and feet. He has trouble touching things, without his fingers going right through them. And sometimes, when he talks, he fades in and out, like a radio.”

The sound of a pencil scratching, from the other end of the line said enough, so Cloud continued.

“Normal lighting hurts his eyes, so I have to use a gas lantern or just the fireplace. He doesn’t seem to see very well, or maybe he’s just seeing things that aren’t real. Less than two hours ago, I watched him walk straight through a solid wall of stone that he insisted wasn’t there. Also, when I found him yesterday, he was an adult. When I woke up this morning, he was a little kid. Now he’s a teenager.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Mr. Strife—”

“Cloud.”

“Cloud. If you would go this far, just to play some kind of mean-spirited prank—”

“Do I seem like the type of person who plays pranks, Benjamin?”

“Not really,” he conceded. “If anything, you seem to be the 'broody edgelord who takes himself way too seriously' type.”

“That’s not…inaccurate. So, can you help me, or not?”

Benjamin let out a long breath. “Hoo, boy. Let me be honest with you, I thought I was prepared, but none of my usual checklists cover anything like this. That said, your guy actually sounds a lot like a ghost. There are inconsistencies, but if what you’re telling me is the truth, I can’t think of any other explanation. Um. Let me look something up, real quick.”

“Sure, take your time.”

There was another lengthy pause in which Benjamin muttered to himself and Cloud heard pages turning.

“Alright, found it. So, the Cetra believed that the spirits of human beings could be temporarily unable to enter the lifestream, for a number of different reasons. A spirit can’t inhabit its dead body, though, so they show up as disembodied entities, mostly resembling intangible wisps of light. These are what people would commonly call ghosts.”

“But mine’s not an intangible wisp, or whatever,” Cloud pointed out. “He’s actually pretty solid. I even carried him a few times.”

“Right. Hence the inconsistency. The only stories of ghosts being able to take physical bodies and walk around interacting with living people, are from ancient oral traditions, and those were supposedly the spirits of demigods.”

“Ok, back up. Forget about the body thing, for now. What are the reasons someone could be unable to enter the lifestream?”

“Strong resentment, unfinished business, promises to keep—any kind of attachment so strong that it keeps them hanging on, past their time.”

“So, if it was that, what would we do about it?”

“Supposedly, the attachment has to be resolved, then the spirit can be freed and enter the lifestream. For humans. For the demigods…that’s a different story. They were considered to be corrupt beings, so they were rejected permanently. Pretty sad, if you ask me.”

“Corrupt how?”

“Well, demigods are the offspring of humans and gods, which is a big ontological no-no. Gods can’t die, and can’t enter the lifestream, but that’s a whole other thing. The children of an eternal god and a mortal human, therefore, are stuck between worlds. Their bodies can die, but their spirits can’t ascend to godhood, and they can’t join the lifestream either, so they just linger. Some of them go mad and turn into malicious entities, that spread plague and disaster and war, and some just gradually lose themselves, fading but never disappearing. Like Zeno’s paradox, but with existence, instead of infinitely shrinking distances.”

“Shit. That is pretty sad.”

“Yeah, man. Have you studied any mythology? Like, ninety percent of it is a huge bummer.”

“There’s another thing. I attacked him with a sword, when I first saw him. He wasn’t hurt at all, but the attacks backlashed on me, really badly. I’m still recovering from the internal injuries. What could cause that?”

“Huh,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “A sword attack certainly shouldn’t be able to harm a ghost, but how does it backlash?”

“It wasn’t the blade I hit him with. It was a directed energy spell, using the blade as a catalyst.”

“You used a mana-based attack on the alleged ghost, and it backlashed on you? Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Well, in my experience—I mean, my experience researching ghost-related phenomena, obviously—untethered human souls are extremely fragile. An energy spell should have scattered it, if not destroyed it completely. I’ve never heard of one defending itself, let alone being able to harm a living person.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. So, to be on the safe side, maybe don’t do that anymore. In the meantime, are there any other extremely significant details that you haven’t bothered to bring up, yet? Because, I’d really like to just hear it all at once, if that’s ok.”

“Just a few things. He has these memory flashbacks, he gets caught in. He can bring me into them, but he doesn’t know how. It’s happened a few times. Also, when we were sleeping, last night, I dreamed a bunch of random pieces of his memories.”

“You believe he’s a ghost, and you went to sleep, in the same room with him?”

“I just said sleeping. Why do you assume we were in the same room?”

“Were you?”

“Yes. What does it matter?”

“I’m impressed, is all. You’re a different breed than most huma—ahem—most people, aren’t you.”

“He was a lot scarier alive. That’s why I want to figure out how to kill him permanently, as soon as possible.”

“Without killing yourself along with him, you mean.”

“Sure.”

“O…kay. Anything else you haven’t mentioned?”

Cloud opened his mouth to tell Benjamin about the pain in his chest, that had been growing since he approached Nibelheim, and how it had gotten unbearable when Sephiroth started to fade, earlier, but for some reason, he became extremely reluctant to talk about it. “Uh. No, that’s all.”

“Alrighty,” Benjamin said cheerfully. “I’m gonna have to do a little research and get back to you, because, um. Ha ha. I’ve never heard of anything like this situation, in my life.”

“Right. Well, thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

“Anything for a friend of Chadley. Hey, just out of curiosity, where’s your ghost, now? You didn’t talk about all of this in front of him, right?”

“No, I sent him out to chop firewood, so we could talk.”

“You sent him to chop firewood. And he just…obeyed you?”

“Yeah. He’s been cooperative, the whole time.”

“Wow. Are you sure you don’t want to keep him? Joking, joking. Oop, got some customers. It was nice talking to you! Bye!”

“See ya,” Cloud replied, but the man had already hung up.

What a strange person. Which, upon mature consideration, was rather unsurprising, for an upside-down bellhop at the Haunted Hotel, who dressed like a mummy for work, and studied ghosts in his free time. Despite all that, Cloud felt inclined to trust him. There was something familiar and reliable, in his aura. Like they’d already known each other.

Cloud’s hyper-tuned hearing didn’t detect any chopping, outside the cabin, so he went out to see how Sephiroth was faring. Fat snowflakes were falling heavily, and the world was still and silent, the way it only gets, when everything is muffled under several inches of snow.

Sephiroth was nowhere in sight, so Cloud went around to the back and stopped short. The woodshed door was wide open, and what appeared to be smoke was billowing out into the cold air.

“Fuck—Sephiroth!” he exclaimed, dashing for the shed.

The boy popped his head out. “Cloud? What’s wrong?”

“What’s going on?” Cloud asked, confused. “What is all this…steam?”

“I filled the shed all the way up, and now I’m using a desiccation spell, to dry the wood out, so it’ll burn better and it won’t rot,” Sephiroth explained brightly.

Cloud peered into the shed, and saw the neatly and tightly stacked wood, already split and free of twigs and foliage. Sure enough, there was a thin layer of yellowish light on all of it, and it was cheerfully releasing steam, like a huge stack of fresh baked buns.

“What about the wood that was already in here?”

“I moved it all to the woodpile, at the front of the cabin.” Misunderstanding Cloud’s expression, Sephiroth’s face fell, “I—I’m sorry, I know you didn’t tell me to do that, but I thought—”

“No, it’s ok,” Cloud interrupted. “I was just surprised that you worked so fast. You did everything right. Good job.”

The beautiful boy lit up like a firework, at that little bit of praise, nearly annihilating Cloud on the spot.

His cheeks and nose were touched with pink, from all the exercise in the cold, which only made him look even sweeter and more innocent, as he beamed up at him. If only he could’ve stayed this way. If only he hadn’t been tortured and horribly abused, until he became the very monster he’d always feared he was.

The moment his heart began to soften, a surge of black bitterness rose up in Cloud’s throat to choke him. How could Sephiroth ever have been like this? He was always beautiful, but he couldn’t have been innocent and sweet, even at this age. He was already a cold-blooded killer, after all. It must be a deception, to manipulate him.

“You look sad,” Sephiroth said. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re turning pink.”

“Am I?” Sephiroth reached up to touch his cheeks, self-consciously.

“Yeah. But why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dead,” Cloud said flatly. “You don’t have blood. So how would your cheeks flush from being cold?”

The boy’s eyes suddenly went hazy and unfocused. “I’m…I’m dead.”

Sure enough, the flush of color drained from his face, leaving his skin waxen white; so translucent, that his veins were visible in his cheeks, as faint, bluish lines. His whole person seemed to wither, and become greyer and duller.

Cloud immediately regretted listening to that bitter part of himself, and lashing out at the boy. Whatever evil Sephiroth had done, this child hadn’t done it, yet.

“Seph…I’m sorry,” he said, gingerly patting the boy’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.”

Sephiroth’s skin instantly began to brighten, again, and that dead, grey cast fell away. But now his eyes were dewy and pink-rimmed. “Wh—why did you call me that?”

“What?”

“You called me Seph.”

“Isn’t that how people usually shorten your name?”

“I don’t know.” Two big, round tears rolled down his rosy cheeks. “No one ever has.”

Cloud was utterly at a loss, so he just patted the boy’s shoulder again. “Come on, don’t cry. Let’s go inside. You’re covered in snow.”

They hung up their coats on the hooks by the door, and kicked the snow off their boots, which they set by the fire, to dry. While Sephiroth put more wood on, Cloud was assessing the food supply, in case this storm lasted a while. He wasn’t too worried, though. He’d stocked up well on canned and dry goods, had plenty of fish in the freezer, and could always hunt.

It was no problem for him to traverse the route into town in extreme weather, but that wouldn’t do a lot of good if the town was too snowed in to function. If worse came to worst, he’d go over and clear the main roads. That was work that would be long and arduous for an entire crew of regular people, but with his strength and fire spells, wasn’t even difficult. He’d done it before.

While Sephiroth was bathing, Cloud toasted up some simple, grilled cheese sandwiches, on the skillet, which he cut into triangles. Then he got out a saucepan and began to heat up some milk.

The heavy snow put him in mind of winters with his mother, in their little house, and the rare luxury that was hot cocoa. He didn’t have peppermint sticks or marshmallows, so he sprinkled a little cinnamon on top.

He was just pouring it into the mugs, when Sephiroth came out, in those old sweatpants and another of Cloud’s t-shirts. He’d pulled his damp, chin-length hair back into a mini-ponytail at the base of his skull, which looked ridiculously cute.

“Dinner,” Cloud said.

Sephiroth sat dutifully at the camp table. “What’s this brown stuff?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the mug Cloud set in front of him.

“Cinnamon.”

“And we drink it?”

“If you want. You don’t have to.”

Sephiroth reached for the mug, which his solid-looking fingers picked up with no trouble. Putting it to his lips, he took a cautious little sip. He froze for a beat. Then his eyes went round and starry and he sucked down every last drop of the warm, creamy cocoa, smacking his lips and ‘mm-ing’ delightedly between slurps.

Cloud nearly spit his own cocoa out, laughing, at the tragic face he made, when he realized his mug was empty. “You like it, huh?”

Sephiroth nodded vigorously. “Mn! I love it! I want to drink cinnamon all the time!”

“It’s called hot cocoa,” Cloud corrected. “Cinnamon is just the stuff sprinkled on top.”

“Hot cocoa,” Sephiroth repeated. “What is it made of?”

“My mom made it with chopped up chocolate and sugar, but I just use the tinned mix. There’s more in the saucepan, if you want.”

Sephiroth’s expression became grave. “Your mother taught you to make this?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sharing it with me?”

“Looks that way.”

“Thank you,” Sephiroth said, dipping his head, as Cloud poured more cocoa into his mug. “I feel very honored.”

“It’s just hot cocoa. I’m sure everyone’s moms made it for them.”

“My mother…would have made this for me?”

“Probably.”

Sephiroth fell silent, looking reverent and reflective, as he slowly sipped the cocoa, this time, carefully savoring every mouthful, seemingly lost in his own little world. He didn’t touch the grilled cheese, but Cloud hadn’t expected him to. He was surprised enough that the boy was able to drink the cocoa. He ate both grilled cheese sandwiches, himself, without remarking on it, then went to take his shower.

When he came out again, Sephiroth had washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. Cloud had never thought of Sephiroth as someone who would be able or willing to undertake such mundane tasks. He’d only seen the lofty and beautiful hero, standing at the vanguard, sword in hand, sweeping away enemies like chaff on the wind.

This ghost, however, was turning out to be quite the cheerful little domestic helper, willing to do whatever task was at hand, and very good at everything he put is hand to. He’d even piled more wood onto the fire, swept the floor, and tied up the garbage in a neat little bundle, by the door, to be carried away.

Cloud lay down in his bed, but seeing the teenaged boy curled up on the rug, by the fire, wrapped in his one blanket, was too much for his conscience.

“Seph,” he said. “It’s too cold to sleep on the floor. We can share the bed.”

The boy looked up timidly. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on. If you get sick, it’ll just be more trouble for me.”

Thus reassured, Sephiroth hurried over in his blanket and threw it over the top of the others, then shimmied in under the covers.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Your bed is so soft!”

Cloud squinted. “Is it?”

“It’s the softest bed I’ve ever been in! It’s amazing!”

“It’s just a futon on a wood frame.”

“What’s a futon?”

“It’s um…a Wutaian mattress.”

For what seemed like a very long time, Cloud lay stiffly on his back, staring up at firelight dancing on the ceiling, and carefully avoiding touching the boy, who was writhing and wriggling about, like he had fleas. At long last, he seemed to get comfortable and settle down. But just as Cloud was closing his eyes to drift off—

“Cloud?”

“Hm.”

“Why does your hair stick up like that, but mine hangs down?”

“Dunno. This is just the way it is.”

“Can I…can I touch it?”

Cloud eyed him dubiously. “Can you touch it? I mean…I don’t know why you want to, but I guess so.”

Sephiroth reached out and delicately prodded the blonde spikes. “It feels just like my hair. I thought it would be more like goat hair.”

“What? Why goat hair?” Cloud scowled.

Sephiroth grinned and kept petting his head, absently scooting closer, till their knees touched.

Cloud’s stomach fluttered nervously, in spite of himself. Yes, he was an adult now, but this was his first love, after all. In his mind, he was suddenly eleven years old again, gazing at a Shinra recruitment poster he’d kept secreted away in his bedroom, daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss those perfect lips.

“Ok, time to sleep,” he said abruptly, turning onto his side, with his back to Sephiroth.

“Goodnight, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, after a few minutes had passed.

“Goodnight, Seph. Now, no more talking.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY credit to @soundcrusher for the bellhop's name and backstory, which they let me borrow for this fic 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

ao3

[vashtijoy]

maruki, ren, wakaba: history rhymes

Maruki's journal entries cover an almost three-year period, from 2014/04/09 to 2017/01/01. This overlaps with almost the entirety of canon; Akechi begins working for Shido "two and a half years" before 11/21 (that's 2014/05/21)—which, again, is not too far from this 04/09 date; if you want to hypothesise that he, too, awakens around 2014/04/09, go wild.

Why is 4/9 a significant date for Maruki?

4/9: maruki and joker connect to their personas

According to his journal, Maruki's awakening is a painful, drawn-out process. In February 2014, he's already getting headaches. They worsen until August of that year, when he partially awakens.

His start of darkness is, of course, the murder of his girlfriend Rumi's parents. The killer then attacks Rumi while making his escape, and Maruki is powerless to prevent it. She never recovers, and neither does he:

Apr. 9   I just can't believe what's happened. I'll never see Rumi's parents again... I don't even know if Rumi will ever come back to me. Her heart's been completely closed off ever since that day. Why did this happen? What did Rumi do to deserve this?   Do we really have to just go on suffering these consequences? My headaches are getting worse— I'm even starting to hear things. Am I having some kind of breakdown? I can't lose it... I have to do something to help Rumi. No matter what it takes.

But 2014/04/09 is the first day he feels able to journal about the murder. "I'm starting to hear things," he says; this is likely the first day he hears the voice of his persona. It's also the date he commits to help Rumi "no matter what it takes".

... However. This is also two years to the day before Joker stops at Shibuya Crossing, gets the Meta-Nav from Yaldabaoth—who is lurking far beneath the Crossing—inadvertently enters the Metaverse, and sees his own shadow and the suggestion of the persona it will become:

He is a scary boy when he wants to be, huh? I bet his Palace would have been amazing. Note that Joker, here, will also not awaken right away—but he's seen his persona, his shadow-as-is, for the first time.

8/21: maruki's partial awakening and wakaba's murder

(@notcoolnickname points out that Wakaba dies on 8/21, not 8/22—thanks! I think we can push Maruki's awakening back two days rather than one, so I'm gonna, lol. Because even if it's a day out, or two, this is really too close for coincidence.)

On 2014/08/23, Maruki writes about his visit to Rumi in the hospital. We also see that visit. He talks about "someone" he's recently met who thinks his research has promise, who wants to fund it—well, it's no surprise he loses that funding, put it like that. He talks about how he wants to save the whole world, by changing the cognition of criminals before they act.

Rumi does not take this well; she begs him to help her forget. And he realises that what she needs is not a solution to crime, but to her trauma—and so does everyone else.

This is when he awakens.

He begs Azathoth to help him save Rumi. And Rumi forgets him entirely—almost. But she's forgotten her trauma, as well:

Aug. 23   I still can't figure out what that voice was in Rumi's room. Was it my subconscious? Was it... it feels so strange writing this as a scientist, but... was it some kind of godlike being?

The entry's dated 8/23, but he says he still can't figure it out. So when did the events in the video happen? Were they two days before, by any chance?

What else happens not just on 8/21, but around or on this exact day?

Yeah. On 8/22, Sae places Wakaba's murder "two years ago". The day before, on 8/21, Sojiro commemorates the anniversary of Wakaba's death.

That's to say: if that visit to Rumi was on 8/21, then Wakaba was murdered the day Maruki awakened. The same exact day, or as good as. Like, what the fuck, y'all?

It seems really clear to me that these corresponding dates are either a thematic or narrative link back to Yaldabaoth—who, of course, causes both Joker and Akechi to awaken. Is he involved with Maruki, somehow? Does he have his fingers in more than one pie? Or are all these guys just narratively echoing each other?

Maruki, of course, will ultimately replace Yaldabaoth in Mementos.

other correspondences in the timeline

What else is there? Well, Maruki's first journal entry, when he talks about his headaches, is on 2014/02/02—three years before he meets with Joker and Akechi at Leblanc. But he says he's meeting Rumi's parents "tomorrow". So his 2/3 boss fight is on the three-year anniversary of his first meeting with Rumi's parents.

His entry about his research being shut down, and his need for test subjects—presumably what leads him into counselling?—is on 2015/06/03. Well, 6/3 is the calling card deadline for Madarame's Palace; I don't think that is too significant. But note that, in this 2015 entry, his research has been shut down; in August 2014, when Wakaba was murdered, Shido was still offering Maruki funding.

So why didn't Shido murder Maruki? The answer is that Shido was still actively recruiting Metaverse researchers, even after Akechi was working for him. Something about Maruki made him unusable—his good intentions and general incorruptibility, maybe—but not dangerous; maybe he just didn't know enough. Also note here that Akechi doesn't know there's anything special about Maruki until the third semester.

He journals that he met Yoshizawa and changed her cognition on 3/25—a couple of weeks before canon begins on 4/9. So whenever we see him, whenever he has a counselling session, he's able to connect with, and change, the cognition of the person he meets....

Lastly, he doesn't journal that "I've finally done it... reality and the cognitive world are merging" until 1/1. 1/1 is the day reality starts to go properly squiffy (the shrine is empty, Morgana is missing, Futaba mentions her mom), and it's the day after that odd New Year party, when everyone seems just a little too happy. Joker's dream is on the night of 12/31—Maruki doesn't send him the dream, I think (Joker is in his prison clothes and sees Lavenza as the butterfly) but he talks to him in it.

But Akechi is there in Shibuya on 12/24, barely moments after Maruki gains Yaldabaoth's power; just hours after the blood rain. The first gift Maruki gave with his new power, I always thought. But he seems to only become aware of what he can do after 12/24. We skip from 12/25 to 12/30, so anything could have happened in the meantime....

But what's going on here? Something odd, that's for sure. Is it possible—just possible—that that Akechi we see, on 12/24, who steps forward in Shibuya and turns himself in, is not the one Maruki interferes with or otherwise brings back, but the actual, living Akechi who was there all along?

[isaacthedruid]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗

OH HELLO HI!

my favourite fic ive even written is the one im working on right now! it’s a destiel fic where jack turns back into a baby after can’t keep that form any longer! it's so sweet and gentle but also there's so much emotion in this one. (READ HERE ON AO3)

2. easily next is my desteil fic where dean saves cas from the empty but they both lose something of themselves to get home. agh i love the final product of this one so much it was so fun to write and the epilogue makes me emotional (READ HERE ON AO3)

3. i dont know if this counts but my little destiel poetry collection, its so near and dear to my heart and i just love it so much (READ HERE ON AO3)

okay 4 and 5 will be jrwi fics because omg i was a jrwi fic writer...

4. hmmmm its gonna be that my tidalwave fic aka still the longest tidalwave fic on ao3 even a year later, i loved writing it so much it was my first long fic i ever finished writing (READ HERE ON AO3)

5. finally is my little angelstone fic where rumi's persona literally chips away like glass and they don't think they are perfect anymore (READ HERE ON AO3)

[almoststedytimetravel]

Nothing will ruin your day more then seeing concept art of a character you like with a design that's just so much better then what they got.

[wildpeachfarm]

See the thing is with streaming its going to die regardless, yes companies handing out less contracts is killing it further but its already dying at a fast rate? I'm not a stream hater either btw I really enjoy them but like. For example. 2020, 2021? When school was remote and I only ever worked mornings because of covid hours? I was clocked into that Philza 8hr stream DAILY. I was scheduling my classes around those streams so I could do homework while listening/watching. Went as far as to use my monthly speaking privilge to ask Phil what date British Daylight Savings began so I could keep my schedule clear. The second everything was no longer remote, and store hours went back to normal, I maybe caught 2, 3, maybe 4 streams in that year before I decided enough was enough about QSMP and I LOVE hardcore content.

From a company standpoint I can see why YT may not be interested in handing out streamer contracts anymore. Like Dreamie and a few others they're recognizing the Covid Number Boom is over- but unlike Dreamie, because theyre a corporation, they can't just "stick it out" and "recelebrate milestones". They have a "bottom line" to protect and they're not getting that same sweet sweet ad revenue from streams because of decreased viewer counts. Esp bc people don't just go back and watch vods unless there's a REAAAALLY good reason to. So no ad viewership there either. They're going to go back to relying on videos (and unfortunately probably shorts as well, I hate the tiktok-ification of every socmed site) to keep their ad revenue up, especially with the battle of ad blockers. I see more ad and monitization deals being handed out.

With streams (bc vod watching is lowkey practically nonexistant) not being in high demand bc of time constraints (happening while busy, timezones issues) the demands for videos will be higher as videos are ALWAYS readily available. Someone uploads at midnight your timezone? I mean it'll be there when you wake up, you won't have "missed" anything like you would have a livestream. Get a video schedule set out and you're GOLDEN- the first thing I do when I get home from work is check if a handful of youtubers have uploaded to put on to watch. If not, I rewatch some of my fav vids.

Also psychologically I actually think this is for the better of all CCs as a whole. Streaming, esp for some of the hourly requirements some of these ppl either HAVE to hit to get paid or WILLINGLY put themselves through (Tubbo) you have to wear your persona the ENTIRE time. You have to make sure you don't slip up that ENTIRE time. You have to be entertaining the ENTIRE time. You have to filter yourself because it's all live. To me this just sounds like what I do on a daily basis masking my audHD and that shit is so tiring and it's why I could NEVER be a streamer. If you're recording videos you can control what goes out. You don't have to wear whatever persona you decide to put on for 8hrs for a stream, you can record 3 hours of footage and then be done for the day, and that can either be one video or multiple depending on a lot of factors. Accidentally say your mom's name? Cut the clip. Bit isn't funny? Cut the clip. They will still have to actively filter themselves yes but for a much less amount of time. In the end CCs will have a lot more mind power that they're not using up to take care of themselves. I genuinely think it's psychologically better for them all.

It's unfortunate that the streaming industry is going to collapse this way. But also seeing how the communities heavily affected by streaming are more drama filled than communities w/o streaming, I'm lowkey hoping it's for the best. Pulling the plug like this imo is a mercy kill.

And now I'm gonna wash my mouth out for all that corporate speak I just used. Sorry for the manifesto. And if someone wants to put this manifesto on reddit idc just crop/block any usernames IG

I appreciate the essay-andy-ing these are interesting thoughts! I don't think the streaming scene will collapse entirely but I do think that it will become more advantageous to be a youtuber because people have found that to be the most consistent for many years as a CC rather than streams which require a lot of additional things (like you mentioned)

And I feel like we are seeing quite a few people say they're going to prioritize youtube more in the future which seems to be the beginning of that transition

I am curious if twitch will ever try to keep certain big-viewer streamers on the platform with 'kick-style' ($$$$) contracts.

[0heartangel0]

PERSONA 5 TACTICA IS NOT GREAT: AN ODDLY-CONSTRUCTED RANT

Pt. 4.5: Kingdom 4 Is A Waste Of My Time

After shortly running through each Kingdom's gimmick in the previous part, I realized something that I knew I needed to discuss on its own. And that's the fact that Kingdom 4 is the worst thing to happen to any Persona player since October 4th!

It might sound like I'm exaggerating, but I'm not. It sucks. I hate it. It's garbo! It's what would culminate from Fuuka, Chie, Yukiko, Akechi, and Zenkichi all collaborating to cook something. Blindfolded.

Who in the board meeting stood up and was like, "you know what would make this game better? If we did a dumb boss rush at the final world, while making everything and everyone grey!" And everyone clapped. And the one mother flipper that tried to object was launched to the stratosphere.

Let me tell you something: no one likes a boss rush, especially if it's a recolored version of the same boss. I hated it in Kirby, and I hate it here. And even then, it's just the bosses repeating the same kinds of lines and attacks once you get to them after two missions (I get that that's the point, but still).

The environment isn't even that nice to look at. It's just....Grey and metallic. It's extremely boring, and makes me frustrated having to go through 9 levels of this same environment. Even the enemies are grey!

Oh, but don't worry! The game actually gives a reason as to why everything looks like this!

Translation: After Toshiro found his big boy britches, Salmael ran out of colored ink in his printer, so now has to resort to the black and white setting no one likes.

That's still such a stupid reason, but OKAY!

They also tried to explain why they brought back the bosses, and it's just as dumb!

So, basically, Samael brought these rulers back simply to put fear back into Toshiro....even though he has gone against and conquered these fake versions of these people before! So, obviously, it won't work again, just because they're grey now, and you amped up what they say now!

Isn't it funny just how over-the-top she's being (even though she was always like this)? Isn't it hilarious how the big bad is so desperate to make Toshiro shake in his little boots, that he just had to bring back the same ridiculous-looking mother flippers again, but add a grey coat of paint on them with cute red highlights? No. At least, not to me.

You know what is funny? The fact that they did this just to show how Toshiro has grown throughout this game. But really, this is just unnecessary.

The fact that he has faced these people before and even get scenes before and after their defeat where he accepts what they did to him, and he'll stand up to them SHOWS this! Hell, his awakening + him fighting his shadow was supposed to show this growth! We don't need an extra reminder of this! We kind of get it! The fact he's even down here to face a GOD should be proof enough! We shouldn't have to be forced to relive this same moment of confrontation *X3* to prove to us that Toshiro is no longer the guy that keeps a night light in his bedroom to go to sleep! Then again, I still have my doubts, considering how they handle his growth, but trust me, WE'LL GET TO THAT!

So, in a way, this is all just one big rehash. They might as well have cut to the final boss the moment we got to this Kingdom to save me the trouble!

Also, you mean to tell me that I have to fight Eri AGAIN after having just faced her, not....*8* missions ago?! And she's somehow EASIER??!! AND GREY????? Is this really how we're ending the game???

And this is just the surface - a peek through the curtain, if you will - of just how dumb the villain is, since this is his lair! His Bowser's castle! He couldn't even be bothered to put in some torches! NOTHIN'!!

I keep saying it, but I will talk about the villain at some point! And I'll have words for him!

Then again, I already did, here. Let's just say, insulting his decor was the first step among a whole 2 year-old's Christmas list's length list.

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Pt. 4

Pt. 5

[pompompuriina]

Who are your top 5 (or top 3) favorite characters each from Jujutsu Kaisen and Fairy Tail? And why you loved them? And your top 5 favorite moments each from both series? Thx :D

yippeee thank you for the askkk :3 here's my top 5 from jjk:

1. okkotsu yuta, fell in love tbh like i was reading the manga and watching season one in 2020 so when yuta was revealed in s1 (v briefly) i got interested and picked the manga up and ooh la la 😻😻 15 year old me was so captivated by this guy like wdym he's super strong, handsome and also an absolute gentleman??? he's literally my bf please 😕💔 i have a type and i'm not ashamed (dudes that are nervous and shy and look like absolute losers but could actually wreck your shit yes sir)

2. nanami kento; bro IS HIM HE GETS ALL THE BITCHES 😤😤 he's lit a gentleman, makes good money, strong AND he's got great looks???? mans cured my daddy issues INSTANTLY, and in season two??? i was going absolutely FERAL oh nooo season two nanami save me season two nanamiiiii

3. geto suguru, are you noticing a pattern here have you seem this guy, like bro was still him even after he defected wdymmm his high school persona is what got me tho 🤭 i can see why he was more popular than gojo, i like adult geto just as much thou because oh my ghee i need that hair routine

4. zen'in mai AND maki, listen bro, i fucking LOVE LOVE LOVEEEE THE SISTERS. idc. i'll stay defending mai, y'all just don't get her like i do y'all domt get her like iiii doooooo 😫😫 i may be a little more biased towards mai because liek i relate to her sm on a different level but hey, sisters. love those two. lit me.

5. mahoraga. i will not elaborate. all ima say rn is: hear me out.

for fairy tail here's my top five and why i love them sm :3

1. erza scarlet, queen is SLAYING. girl's power is literally to serve absolute cunt while beating the living shit out of you??? what's NOT to love about erza? she rightfully has the title as the fairy queen 🤭

2. lucy heartfilia, tbh she's up there because i wanted to spite the immature little boys in the fandom that hated lucy because she was "weak" (bffr my queen is NOT weak) but i actually grew to like her character a lot because lucy has shown herself to have amazing character development, like you go girl

3. jellal/mystogan, listen man i'm an absolute sucker for this guy, he has me on a chokehold 😞 "it was the color of your hair" sir please, sir PLEASEEEE NOTICE ME I HAVE RED HAIR (my hair is pink) (that's it, that's the reason he's so handsome)

4. zeref. ZEREF IS SO UNDErLOVED. when i said i liked guys who looked absolutely pathetic and look like losers i was NOT joking 💀 bro looks like he listens to pierce the veil or panic at the disco (their old music) and vent to the sadder songs but would absolutely fucking destroy you in one touch 😭

5. ok this is controversial...but acnologia. listen. listen. his human form?? just like mahoraga. hear me out. i will not elaborate.

i don't really have a top five moments from either show, unfortunately :( both are equally amazing to me and there's just too many scenes to pick from, i'd be writing an essay 😭 if i had to choose from one thou, from fairy tail is when natsu sees erza crying and absolutely loses it and jjk is actually in the intro of the first season, where itadori is recording everyone it's just so sweet :( the calm before the storm

[sable-skies]

'Ello, 'ello!

Since thou recently had some Persona related posts on thy blog..

obligatory- which games have you played? Any ships? Do you have a favorite protagonist?

(Joker has won my heart personally- he is such a dramatic and EXTRA bitch)

!!! PERSONAAAAAA

I’ve been playing through Persona 3 Reload this year! I haven’t finished it yet but one day I’ll finally lock in and finish it. (I think my latest save is in early November? So I haven’t met Ryoji yet) I also need to do The Answer still.

Though my love of Persona started years ago when I finally got a PS4 and got Persona 5 (Vanilla)! Played up until the final boss and then just. Got burnt out and never finished it, especially when Royal came out. While I need to play Royal all the way through on my own, I have been watching my friend Vinny play it on PC (they named the protagonist Skibidi Sigma. It’s a gift that keeps on giving)

I haven’t played Persona 4 Golden yet but I have it on steam!

As for ships, there’s a good few I enjoy! For Persona 3 I actually really like the protagonist + Yukari, and that’s unfortunately the only one I can think of for now. For Persona 5, love me a good Shuake, Pegokita, and PegoHaru as well, but honestly I can be convinced to ship Joker with anybody (that’s appropriate age of course. Atlus please stop giving your teenage protagonist romance options who are full ass grown adults)

And while I think I love all the protagonists, Joker is definitely a favorite because he’s the first one I got to play as and learn about ❤️❤️ love the Jonkler

[thedensworld]

Lover | Kim Mingyu

How You Two Confess

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Idol!Mingyu x Fashion Editor!Reader (ft. Unbiological Brother Joshua)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Series

Note: reader is female

________________________________________

The day had finished with your team's successful presentation of a renowned South Korean designer's masterpiece for an imminent fashion show. As you savored the satisfaction of your collective efforts, a message notification disrupted your thoughts. The sender, an unknown number, followed up with an introduction: 'This is Kim Mingyu'—the phrase that preceded the explanation that your number had been given to him by none other than Josh.

Unknown Number: Hi, I apologize for this unexpected outreach. I recently discovered that you've changed your number.

Unknown Number: I mean... it's reasonable to assume that you've changed your number since it's been quite a while.

Unknown Number: By the way, this is Kim Mingyu.

Unknown Number: Josh gave me your new number.

Taking a deep breath, you muttered an expletive aimed, curse, affectionately at your well-intentioned but sometimes reckless brother, Joshua. He had never did such nonchalance about sharing your number before; it had always been within your consent, especially your personal one.

Before you could address Joshua's actions, you stored Mingyu's number among your contacts. You almost typed 'Mingoos,' the playful nickname you used to exchange, but you hesitated. Realizing you weren't as close as before, you decided to save his contact without a nickname. Professionally speaking, he had become a colleague as he served as a global muse for your magazine this year.

You: Hi, Mingyu, what's|

You: Hi, Mingyu wh|

You: Hi, Mi|

You: Hi|

You: Good afternoon, Mingyu. May i help you?

You chastised your own formality under your breath. Perhaps sending the first sentence would have been less awkward? Your breath caught in your throat as yet another notification pinged on your phone. You couldn't help but roll your eyes upon seeing "Brosh" as the sender—Brother Josh.

Brosh: Hey, I gave your number to Mingyu. He mentioned not having your new number.

Brosh: Did you change it like...

Brosh: 4 years ago?

Brosh: Are you two fighting? Seriously

You disregarded your brother's group text and retreated to your office. As you seated yourself, you attempted to regain composure. It irked you that Joshua, despite not being related by blood, could read you like an open book. As someone striving to project an enigmatic persona, such blatant insight into your emotions wounded your pride. You were meant to be a mysterious figure, but then again, Hong Joshua's inherent sensitivity and intuition allowed him to grasp your feelings better than you acknowledged them.

You: Nevertheless, that doesn't give you the right to share my number without my consent.

Brosh: I know...I'm sorry

Brosh: I forgot you hate that kind of thing :(

Brosh: Push that aside. I hope you and Mingyu can rekindle your friendship. He's a good guy. I promise.

You: You're being absurd. There's nothing between me and Kim Mingyu.

A sudden phone call pierced through your thoughts. "What is it now?"

"I don't buy it. Tell me what's wrong between you two?" Joshua's voice blared through the phone, and irritation welled within you. You knew it wasn't solely him; his behavior was peculiar.

Silence engulfed you for a moment before realization struck. "Is Jeonghan oppa there?" you inquired, your brows furrowing.

"No way!" His defensive response confirmed your hunch that Jeonghan was on the line, fueling Joshua's queries.

"You're not fooling anyone, Josh," you grumbled, rubbing your temples. Subdued giggling on the other end only affirmed your suspicion—Jeonghan was indeed present.

"Y/n! I've missed you. Let's catch up!" Jeonghan's voice chimed in. A smile formed on your lips, though it waned as you recalled something.

"Last time you said that, you were actually just using me to fetch you a limited-edition bag from that brand," you commented, hoping to mentally prepare for a potential repeat of that scheme.

Jeonghan's laughter emanated through the line. "Not entirely untrue, but we can discuss that later. What's happening between you and Mingyu? I thought you two were on good terms?"

You rolled your eyes. "Where is this assumption coming from? Mingyu and I aren't avoiding each other. We're simply adjusting—adapting to each other's presence after such a long hiatus."

Jeonghan's tone softened. "Oh, okay. I had this feeling that you were distancing yourselves due to his confirmation of dating Ji Nara. I'm relieved it was a mere misinterpretation of me."

Joshua continued saying, "I felt the same. I was confused though. When I asked Mingyu if he was dating Ji Nara, he denied it, but then the company issued a statement confirming."

The conversation flowed, and the brothers divulged all they knew about Kim Mingyu's dating history—a topic you'd rather not indulge in. Mingyu was an adult in your eyes, and his dating life was none of your concern. The notion that his relationships caused your alleged distance was unnecessary. You intended to explain that work commitments and busy schedules had hindered your connection. This rationale was easier to accept than entertaining any assumptions about romantic involvement.

"Mingyu admitted he confirmed the dating rumor just to shut media attention. He was close to her, but they weren't dating," Jeonghan revealed.

You sighed, "Guys, I need to go. I'll catch up with you later," you announced before ending the call.

*

Me: I'm fine, just wanted to ensure we're still connected 👍

Me: By the way, I'm attending Mrs. Gee's show. I heard your company is hosting it.

Me: See you on Saturday!

Mingyu's lips tightened as he pressed the send button, having responded to your one message with three separate texts. Was it excessive? He pondered the question, then shrugged. In his dictionary, there was no such thing as too much. He could only hope for your response.

Suddenly, it all made sense—the message he had sent you years ago that never reached you. He had assumed you were too preoccupied to check your phone. But in reality, you had changed your number. His idea to ask your number turned out to be a stroke of genius, despite the in-depth interview he had endured with your older brother.

"How did you not know she changed her number? Weren't you in touch all these years?!" Mingyu demanded by Joshua upon texting him to ask for your new number. He hadn't anticipated a reprimand for such a seemingly innocent request.

"We lost touch over the years; it just happened," Mingyu reasoned, hoping Joshua would understand.

Mingyu could almost visualize Joshua shaking his head. "No way! I knew something was up when she wasn't reaching you up with her new number. Were you two quarreling?"

"No, hyung!" Mingyu pleaded, his palm meeting his forehead in exasperation.

"Could it be that you were in love with each other?" Joshua's sudden question took Mingyu by surprise.

Mingyu sighed deeply before responding, "Hyung, that's a bit much! Act your age," His voice carried a blend of fondness and chiding.

There was a pregnant silence before the older saying, "I'm sorry, I just got carried away. It's the first time I've had this kind of conversation. She's my first sister ever,"

A twinge of guilt tugged at Mingyu's heart, "No, hyung. I'm sorry, I overreacted. It's okay, I understand your excitement. But, I'm sorry. It's not what you were thinking. I can't fully explain the situation, but... it's complicated. I'm sorry."

"No, I went too far. I apologize, Mingyu. I was driven by my own feelings and I was being inconsiderate. I'll send you her new number immediately. I'm sorry."

Mingyu let out a contemplative hum, "Are we okay now?"

"Yup..."p

With a few more exchanged words, the phone call concluded. Mingyu promptly texted you and awaited your response. He couldn't help but wonder why it was so challenging to clarify the situation that you and he were having. After all, it was merely a case of lost contact amidst busy schedules and work commitments.

Yet, the inexplicable difficulty of explaining it gnawed at him. He pondered again, did you face a similar dilemma?

Me: Do you have time tonight? Want to grab a beer?

Mingyu exhibited patience as he waited for your reply. Finally, after half an hour, your response appeared.

Y/n: Sounds good

*

After wrapping up your final preparations for the upcoming team meeting, you ventured to the location Mingyu had shared hours ago. Upon your arrival, you found him already there, a photo of him grilling beef and drinking solo graced your phone. A smile touched your lips as you reminisced about his tendency to communicate through images rather than words.

You observed a young man clad in a casual brown shirt, white shorts, and a cap that shaded half his face. He sat in the corner, near the windows. In contrast, you were dressed in your work attire, minus your blazer, which remained in your car. As you stepping closer, you greeted him.

"Hey..." Your voice carried a note of warmth, and he turned his head to meet your gaze. A smile bloomed on his face, but you couldn't help but notice that he appeared rather drunk. Given that he was already on his third bottle of soju, it was a safe assumption.

"Let's take a break," you suggested, noting how swiftly he had drained his soju.

Ordering more meat and beer, you opted for something lighter as Mingyu seemed quite inebriated, making conversation challenging. Perhaps one bottle of beer would help you to still able manage the lively presence that sitting across from you.

Mingyu acknowledged your decision with a nod, "Yes," he affirmed, then quickly shook his head, "No!" His protest was followed by an attempt to secure another glass of soju.

"Easy there, buddy. We've got a long night ahead," you jested, intercepting his glass.

"I almost feel like I can't sober up," he mumbled, and you caught his words.

"Why's that?" You inquired, curious.

"After five years, I don't think I can face you while being sober," he confessed, his words a mixture of vulnerability and truth.

"Last time I tried, my heart..." Mingyu's sentence trailed off, his hand moving to his right chest.

"It was the othe side," you interjected, his hand slowly moved to his left chest. You scoffed.

"My heart felt like it was about to burst; it was racing so fast," he confessed.

You arched an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips, "And how about now?"

"It's still racing," he admitted candidly, his honesty unfiltered. "But oddly enough, I find comfort in that."

The moment felt ripe with a sense of understanding, as if unspoken feelings hung in the air. The connection you both shared was palpable, even in the midst of misunderstandings and lost contact. As the night stretched before you, the promise of conversation and camaraderie seemed to unravel with each passing minute.

Your order arrived just in the nick of time, offering a welcome distraction. Mingyu extended the courtesy of pouring your drink, yet you politely declined, choosing to pour it yourself. As you swirled the liquid in your glass, a reflective silence enveloped you, leaving unspoken words suspended in the air.

In a moment that felt almost cinematic, your gaze intersected with Mingyu's. Your hand moved in a circular motion, stirring the contents of your glass, as if your thoughts were equally stirred within. Your eyes remained locked on each other, neither willing to break the connection. But eventually, it was Mingyu who looked away first, breaking the intense gaze to pour himself some soju.

Then, as if the weight of the world was on your words, you said softly, "You're not alone."

Pausing briefly, you continued, "Mine's too."

In that instant, your words held a profound impact, causing a pause in the rhythm of the world around you, as if the universe itself had held its breath.

Mingyu's breath.