#so please bear with me while i potentially double some of those and leave out others

[klingerfashionarchive]

season 6 episode 19

[eluminium]

I think you mean the opposite? Maybe I'm just reading wrong but I think the theory is that Skizz is the source/origin/patient zero of the boogey curse because the only season post-3rd life to NOT have the boogey curse was Double Life, which also did not have Skizz. Last Life, Limited Life, and Secret Life all had some form of the Boogey curse, and Skizz was part of all of them. So the theory is that the pure manic bloodlust of Skizz's final moments in 3rd Life spawned the boogey curse in some way. Skizz mentioned liking this theory (that he originally found on Reddit) on the pod when they were talking about The Life Series.

EVERYTHING UNDER THE READ MORE IS ME THEORIZING FOR FUNSIES. LET ME COOK OKAY. I COOKED WITH THIS. PLEASE READ

There's also the fact that Skizz has NEVER been Boogey naturally, one of the only three people to have that title. The other two are Grian, a Watcher, and Cleo, who is undead. And it makes sense that Skizz has never gotten infected, you can't corrupt something that's already there. (YES I KNOW ABOUT SECRET LIFE BUT SHHH I HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR THAT JUST YOU WAIT-)

Personally, I like the idea of the Watchers noticing the potential of Skizz's lingering madness after 3rd Life and using it to weave the boogey curse for their next killing game. I mean, he was the first to truly spill blood by perma-killing both Jimmy and Cleo before dying himself, what better source could you get for a curse hellbent on spilling as much blood as fast as possible?

You can also say that, in a way, the Boogey Curse is a dark reflection of Skizz. What Skizz's bloodlust is without the rationalizations and justifications he makes for himself. Skizz is at his heart loyal and honest, and he's always been that. He says and usually does only aim his manic bloodlust at those who he thinks deserve it. But at the end of the day, no matter how pretty you dress it up, Skizz's bloodlust is still violent and crazed and messy. And that's what the curse shows. By taking only the manic bloodlust and rage from Skizz and leaving all the loyalty and honor behind, it truly shows its ugly nature when placed in people with less altruistic mindsets and much more to lose. Every person who bears the curse reacts differently to it, but at the end of the day it's still selfish and cruel. Taking another life just to satisfy yourself and your own goals. And Skizz, the source, is no different. He might kill out of loyalty or a sense of justice, but he also kills to satisfy himself, whether he's aware of it or not. The Curse is just what Skizz is/would be without all the pretty justifications on top.

Hell, Skizz being the source of the Boogey Curse could even be the reason why he was absent in Double Life. His soul was too fragile after having to be the source of the First Boogey Curse for the entire season, so the Watchers temporarily took him out of the game to keep his soul safe so they could keep using him in the future. Then he returned in Limited Life to repeat the cycle.

But in Secret Life, despite Skizz's soul probably being fragile again, they didn't want to take Skizz or the curse completely out of the games because it makes so many tasty snacks. So they compromised by only using the Boogey Curse later in the game. But who did they give the curse to? Right, Gem. Who was infected with something from the End Dimension after opening the portal and turning yellow. And the Boogey Curse that sprouted from her was different from the traditional curse, behaving more like a plague and also including elements of teamwork and alliance, something the OG Boogey Curse was meant to completely destroy. Wouldn't it make sense that whatever was infecting Gem and the Skizz-sourced Boogey Curse meshed together to create something unique? A new sickness that, while having elements of the OG curse, was different enough to be its own thing? That would mean that Skizz wouldn't be Patient Zero for the Secret Life zombie boogey curse, that would be Gem. He wouldn't have his immunity anymore. Which left him open and vulnerable to the infection, just like the rest of his comrades.

It also plays into the Watchers losing their grip on the narrative of Secret Life, most noticeably seen with The Canary Curse not playing out as usual. In their hubris and greed, they put Skizz in the game despite his soul being fragile from carrying the weight of being the source of the Boogey Curse. They wanted the strife and discord, so they hastily threw the curse onto the new and already aggressive Gem assuming that it would play out as normal. But Gem was already infected with something else, that and the curse mutated into a loyalty plague, and everything spiraled out of control. The Watchers had no choice then to remove the curse from their game by the next session to regain control. But as we know, that control was gonna keep slipping away from them...

we do not talk about the skizz boogey curse theory enough. do you know insanely cool that is. why does no one talk abt it

[athgalla-arts]

Ford and Fiddleford's Dynamic - Pt. 1

Alright, so I had expressed not long ago that I wanted to more exhaustively discuss my thoughts on Ford and Fiddleford’s dynamic, why I love it, and why I find it so compelling and enjoyable regardless of whether it is read as romantic, platonic, something in between, or something else altogether. I'm going to break this up into parts, too, hopefully that makes it a little easier to read. I know I'm a text-heavy person, so please bear with me!

I am going to do my best to focus on canon and interpreting it and keep the headcanons to a minimum for now. As I said, I believe their dynamic is wonderfully done and equally meaningful regardless of how you want to read it (although maybe it’s meaningful in slightly different ways depending on interpretation.). Ford and Fiddleford’s ‘arc’ excellently meshes with and manages to encapsulate the themes of the show as a whole – trust, love, and the gravity of these – how they can be broken and the severity of that, how these can  be flaws, the effort it can take to rebuild them, acceptance, embracing weirdness, and mystery. It’s difficult to truly pull their whole arc out and separate it from their relationships to other characters, but I’m going to do my best to focus on them and not get too side-tracked.

Let’s start off with some words from Alex Hirsch about their dynamic (thank you to @tazmiilly for finding this! the video it is from can be found here with the quote in question at 45:48)

“Everybody has that one friend in school who, like, school would be a nightmare without them. You know, like one person who is on your level who makes the same dumb jokes, is into the same weird games that you are, just like gets your sense of humor. And like, it can be the most meaningful thing in the world to have that person. I feel like every place I’ve been I have had at least one really good friend, who like… I can get through how awful it is because they’re there. And I think, y’know…McGucket and Ford were those kind of friends.”

Between this, Fiddleford’s enthusiastic acceptance of Ford’s request to help him build the portal, and Ford’s positively giddy reaction to seeing Fiddleford again in the 80s, I think we can safely assume they had a solid, steady bond. I’m going to backtrack now to Ford pre-college to set up some context that I think makes Alex’s description of their relationship in college so much more significant.

We know that throughout Ford’s formative years, he was practically attached at the hip to Stanley. They were inseparable, they were a team (though, of course, not without their differences). They shared a dream, trusted one another, and understood each other – although despite the understanding they do have, there are aspects of each other that are going to forever be disparate and difficult for the other to get. That’s normal and good! I love that Ford and Stan share so much yet stand out as unique people with their own way of viewing the world, unique interests, ways of handling things, and so on.

With the bullying they faced and the implied pressure at home, Stanley is the only (confirmed) positive relationship Ford seemed to have during his childhood and teen years. There is a lot we don’t know about what might have happened off-screen in their lives, but we know that Stan’s role was by and far the most significant to Ford. While their home situation leaves some room for interpretation, I think it is also safe to assume that pressure was heavy on both of them and that they experienced emotional abuse, at least from Filbrick (although it’s entirely possible this went further than we know, and we don’t get a good picture of how Caryn treated them either besides potential evidence for a somewhat detached relationship to them between ATOTS and Lost Legends).

Once Stan was kicked out and Ford was alone, I would bet that nearly all that pressure was now doubled down on him and all the scrutiny Stan had been under now fell to him. Ford’s a picture ‘golden child’ and all the high hopes his family had are looming over him while he’s dealing with major changes in his life – the heartbreak of losing his shot at WCT, losing Stan (and I would LOVE to know more about his feelings and thoughts on that whole scenario and how it would have gone if their argument had not been interrupted), trying to figure out his future and backup (heheh) college plans, and so on. Even if Ford wanted time to be independent and to chase his own dreams, at least for a time, I don’t think he ever wanted it to happen like this.

We now have Ford starting as a freshman at Backupsmore – far from his first choice of school, his expectations far from high and his outlook far from rosy. He’s completely on his own for the first time, still glaringly alone in Stan’s absence, although on a more positive note this may be his chance to be away from some of that hovering shadow of pressure from his family (at least to an extent) and away from the bullying and ostracization he experienced in Glass Shard Beach. It’s not perfect, but it’s new, and it’s a fresh start…sort of.

Enter Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

We don’t know the details of how they met or what their first impressions were of each other, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume that regardless of circumstances, Ford was a little hesitant and timid at first just as a consequence of past experiences damaging his ability to readily trust others; however, while also being hesitant for good reason, we know Ford is also quite the golden retriever who is excited and happy to find people he shares interests and values with. He does place importance on connection to others. Once he likes someone, I get the impression he loves them quite fiercely, in his own way (and that he’s easily won over by kindness and compliments).

Regarding Alex’s words… well, now Ford finally has someone that not only shares many of his interests, enjoys other things he might be intrigued by, but someone who is earnest and kind, who sees him for who he is and understands him in a way he probably has not been understood before. It’s not to disparage the connection Ford had with his brother, but I think what he has with Stan and what he has with Fiddleford are two very distinct connections and types of understanding. On that note, in a way, I think that Fiddleford, initially, somewhat filled the void left in Stan’s absence for Ford, at least subconsciously (and honestly…it could have even been a bit of a Mabel and Dippy Fresh type situation with Fiddleford representing everything Ford, at the moment, wished he had all this time). I think once that he saw that Fiddleford was a genuine and kind person, that switch from hesitation to golden retriever was flipped in a nanosecond.

Unfortunately, we don’t see much of their relationship in college, but again, based on Alex’s description and how readily they connect down the line, we can assume that it was a positive situation based on trust and love. I do wish we knew more about whether they kept in contact regularly after college or not. I can see them being the type of friends who could talk weekly or not speak for years and pick up like it was yesterday. I do imagine that life got in the way and Ford’s tendency to isolate did not help, but I like to think they called and wrote from time to time, maybe in bursts of talking regularly for a bit and then not at all for quite a long stretch. I’m speculating now! Back to focus on canon…

[1kook]

skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf 

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…” 

 Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane. 

 Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot. 

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form. 

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds. 

They were his favorite. 

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this. 

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month. 

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity. 

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings. 

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream. 

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. 

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping. 

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since! 

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind. 

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck. 

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go. 

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen. 

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins. 

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?” 

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world. 

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.” 

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.” 

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here. 

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action. 

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes. 

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high. 

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time. 

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down. 

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.” 

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now. 

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly. 

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist. 

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy. 

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can. 

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck. 

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer. 

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question. 

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. 

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.” 

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides. 

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.  

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry. 

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes. 

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be. 

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest. 

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly. 

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?” 

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign. 

He strikes while the iron is still hot. 

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion. 

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort. 

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months. 

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it. 

Kinda. 

Probably. 

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over. 

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing. 

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders. 

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off. 

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy. 

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face. 

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing. 

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting. 

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.) 

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you. 

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone. 

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more. 

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs. 

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it. 

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him. 

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top. 

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror. 

He’s never seen you like this before. 

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life. 

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips. 

And then something unforgivable happens. 

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information. 

Your hand. 

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness. 

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face. 

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant. 

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.” 

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.” 

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him. 

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him. 

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip. 

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now. 

The sympathy doesn’t last long.  

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams. 

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand. 

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this. 

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches. 

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are. 

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out. 

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him. 

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead. 

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.” 

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands. 

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!) 

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead. 

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises. 

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock. 

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon. 

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time. 

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.” 

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago. 

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap. 

There was never a choice.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[bobtheacorn]

Listen, I know you’re working on another fic right now, but I cannot stop thinking about Alberto reacting to feeling the baby kick for the first time (cause I feel like it has the potential to be hilarious, but also really sweet) and Giulia getting weird pregnancy cravings and Alberto being like “I’m sorry you’re eating WHAT" (couldn't fit this in my last ask, but also couldn't rest until I threw it out there so here we go)

I don’t know if this will come as any sort of shock, but if I don’t have at least three different fics that I am actively poking at then I will literally Die of Boredom because if I get stuck while writing one thing and need to take a break from it, then I have nothing fresh and new to jump to! Yes this is a double-edged sword! Yes it destroys my productivity when I write anywhere from 400 to 3k words a day but spread them out over five different fics! I’m doin my best....! Anyway. One of those fics is absolutely Uncle Alberto, but by "working on it" i mean "shoving random ideas and chunks of dialogue into a document and making very little effort to flesh any of it out"!

I didn’t really think anyone would give a fuck about this idea, so please feel free to add as much fuel to the fire as you want, I am in love with everything about this concept!!

Tbh I didn’t have any weird cravings when I was pregnant myself! Mostly I would cry the second I was hungry (which felt like every ten minutes) and if I didn't eat immediately I became very HANGRY, also I chugged tons and tons of milk. I suppose the dairy fixation was a bit weird - and I think a while back I saw a post where Luca was like What’s Milk, which makes sense and has so much hilarious potential. Luca and Alberto being generally repulsed by the idea of dairy products because what the fuck, and then here's Giulia, six months pregnant, standing in the kitchen at 2:30 am chugging down an entire gallon of milk. She eats an entire block of cheese in one sitting and they’re both like Are you fine? What is happening?

Apparently some people crave tuna? So, Giulia saying she wants tuna while she's already eating something Random and Horrible that's making everyone cringe or leave the room and Alberto being like, "Please i will go wrestle a tuna with my bear hands right this second and bring it to you if you will stop that." and he DOES. (tuna are 13/15 feet) Alternatively: Giulia mentioning that she can't eat a lot of fish/sea food bc of mercury poisoning and Alberto taking that Too Far and slapping a tuna sandwich right out of her hands. (Giulia stares at him in shock/rage and Luca just gets up and flees from the room lmao).

Also Luca and Alberto have the Audacity to tell Giulia HER cravings are gross and weird when they eat raw fish and sea cucumbers and junk like that. Lmao

I actually like the idea of LUCA being the one that baby kicks the most for and Alberto being Salty AF about it. Like Giulia feels it start moving around in there and she’s like That’s WEIRD COME FEEL THIS. Luca can rub her belly and talk and the baby will kick around a bit, but the second Alberto puts his hand on there it stops. The first couple of times he laughs it off like Damn you Luca you’re hogging it all (like that’s even a thing!), but after it happens consistently, Alberto’s a little heartbroken about it.

“Oh No it doesn’t like me already” / “what did I do” etc

But then he goes to one of Giulia’s check-up with her, and they have to hook her up to one of those heart monitor things bc they can’t hear the baby’s heartbeat with the stethoscope bc of it’s position and the doctor is looking at the chart later and points out all the times the baby’s heart rate picked up a little bit and Giulia points out those where all the times when Alberto was talking; the baby stopped moving whenever he was around bc it was listening for him

im FINE........ *snaps keyboard in half*

[shaheenarnitipsyart]

New Dawn

This is the 30th time (!) joining @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ! I was giving it up but managed to write in the end. Sorry in advance for a bit confusing plot... I’m hangover af. Anyway, wishing all a happy new year!

Word count: 1025

T/W: mention of blood, angst (but happy-ending!)

Skugge/Ljos (they/them): the ‘raven.’ Called ‘Skugge (shadow)’ by their master.

Earendel (he/him): Son of Erek and Ashild. Called Erland (stranger) by Erek.

Erek (he/him): king of Logi.

Ashild (she/her): former queen of Logi.

'Skugge, you must choose either me or Erland, that son of a traitor.' Sitting on a great ivory throne, Erek, the king of Logi, demanded an answer. His burning blue yes resembled those of an animal of prey. Even his champions and warriors hesitated to look at his face - except Skugge. If darkness could take the form of a human, that would look exactly like them. Except for their unordinary pale face covered with intricate tattoos, everything else - from their wavy hair, a long cloak to the tip of boots - was a colour of a midnight sky. Skugge's hollow eyes met that of the king. It was not like they had a choice from the start. 'As you wish, my lord.' Erek nodded with satisfaction, then signaled the priests to bring in a translucent crystal of an impressive size. Erek placed his hand over it, and so did Skugge. The silence that filled the king's hall was so heavy - it was almost suffocating. Erek started to chant an ancient oath, followed by Skugge. As their voices interwind and created terrifying harmony, the stone started radiating as if it had a life of its own. From silky white to ocean blue, then forest green - all colours which humans could ever imagine - streamed out from the crystal, turning the hall into a kaleidoscope. Finally, the entire room was soaked with blood-red. At the same time, black lines flowed from the heart of the crystal, creeping up to Skugge's arms, leaving new, complicated patterns on their skin. The magical power from the crystal was channeled to their body, leaving its trace as unique tattoos. Skugge flinched a little. Eventually, the light from the crystal faded away, and people at the court let out their breath in relief. 'It's all done. Now you are one of my loyal 'ravens.'' Erek looked pleased as he recognised a new tattoo overwrote the previous patterns on Skugge's skin. Skugge bowed silently and slipped away from the hall. Nobody noticed the enormous pain they had to bear.

The 'Ravens' and the House of Logi were bound by ancient magic. The 'Ravens' could gain extra-human strength and longer-lasting youth in exchange for loyalty to the House of Logi. The House of Logi achieved prosperity by mobilising the ravens. The chief of the House of Logi and each raven swear an oath in front of the crystal. The oath-making could happen only once. Yet, some had gone through the oath twice - they were called 'double-cursed' for their doubled fighting abilities but halved lifespan.

Skugge's original master was not Erek, but Ashild, a former queen. She deeply cared for young Skugge, raised them with her own son Earendel. Skugge swore to protect Earendel a decade ago. Ever since Ashild was expelled from the court, Skugge was the sole guardian of Earendel. But, Earendel answered the call to rebellion against the king and left the court as well. Erek knew the potential strength of 'double cursed,' thus kept Skugge in his hand. So, Skugge did not have a choice. As a 'raven,' they were not even allowed to have their own will. Skugge was torn apart between the old master and the new master - Ashild ordered them to protect Earendel, yet, Erek demanded the death of Earendel.

Skugge is now tracking Earendel with other ravens. A merciless snowstorm has wiped the earth, turning the world into pure white. The ravens fly between the leafless trees like a sharp wind, looking for Earendel's small troop. While flying, Skugge recalls the last conversation they and Earendel had.

  It was the day Earendel decided to leave the court with a handful of loyal knights and friends. But Earendel did not allow Skugge to come. 'You are forced to take care of me because of the order of the queen who abandoned me. You don't truly care about me, do you? You will never know kindness, love, even hate. I cannot trust a spell-bound like you.'  Skugge said nothing as they could not comprehend Earendel's words and the reason for his sad expression. Skugge never thought about 'caring' or anything. That was the way it was. However, they cannot imagine themselves soaking in the blood of Earendel. Their whole body is driven to attack him, yet, something in their mind refuses it. Is it something called 'care'? Skugge does not have an answer for it.

Earendel's horse is on alert. The horse can sense something hostile is approaching. 'Be careful, everyone!' Earendel and his fellows grab the weapon, looking around carefully. Suddenly, without a sound, shadows jump over them. 'The Ravens!!!' The clashing sound of the swords echoes in the motionless, monotonous world. Earendel desperately tries to lead the troop to a safer place. He and his fellows nearly manage to reach the entrance of the war camp. Yet, suddenly, a dark shadow swipes over him, pushing him away from the horseback. He feels the coldness of snow on his back. Then, he recognises the face of the person pinning him down. 'Ljos...?' Skugge widens their eyes. Ljos (light) is Skugge's original name that nobody but Ashild and Earendel knew. And that familiar voice of Earendel gives power to Skugge. Earendel sees the glittering blade of Skugge's sword and prepares for the pain. But it never happens. Instead, he finds Skugge lying next to him, with their own sword in their chest. A black pool spreads over the white snow. 'Ljos!!' Earendel stops other fellows from attacking Skugge and looks into their face. 'Long time no see, my lord...' Skugge murmurs. 'I don't understand what I did. But maybe this is what you say - 'truly care '..' With a subtle smile, Skugge adds. 'I was childish, Ljos. Forgive me. Oath? Spells? It doesn't matter. It was you who always protected me, and even now...' Earendel cannot continue.

Then, through teary eyes, he sees all the lines on Skugge's face disappearing in the air like morning dew. And when the final line fades, Skugge - Ljos opens their eyes again, finally freed from the spells. 'Skugge' has chosen death of their own, but 'Ljos' returns to life.

@flashfictionfridayofficial​

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 11

Day 11 - Pick your favorite Soulmate AU and write about it, it can be from this list or something completely different.  

(Balloon AU: you have a spirit-like balloon with the name of your soulmate written on it that only you can see. It will often drift towards your soulmate’s when they’re close by.)

Pairing(s): Romantic Logicality, Romantic Remile

TWs: Character Death (it’s loosely based on Disney’s UP, so y’all know whats going on), implied homophobia for a small section, unspecified heart condition mention

Author’s note: please forgive any inaccuracies in time periods and such, I did my best ;w; 

Also don’t let the tags throw you off, this story’s bittersweet but it’s really lovely, thank you if you do indeed keep reading, ily <3

–

They met when they were just children back in March of 1950. 

Logan Crofter had just come from the theatre after having seen the newest Walt Disney movie, Cinderella, when he overheard a commotion coming from the children’s park on his way home. He was always a cautious young lad but as he caught sight of his balloon begin to sway that way, Logan wasted no time in hurrying towards the sound of children arguing.

“Boys don’t wear dresses, stupid!!!”

“But it’s really pretty!!”

Logan arrived in time to see an older boy shove another boy about his age into a puddle, soaking the light blue dress he was wearing over a light t-shirt and dungarees. Upon realising the dress was likely ruined, the boy began crying. Logan wasted no time in getting between the two of them,

“Leave him alone, or I’ll inform the proper authorities!”

“.... You’ll what?”, the taller boy asked dumbfoundedly.

“It means I’ll tell your mom!!”

He was bluffing of course, Logan had no idea who the boy was, but the threat was enough to send him running. With a sigh of relief, he turned his attention to the boy in the puddle. Instead of crying anymore, he was gazing up at Logan in excited adoration,

“Wow!! You saved me!! Just like Prince Charming saved Cinderella!!!”

The boy wiped his face of tears and stood up to grasp Logan’s hands, “Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu!!”

Embarrassed by the overly sweet gesture, Logan cleared his throat, “You’re far too kind, I simply cannot tolerate bullying, I’m certainly no Prince Charming.”, he tried to assure the boy, “Truly, it was no trouble. Are you going to be alright, um-?”

“Patton!”, the boy, Patton, beamed.

A gasp left Logan, the name wasn’t that common, so perhaps….  “Patton Hart?”

The boy nodded, surprised, “That’s me-”, then realised, “A-Are you Logan Crofter!?”

Logan’s smile must’ve said it all as Patton threw his arms around him, “I can’t believe it! My soulmate saved me! I really am like Cinderella!”

“You are pretty like Cinderella as well.”, Logan offered shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Patton giggled and took his hands. 

“Come on! I wanna introduce you to mama!! She’ll like you lots!!”

Patton was right, Logan adored Mrs Hart from the moment they were introduced. He loved the whole family with every member he was introduced to; it wasn’t hard to see where Patton got his shining personality from, happiness and warmth radiated from every one of them. Logan remembered the way Patton had introduced him to his parents and that summer he’d done the same for all his grandparents, his ‘tios and tias’ as he referred to them, and his many cousins who welcomed Logan with open arms.

He was grateful for such a loving family especially when his own disowned him. Logan had known from the day he finally brought Patton home to meet his parents - six years after they’d first met - that they would never accept his soulmate. Despite the majority of the world’s population accepting that the soulmate bond was a fixed infallible system, the Crofters had their minds made up that their son’s soulmate would be someone worthy of their expectations. Someone stoic and serious, not bubbly and energetic. Someone who was all work and no play, not someone who wanted to have fun and just enjoy life. Someone who was female, not another male. Logan hadn’t anticipated that extra twist of the knife but all the same, he wouldn’t trade Patton for anyone else.

It was hard being fourteen and having to turn his back on the family home he’d grown up in, but as Patton’s family helped him move his things into the room they’d painstakingly cleared out for him, Logan figured that feeling would soon pass.

--

Throughout high school, the two grew even more inseparable; Logan helped tutor Patton in math and science while Patton helped Logan with art and music. Logan joined Patton’s cooking club to support his cause while Patton would always attend Logan’s debates, captivated by his drive and dedication.

Another routine they’d started over the years was attending the latest screenings of each new Disney movie. In truth, Logan had lost his taste for “childish exploits” around the age of ten, but he would never admit out loud that seeing the way Patton would smile during their theatre dates made his heart race faster than any other sight on the entire planet. That was why for their 27th anniversary, Logan proposed to Patton during the double bill screening of The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh. He burned the moment Patton threw his arms around him in sheer glee into his brain forever. He would carry the joy of hearing his soulmate - no, his husband-to-be - cry out that wonderful “yes!” with him for eternity.

Sending out the invitations had been a nerve wracking affair for Logan, but Patton had assured him that everything would be okay in the end as he sent out his half of the invitations. He knew his parents wouldn’t show so he didn’t bother to invite them, but he wasn’t sure if his grandparents or distant aunts and uncles would. Aside from them, he’d never met much of his own family, most of them residing outside of the states. 

In the end, only his paternal grandparents and mother’s brother agreed to attend. Logan didn’t mind, he was just glad to have someone. Thankfully, his side of the church wouldn’t be too empty for the friends he made in his highschool years were more than happy to fill the pews.

Logan Crofter-Hart married his husband Patton Hart in the spring of 1981 after four years of planning and saving for their first home together. Logan’s endless studying and training to become a lecturer combined with Patton’s enthusiasm and drive to make money working at Foster’s Family Diner had all led up to this moment. As Logan placed the ring on Patton’s finger and promised to love and honour him - in sickness and in health, til death did they part - he couldn’t help but think himself the luckiest man alive. After the ceremony, his uncle and paternal grandparents had congratulated him, with the former asking what their next step would be.

Logan wasn’t sure about the far future, but at the time while he watched the love of his life dance and gesture for Logan to join him, all he could think to answer was “Simple, our Traditional Disney Movie Date.”, as he got up to indulge Patton’s request.

Said movie was The Fox And The Hound, and Patton, bless him, had cried for most of it. Logan draped his arm around his husband’s shoulders and softly wiped his tears with his other hand. While the scene where Todd’s owner sadly releases him into the wild played, Patton snuggled closer to Logan for comfort. Logan would deny that he teared up at that part too, though the memory of Patton humming the tune of Goodbye May Seem Forever would always stick with him even on his saddest days...

--

“Logan?”, Patton softly piped up as they lay in bed watching TV together one night.

Logan turned to face his husband, “Yes, starlight?”

“What do you think about...”, he hesitated, but continued at Logan’s nod of encouragement, “...us adopting?” 

The idea had indeed occurred to Logan. They’d been married only a year but he knew his husband would make a wonderful father. 

“.... Do you think I’d be ready, Patton?”, Logan offered unsurely. Patton softly removed his head from Logan’s shoulder and sat in his lap to properly apply one soothing hug directly to his darling husband.

“Only you’ll know for sure, but I think you’ll be an amazing father, Logie Bear.”

A soft kiss from his husband destroyed any doubt Logan had harboured. “Just imagine it, getting to watch our son or daughter grow up and get married someday! Ooh, or maybe they’ll become an astronaut! The second person to go into space!”

Logan chuckled, knowing Patton was playing on his fondness for space travel, “Perhaps, however, they would in fact be the fifth person to go into space-”

With a fond sigh, Patton brought Logan into a gentle kiss, one that Logan had no intentions of breaking to keep infodumping. He wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist, pulling him closer as if no amount of closeness would ever be enough. Another memory that would burn itself into his brain forever. Patton pulled back to his Logan with those puppy dog eyes that resulted in him getting what he wanted at least 80% of the time.

“So, does this mean you want to give adopting a try, Logie Bear?”

Feigning annoyance with a smiling eye roll and a forced huff of air, Logan replied, “Yeah. I guess-”

He spent the rest of the night returning Patton’s delighted kisses and listening to him ramble adorably about all the wonderful memories they’d make as a family.

--

The rejection hit the Hart couple hard; Patton even more so than Logan. 

Yes, he was just as crushed by the news, but Patton was distraught. 

They’d done all they could to be sure the adoption would be a success. Logan had been hired as part of the local university’s astrophysics division which did bring in enough money to allow the couple to renovate Logan’s old office room into a bedroom for their potential child. The day had been filled with laughter and, with some coercion from Patton, dancing along to the radio in between paint drying times. They’d been sure to go through all the steps, make sure their house was child friendly, even going as far as to secure references from friends and family in case they were needed.

Alas, some bad luck out of nowhere had been the first blow to the couple. After hanging on for a good decade or so, Foster’s Family Diner was bought over by a larger franchise and thus, Patton had been laid off with little warning to cut down the number of employees. The only comfort he found at the time was from his fellow staff who were devastated to see him go. The full weight of the situation really hit home when they realised it’d put enough of a dent in their income to make things a little less comfy for a while.

The second blow was the twins. Two young boys Patton had grown attached to during an Adoption Activity Day he and Logan had attended. Logan knew while he watched both boys painting his husband’s face with vastly different degrees of success, that they’d be the children Patton wanted to adopt. The boys seemed to love them too, going by their reluctance to let either of them leave at the end of the event. But the blow to their finances and the lack of a large enough room for twins had been a cause for concern with the agency, and try as the Harts might, they just weren’t able to get the room up to code in time.

Both boys were adopted that same week, and Patton further spiralled even further. Logan tried his best to try and cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. As a last ditch attempt, Logan even requested to be able to be put in contact with the twins’ adoptive parents to ask for a visit but he was told, as anticipated, that the agency couldn’t allow it.

Logan refused to give up though. Using his university’s connections, he was able to find Patton a prospective new job; one of the researchers in the history department had a brother who worked for the local zoo. She assured Logan that with her brother’s approval, Patton would more than likely be offered the job opening they had going.

It wasn’t much, not really, but when he brought Patton to the zoo to surprise him with the offer of running the park’s souvenir shop, his husband’s glowing smile stole Logan’s breath away. For the first time in months, he heard Patton laugh with delight as he accepted the job.

--

With both of them working again, Logan put all of his effort into a new goal; helping Patton feel ready to adopt once more. It would be a slow venture; they cut out anything that wasn’t necessary and swapped the pricier items for store brands. The 80s rolled into the 90s and it felt like for a while the world would doom them to a life of endless saving, even having to eventually forgo their sacred cinema dates in favour of waiting for video and later DVD releases. 

But they were happy. 

Happy to have each other, and happily thinking of the day when they could try adopting again.

As the years went on, however, Logan began to worry. With he and his husband approaching their fifties, Patton’s hopes of adopting a young child to raise dwindled, knowing that they often gave other couples older children to look after. He knew Patton wanted to see them attend their first day of school, to teach them to ride a bike, to spend as much time as possible with them.

So Logan made a bold suggestion to Patton that night that they try again. 

Patton was quiet for a while causing Logan to fear it was still too soon, but his husband agreed that it had been long enough. They once more gave adoption a try.

--

The second time proved to be a charm and the Harts welcomed their son - six year old Emile - into the family in 1993.

He was an eccentric, curious young lad with a love of cartoons and biology; a perfect combination for the happy parents. Not that it would have mattered in the long run, they’d have loved their son no matter what.

Logan looked to the man asleep on his shoulder and their son who had also tuckered himself out watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with them. With a fond smile, Logan rested his head against the back of the sofa, catching sight of his soul balloon. It’d been years since he’d really paid much attention to it, but the name Patton Hart still glistened in wonderous golden letters set against the baby blue of the balloon. He glanced over to Patton, seeing that same cute sleepy face he always made. Logan wondered how, whenever he believed he had hit the maximum, he ended up falling more and more in love with Patton. 

The stronger the feeling grew, the more Logan felt like he could conquer anything, and he would do so in a heartbeat for his husband, and now his son too.. 

--

Love alone, however, couldn’t conquer all things. 

During Emile’s 14th birthday party, Patton collapsed. It was sudden and terrifying, but thankfully Logan was able to keep him out of harm's way until the paramedics arrived. Luckily, they were able to treat Patton at home, coming to the conclusion that heat exhaustion had been the culprit when they were informed that Patton had given himself little time to rest coupled with the unusually hot day.

Logan still wanted Patton to see a doctor as soon as possible, but Patton sweetly but stubbornly insisted he was fine. He didn’t want to cause more of a scene during Emile’s big day. Reluctantly, Logan let him make the final call, relief setting in as Patton went about the rest of the day as his usual cheerful self. Logan made sure to stay by his husband just in case, but the day passed without another hitch.

That couldn’t be said for the second time.

The call came for Logan during one of his lectures; Patton had been catching up with an old coworker from his diner days who’d come to the zoo with their granddaughter when he’d just crumpled to the floor without warning. Logan wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but the next thing he knew, he was parking his car outside the hospital and desperately asking the staff where his husband was being treated.

Fortunately, once again, Patton was more or less alright. When Logan saw him sitting upright in his hospital bed chattering away to a young girl in a hospital gown, he knew for sure his husband was alright. At least for now.

“Will you ever stop giving me a heart attack?”, Logan had sighed with fond exhaustion as he sat next to Patton with his hard carding through his soft umber hair. Patton chuckled and played with the blue tie Logan was so fond of, “Not if it means you’ll keep coming to my rescue like Prince Charming.”. 

Logan let out a huff of laughter, fondly recalling their first meeting. It felt like yesterday still…

“Does that mean you’re still my Cinderella?”

Patton tapped a finger to his chin and finally answered with a smile, “Maybe not. Glass slippers and fairy godmothers or not, I’d never leave your side for anything, Logie Bear.”

Logan wished Patton could have kept that promise.

--

The following years passed with a couple of stumbles along the way in regards to Patton’s health and still the doctor’s weren’t sure what caused his episodes. Logan was naturally worried; he and Patton were in their sixties, he knew that even though Patton kept bouncing back that one day statistically he wouldn’t be able to. That one day Patton would…

Logan didn’t allow himself to think about it. Instead he sat with his husband, enjoying the movie they’d put on; Disney’s UP. His attention wasn’t so much on the movie as it was on Patton. Every time he looked at his husband, Logan didn’t see the silver roots, eye wrinkles, and laughter lines; he saw the boy he’d moved in with at 14, the beautiful young man he went on regular cinema dates with like clockwork, the man whose excited tearful “yes!” still echoed in his brain no matter how many years had passed. 1979 felt both so long ago, yet like it was just yesterday. And now they were doing just what Logan had hoped; growing old together while their son was out in the world working as a therapist alongside his own husband. 

Logan had been skeptical of Remy the first time Emile had introduced them to his parents, but in spite of their sharp tongue and sassy attitude, Logan had easily grown fond of the person who would later become his child-in-law. Logan wasn’t sure if that was the term, but he did his best to keep up. He remembered the day Emile had come home from high school, excitedly babbling about his soulmate. Patton had been on cloud nine the whole time, and while Logan was just as delighted for their son, he was too wrapped up in admiring the happiness that radiated from his husband.

Goodness, when had Logan gotten this sentimental? He asked, knowing full well he’d always been that way when it came to Pat. He decided to tune back in to the movie only to realise he’d been lost in his memories for nearly the entire run time.

On screen, Carl Fredricksen had just discovered the rest of his late wife’s additions to her adventure book. The more stoic Logan of the past would never have been swayed by such a heart-string tugging moment, but well. The years had softened that stony exterior. At least, that's what he told himself while he felt tears roll down his cheeks silently. Patton’s gentle thumb wiping away his tears, drew his attention, noting that his husband was also tearing up. But my god, that smile. Logan could’ve stared at that sunshine grin til the end of time itself. Seizing the moment, Logan gently leant in to give Patton a kiss, which his husband returned in kind.

At that moment, Logan had an idea. It took a lot of string pulling to make it happen, granted, but he refused to allow anything to get in the way of his plans. 

January of 2010 saw Patton’s 66th’s birthday roll in, and Logan first surprised his husband by driving their old car, a blue 1955 Ford Thunderbird, into the driveway. It wasn’t in the greatest condition, having been kept in their garage for years, but Logan had secretly washed and maintained it leading up to today. It still had their cassette tape in the player; the Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice played just as it had back in the day.

The car was only one of the surprises Logan had in store; he’d found an old diner that, while it wasn’t much like Foster’s, was dedicated to capturing the 1980s vibe they were both familiar with. After a couple of milkshakes and Patton’s insistence that they dance together when the jukebox would play their favourite tunes, Logan parked outside of a familiar sight.

Their old theatre and origin of Patton’s nickname, The Starlight; it’d been renamed of course, but thankfully the former owner’s daughter remembered the couple from back in her father’s day, and so Logan had asked if the old sign could be replaced just this once. She’d done one better, adding a lovely “Happy Birthday Patton!” banner underneath. Logan wasn’t sure if hugs could be fatal, but the one Patton sent his way nearly crushed him with the weight of it’s love.

Once inside the foyer, Logan directed Patton to their private screening of Cinderella. He had wanted the same movie he’d proposed to Patton with initially, but alas, the owner couldn’t track it down in time, thus they went with the movie that had led Logan to his soulmate in the first place. The Harts sat in a comfortable silence throughout the film; they didn’t need to say anything, their intertwined hands and soft sighs of adoration were enough. When the movie ended, they began to drive home until Patton spoke up, “Logan, look!”, he gestured out the window towards a familiar sight; the park where they’d met.

The old equipment had been removed and changed  somewhat over the years, but the familiar landmarks were all still there. Logan didn’t need to be asked the question as he parked nearby and walked with his beloved towards the spot where they’d met. The small indent in the ground where the same puddle he’d helped Patton out of was still there in all it’s sentimental glory. Logan raised an eyebrow as Patton sat at the edge of the former puddle until he realised what he was up to,

“Oh no! I’ve fallen! And I can’t get up! Oh where is my Prince Charming who shall come to save me?!”

Logan had to stifle his laughter with his hand for a second before offering it to Patton, rolling his eyes fondly as he stated, “I’m here, I’m here, don’t worry, fair Cinderella.”

He helped Patton to his feet, stumbling a little but thankfully he caught his husband in his waiting arms. With a smile that shone like the gold of his soul balloon’s cursive, Patton met Logan’s eyes, whispering a soft, loving, “I love you, Logan.”

Logan gently brushed a strand of Patton’s hair away from his soulmate’s eyes, “I love you too, Patton.”

The two began to walk back to the car, hand in hand, while Patton explained to Logan where he’d gotten the blue dress he’d met him in when Patton stopped. 

“Patton? Is everything alright-?”

Patton’s breathing hastened, and before he could try and say he was okay, he curled in on himself, grasping his chest. Terrified for his husband, Logan called 911, doing his best to get Patton to the car to drive him to A&E.

--

Nothing was alright.

Logan stayed by Patton’s side in hospital when the doctors delivered the bad news. 

Heart failure. 

The doctor was apologetic the whole time - “I’m so sorry” “If only we’d caught it sooner” “Too late for a transplant” “Surgery would only prolong the inevitable” - but Logan couldn’t bear to hear it. The love of his life lay dying in a cold, sterile room when he should be at home; dancing around their living room, baking with him in their kitchen, laying next to him in bed as they held hands and regaled each other with happy memories and countless “I love you”s. 

The decision wasn’t difficult, not for Logan anyway. The doctors offered to let Logan take him home so he could pass in the comfort of his own home, and while Emile had tried to convince his parents to try for more time in hospital, his fathers both refused. Patton was stubborn when he wanted to be, and Logan even more so. They’d wasted three days with Logan having to stay in hospital with Patton, he wasn’t about to jeopardise any more time. 

Emile and Remy came to visit each day once Patton came home. Neither one would comment on just how tired he looked, but Logan could see the concern in their faces. They both knew as well as Logan that any day could be Patton’s last. Every time they left, both would hold Patton tightly, making sure to always leave with an “I love you, dad”, no matter how late it made them for an appointment or the like.

--

One night, Logan noticed Patton was sitting outside on the porch step in the early morning sunrise, in one hand was a pack of balloons, and in the other, some string and markers.

“What’re you up to, starlight?”, Logan questioned curiously, unable to stop himself smiling as Patton sent him a smile at the old nickname.

“Just wanted to try something, Logie Bear. Here, you can pick out your color.”

Ah. Logan understood, rifling through the pack for the right shade of baby blue to make his soul balloon. He and Patton had of course described their balloons to each other, “Mine’s this lovely dark blue with silver writing! Bold and smart, just like you, Logan!”, Patton had said. He watched Patton try to blow up the balloon, but upon giving himself a coughing fit, Logan went to get the helium pump he’d used for the balloons at Emile’s 14th birthday. 

Once both balloons were safely inflated and tied with some string, the Harts set about writing each other’s name in an imitation of their respective soul balloon. Patton wasn’t sure whether to write Logan’s married name or the one on the balloon, but Logan assured him he didn’t mind. With both balloons finished, the couple tied the ends of their strings together, Patton requesting Logan take some pictures with his phone to show Emile and Remy later. With the request indulged - along with some depicting the couple sat cuddled together with their respective balloons - the two held out the tied end of the balloons and let them go.

Bobbing in the wind, the balloons carried themselves into the sky, twirling in a dance as they soared towards the clouds. The Harts watched until they could no longer see the pair anymore; eventually just sitting side by side on the porch, their fingers locked together and their heads rested against one another. 

The morning was stunning; soft cloudy skies that let the sun peek through while a warm breeze drifted by. 

“Hey, Logie Bear?”, Patton quietly requested. His voice ghostly even in it’s happiness.

“Yes, starlight?”

Logan couldn’t explain how or why he knew that it’d be the last thing he heard Patton say, but he simply held his husband of thirty nine years, his soulmate since birth, even closer as Patton’s last words carved themselves into his memory;

“Thanks for the adventure.”, his stunning eyes met Logan’s one last time, “I love you, Logan.”

“You too, Patton,”, Logan couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks, “I love you too.”

Even as Patton’s grip loosened, as his eyes closed, as his breathing shuddered to a halt, Logan stayed with his husband for hours. He knew he’d soon have to break the news to their son before the poor lad and his husband found them still sitting together like always. But Logan couldn’t bring himself to move an inch. 

“I’d never leave your side for anything, starlight...”

--------

I’m not crying I’m SOBBING

This one has me in tears just rereading it to make last minute corrections, god...

Day 12 will be back to much happier themes, I promise!

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 2 (jason todd x reader)

summary: thank you all for taking interest in this! i’ve gotten wonderful feedback and helpful criticism that i appreciate so much. i’ve decided to give you guys some more jason since i’m sure you all want to see him lol. i have a plan tho so bear with me. we are currently laying the foundation.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol. food mention. anxious reader.

part 1 /// part 3

ungodly hour

when you decide you like yourself. when you decide you need someone. when you don't have to think about it.

...

you felt an uncomfortable churning in your stomach as your bare back pressed against the cold leather seats of the limousine. you laced your fingers and rested your hand over your middle, hoping the subtle self soothing would calm your nerves. it wasn't everyday you went to a wayne gala after all. your silence and clear discomfort was enough to stir a reaction from misha, one of your fellow producers and stylist.

"you doing alright over there?" she asked after applying her lipgloss, carefully wiping the corners of her mouth.

"chillin'," you responded with a little shrug.

that was a lie. you felt like you were going to shit and projectile vomit simultaneously. however, it was freezing in the limo so you were definitely chilling in some sense of the word. your navy off the shoulder dress made of tulle embroidered with stars but it wasn't really warm. your shoulders were exposed and so was a good portion of your arms. you didn't know how misha was holding up in her dress. her entire back and arms had to protection from the cold at all.

"you know this isn't a big deal, right?" she reminded you gently. she must have picked up on your discomfort. "we'll go in, i'll network with the old money of gotham, and we'll leave."

"yeah but where does that leave me?" you asked her, shifting in your seat and almost slipping out of it. the tulle didn't provide much traction against the slippery leather. "i'm your plus one, remember? i serve no purpose."

"i thought that was the selling point," she pouted before making an attempt to cheer you up. "you don't serve no purpose. you're there to make me look good. my arm candy."

"i believe people may see it as the other way around," you informed her with a sigh. "but... fine. as long as you don't leave me alone."

"and let somebody snatch up my trophy wife?" misha scoffed, causing you to exhale through your nose with a barely visible smile. "i'm not letting you out of my sight!"

the limousine slowly stopped in front of the venue, your door lined up with the red carpet that had been laid out for the guests. it was time. you glanced around, briefly considering your escape plan just as the driver had opened the door, snuffing our any idiotic thoughts you had about jumping out through the sunroof or shimming out of the opposing window, away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.

the lights. bright, blinding white lights flashing on and off. if you weren't acutely aware of where you were at the moment, you would've thought some kid had an essay due at midnight with the furious clicking and shuttering that filled your ears. misha was the first to step out, waiting for you to maneuver your way out.

the golden light emanating from the venue, paired with the harsh lights from the press honestly made misha look even more beautiful than normal. here you were, completely out of your element, standing next to a goddess in lilac chiffon. you looked up at her, noticing how the soft edges of her face contrasted with the sharp ones of her collarbone and the plunging v neck only accentuated that. the person you were with wasn't your friend, or your label mate. no, you were with gotham's resident fashionista and trendsetter, misha matsuri. if anyone was the arm candy, it was her.

you were brought out of your trance when she linked arms with you and began leading out down the red carpet. you honestly couldn't make out what the paparazzi were shouting at you both, aside from the occasional scream of your names. normally, you'd be a little more lively but this was a very important and formal event. it wasn't like the times where you went to award shows and you could feed off of the other seven's excited energy. you weren't surrounded by fans or people who were interested in hearing about you. you were here for misha and only her. you liked that aspect of it, but it was still uncharted territory for you.

"misha! can you tell us more about your foundation?" a reporter asked, pushing through the eager paparazzi who wanted to monopolize on their close contact with you both.

"of course," misha smiled, flipping her hair out of her face. "to cut to the chase, m squared is making fashion accessible to everyone. we've have homeless people on the streets who have no access to clothes that are befitting of the harsh weather they endure on a daily basis. we have low income families who can't afford to give their children new clothing for the school year. there are people who can't afford a nice shirt and slacks for their job interviews. our goal is the provide these people with what they need. access to clothing is a necessity, not a luxury."

you listened to misha and felt pride swell up in your chest, replacing the nausea that had plagued you previously. you were quickly reminded of why you came with her in the first place. she was trying to do something wonderful for the community and aid others in doing the same.

misha left it at that, dragging you along once she had said what she wanted. "see? that wasn't so bad."

"we haven't even crossed the threshold, mother teresa," you reminded her, jerking your chin in the direction of the large double doors behind held open for you both. misha flashed her invitation to the bouncer, quickly being let in.

the two of you walked in and you were stunned at the venue. everyone was dressed to the nines. you recognized many politicians, socialites, and some celebrities as you worked your way to the main ballroom. you felt your eyes widened as you saw bruce wayne out socializing with his guests. you had seen him on the news and in magazines but never in person. he was much taller than you expected. and closer in proximity to you. how was that happening?

"miss matsuri, miss l/n," he had greeted you both, almost surprising you. you weren't sure if misha brought you to him or he brought himself to you. maybe they met halfway while you were in shock. either way, he was here now. "it's wonderful to finally meet you both."

both? he knew you? bruce wayne knew you?

"thank you for your invitation, mr. wayne," misha smiled politely as they gently shook hands. he turned to you, offering you the same courtesy. you felt your brain lag out before you snapped out of it, taking his hand with nervous laughter. "it was a pleasant surprise."

"anyone that has the best interest of gotham in mind deserves recognition and support for their efforts. and please, bruce is fine."

you zoned out as bruce gave you the run down on the place. your eyes wandered around, occasionally lining up with a location bruce was telling you about. you were brought out of your boredom when you heard a loud crash off in the distance. you saw a group of four boys all surrounding a broken champagne bottle like it was a crime scene. you saw a twinge of annoyance on bruce's face before he collected himself.

"please excuse me. i need to reprimand my sons," he said apologetically, making his way over to the group who paled at his presence, except for the youngest one.

"father, this was todd's doing," you heard him say with a frown. "he kept antagonizing drake and they knocked over the champagne. grayson and i were merely bystanders."

"you are such a snitch," the apparent perpetrator sneered.

"here, come on," misha laughed, dragging you away from the scene. "i have old men to seduce for their money."

your gaze lingered on the group while you were dragged away. you knew that none of them were related by blood, expect for the little one and bruce, but handsome clearly ran in the wayne family. there must be something in that expensive tap water.

you spent majority of the night helping misha on her quest for benefactors. she wasn't made of money and she had made it clear that she didn't want money coming from the community. she wanted to 'milk the rich bastards of gotham for everything they've got' or something to that effect.

not actively participating in these conversations required you to try and keep yourself occupied. you started counting the chandeliers (there were five), thinking about one of the tracks you were working on (the chorus was lacking something and you didn't know what it was), and at one point you tried listening in on other conversations, hoping to hear about something juicy (you didn't).

how many glasses of champagne have you had now? three? four? you lost count. you realized you should've been counting them instead of the chandeliers. either way, you were definitely starting to feel the effects of that err. or was that the sensation of being watched?

misha had left to use the bathroom, leaving you by the fancy finger foods. as you ate the bacon wrapped enoki mushrooms, you could feel the presence of another person. you swallowed your food with a helpful swig of champagne before turning to the person who had made a claim on one of the strawberries with chocolate drizzle.

you watched as his lips parted, carefully taking a bite of the potentially messy dessert, his gaze directed at you. it was the handsome wayne boy from earlier. the champagne murderer was what you were calling him in your head. he was very tall and much better looking up close. his eyes were very striking, too. from the look in those eyes, you quickly figured out what he was trying to do.

"she's in the bathroom," you informed him, his brow perking silently as he chewed the berry, licking his lips of any lingering juice. he had this look on his face. confusion? but then you saw him fighting back a smile as he looked down at the table before looking over at you again.

"who?" he asked, his tone and look in his eyes awfully playful. you confused his flirty tone for coyness.

"don't play dumb," you laughed. normally, you wouldn't help out guys when it came to getting on misha's good side but you were making an exception for the dangerously handsome champagne murderer. "i can't give you her number. she hates that. but if it's any consolation, you're definitely her type."

"well, what about you?" he asked after taking a short pause to digest your words. "am i your type?"

you scoffed. the gall of this man. 

"am i the backup plan or something?"

"no," he said, his lips pursed slightly as he shook his head. "would you like to be?"

"there's not going to be a plan to back up if you're trying it with me," you told him seriously. what a dick. it was to be expected, though. he was bruce wayne's son after all. of course he was a player.

"i never said i was trying anything. you're the one who keeps assuming things," he reminded you with a little grin. "had it occurred to you that i came over here, simply wanting to indulge myself in these divine strawberries?"

and he did just that, looking you in the eye as he took a slow bite of his new berry, raising a brow as you watched him. "what?"

"are they as divine as you anticipated?" you asked, not being able to resist some teasing.

"absolutely."

there was something about the way he answered you. was he flirting? were you flirting? the champagne was making it hard to read the situation. there was no way someone as gorgeous as him would spare you a glance and even if he did, you didn't have the time or energy for romance.

"alright. i'll be honest. i came over here because, well, i'm a fan," he told you, turning his body to fully face you now.

"oh," you nodded, not sure what to say next. when people led with that, it always felt awkward. were you supposed to say thank you, or was that weird?

"yeah. i've always wanted to meet batman."

you visibly paused, turning to face him as you watched him give you a lopsided grin. you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head. so he was a fan. he was referencing something you tweeted a few days ago. someone had jokingly made a conspiracy thread, claiming at you and the rest of cloud 9 were the vigilantes of gotham. they had theorized that you were orphan, to which you rebuffed, saying that you were clearly batman and they were blind not to see the resemblance.

"shhh, it's a secret," you whispered, putting your index finger to your lips. 

"ohhh. right, right. my mistake," he whispered back with a firm nod. "how do you juggle your two jobs, though? seems difficult."

"well, if you must know, batman is actually a robot that i control from the comfort of my couch. very advanced technology. you wouldn't get it," you joked, making jason laugh out loud. was it really that funny or were you missing something?

"funny," he answered unintentionally. or you thought. could he read minds? "i'm jason."

"jason," you tested out his name on your tongue. jason. you liked it. "wayne?"

"todd," he quickly corrected you, seeming very adamant that you understood that.

"jason todd," you said again, almost addicted to how it sounded coming from your lips. jason. jason todd.

"and you're y/n l/n," he said, almost as if he were telling you, reminding you that was your name. you weren't sure if you liked saying his name or hearing him say yours more. before you could even register what was happening, he took your hand and gave it a soft kiss.

you locked eyes with him as he looked up at you with his lips, soft as silk, pressed against your knuckles. you could see something in them. he looked... unsure. afraid of his actions. you found yourself subconsciously mirroring his expression in an effort to try and identify it.

"it's a pleasure to finally meet you," you said breathlessly, noting how his demeanor changing a little now that the two of you searched each other's souls for a few seconds. he rubbed his thumb over your fingers before letting go.

"pleasure's all mine," he said, his voice softer now. he was the one who broke eye contact, looking around absentmindedly. he grabbed another strawberry, about to eat it when you went to carefully grab it from him. his lips grazed your fingers as he loosened his lazy grip, letting you take it from him.

"you can't hog them all," you informed him, trying it out for yourself. they were divine, just as jason described them to be. you let out a satisfied hum, which seemed to grab his attention.

"things always taste better when they belong to someone else, right?" he teased and you couldn't help but wonder if there was a double meaning to that.

"you don't own the strawberries, jason.”

"no, but i owned the one that's in your mouth, y/n."

you were sure he was saying these things on purpose now. you just smiled, softly sucking the juice off the pads of your fingers. seldom did the opportunity to harmlessly flirt with someone present itself so you wanted to enjoy it while you could. during your back and forth, you could feel yourself holding back, despite this. you felt jason was doing the same. you were both constantly thinking about what you were doing and actively fighting against it but not doing a very good job at it. it was odd, but you felt like you and jason had this unspoken, mutual understanding for what you were doing in that moment.

still, you couldn't let yourself fall into that trap. you knew when this was all over, that was it. nothing would come from it and you were fine with that. besides, he was a fan, right? it wasn’t right to be with a fan. there was a power imbalance there that you weren’t looking to exploit.

"sorry to interrupt, but my wife and i have an early morning tomorrow," you heard misha say from behind you as she wrapped her long, slender arms around you. saved by the bell.

"wife?" he parroted, giving you a curious look.

"yeah, for like, two more hours," you reminded her as you glanced at your watch.

"and you have to respect the sanctity of our fake marriage until then. just like cinderella," misha told you, putting her arm around your shoulder now.

"i don't think that's how the story goes," you laughed, giving jason an apologetic look afterwards. "i should get going."

"i understand. i'd hate to be branded a home wrecker," he joked and misha gave him a look.

"oh, i'm sure you would," she smirked, tugging you along. "goodbye, thief."

"bye jason," you called to him, waving goodbye, receiving a silent wave and smile in return.

"what was that about?" misha nudged you playfully, giving you a suggestive look as she led you through the maze of bodies blocking your escape route.

"i'll tell you on the way home."

you exited the venue from the back, where your limo was waiting for you. what started out as a scary social event ended up being surprisingly fun. you learned a thing or two from watching misha network and that conversation with jason was entertaining, to say the least. you wondered if you’d ever run into him again.

probably not.

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Fourth Act: Kindness

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. - Galatians 6:2

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, supernatural, angst, comedy, slow-burn

word count: 8.9k

Related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin

Continuation of Third Act: Patience

A/N: WELL WELL WELL, we’ve found ourselves four acts deep and only three more to go. That much closer for our favourite demon boy to completing his goal right? 🤐🤐 Sorry it took so long as per usual T.T a lot has been going on but nevertheless, I’m still so grateful to all of your patience and love for the series so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter too! Time to ramp things up again after this LOL Oh! Also to note, the switch between names is intentional (you’ll see what I mean). As always, I hope you’re all taking care of yourself.

@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​

When you had woken up the next day, you were definitely a lot more relaxed, like the initial fear of having to confront the person who makes your body react involuntarily in funny ways has worn off. You’d laid in bed, taking the time to reflect on last night’s conversation and came to the conclusion that, no matter how short it was, you could’ve done worse. Granted, you had the safety net of talking to Jimin only through text message but baby steps! You just need to do a little readjusting, rearrange the new cards you’ve been dealt with so to speak. Even though you see your guardian demon in a more romantic way now, the last thing you wanted was for it to get out of control and potentially ruin the friendship you have with him.

You’d say you had a pretty good handle on that because much like last night, Jimin continues to text you every so other day. Most of the time, he asks about your well-being, of which you reply with your usual casualness (well, not like much goes on anyways). Then there are times where you and him have actual conversations. You don’t know how they start but whenever they do, it’s like coming home from a long day at work to discover that there was actually a tub of your favourite ice cream in the freezer all along — something to brighten the dull monotony of your life, a small sweetness for you to enjoy. You easily get lost in talking with him; the playful banter, the gibes, the jokes, even when the topics are meaningless, you find yourself grinning and giggling until your cheeks ache. Everything was still so natural and you’re proud to say, you’ve only slipped up twice! (The first time it was about his hair colour and you had mentioned black is probably your favourite look on him, the second was when you had mindlessly asked if he was ever going to stop by any time soon to visit because well—! It’s been a while right? Not like you miss him…that much.)

“Whatchu grinning at?”

The voice calling out to you makes you abruptly shoot your head up from being buried in your phone, eyes meeting Jaehee’s from across the table. She’s got a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a slight quirk to her eyebrows, that’s enough for you to know that she’s caught you red-handed in one of your giddier moments. Cheeks flushing, you clear your throat and swiftly send a text back before placing the phone down on the table again, screen blackened to hide from the curious gaze prodding at you.

“Just…A meme my friends sent me…” You lie, stuffing a spoonful of fried rice into your mouth. Jaehee lets out a huff at your answer, shoulders sagging and an unimpressed look taking over her face in replacement.

“Uh huh? Just a meme?” Jaehee sounds wholly unconvinced, punctuated when she also adds, “You’re not doing the face that goes with it.”

“What face?”

“The one where you go like this.”

She demonstrates by squishing back her neck until there’s a slight double chin and then curls her lips into a dopey looking smile while staring down at her own phone. The sight makes you snort unattractively, followed by a short guffaw that has you covering your mouth. Jaehee joins in laughing with you.

“I thought that’s the face I always make no matter what I’m looking at.” You defend.

“Nah, you practically had heart eyes just now, and you got like this Disney princess smile on.” Jaehee counters, leaning her elbows onto the table. “So, is it Julien or is it Julien?”

“What makes you so confident it’s Julien?” You ask with an incredulous laugh.

“So it’s not Julien? Cuz if it’s not I would actually be very disappointed.”

That earns a light scoff from you, like as if you even have enough interest to pursue someone else, let alone the capabilities to try to reel them in, “Well, no, as if—“

“So Julien—“

“Jaehee!” You exclaim, feeling particularly bashful at being called out so suddenly — since when did you have a look when you’re texting someone? Does it show that much? “Why, what would you say if it was him?”

Your roommate grins slyly in a very Cheshire Cat manner and you swear she’s radiating an aura of excitement, wiggling in her seat as she asks, “Are you guys finally a thing?”

Your eyebrows furrow, almost in disbelief; at what you’re not even sure yourself but it leaves you feeling a little crestfallen. “I— no we’re not really a thing. I mean….” You cut yourself off, not sure where you want to go with this or if you’re even ready to have that talk yet so you sigh out, “It’s complicated.”

It might sound like a dumb reason to others, but you’d rather not involve your most trusted friend into something you’re still unsure about. You don’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill — get her invested in your boy troubles when she’s probably dealing with much more important life problems. At the admission, Jaehee’s playful grin slips and she tilts her head, puzzled. “Oh, really? I thought you guys were since….”

She trails off but you don’t need her to finish to know what she was implying. You let out a sigh again, shrugging and going back to spooning more rice on your plate in an attempt to brush it off.

“I don’t know…. I just— I’m still trying to work it out I guess.”

Jaehee watches you silently for a moment, taking in your dampened mood with concern before she settles back into her seat. “Damn, well if you need someone to vent then I’m here for you.” Pausing, she adds on with a small smile, “You know I’m always rooting for you.”

You can’t help but smile in return at her unwavering support. “Thanks Jaehee.”

Dinner passes on in companionable silence. Your years of friendship and living together have proven that you’re both in tune with each other; knowing and respecting each other’s boundaries as well as readily give support without having to say anything. It’s something you’re grateful for when it comes to Jaehee and is especially comforting because at least you know that the only pressure you’d be feeling is from yourself.

And that’s how you find yourself, staring aimlessly at your ceiling while lying in bed, deep in thought. The conversation with Jaehee, although it was brief, brought to light that, contrary to your beliefs, you’ve actually sunken yourself deeper into the rabbit hole. You’re no longer in that safe zone where if worse comes to worse, you’d be able to handle swallowing your feelings for your guardian demon and, maybe after a few days of sulking, would be able to accept that it was never meant to be. It’d hurt but you think it would at least hurt less; you’d be able to cope with it.

But before you realized it, your feelings have only grown and solidified from all the times you’ve texted that they have nowhere to go but out. You actually think if Jimin were to tell you he’s leaving the next day right now, you would have a bit of a mental and emotional breakdown.

So much for having a handle on things.

You bring your hands up to rub your face, letting out a little groan to yourself. As if sensing your distress, your phone comes to life with a buzz and a chime. It would’ve been a welcoming distraction had it not been a message from the very person who’s already occupying a huge chunk of your thoughts. So does it mean that you’re going to ignore it in favour of trying to get some peace?

“Did you have a good dinner?”

You’re typing out a response and hitting send because who were you kidding?

“I did! Good ol’ fried rice :)”

“…was it one of those days?”

“Hey! I enjoy eating fried rice once in a while >:( AND fyi, I had a sunny-side up egg on top so it’s not all as bad as it sounds.”

“Oh, how fancy of you~ “

(You roll your eyes as if he's saying it right in front of you).

“Okay chill out Mr. Bougie, I don’t need your judgment here.

I’m a simple woman.

I will eat anything as long as it’s edible.”

“Easy to please huh?

I quite like to see that for myself.”

You had to put your phone down for a hot second because you’re short circuiting. Why did your thoughts go that way? Did you ask for it to go that way? On second thought, maybe it’s you who needs to chill out.

A buzz catches your attention again and against your frantically beating heart and heated face, you go to check the message.



“Are you in bed now?”


You actually take a deep breath in and release it, trying to get your nerves under control but even so, the tips of your fingers still feel too jittery as you type.

“Yeah, just getting comfortable.”

“Good, you should get some sleep.

It worries me sometimes how late you stay up.

Makes me think you’re secretly a vampire or something.”

A snort leaves you and you shake your head at his accusations as you reply back almost instantly.

“I can’t help if I’m a night owl okay? And what would you do if I was a vampire? :O”

“Hmm….

Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Maybe it’s because you’re so lost in conversations with him that something takes over, suddenly having the urge to get a rile out of him like the way he’s so good at doing with you that before you know it, you’re goading him on.

“Why? Would you nail me with a stake?”

Exhilaration courses through you, heart beat pounding against your chest like a beating drum as you wait. To your surprise, there’s a lull in the time he responds and it makes you preen a little, thinking for once you’ve managed to push his buttons instead of it being the other way around. It makes you anticipate his answer even more. Finally after a few minutes, a new text pops up. The words make you choke on air and you barely manage to smother the sounds of your loud coughs.

“I’d do more than just nail you with a stake darling.”

Once you’ve regained your breath, your face is absolutely on fire and your mind reeling. How do you even respond to that? Actually, you don’t even think you can — you’re here trying to one up a demon in his own game and all it got you was your foot in your mouth. You shouldn’t have expected anything less. As you’re panicking about where to even begin trying to play this entire thing off, a new message comes through.

“Like telling you that you should go to sleep or else you’ll actually start looking like the undead.

Sweet dreams, cherub. I’ll talk to you some other time.”

You wish him a good night in return, still very much in a daze at what just happened. Your hand flops back against your mattress and you just… lay there; no thoughts, head empty. Well, maybe one thought.

You really got it bad for him.

-

The streets of downtown are busy for a weekday, bustling with people who have places to go and others to see but considering the time, it’s not at all surprising. It’s approximately half past twelve in the afternoon, the general time where many who work in the office would be taking their lunches and with the convenience of the downtown area, many prefer to simply eat out. Whether it’s grabbing a quick bite or sitting down and enjoying a full service in the company of their co-workers, there’s a place that caters to everyone’s needs. It’s a time where everyone is eager to be relieved from their busy schedules and being cooped up in a cubicle for five hours straight before having to go back and push through the remaining hours of their workday.

It’s a very clockwork thing, something Jaehee knows all too well because she’s among the masses that’s a part of it yet as she watches her peers from her window seat in the cafe, she feels like the stranger looking from the outside in.

Almost three years ago, Jaehee had been like any other graduate fresh out of college; bright-eyed and ready to start their life as an ‘adult’ which meant getting a ‘real’ job. She had been so determined, vowed that gone were the days of being stuck with a minimum wage and she’s finally going to put her schooling to use. Of course, it wasn’t easy, half of the battle was just the interviews alone but over time, they start to affect her (as any normal person who’s been rejected over twenty times would, and in the form of ghosting no less).

So naturally when she had gone into that interview for a junior position in a rather small business, expecting no less only to get an offer? That was the olive branch Jaehee had been searching for in a metaphorical sea of pine trees. She accepted it without any further questions asked, the prospect of her first ‘real’ job overruling any doubts she would have had. A rookie mistake on her part, one that only really started to show once she was already in too deep.

At first, it was the small things; things that might’ve gotten under her skin at the time but very easily, Jaehee could push aside without thinking much of it again. After all, not like she expects this place to be perfect right off the bat. As long as they upheld proper HR codes, Jaehee didn’t mind that this was her humble beginnings. She had the mindset to work hard at her job, build her experience and then if things didn’t work out here, she’ll find somewhere else. So that’s what she did, she rolled with the punches every time and before she knew it, a year had passed.

But as time went on, more and more things came up; how the jobs she’s been tasked to hire candidates for always end up having little to no benefits in the long run, how because of that, they never stay for more than half a month at a time, how the inappropriate behaviour of some employees fly under the radar because it’s considered ‘not serious enough’ to be addressed, and how despite having worked for the company for years, her co-worker was never given a single pay raise no matter how well she did her job. It all made her uneasy.

Soon, telling herself to stick it out for just another year became harder that it quickly changed to just another month until here she is now, barely scraping it to three years and reduced to holding onto the single thread that’s still keeping her here — money, and even that is starting to wear thin.

As much as she hated to admit it, Jaehee has found herself trapped between a rock and hard place and she’s at a complete lost on what to do. The heavy sigh she releases felt more like it tore through her entire being, head slumping against the glass; maybe she should’ve hit up a bar rather than a cafe because she really could use a drink right now, happy hour times be damned.

Just as Jaehee considers going through with the idea, eyes scanning across the street to see if there were actually any bars or pubs close by, her gaze lands on an unexpected figure. At first, she didn’t think it was him, already hard to tell because of the black surgical mask he wore covering the lower half of his face while a pair of shades cover his eyes but the longer she watched him, the more sure she was; if there was one thing that stuck with Jaehee amongst the few times she’s met him, it was that he had an aura — he was one of those people you just knew looked attractive even from behind, which makes it all the more curious for Jaehee to see him about to walk into the same cafe she’s currently sitting in.

She watches as he comes to stand in the queue, head bowed and more focused on the phone in his hand while the other was stuffed into the pocket of his fitted dark wash jeans. Such an understated gesture but already out of the corner of Jaehee’s eye, she catches some customers looking his way with interest. The sight makes her stifle her chuckle; thoroughly amused at seeing what she had deducted earlier first hand. It’s only after he turns to head towards the self-serving counter, a medium sized coffee cup in his hand, does Jaehee think there might be a chance he’ll notice her and as if feeling a particularly steady pair of eyes on him, she sees his chin raise slightly more towards her direction.

So, with a slight wave of her hand and a smile, Jaehee makes herself known officially to the taller male, his name slipping out in a bright greeting, “Julien!”

She sees him momentarily pause, then tilt his head before he nods in acknowledgement, casually grabbing a sleeve and a lid for his cup. Once he does, he begins to stride toward Jaehee’s table, stopping short just beside the unoccupied seat across from her.

“Didn’t expect to run into you here.” He says in a light drawl as he pulls down his mask to sip at his coffee. What luck.

“I found this place to have the best coffee around my office.”

“Oh, so you work around here?” Julien sounds genuinely surprised, even takes a brief glance out onto the streets before seemingly coming to accept that possibility. “On lunch then?”

Jaehee can’t help the wry smile that makes its way onto her lightly tinted lips, shoulders heaving and the reply she gives leaves her in the form of a tired sigh. “Yeah….For now.”

At this close distance now, Jaehee can see Julien’s eyes faintly through the tinted colours of his shades, how they seem to observe her over the white rim of the coffee cup he has gingerly grazing his slightly parted plump lips, mid-drink.

One sweep of her form tells all he needs to know, so used to picking up the signs of a troubled human — a skill he’s honed over the many years of living to easier prey and exploit the vulnerable into falling victim to his dark temptations. But he’s not here to lead her astray (he thinks he’d have his head chopped off before that, courtesy of one particular gremlin he knew and adore). Besides that, he may or may not have a favour to ask of Jaehee.

“Well, you sure sound eager to get back to work.” He chuckles sarcastically. Jaehee lets out a quiet huff of air through her nose, crossing her arms as she further slumps into her seat.

“I have yet to honestly meet a person who actually likes going to work.” She mumbles sardonically, making the corner of his mouth twitch. Julien takes the opportunity to slide into the seat finally, tilting his head inquisitively in a way that reminds Jaehee of a puppy….or a cat…. Puppy-cat.

“You sound especially loathsome to go back.” Julien starts casually, placing his coffee cup down in front of him and after tapping his ring clad fingers against it, he continues with a sly smirk, “Smells like tea to me.”

Jaehee laughs, shaking her head as she also takes the time to sip more from her own cup. “Well, no! I mean…” Her voice trails off and her smile falters a little, like the gravity of the situation is settling in on her and there’s really no hope in trying to deflect with humour. Jimin waits patiently, watching the conflicting emotions flit through Jaehee’s expressions and to coax her into deluging more on what’s been bothering her, he smiles reassuringly.

“I’m all ears.”

She pauses to regard him for a moment and seeing his openly friendliness makes the last of her resolve crumble. How lucky you are that you managed to snag a catch like Julien; now she swears if you two don’t end up together then maybe romance is actually dead.

Pulling out from her thoughts, Jaehee brushes aside some loose strands of hair before she rests her chin in her hand, looking out the window to see a group of office workers enjoying the patio weather in the restaurant across the street, throwing their head back in boisterous laughter. She feels envious. With one last sigh, she speaks.

“Work…has been getting unbearable, to say the least and I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Julien hums. “Overbearing manager?”

“It’s everything really; most of the people there, the environment, the job itself…. It all just piled up and now every time I go to work it’s soul draining. I feel so anxious and…uncomfortable. All the time.”

“Have you…tried bringing those issues up with your reporting manager?”

Another heavy sigh leaves Jaehee, shaking her head. “I tried once or twice but they either brush it off or do the bare minimum to fix it. It doesn’t last long usually.”

Julien leans back against his chair, languidly folding his legs so that his ankle rests on the top of one knee. It makes for an impressive view of his insane body proportions that Jaehee still can’t believe can exist on a person; the long sleeve, dark grey and black knit tee is half tucked into his pants, giving a peek of his cinched waistline while legs that seem to extend endlessly, streamlined to a pair of black Chelsea boots. She swears Julien isn’t the tallest male she’s encountered (her own boyfriend Jason might actually be a head taller than he is) but somehow, sitting like this, you would think this man is actually seventy percent legs.

“Why don’t you quit then? You don’t sound happy being there anyways.”

His blunt suggestion takes her aback that for a moment she thinks he’s joking but he remains unfazed, completely serious. It’s a pretty obvious thing to do Jimin thinks, yet Jaehee is here looking at him as if he just told her to launch herself into space to escape from her problems. Times like these he’s reminded of how sometimes humans aren’t always so sensible. After the words have sunk in, Jaehee begins to piece together her thoughts.

“That’s…. Yeah that’s a given huh? But I just— I don’t know Julien.” The last few words come out in a sort of defeated whine, the same time Jaehee nearly slumps her head entirely onto the table in front of her and Jimin subtly takes his coffee cup to hold in the safety of his lap instead. “I want to, god I want to. At some point I even tried looking at other places and submitting resumes but I never get replies back and this place, as shitty as it is, has decent pay. If I leave… I don’t know what that would mean for me and Y/N — especially Y/N.”

Jimin sits up a little straighter at the mention of you.

“She’s still in school and also working too. I don’t want to add onto her stress load by putting ourselves in a financially tough place.” Jaehee buries her hands into her hair, mussing up the long locks into disarray with quite frankly the most severe, pinched expression of trouble Jimin has ever seen on someone. It ages her almost ten years before his eyes. He won’t lie, this isn’t exactly the kind of woes he thought he would be hearing from your roommate. Originally, he had planned to entertain her for a bit, slip in that favour he has and then be on his way. But seeing and hearing the extent of her problems now, he can’t help feeling a little sympathetic because in spite of the amount of distress it’s causing your roommate, she still thinks of you, even going as far as to consider bearing with it.

Though he might not know her well, it’s clear to Jimin that she cares about you a lot.

“Does Y/N know about what’s been happening with your workplace?” He asks carefully. Jaehee blinks before her cheeks begin to colour lightly in embarrassment and she ducks her head to try and hide it, as if just realizing how much of a mess she’s become in front of someone who she’s supposed to be keeping up good impressions for. She clears her throat awkwardly, moving to smooth out her hair again by combing through the strands and bringing her hands down to rest on the nape of her neck.

“Yeah…I’ve vented to her a couple of times about it, when things got too stressful so I think she has a good idea of what’s going on.”

“And…has she ever suggested you to quit and find a new place to work?”

Jaehee pauses in thought and then shakes her head. “Not outright I don’t think. She’s always hinted at it but she never pushes me.”

Jimin makes a noncommittal noise, smiling a little to himself — that sure sounds like you; considerate maybe even to a fault, which is why the next thought that comes to mind makes him feel disquieted.

The sudden silence from the male has her finally looking up to see what the cause of it was, only to find him looking rather bothered, deep in thought with brows pinched and a slight frown tugging down the corner of his lips. It makes her retrace her words, wondering if she had said something wrong and just as she goes to ask, he speaks up.

“Listen Jaehee, I might not…know Y/N well enough,” He starts, mindful of his wording, “but I’m confident that I know, and you know, Y/N really cares for you as much as you care for her, which is probably why she doesn’t want to push you to make a really big life changing decision. And that’s just the thing….”

He inclines his head, his attention suddenly focused on Jaehee and the weight of his gaze pierces through even the tint of his sunglasses. It has Jaehee straightening upright in her seat, involuntarily bracing herself from something she’s not quite sure of.

“She cares about you — your happiness matters to her more than some shitty job that pays well.”

Again, Jaehee is shocked into a stupor for the second time today by this man, his frankness so unapologetic but also from the amount of conviction he speaks concerning you. It was….highly endearing and she had to catch herself from grinning, choosing instead to stow away this little tidbit of information (that she may or may not share to you later). But more than that, Jaehee could swear that he even sounded the slightest bit defensive?

“So even if you quit now, I highly doubt Y/N would hold it against you.” Julien says, and in a much softer undertone that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaehee, “She’s not the type of person to do that.”

She feels strangely touched, so much that all she can do is blink, speechless. When words fail to form, Jaehee lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, choosing to resign to the fact of the matter; Julien is right about pretty much everything and she expresses as much.

“You’re right, she definitely wouldn’t do that. I guess I’m just…scared?” Jaehee wrings her fingers anxiously. “The guilt would eat me up if things go bad for us, all because I quit my job.”

She hears him hum and as she looks up towards him, he’s nodding. “That’s pretty understanding, but is staying and sacrificing yourself really going to be worth it? Gambling with your well-being isn’t something you should take so lightly.” He shifts in his seat and continues in a gentler tone, “You have the right to think about it and come to your own decision, I can’t stop you from doing that. For what it’s worth though, you deserve better and you’re surrounded by a lot of people who wouldn’t hesitate to help you.” There’s a brief pause where he seems to catch himself, then as if making up his mind however, he mumbles, “Including me.”

Jaehee can’t help her eyes widening a bit at the declaration and she nearly breaks out into a full on grin when she sees that the dark haired male in front of her has turned his attention to the window, raising his cup to sip on his coffee in what would’ve passed as a nonchalant manner if it weren’t for the slight pink colouring creeping up his neck or the way he refuses to meet her eyes anymore. For his sake, she discreetly bites her lip to manage the urge to an appreciative smile.

“Thanks Julien, for everything. I didn’t mean to unload all of my problems onto you like that but you’ve helped me see a clearer picture on everything.”

Julien shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “It’s nothing really, though you should probably sit down and tell Y/N all of this instead of me.”

Jaehee nods humming in agreement, already feeling lighter than she had been when she first sat down in this cafe. It’s made her change her perspective into a positive one, one where she doesn’t feel so trapped about her situation. So when she notices the growing number of office patrons dwindling and leaving from their respective lunch gatherings, she’s not as anxious at the prospect of going back. As if on cue, the man across from her takes a glance down at his watch (an elegant little thing; the black leather strap standing out against a pale wrist looked so flattering that Jaehee thought idly about maybe gifting Jason the same style and how nice it would look on him too…..until she balks with the realization that it was Chanel and the idea was immediately discarded).

“Looks like you’re due to head back.” Jimin remarks, noting the time before glancing up at Jaehee. She blinks, as if snapping out of a daze and it makes him quirk an eyebrow but then brushes it off; she must still be digesting everything that happened.

“A-Ah yeah…I should probably head back…soon…” He nearly snorts at the way your roommate is obviously stalling for time, not that he would blame her now that he knows what’s been going on. But with it, he thinks now is as good a time as any.

“Hey, before you go,” He starts smoothly to catch Jaehee’s attention. She perks up, inclining her head to him. “You think you can do me a small favour?”

Jimin’s not entirely surprised to see Jaehee nod expectantly, eager to accept without even hearing him out first. Oh well, makes his job a whole lot easier.

“Yeah what’s up?”

“This might sound a little strange but can you make sure Y/N…doesn't go off and do something she might regret?” He asks, trying to be as vague yet convincing as he can because if he wants to put his plan into action, Jimin can’t have you possibly seeking him out once you become too suspicious of his absent and blatant excuses on why he can’t come by. It would needlessly put you in very dangerous situations but with the help of Jaehee, he could prevent it or at the very least, stall until he’s able to pull himself together more. Even in this moment, he’s beginning to feel pinprick needles crawl up the back of his neck, the effort to keep a cool facade has him taking deep, steadying breaths. He sees Jaehee’s expression scrunch up in confusion, blinking and he doesn’t need to hear her question when it’s so clear on her face.

“I might be gone for a while, nothing too concerning so I don’t want her to worry.”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t tell her that yourself?” Jaehee points out, still very much confused as she crosses her arms. Jimin responds with a well placed wry smile, one he hopes doesn’t look more like a grimace than anything though he can’t help but feel that’s the case. It doesn’t matter, the discomforting and all too familiar stabbing has spread past his shoulder blades, making his skin break out into cold sweat. He gets up, ready to take his leave before he unwillingly keels over, the action startling Jaehee.

“It’s…It’s complicated Jaehee. Sorry I can’t tell you more but I promise it’s nothing serious. Just…” Jimin hates how out of breath he sounds, swallowing as he rushes to get everything out. “Take care of her?”

So caught off guard by his sudden sense of urgency, Jaehee stutters, “Y-Yeah of course. Julien are you sure everything’s okay? You don’t— ” She stands, about to take a step towards the taller male but he immediately retreats back and she halts.

“I’m fine Jaehee. I have to leave now, I hope to see you around.”

Julien takes off before she has the time to think of something else to say, long strides easily carrying him out of the cafe and disappearing down the side street.

Jaehee’s frozen, eyebrows remaining furrowed and mind racing in trying to process what’s taken over Julien just now. Furthermore, she starts to realize that maybe the growing clamminess of his complexion she saw earlier wasn’t a trick of the light after all. Now she’s confused and worried. What was he trying to hide? Unfortunately she doesn’t have time to linger on it, a quick glance at her phone lets her know that she’s already running five minutes late so with no other choice, she exhales heavily, squaring her shoulders and prepares to trek back to her hell hole of an office with the hope that it will be for the last time.

-

You felt it coming; another yawn that threatens to tear your whole mouth open and you just barely manage to stifle it. You’ve lost count on how many times you’ve yawned within the hour, each time it leaves your eyes watery and you swear what little energy you had would be expelled along with it.

On most days, this wouldn’t be anything new. It was just your luck that you get scheduled with an opening shift so in combination with your already atrocious sleeping schedule, your usual perpetually tired state is doubled. However these days, there’s something else added into the mix.

Your restless nights have since been plagued with thoughts of one reoccurring demon, and not the kind that people would imagine — figments of your own imagination conjured up from the darkest recesses of the mind to torment you — no, you’re the one who has a literal demon tormenting your thoughts and the worse part is he’s probably not even aware of it!

Clearly, you’ve underestimated yourself, didn’t anticipate for the rug to be pulled out from under your feet so quickly like that. You thought you could make nice with being in a one-sided crush forever when in reality, you’ve crossed that point of no return already and now all you want to do is confess your feelings, rip that bandage off once and for all.

You want to, but….

You’re still scared deep down. What was the lesser evil? Confess and be rejected or refrain and live not knowing? Both sound like complete agony to you yet in the end, you lack the strength to do neither.

And what’s more pressing is that time is running out for you. Above your chaotic, never-ending dilemma, the reminder stays steadily in the back of your mind like ticking of a clock, muted at first, only now it’s louder and clearer than ever — your inevitable crocodile encroaching to devour the rest of you, the ever fearful Hook.

You need to make a decision and soon before it’s beyond your control.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the end of your shift until your manager bumps into you, still in the aisle absentmindedly folding and refolding the t-shirts. 


“Girl, what are you still doing here? It’s like way past one-thirty, you need to leave!” Rachel laughs, nudging the shirts out of your hands.

“O-Oh, really?” You reply, a bit dazed but nevertheless, thankful. “I’ll see you next shift then.”

She waves and you scurry off, heading to the backroom to throw off your uniform vest, clock out and grab your things to leave. One good thing about having an early morning shift is at least you get to leave by afternoon and with the weather so nice lately, the trip back won’t add to dampen your mood.

For good measures, you even decide to stop by Starbucks to get yourself some well deserved ice coffee. The barista greeting you with a bright smile when you make it to the front counter.

“Hello, what can I get you for today?”

“Can I have a grande vanilla sweet cream cold brew?”

“For sure! Anything else?”

Your mouth opens to say that's all but then you stop, thinking to yourself briefly and then instead reply, “And one venti Very Berry Hibiscus Refresher.”

The barista nods, happy to punch in your additional order and that’s when you confirm then that that will be all. You move off to the side after you pay to wait for your drinks. You pull out your phone as you wait and absently wonder if you should text Jaehee about leaving her drink in the fridge when she gets home.

Lately, you’ve noticed Jaehee’s work schedule has become more sporadic than what you’re used to seeing; sometimes she’s home around three in the afternoon and other times you think she didn’t even go to work that day. Of the times she’s gone before you wake up, you find that she either has gone to work or was actually at Jason’s for the entire night. You don’t question it much, already getting the feeling that the cause is her troubles at work and she’s aware that you’re aware of it too, if the perplexed looks you shoot her whenever you see her on those occasions were anything to go by.

If this is Jaehee taking time off to simply get away and rest mentally, you’re not against it (in fact, you’re surprised that she hasn’t done so sooner). Regardless, you hope she’ll feel better and though it’s not much, you’ll lend her your ears and shoulder…..and maybe a large dose of her favourite drink.

Your name gets called and you go to collect your orders, then set off home. You arrive without further incident, enjoying the nice weather as you go. When you step through your door, you’re mildly surprised to find that your roommate in question isn’t home so you toe off your shoes and head to the kitchen to drop off her drink in the fridge.

After refreshing yourself by taking off your makeup and changing into more comfortable clothes, you decide to start prepping for dinner. Tonight’s menu is an amalgamation of things — you plan for chicken quesadilla with sour cream as the main dish but after spying a bag of frozen Korean dumplings and spicy rice cake, your stomach demands them to be served up as well. As they say, comfort food is always the best food.

You’ve just about finished grilling the last of the chicken breast and peppers to be used for the quesadilla when you hear the door unlock. Without having to check, you know it’s Jaehee and no sooner you turn towards the kitchen threshold, you see her trotting in.

“Hey.” She greets, doing little to conceal the tiredness in her voice and you offer a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, welcome home. You should go wash up and I’ll have the food ready when you’re done.”

Jaehee smiles gratefully at you before heading off in the direction of her room. You finish grilling up the remaining dumplings when Jaehee reappears again, bare faced and comfy like you are. As she seats herself at the small little table, you serve the quesadilla and dumplings first, letting the spicy rice cake simmer on low heat a little longer on the stove.

Looking at Jaehee now, you can’t help but to notice how worn she looks, dark bags beginning to form under her eyes even when she lets out a satisfied groan from taking her first bite.

“God I’ve been craving this all day.” She mumbles around a mouthful.

“You’re telling me.” You nod between chews. “As soon as I saw the bag of dumplings in the freezer, I had to make some. Same thing with the spicy rice cake, it’s been so long.”

“And that’s why we’re still roommates for so long.”

You laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly; your palette and overall love for food is what made your bond so strong, amongst other important things. You continue to eat in amicable silence, simply enjoying the food and each other’s company as part of unwinding for the day though a part of you itched to ask after Jaehee, to check in on how she’s really holding up. You only hold off for the time being to let her have her fill and forget about it, if just for a moment.

Eventually, by the time you’re both making quick work on the spicy rice cakes do you retrieve her little pick-me-up drink and wordlessly place it in front of her.

“Oh my god, girl.” She sighs out happily and you’ve never seen her light up so brightly in an instance. Your smiles matches hers as you take your seat again to pick at the remaining rice cakes.

“Knowing your workplace, you look like you could use it.”

After taking a hearty gulp, Jaehee places her drink down, a quiet pensive look taking over her expression. You can clearly see the thoughts swirling inside of her head, debating with herself but you wait patiently until she’s ready, if she’s ready. When you think the moment has passed, Jaehee finally speaks.

“Actually, I’m quitting.”

The shock of it still gets you even when you knew at some point this would happen. It was long overdue in your opinion, something you’ll admit you wished would happen because considering everything, you never understood how Jaehee had managed to put up with it for so long. You worried it would run her into the ground sooner than later and despite all the talks of leaving, they remain just that; talks. So over time, you choose to not push out of respect but remain firm in your beliefs.

Sitting up a little straighter, you swallow the chewy rice cake and nod approvingly. “Wow, for real? Like, you turned in your two weeks notice and everything?”

Jaehee breathes a laugh, sounding very much chagrined. “I think I did a little more than that.” At the inquisitive tilt of your head, she elaborates. “I sat down to talk to Ethan, my manager and I just…broke down and told him everything. Like, everything — how I felt about lying to candidates for a job that isn’t even worth leaving their current one for, how I don’t have even the basic benefits working for the company, and just feeling…awful coming into work every day.”

She inhales, “And then two days after that, he called me into his office and told me he was letting me go.”

Now that was shocking news to you. You blink incredulously, “After all that, he had the nerve to fire you? That just shows how much he cares.”

Jaehee can only nod, bemused herself but not entirely bothered. “Yeah, I mean I would be more mad about it if it wasn’t for the fact that I found out the company is literally a pyramid scheme.”

Your mouth drops without meaning to and you’re rendered speechless; definitely wasn’t expecting that. Jaehee lets a bark of laughter at your reaction.

“Yeah, exactly but it all makes sense now and it’s made me feel better about my choice. Now I’m just mad that I didn’t realize sooner.”

“Well I’m all the more glad for you.” You say, “Fuck that guy.”

Your remark earns you a half smile from Jaehee, one that is more morose than it is mirthful. It fades as quickly into something more serious, eyes downcast and fingers idly tracing the perspiration that’s gathered on her cup. “I’m happy I don’t have to work at that place anymore, but I don’t know what we’re gonna do about money from now on.”

She says it so sombrely that you might think she’s telling you the world is ending tomorrow. Okay, that might be a stretch but you do understand where Jaehee’s concerns are coming from. You’re not gonna lie and say Jaehee’s job didn’t play a huge role in helping you both pay rent and live well enough that you didn’t have to constantly worry about living from pay cheque to pay cheque. You’re lucky to be on a partial scholarship, but even then, you had close calls on paying rent on time. There’s a lot up in the air now, no doubt there’s gonna be a lot to change and though it’s worrisome, you find yourself not caring because more than anything, you’re happy for Jaehee and that’s something to worth celebrating instead.

“Yeah, we’re probably gonna have to do a lot adjusting once the time comes but really Jaehee, I’m just happy that you don’t have to work that awful job anymore.” You say, reassuring. “We can worry about all of that when it comes.”

Jaehee glances up then, staring at you as if searching for hints of a bravado but when she sees how genuine you are for her, she smiles and it reaches her eyes fully.

“You sure? Last chance.”



“I’m positive. Hell, I’ll even put in a good word for you and who knows, we might end up working together.”

She’s snorts, shaking her head. “Thanks, I’ll consider it. At this point I think even a retail job would be so much better than what that was.” You purse your lips, considering the thought but agree in the end because as much as you loathed your job, at least there were moments where you could have fun with your co-workers; shit talking customers and managers is always a great way to pass time and bond.

You recline back in your seat as the atmosphere transitions into something lighter, like a weight has cleared the air and sip lightly at your ice coffee while Jaehee does the same with her drink. When she finishes it, she exhales, visibly more relaxed.

“So,” She begins, “what about you? Are you still talking with Julien?”

You blink, clearing your throat and scratch your cheek before answering distractedly, “Um…Yeah, like…on and off?”

Truth be told, the last message you sent to him was four nights ago. They were nothing special, just your usual chats as a way for you to talk about your day with sprinkles of bantering in between and maybe….a little flirting? Your head spins at the thought, butterflies erupting in your gut and even though these chats reduce you to a sputtering mess, they’re the things you look forward to the most at the end of the day. Which makes it worrying that you’ve noticed how they don’t last as long as they used to. You try not to let it bother you too much, thinking that perhaps it was just the insatiable craving for interactions that comes with realizing your feelings for someone.

And a hint of desperation in knowing that he may soon leave.

Maybe it’s the nature of the conversations that has taken place tonight or maybe you too needed to unload a bit off your chest, but you find yourself confessing your deepest worries too, finally speaking them into existence.

“Lately, I….I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” You struggle, stopping to try and find the right words but you think you won’t have such luck. Swallowing, you power on through the best you can anyways. “I don’t know when it happened, hell I didn’t think it would even turn out this way. I thought all we could be is just friends but then….” You scoff a laugh at yourself, “I caught feelings, and now I don’t know what to do with them.”

Jaehee takes in your words across from you with a serious air though it doesn’t quite mask how ecstatic she is at the news. The sight makes you feel better, although you wished you could match her enthusiasm.

“Are you planning on telling him then?”

The sigh you let out nearly takes everything out of you and you slump against your chair, nearly sinking down to your waist.

“That’s the thing; I don’t know if I should? Like, am I reading too much into this? Or like, maybe he—“ It pains you to say it, voice coming out small but you can’t rule out the possibility, “Maybe he might not look at it the same way I do. I don’t want to ruin our friendship just because I misread everything. And what’s worse is that….He’s…going away soon so I just feel like….It might not be a smart idea after all but at the same time I just….” You inhale from running out of breath mid-rant, only to finish off with a helpless, “I really like him….”

God you must sound pathetic…

“Okay first off, I highly doubt that’s the case.” Jaehee jumps in with surprising speed. “From what I know, it doesn’t seem like it’s just you. I…I actually ran into him not too long ago during lunch at work…”

“You did?” You sit up at that, interested.

“Yeah, we sat down and I was feeling so overwhelmed that day that I ended up telling him about work too. He told me how I should pluck up the courage to quit because I deserve better and to be honest, one of the reasons why I didn’t want to to do it was because I was scared that it would put us in a tough spot, especially with you being in school and all. I didn’t want to pressure you with anything because of something that was on me. But he wouldn’t have any of it,” She lets out a quiet laugh with a shake of her head, recalling the conversation. “He said that it doesn’t matter because you’d support me all the way, that you care more about my happiness than some job that pays well.”

Jaehee shoots you a wide smile, taking one of your hand and giving it a squeeze. “And he was right. He didn’t have any doubts that you wouldn’t have my back and…he even offered to help out if things get bad for us when he didn’t need to. I don’t know about you but that just tells me how much he thinks and cares about you.”

“If I’m gonna be honest, aside from BTS, I’ve never seen you really feel for someone so strongly before, and that has to mean something. I can see how much you really care about him too. So I think you should tell him, maybe even more so before he leaves because I don’t want to see you regret not telling him instead. I know it's gonna eat you up.”

Now you’re the one overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions running through you at once; touched, assured, surprised to hear that Jimin had been the one to console Jaehee like that, and to hear first hand how supportive he is of her and you…

Something surges in your chest, the feeling almost leaving you breathless but you’re beginning to feel invigorated, more sure of yourself. It gives you hope, a dangerous thing but you want to so badly believe that there’s something there, something more.

“You…really think so?”

She gives you a pointed look, stare unwavering and that alone is more than enough. “One hundred percent, you never know until you try but I think he’s just as into you. And if by the off chance that I’m wrong…I’ll be there for you, whether to pig out on a carton of ice cream or to beat somebody up. I gotchu girl, like how you got me.”

You take a deep breath in, squeezing Jaehee’s hand back and her confidence rubs off on you. You let it take away whatever remaining doubts you have left. There's no excuse to back down now, or to run from it.

You’re gonna do it.

You have to do it.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

16 | Will-o’-the-Wisp

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 16: Will-o’-the-Wisp.

Summary: Set in the Harry Potter universe.  Pidge finds herself lost in the woods on a dark, moonless night. She'd given up hope on getting home before sunrise when suddenly a light appeared between the trees to lure her deeper into the forest. Luckily, a handsome stranger is around to save her.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

16 | Will-o'-the-Wisp

Pidge trudged through the undergrowth, cursing herself for deciding to take a stroll through the woods on a dark, moonless night. Why did she think it was such a good idea? She hated the woods! And nature in general.

Yes, she was definitely the indoors-y type, best suited to viewing the world from a screen and the comfort of her home.

She shivered and hugged herself, rubbing her arms with the hope of creating enough friction to generate warmth. She glanced up to try and see the stars but the canopy of trees completely blocked her view and the only thing that greeted her was more darkness. Her breath came in tiny pants as she looked around, barely able to make out the thick trunks, and it sank in just how well and truly lost she was.

Someone once told her: “the best thing to do when you're lost is to stay where you are”. But did that really apply when no one knew she was out there?

Pidge stopped and took a deep breath to try and calm down. What she needed to do was take a moment to think logically about the situation, highlighting all of the details she knew, and then come up with a workable plan from there.

So.

She was lost in the woods and it was too dark to see anything past a few inches from her face.

Her cell phone was very dead, though she did have a charging cable if she could find a place to use it.

She had no real way of navigating her way back to civilization.

Pidge reached out until she felt the bark of the nearest tree and used it as a way to ground herself. She briefly considered climbing up as high as she could go and hope it would be enough to get a look at the stars, which she could then use to get her bearings, but dismissed the idea as being potentially too dangerous.

There was nothing she could do but wait out the night and find her way once the sun rose once again.

She leaned against the tree and tilted her head back, wishing she could see something. Even the smallest pinprick of light would give her hope.

Pidge wasn't sure how long she stood there, her mind whirling through all of the different possibilities of how and when she would make it back to civilization and even entertaining the idea of someone heroically swooping in with a flashlight to save her. It was fun to imagine, though she knew it wasn't something that was going to happen.

She lowered her eyes and that was when she saw it: something glowing in the distance, lighting up the trunks of trees around it. Pidge held her breath in surprise. Surely she was hallucinating, right?

“Hello?” she called out.

She didn't get a response, but the light bobbed around a bit, as though whoever was holding it was trying to draw her in closer.

Or lead her out of the forest.

Pidge pushed away from the tree and began walking towards the light, praying that she wouldn't snag her foot on the undergrowth. To her confusion, the closer she got, the farther away the light seemed to move, occasionally stopping to sway and let her get a little more caught up before moving away again.

“Who's there? Can you slow down a bit?” Pidge called out, frustration bleeding into her voice.

And just like that, the light stopped. It hovered there in place, growing larger and larger as she approached. It pulsed in a mesmerizing pattern as it appeared the drift in the air, but Pidge didn't take any notice of how odd the whole thing was as she continued to follow it even as she sank to her ankles in cold, muddy water.

She shivered but kept going, the light too entrancing to stop. It would lead her to safety. She knew it.

The water lapped at her calves as the mud clung tightly to her feet, making any movement difficult, but she had to keep going. She was going to get out of the woods and make it back to her safe and warm home before the sunrise and a little bit of water and mud wasn't going to stop her.

Nothing could stop her.

A jet of crackling red energy shot past her shoulder and collided with the bobbing light, which emitted an inhuman screech as it skipped backwards over the water. Pidge watched, dazed, as two additional red jets shot out from behind her, colliding twice more with the light until the screeching stopped.

And then, suddenly, the water moved away from her legs and Pidge swayed, thankfully prevented from falling over into the deep mud by a pair of hands on her shoulders.

There was someone there speaking to her, but their words were so muffled that she couldn't make out what they were saying. Nothing made much sense. Her thoughts were so discombobulated that she couldn't keep anything straight and when the heavy fog clouding her mind finally lifted enough for her to think straight, she was sitting on a soft couch in an unfamiliar room with a warm blanket wrapped around her and a man with dark hair kneeling in front of her, holding up a mug for her to take.

“Drink this. It should help clear the rest of your shock,” he told her gently.

Pidge's hands were shaking so badly that she wasn't sure if she'd be able to hold onto the mug without spilling the drink everywhere, but she gave it a try anyway, choosing to rest it on the top of her legs until she was sure she could lift it high enough to drink.

“W-what happened?” she asked.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for long enough that she wondered if she needed to repeat herself.

“The forest around here is dangerous at night, but especially during the new moon. Usually it isn't a problem since most people stay away once night starts to fall. They find it unsettling,” he said. “That light you encountered was something most folks would call a 'will-o'-the-wisp'.”

Pidge's brow furrowed in confusion. “But that's... that's not real. That's just a fairytale.”

“They're real and very dangerous. Their only goal is to lead people astray, typically into bogs or marshes, and... Well, those people don't come back.”

Pidge shivered at the implication.

“You were trapped pretty deeply into its thrall when I showed up, but you'll be okay now,” he continued. “Drink that. I need to finish preparing the spare room for you.”

“Spare room?” Pidge questioned.

He shrugged a little and then stood up. “I thought you'd prefer the privacy while you sleep.”

A flash of alarm shot through Pidge and she fought not to spill her drink. “I'm staying here? But why? I mean, don't you have a car or something? You could take me back into town!”

“Any other night, maybe, but... not tonight. And not when the most important thing is you getting rest. An encounter with a will-o'-the-wisp is draining even for people who know what they're doing and I want to make sure you're really alright before I send you away,” he explained.

Pidge watched him walk away without another word and she sat there by herself for several long minutes before remembering she had a drink in her hands. She took a sip and was pleased by the rich taste of hot chocolate, which warmed her down to her core and helped chase away the last traces of fogginess in her head.

And that was when she noticed how exhausted she felt.

Maybe there was something to what the strange man said.

The strange man whose house she was expected to sleep in.

Pidge sat up a little straighter and took a suspicious look around. Wherever she was, it had the appearance of a cozy little cabin with hardwood floors and a real stone fireplace tucked away in the corner. If she craned her head a little she could see directly into the kitchen behind her. There were six other doors that she could see, three of which was closed. The other appeared to be a bathroom and the third was the room the stranger had gone into, so Pidge assumed that was the spare room he mentioned. The final two closed doors led out the front and the back.

It would be easy to get up and leave. There was nothing stopping her.

But... there was also no reason she shouldn't stay. It was still dark out and she had no idea which direction to go in order to get back to an area she recognized. Plus, the stranger (who still hadn't given her his name) didn't seem like a bad guy. Maybe he was a bit weird, going on about a creature that didn't exist as though it were a real thing that people worried about, but that seemed like more of a quirky character trait rather than something to be concerned about.

Okay, maybe she'd be locking the bedroom door before she went to sleep. And moving something in front of it so he couldn't get in until she was ready to get up. And double-checking the windows. Maybe there was a closet she could sleep in?

There was nothing wrong with erring on the side of caution.

Pidge drank more of the hot chocolate while she waited for the stranger to come back and when he did, she blurted out the biggest question on her mind: “Who are you?”

He paused, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Oh, uh, I'm Keith.”

“Pidge,” she responded, unwilling to give him her real name.

“Okay, well the room is ready for you. I found a shirt and some pants that should fit you, if you want to be more comfortable and you can use that bathroom over there to wash up,” Keith said, pointing to the bathroom Pidge noticed earlier. “If you need anything else, my room is right there. Just knock and I'll come out to help. And, uh, you can see the kitchen, so if you need anything from there just help yourself.”

Belatedly, she realized he was trying to give her a tour of the house.

Keith paused for a moment to give her time to speak, but when Pidge said nothing he shifted his feet and spoke again. “You can leave your cup in the sink and I'll take care of it in the morning. And that's pretty much it. Just... I don't recommend going back outside until the sun rises.”

“Because of your make-believe creatures?” Pidge couldn't help but ask.

“Because it's dangerous to be in unfamiliar woods in the dark,” he responded, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but please listen to me on this and don't go outside. Even if you don't believe me about the will-o'-the-wisps there are other dangers, like wolves, that live out there.”

That was a good point.

Pidge quietly agreed to stay inside and watched as he relaxed, his relief completely obvious even to her. He offered a tiny smile and then said something about going to bed, leaving her completely alone on the couch.

She finished up her hot chocolate and put it in the sink like he said, though she did take the time to empty it and rinse it out first. Pidge debated for a moment whether or not she wanted to change her clothes before deciding she'd rather have something clean to wear, although...

Pidge glanced down at her jeans, which were surprisingly clean despite her vague memory of walking through mud.

Either way, jeans weren't comfortable to sleep in and she didn't see any harm in borrowing a shirt and pants, so she changed into those before going to check out the bathroom. The light clicked on by itself when she stepped inside and Pidge's gaze was automatically drawn to the round mirror over the sink.

She frowned and combed her fingers through her hair to try and tame the mess it had become, but there wasn't much she could do.

Apparently her reflection felt the same, because it shrugged at her once she was done and said: “Best rinse it out and try again, dear.”

Pidge blinked.

Then she opened her mouth and screamed as she backed away so quickly that her feet got tangled with each other and she toppled backwards. She felt pain and then blackness took over her vision.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was tucked beneath warm blankets and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. It took her a moment to remember everything that happened the night before, but as her brain started to fully wake up she jumped out of bed and set off to find Keith.

She needed answers and he was going to give them to her.

[thesimonkshow]

My thoughts on Folklore

This is about to be a long ass Taylor Swift post, so strap in for the ride.

I along with many others were going about their business (looking at Adam Driver gifs) before my phone alerted me to the notification that Taylor Swift was releasing her eighth studio album Folklore the very next day. Chaos everywhere, my sleep schedule went out the window as I went into the Swifties tag to see how everyone else was dealing with this news. So I eagerly awaited 2PM (Australian time) for the album to drop and after a few listens (sleep got the better of me through my first listen due to my previous sleep schedule), I eventually picked out some album highlights.

The 1 - I love how freely she’s cussing on the album (a point that will be reitriated throughout), and I know Gossip tabloids and casuals will be shooketh because they’d think Taylor & Mr. Alwyn have ‘broken up’ due to Taylor’s personable lyrics but this gave me Better Man vibes. Remember when the Bridge said ‘You might have bern The One if you were a Better Man’ and this is basically that without the angsty fire.

Cardigan - I LOVE how Alternative Folk fits Taylor’s voice, it sounds like she’s telling us a story and we are entrapsed by her. It also works perfectly with the love triangle songs, which I had to understand a bit through a few listens.

The Last Great American Dynasty - The moment I saw this track, I knew it would be epic. I pictured her taking the piss out of the Trump family, but what I got was an awesome song about the woman who owned Taylor’s Rhode Island house and the antics she got up to. I love the descriptors she used when describing the weddings and the party’s Rebekah & Bill had and especially the bridge of antics Rebekah got up to later in her time. The ‘And then it was bought by me.’ Part of the bridge, I love a good twist!

Exile - OH MY LORD. When I saw Skinny Love Bon Iver on this album, I knew this would be something and low and behold it was. The concept of the man in exile in her intro caught my attention but seeing it up close and personal was amazing. The vocals interlaced with each other was perfection, especially as Taylor responds to Bon Iver. I really connected it to the struggles of Seth Rollins in the latter half of 2019, how he seemed to be exiled from the WWE, how his initial opponent Kevin Owens was having his flaws disregarded to drag Seth down, the ‘Always Keep Fighting’ shirt that he wore (raising money for mental health chairties) adding insult to injury for Seth, who had even briefly deactivated his twitter to clear his headspace following attacks/death threats from a fellow wrestler’s fan base. ‘I gave you every sign’ rings true here, the man was struggling and no one seemed to care.

My Tears Ricochet - My WWE ass was happy to see another Wrestler reference after The Man. So this was an interesting look, but I got another story that intrigued me, a man having been involved in a tumultous connection with the songs narrator showing up to her funeral to save face. Listeners drew parraells with the recent Masters drbarkle with Scott Borchetta, head of Big Machine Records with whom Taylor was once signed to, and I have to say it’s a good perspective to take.

Mirrorball - This one took a while but I ended up loving the fact she could sing from a Mirrorball’s perspective and still make an epic song. I loved the part about always fitting in with the crowd because at functions/discos where mirrorballs are used, the lights will change to fit the mood and being a reflective surface, Mirrorballs will reflect the colour change.

Seven - This was a nice ditty about a past friend Taylor once had. I really loved the line ‘Please picture me in the weeds before I learned Civility’ it gives a more sophisticated parraell to Never Grow Up.

August - This is the second in the love triangle songs, and I loved the storytelling aspect as Taylor paints the picture of an affair that Summer Nights would quake in it’s boots if it heard about it. She sweeps up the adience in the Mistresses POV, showcasing the sweetness of love and the sting of toxcisity.

This is me trying - Where are those who said Taylor Swift plays the victim in her songs? Because this is for them. Taylor states in this her regrets of wasted potential, broken relationships etc. at the end of the day no matter how many awards she has, records she breaks, or money she possesses, Taylor Alison Swift is a human being, and we should give her boundries to grow and flourish.

Illicit Affairs - This track title also intrigued me, and whilst it does what the title says, and discusses the highs and lows of the secret passions of mismatched lovers, the second verse & bridge stood out to me the most. The way Taylor’s voice went up on him in the line ‘Leave the perfume on the shelf that you picked out just for him.’ Drew my attention as she later did the same thing on the word high, this had to mean something. And given that we don’t know the narrators gender, this could also be a song about a closeted gay man who’s found love but is struggling to accept this relationship. Whereas the bridge reminded me a lot of the Adam & Hannah breakup in Season 4 of Girls in the episode Sit In where Hannah denounces Adam’s nickname of kid, which he had called her by since the first season, with the episode before that showing her heartbroken that Adam has gotten a new girlfriend behind her back and thus turns into a mess locked in her apartment for a day and two nights. it was a heartbreaking part of the show, one that shifted it into a new era for better or for worse, and the entirety of this reasonated with me.

Invisible String - Around this point was where melotonin kicked in for me on my first listen, so I’ve heard this less than the other songs, but I love how it discusses her relationship with Joe & how for better or for worse, he is hers. It continued the theme with them on Lover of not having a great picturesque love, but having ups and downs like any couple.

Mad Woman - The calmer sister of The Man, she won’t throw big production and actions around, she can take you down with words alone. The track stings brutally as Taylor takes down sexism as it exists in our world today, and even sadly paints a visual of how it must have been for women back in the day fighting for equal rights. ‘Does a scorpion sting when fighging back?’ Line was annother connection, as I was reminded of Vanessa Ives from Penny Dreadful and how the animal symbology that stuck with her was a scorpion, used to great effect in the Season 2 finale in a confrontation with Lucifer’s makeshift doll of her. The chorus line ‘And you’ll poke the bear till her claws come out, and you’ll find something to wrap your noose around’ stuck with me on my listens, and really shows how men will strike and then run away saying ‘it’s a joke, she’s hysterical’ etc. the part about women loving to hunt witches also reminded me of a Doctor Who episode called ‘The Witchers’ and also reminded some listeners of how Demi Lovato took Scooter Braun’s side in the Licencing debarkle, in fact in the first part of the bridge, the song also has a double meaning. It’s also about the state of affairs following Taylor’s songs being stolen from her. The part in the bridge about the wives knowing about their Spinster husbands having affairs and not wanting to show their anger for fear of being outcast like the titular woman is angsty but so lyrically genius.

Epiphany - I had to listen to this a couple of times but once I realised what it was about, I was in shock. This is about her Grandfather Dean who she mentioned in the intro who fought in a war. The song paints the war setting with the helmet, the flesh wound and the rifle within the first few words, and I especially loved the line ‘And some things we don’t speak of.’ because it talked about how some soldiers develop PTSD from their experiences, yet don’t want to discuss them for fear of being perceived as weak. Also the outro beat sounds like a radar scanning for a plane, and the beat of the drum sounds like bombs exploding, really adds to the War theme.

Betty - This is the final track in the love triangle story as it tells the story of James as he fights to earn back Betty’s love after he has an affair with Inez. The eventual pitfalls of Illicit Affairs have come for Inez which causes her to tell Betty of their affair, which is a nice link. This songs gives a classic Greese/Christine/Cheesy 80s Film meets Trixie Mattel vibe which I loved. I also loved the callbacks to August & Cardigan, along with the casual F bomb droppings.

Peace - This is another sweet love song for Joe which calls back to Cruel Summer, Cornelia Street & Dancing With Our Hands Tied as Taylor struggles with the connection she has established with Joe, and contemplates escaping, but eventually knows she’ll stay. How the entire world will be on them, but she’ll be by his side through it all. Similar to Invisible String but different all at once and a perfect penultimate track to lead to the last song.

Hoax - The sweetness brings us to the double edged sword of a closing track. Giving a shattering realisation that love can be tricky at times, the references to Call It What You Want ‘I am ash from your fire’, The Archer ‘You know the hero died so what’s the movie for?’ & ... So It Goes ‘You knew you won so what’s the point of keeping score’. Taylor loves Joe so much that when they fight it’s as painful as when she became Pop Culture Enemy #1 back in 2016. But no matter what, she says herself ‘Don’t want no other shade of blue but you. No other sadness in this world would do’ relationships are always painful, there is no happy endings all round, but there is still love to be found.

All in all this is an incredible album & @taylorswift you have created magic and I hope you know that myself & all the Swifties are so proud of you for flexing your writing skill and crafting such a stunning album.

[vaultdweller]

Villanelle - Families, babies and power

I’ve seen a lot of people asking - why is Villanelle suddenly so interested in her family? Why did she take that baby? This seems out of character for her. 

Here’s my shower thoughts on it all. Please take this with a grain of salt, but if I was writing the show, this is how I would approach it. 

So we start with the question - what is motivating Villanelle right now, this season? Power has emerged as a big theme for her in these first few episodes, I believe, in the context of control. After last season, where she was working for the Twelve, MI6, under Eve’s thumb, under Konstantin’s thumb, then betrayed and essentially left for dead by Konstantin/the Twelve and rejected by Eve, she’s likely feeling like she has, in a large sense, lost control over what happens to her. All of those major events, particularly in late Season 2, were all happening outside of her control, all moments where she had given control of herself over to someone else and, surprise, it ended badly. The last six months have been a recovery period for her - her relationship/marriage a means to surround herself with the familiar trappings of her old life (albeit upgraded) and resetting the clock to a time before Eve. 

And while money is one way of getting back control, what Villanelle is really after now is power - the ultimate way to control what happens around you, to you, and to other people. Power and control are influence, and for someone with a low sense of self, low empathy and fragile ego ( classic symptoms of most personality disorders, including narcissistic and antisocial) often the only way they can perceive themselves is through their effects on others. She wants to surpass those who had betrayed her before (Konstantin/Eve). We see it in her wanting to be a Keeper (even more powerful than Konstantin) so she can know who the Twelve are, not because she actually cares, but because, as Konstantin has taught her, knowledge is power. We see it in her monologue to the perfumer, about her wanting to be perceived as being so powerful it physically affects other people, leaving them no choice but to acknowledge her. 

So money and power are the main means she would perceive as gaining control, however, through the course of the series, slowly (slowly catchy monkey) a third means of control (and power) has been introduced to her: family. 

We need to start this with the assumption (and, likely, fact) that Villanelle knows nothing about family, what a family is, how it functions, and the actual bonds of family. She knows 0, as she has proven and stated several times. She knows other people care about their family members, but has no idea how or why. But by our current episode, she has seen that people will make themselves vulnerable for family (her kill in Italy S1), allow themselves to be hurt/killed to keep family safe (Konstantin S1), betray her to keep their family safe (Konstantin S2) and stand in front of an assassin to keep ‘family’ safe (bin baby and the nanny, more on that later). And what this does, I think, is reinforce to her the idea of family being powerful, or, more accurately, that family has power over you. Family causes you to do things directly in conflict with self preservation, like allowing yourself to be shot to keep them safe. Family is so powerful that Konstantin, the person Villanelle is probably closest to in the world, betrays her, and he doesn’t even like his family that much! 

So by Season 3 and her meeting with Dasha, while Villanelle is looking at ways to collect power, seeded by Konstantin’s remark at the end of Season 2, I think Villanelle is wondering about her own family as a source of power and control and it’s leading her to seek them out, through Konstantin, who seems to know about them or is at least pretending to know. 

WHY?

It’s pretty much confirmed at this point that Villanelle is going to spend at least one episode that is a Villanelle-only episode looking for her family. People are obviously a little hesitant about that plotline, which seems out-of-character and seems too much like it’s trying to redeem Villanelle in some way, or give her some kind of backstory to explain why she is the way she is. 

And they’re right. Which is why I don’t think the writers will do that. I think *drumroll*

She’s going to kill them. 

If she ends up having family still alive, I think it is, and always has been, her plan to kill them. Knowledge is power, yes, and knowing where you come from does carry a sort of power with it, but I don’t think Villanelle really has the capacity to give a shit about her parents, siblings or extended family and she has gone a long way to really construct an identity for herself that is totally separate from Oksana Astankova. 

But with her mind linking family and power/control, specifically power and control over another person, I think she will want to kill them and, in doing so, remove the potential that someone could try and use her family to exert power and control over her. Because again, she isn’t really understanding that family is about love and trust and familial bonds. She is just seeing family = power, and she is not going to let someone have power over her again. Also, killing whatever family is still out there severs one of the last ties between Villanelle and Oksana - a character point that was really dropped in Season 2 that I would love to see picked back up again. So she is effectively killing the power Oksana has over her.  

BUT WHY THE BABY STUFF?

Because power. Because babies are power. Bear with me. 

Villanelle has all this family stuff rattling around in her little brain. And she wants power. She is hungry for ways to get power. She is in a nursery with a tuning fork, threatening a baby and their nanny. The nanny is 1. upset that Villanelle is threatening the baby (rather than grateful that Villanelle is threatening the baby and not her) and 2. Willing to put herself in harm’s way for this baby. This reaction is very confusing to our little narcissistic/antisocial Villanelle, who doesn’t understand why anyone would put themselves in harm’s way for anyone else (except maybe she might for Eve but that’s a big maybe). But she discerns, through the pointing of the tuning fork and reading their reactions, that this baby has power. How does a baby have power? Because it’s cute. 

Remember, Villanelle doesn’t understand things like familial bonds, or why people would care about a useless, selfish baby. So in her mind, people care about this baby because it’s (allegedly) cute. And cute is power. So baby is power. 

And actually, she isn’t far off! Evolution has actually made babies cute so that we protect them! Good job, Villanelle! 

So she takes the baby, mostly to set up the comedic gold of Dasha dropping the baby in the bin, but I think also to study it and learn its power. Remember - Villanelle likes to study things to mimic them. 

And ultimately this all distills into her later conversation with Konstantin, where she is asking about herself as a baby. She isn’t doing it out of any particular love for babies - she wants to know if she had that same power as a baby. If she had that same influence and that ability to control others, even as a baby. Konstantin telling her she was ugly with a big head is saying no, you didn’t have that power (though I think he was just being spiteful, frankly, because Villanelle was being annoying). 

There is also the possibility that Konstantin is straight up lying to Villanelle about her family I think, in a bid to distract her and get her away from Dasha, whom I think is not actually working for the Twelve and is a double agent setting Villanelle up to get fucked (again). But there isn’t as much fun analysis with that idea, unfortunately. 

[israltale]

Darkness within

Alure smiled, while Kiros and Cobra trained at the Lake. They were now Three, if someone counted Solei who lived in the Vicinity of Order. Sadly to say, it wasn’t as peaceful as he had hoped.

Alure wasn’t sure if the King figured it out himself, had a spy or Solei couldn’t keep his mouth shut… but the Order Guards were now after them, especially after their Guardian. Kiros trained for that exact reason, to protect the Woman who was so Kind to them. 

“Hey.” Kiros stood in front of the thoughtful boy. 

“Oh… Yes?” He looked up to the Taller Hybrid. 

“So lost in thoughts, Nightlight?” Kiros asked, sitting down next to him. Cobra joined them only a little later.

“Yes… Actually i try to figure out how the King learned from us…” Kiros nodded.

“True… it only started recently. The Snake boy thought it would happen far sooner, but it’s apparently not to our changing… My changing was the last and is already almost six months past.” Alure nodded slowly. 

“Why is he after us anyway?” Of course he was curious of that. 

“It’s less you he is after and more Arisa who is in Danger.” Kiros blinked. 

“Why?” Cobra sighed. 

“It’s… a long Story and i don’t know if Arisa wants you to know about it. But the Gist of it is that the King wants her gone.” Alure shivered. 

“Is it because she is protecting us? From what you told me once… he hates everyone who is not Pure.” Cobra nodded slightly. 

“Yes, before the King could ascend the Throne, a lot of Citizen framed him for being a bastard Child… As you may have noticed in the Pure Blood Section is a certain… Colour line going. The King is actually a single coloured Dragon, which is normally only seen in the Citizen themselves.” Kiros blinked. 

“What do you mean?” Alure wanted to know as well. 

“You see… There is a colour class system in Isral… The normal citizen are mostly single Coloured, like Alure and Solei are.” Both Hybrids nodded. 

“The next class, mostly those who own a Shop are the double coloured dragon’s, like you Kiros. After that the Royalty and the high Generals, those are mostly Multi coloured. Meaning they have more than two colours.” Now Alure wondered how Millenia looked in her Dragon Form. Of Course she had to be one… Right?

“So what is the Thing with the King now? He is single coloured, so he should be multi coloured?” Cobra shook his Head. 

“That is the Point. Rulers are either double coloured or multi coloured, but there is a twist to them.” Both Hybrids stared at him. 

“The Rulers, or their Children change colour in the Light of Sun and Moon, so they are… hm let’s call it Holographic?” The smallest of the Three starred at him in awe, imagine how it must look to see a Ruler or their Offspring. 

“And that King doesn’t have that?” 

Cobra nodded. “Exactly.”

Kiros grumbled. “How did he got on the Throne then?” 

The Skeleton traced his three Scars. “At the Time the former King passed on, the older Sister and Potential Queen… The Citizen thought she was Dead.” 

Alure tilted his Head. There was something in his Phrasing. “But she isn’t?” 

Cobra smiled a bit. “Exactly. The older Sister is still alive and returned to her Home after some…. Complications.” The two Hybrids still didn’t understand why the King was after their Guardian. 

She was just the High Priest of the Land. It seemed to Click in Alure’s Mind. 

“Is the King after Lady Millenia, because she knows where the Princess is hiding?” Kiros blinked, that was actually a good reason. Cobra huffed, they were so careful about this, of course they didn’t catch the Hint. 

“Yeah… Arisa knows where the older Sister is… Being said, the older Sister is a threat to his Rule.” Kiros nodded in Understanding. 

“So he wants Millenia to find the Sister and execute her, so he won’t lose the Throne.” Cobra smiled a bit. 

“Something like that.” He somehow was glad they didn’t catch the hint. It was easier to leave them dumb, or they would do something stupid. On the Other hand, Cobra feared that it won’t take all to long for the Guards to arrive here and then not even Reeve can help them out anymore.

“Who would have thought, that the Personal Guard is watching some dirty Halfbreeds.” Cobra jumped to his Feet. 

“Grima…” A Man with snow white hair came out of the Shadows. 

Alure hid behind Cobra, while Kiros grabbed his Knives. 

“Where is she?” Grima commanded. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Grima sighed. 

“I thought you would say that, so i brought a present.” He snapped his Fingers. 

“LET ME DOWN YOU DISGUSTING ASSHOLE!” Alure gasped, a Soldier was holding Solei in a tight grasp. 

“Bring Nocturne… Or this Halfling will suffer terribly for Lying to the Excellency.” Cobra growled at Grima. 

“I’m impatient and you know that…” He said, about to snap his fingers again. 

“Let him down, Grima.” Kiros turned, only to see Millenia come up to them. 

“Ah… There you are.” Grima said with a disgustingly smug grin. 

“Arisa…” Cobra looked at her in worry. 

“I told you to let him down.” Grima nodded slightly.

“Yes you did, but i don’t take orders from you.” Millenia sighed. 

“I thought so… Sharyu.” A large Scythe appeared in her Hand. Grima shivered excited. 

“You could hurt your little halfling.” He warned, standing close to Solei. 

“Co.” The other nodded. 

“Kiros, i will get Solei, once he is here run with Alure and him.” Kiros grumbled. 

“Alright…” Alure blinked. Cobra shoots forward, he was fast and dangerous. 

The guard was knocked out fast and Cobra ushered Kiros to run with the Boys. He first feared Grima would follow them, but the Man was after something else.

 “Oh please, no reason for such Violence. The King only wants to talk with his dearest Sister.” Cobra didn’t believe him. They were after her life, not after a TALK. 

“Grima… If i go to see his Majesty… will you leave them alone?” 

Cobra starred at her. “Arisa.” 

Grima laughed. “Of course, Princess. King Lysander is not that cruel. Talk with him and see for yourself that he has no ill intentions.” Grima said. 

“Arisa!” Cobra grabbed her Hand. 

“Co.. Protect them for me. He can’t kill me, if he wants this Realm to still exist.” She whispered. 

“Arisa this is insane.” She nodded. 

“I know, but it is all i have to protect them.” He finally let go of her Hand. 

“Hold out only a bit… i will get you.” She smiled at him, before walking up to Grima, leaving with him to the Capital.

Alure stared out of the Window, while Kiros patched up Solei. 

“This asshole attacked me out of nowhere!” Solei grumbled. 

Finally the door opened, but only Cobra walked in. 

“Where is Lady Millenia?” Alure asked.

“Grima brought her to the Main City… Apparently the KING wants to talk with her.” Cobra said, while he himself didn’t believe it.

Solei huffed. Alure stood up slowly and walked to the Door.

“Where are you going?” Cobra asked. 

“I… I forgot my book at the Lake. I just wanted to get it really quick.” He said. Kiros stood up. 

“Hey Snake. take care of the little Shit, i will go with Nightlight.” He said, Cobra nodded only. 

“Be back in 30 minutes.” Both nodding before they left. 

“Did you really forgot a book there, Nightlight?” Kiros asked, as they were away from the house.

“No… i wanted to see if the Water is telling me anything…” Kiros sighed. 

“So you are worried to…” The purple Hybrid nodded. 

“It was odd… why didn’t he ordered her to tell him where the Princess is?” Kiros blinked, Alure was right! 

“You think…” Alure nodded.

“Lady Millenia said she is living here because of certain circumstances… She doesn’t know where the Princess is, she is the princess. That’s why she never showed us her Dragon form!” Kiros heaved a heavy sigh.

“That Flower sure is giving us some trouble.” Alure ran up to the Lake once there, but it was as if the Sky itself turned even darker. 

“She said once to me, that there are the Ancestors of Isral living in here..” Alure whispered. 

“I may not be a Pure Dragon, but i love this place…” He stared into the Water, noticing that it had became duller, not the shining fluid he was used to. But still it reacted to Alure, slightly riling before it showed Alure something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He could see the Great Castle from the order Vicinity, Soldiers bringing Millenia inside, thankfully she was unharmed. 

“It has been a while.” A Man said, Alure recognised him from Solei’s description, the King of Isral and also Millenia’s supposed to be Brother. 

“Your Highness.” Millenia said politely. Lysander seemed to rage the second he saw her.

“You really are gutsy, SISTER.” He spit out. 

“Raising an Army to get the Throne!” Millenia shook her head. 

“If i had wanted the Throne i would have taken it upon my return five years ago.” She said calmly. Lysander growled darkly.

“You simply couldn’t. But no matter now… I have good news, SISTER… I will once and for all, make sure you will never return here.” He said coldly. 

“Your Highness, it is impossible to kill the Dragon of Chaos… They simply will shatter once again.” One of his Men said. 

“I know, that is why, she will go to where she belongs… Some Brothels far away from Isral.” He began to laugh. 

“After all, that is all my dearest sister is good for. Spreading her legs for others.” Millenia stood there calmly. Alure starred at the Water, see ing the Soldiers bring his Guardian away from them even further. 

He wanted to scream at them, to cry, but then he heard her, as she glanced back to were the Vicinity is supposed to be.

“Sleep while the night is young. Dreams carry you far from harm. Free from alarm, safe in my arms, please live your life for you and for me.” He felt something around him, as if she was hugging him. 

“Still, you must carry on, bearing your burdens for long. My wish for you, can only come true… You’ll still be here when i am gone.” Alure sniffled, oh how often did he hear her sing this song, when he was about to fall asleep. His soul started to throb in pain. 

“Share your smile with the world. Live for the path you choose. Know you were the only one, that i could never bear to lose.” Alure felt hot, was this a song she used to sing for the King? Was it something precious to her? In the water he saw her turn her Head away from them. 

“Sleep while the night is young, dreams  carry you far from harm. My gift to you, too precious to lose… Know that you were the future i chose.” Kiros only could watch Alure stare in the water, not knowing what he saw. Then Alure screamed painfully.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit! Nightlight!”

Alure felt hot, painful and his soul throbbed. It was as if someone was ripping it out, while hate against the King was burning through him. 

The Dragon symbol in his soul, a dark purple, started to turn brighter, more blueish while it also started to bleed out of his Soul. Kiros was about to bolt to him, to grip his shoulders. 

‘Don’t touch him.’ Kiros stopped dead, a ghostly looking Woman in front of him. He never saw her before, but she felt familiar. A woman with shoulder long greyish purple hair and deep blue, sapphire like eyes. She wore a black dress as well, but she seemed… dead? 

“Nightlight is in Pain.” The Woman nodded. 

‘I know, but if YOU touch him his hate towards the King will devour you… Leave it to us.’ Kiros growled at this Woman. 

“Who are you?” The Woman smiled. 

‘Sharyu, i am the Scythe bound to Lady Millenia and a long passed Ancestor. Let us take care of sweet Alure.’ Kiros was still not convinced, but she was only there to keep him distracted, while other ghostly People surrounded Alure. 

The Small Hybrid yelped in Pain, but it also felt a bit like Relief. Someone was pulling out this painful Hate running through him. He blinked, only to see another Hybrid, with six large cyan coloured Horns. His sight was Hazy, as this Hybrid pulled him into a soft Hug. 

“Fear not, Alure. I shall safe what is dear to us all.” His voice sounded so Cold, so different from his Own, but he wanted to trust this Hybrid.

Kiros stared in disbelief. Alure was fine, but someone held him. Sharyu looked over her shoulder, seeing another Hybrid, the manifested Hate of Alure towards the King of all Dragons. Sitting there in the Cold light the Moon gave of. 

He had four tails and wings, while his six horns were Cyan coloured. 

“Tell me one thing.” He finally spoke, his Head raised to the Moon. 

‘This may be?’ Sharyu asked softly. Alure seemed to have passed out from the Pain his Hate had caused him.

“I was born under the Moon’s cold light… however this may be called?” Sharyu turned fully to him. 

’In our old Language… the word you may want to know is Narish.’ The Hybrid nodded slowly. 

“Then from this Day forth… my name shall be Narish, the Cold Light.” Kiros blinked. Finally noticing the similarities to his Boss. So this would be the corrupted Nightmare he knew and cherish so much. 

“Boss…” Kiros breathed. Narish finally gracing him with his one free eye light, this cold Cyan Kiros always loved. 

“There is one more, am i right?” Kiros grinned. 

“Yeah, Boss~ The Flowers personal Guard, he is back at the House.” Narish stood up, still cradling the passed out Alure.

“Then let us bring him there to rest and collect the other. Our Mission shall be to burn down all the Brothels in our way to find our Flower again.” Kiros smirked, that was something he really liked. 

“Alright, Boss~”

Cobra starred at them, as a way taller Hybrid walked in, with Alure in his Arms. Kiros was already a bit taller as Cobra, but this new one surpassed him even more. Cobra noticed that the new Hybrid was still shorter as his own Brother, but not by much he thought.

“This… doesn’t look like a book.” He said. Kiros chuckled. 

“Yeah, no Book. But the King also didn’t hold his promise… Boss here has more information.” Cobra turned his green eye lights to Narish. 

“Right, but first let us bring Alure to a Comfortable place.” Cobra nodded. 

“Solei is sleeping in the Back, let’s bring Alure there.” Narish nodded, as Cobra took the smaller Hybrid from him to bring the sleeping one to the bed. After that the Guard went back to them and guided them to the Kitchen Table. 

“Alure saw her in the Water of the Lake.” Cobra tensed as Narish started. 

“The King has ordered to bring her away into a Brothel.” Kiros growled immediately. 

“What?” Cobra hissed. Narish watched him.

“I want you two to come with me and burn down any brothel to find our Guardian again.” Cobra nodded. 

“But what about the Kids.” He asked. 

‘I shall protect them.’ Cobra looked up. 

“Sharyu?” She smiled at Cobra. It took him a while before he nodded. 

“Alright, let’s get Arisa back.” He said, standing up and clenching the Crystal he always had on his hips. They would get her Back.

Thanks to Cobra they could sneak out of the Wood without being caught or getting lost in the deep Fog around the Kingdom.

“How far are the Brothels away?” Kiros asked. 

“The Question is rather… where did he brought her? Do you know anything about it?” Narish nodded.

“Indeed. Far as i know from what i for being part of Alure is that they wanted to bring her FAR away from Isral.” Cobra thought about it. 

“There is a Red light District almost two days away from here. They probably used portals after exiting Isral.” He said thoughtful. 

“It would be faster with Arisa’s help.” Narish sighed. 

“Well, so how do we get there fast?” Cobra thought about it. Then there was the Idea.

“I know how.” He said walking to a bit away, using his Crystal to open a Portal. Narish raised his Brow bone. 

“This is… interesting?” Cobra smiled a bit. 

“There is a connection to my Crystal that holds my soul weapon and Arisa’s Necklace she always wears, it helps to bring us fast to her.” Kiros was impressed, this would save them a lot of traveling, but they already lost a few hours. 

Narish walked through the Portal, they had a Mission after all. Kiros and Cobra followed a bit after. 

The Red-light District bustled in the moonlight while some Women were trying to lure Men in. Narish looked disgusted at them. Cobra sighed, there were a lot of Brothels in this Area, it was basically a whole town made of Brothels, finding Millenia here was like searching a needle within hay.

Kiros turned to them. “So? What is the Plan?” 

Narish huffed, tugging his wings closer to him. “We need to find her, but i don’t think they will make it easy for us.” 

Cobra nodded. “Sadly no. We would have it easier if she used her magic…” 

Narish looked at him. “How so?”

Cobra chuckled. “If Arisa uses her Song magic then we could easily make out the Brothel she is in, thanks to Black Flowers growing around it.” 

Narish tilted his head. “She sang as she was brought away.” 

Kiros was impressed, Alure and in that Narish saw all that through the Water? 

“She did? Alright then let’s see if we find Black Flowers that look completely out of Place.” 

Kiros turned around, looking a bit confused. “Like… those?” 

Cobra and Narish looked to where he was Pointing at. Black Flowers growing their way to a Brothel deeper into the Town. 

“Yup, that’s her flowers.” Cobra nodded. Kiros grinned, almost bolting down the Street. 

Narish chuckled a bit. “How convenient, you can barely miss that. So if she wants to be found, she certainly will.” 

Cobra laughed a bit. “Yeah.” 

They started to Follow Kiros, who probably went to the tallest, most expensive Brothel there. 

Cobra sighed. “Berelia.” He whispered, the Crystal giving off a soft glow before turning into a large sword. 

“Convenient.” Narish said, but Kiros was not to be seen. 

“You think he is inside already?” Cobra asked, as if the Answer wanted to give itself in the higher Floors someone were thrown out of the Window, already dusting as he landed, a Knife deeply buried in his Back. 

“I presume that means…. YES.” Narish said flatly, his hands behind his Back as he casually looked to the dusting Person.

Kiros felt very stabby today, not only threatened they Solei, to be honest he hated him, but he was still a Hybrid. Then they kidnapped their Flower and now he had to run up to the 9th floor to collect their Flower before something happened. Yes Kiros felt very stabby, he would STAB anyone in his Way. 

The other Two were still not here, but he actually didn’t care about that. Finally he was up in the last floor.

“You stupid whore, are you to dumb to do this Right?” Kiros twitched, kicking the Door open. 

The Men looked up, in his hand a bundle of red hair. Kiros felt something hot inside him. It wouldn’t be so bad the need to stab a trillion knives into that Man… BUT! Kiros looked down to Millenia, her clothes in sheds and a huge bruise on her Cheek. Oh this Man would die! 

Kiros growled darkly at that man. “Get out you asshole, i payed for this Bit….” Kiros wouldn’t let him Finish as he already threw the first Knife. It settled in his Shoulder. 

The Man screamed loudly, releasing Millenia.

“ARISA!” Cobra went inside the Room Finally. 

“Take the Flower out….” Kiros said, taking the next Knife. 

“I will deal with him….” Cobra nodded. 

“Alright.” He took of his Coat to place it around Millenia. 

“Let’s go.” He said softly. Millenia looked bad… a Bruise on her Check, some cuts, but now he needed to get her out. 

“Co..” He shook his Skull.

“Not now, Arisa… Let’s get out of here.” He said, bringing Millenia out, only for her to blink in surprise, seeing face to face with Narish. 

“Guardian.” He whispered, touching her uninjured Cheek. 

“What…” Cobra sighed. 

“He was born from Alure… His Name is Narish, it’s a long story.” He said, while the Screaming from the Brothel became louder and louder.

Cobra went back in to assist Kiros, who was going rampage by now. Narish was with Millenia outside. 

“So you were born from Alure?” Narish nodded. 

“Exactly, i am his hatred that rose after seeing what the King did to you.” She flinched a bit, before Narish made her look at him. 

“We all cherish you greatly…” Millenia sighed. 

“I am aware, but still…” Narish didn’t want to let her Finish as he bend down, pressing his teeth on her Lips. Her silver eyes widening, while he kissed her. 

She didn’t know what to do, before he released her, just in time for Cobra and Kiros to return. 

“Flower!” Kiros turned her around and looked at her. “Are you fine?”

She smiled a bit up at him. “Yeah, he just hit me a bit, nothing all to bad.” Kiros sighed in relieve, before he as well, kissed her.

Narish chuckled a bit, it was obvious they loved her so much. “Narish…” He turned to Cobra. 

“I will take Leadership for the Hybrids. Millenia had enough to deal with already, i shall protect her and the rest.” 

Kiros broke the Kiss. “Sounds good to me, Boss~” He said with a grin, Pulling Millenia closer to him. 

Once back they would build a castle for them to life and as Narish had announced, he took Leadership for the little Group they had. Kiros immediately raising as his Right hand Man, Cobra assigned to guard Millenia even more. 

Narish taking Leadership made the Vicinity of Chaos turn mostly into a darker Place, only the Lake had sunshine, but all of them were fine with that so far.

[artemisfit]

my reasons to lose weight

One thing i did when I decided to start losing weight was to write down one reason to lose for every pound of my goal weight. I want to be 137 lbs? I wrote 137 reasons to lose the weight to get there.

I want to preface this by saying that these reasons are just my personal reasons for wanting to lose weight, and they have no bearing on and hold no judgement  for anyone else who might read the list. I do not judge anyone for where they are at in their life physically. We are all on our own path. That may sound really patronizing and flighty but it’s true. That being said, for those who suffer with negative body image, some of these reasons might be triggering for that, so please read on with that in mind. 

I don’t even know why I’m posting all of these in a place where other people can see them rather than just keeping them to myself, but I know that the actual process of writing a reason for every pound of my goal weight is something that I found greatly encouraging, so maybe it’ll help someone else?

So without further ado, my reasons to lose weight will be beneath the cut, just because to have them just typed out would make this a very long post. 

To stop hating how I look

To be able to look at my reflection in a full-length mirror without launching into a depressive episode

To be able to look at my own image during a video call without wanting to turn off my camera and hide

To be able to wear the clothes I want and look and feel good in them

To feel attractive and confident

To own my body instead of allowing my body to own me

To be able to enjoy food without being a victim of my appetite

To finally feel beautiful for once in my life

To have clear skin and a clean body

To be able to go up stairs or escalators without running out of breath

To get rid of the stretch marks on my skin

To potentially lessen my anxiety and depression

To be able to wake up at 5 in the morning and feel refreshed

To be the type of person who runs when stressed, not the type to eat her feelings

To never have to wear shapewear ever again

To know the strength that my body is capable of

To look like my own personal motivational photo

To not hate being in front of a camera because I know I’ll look fat in a photo

To treat my body with the respect it deserves

To hear the comments and compliments from friends/family/acquaintances 

To be able to walk around a room in underwear or a dressing gown and feel sexy or at least not self conscious

To see the lower number on the scale at the doctor’s office and not feel like I’m being judged by the nurse

To look good in athletic tights

To be able to stop comparing myself to every girl that passes by (or worse, to my friends)

To be light enough for friends to pick me up

To get to a point where being “what I eat” doesn’t feel like an insult

To be able to wear form fitting clothes without bumps or rolls

To get rid of the bump at the top of my spine and improve my posture

To be able to go swimming without wanting to put a t-shirt on over my swimsuit

To potentially get over my fear and hatred of going shopping in person

To stop constantly thinking people are talking about me and how fat I am

To have more energy

To be more flexible

To not lose my breath after even minimal exertion

To be able to wear a dress without my thighs chafing so bad I get a rash

To get rid of my double chin and perhaps the size/jutting of my actual chin

To have a thinner face over all in addition to a thinner body

To know what having abs feels like

To be able to wear high waisted jeans that zip all the way up and don’t have that pulled gap by the button

To be able to wear “one size fits all” clothing

To be able to playfully sit in a friend’s lap without feeling like I’m going to crush their legs

To improve the strength of my heart

To be confident enough to do karaoke

To be confident enough to wear shorts and sundresses in summer

To be able to do yoga and pilates

To get back into karate or some other type of martial arts

To be able to go to the gym and not feel like everyone’s staring and judging me

To be more active like I was when I was a kid

To be able to run a 5k

To be able to delete the “weight loss” and “motivation” boards on my Pinterest because I don’t need them anymore

To never see a scale number above 150 again

To be able to wear single digit clothing sizes

To maybe see if losing weight helps me wear heels without as much pain

To get rid of the roll-over on my stomach

To have more confidence when it comes to any kind of romance

 To never have to write down “lose weight” as a new years resolution ever again

To be able to fully close my coats and zip up my leather jackets

To have the only muffin top in my life be on actual muffins

To have longer, healthier hair, skin, and nails because my body is clean and healthy and can promote those things more easily

To not feel lethargic and lazy and like a slob all the time

To cry because I lost weight not cry because I gained it

To have my watches and bracelets fit perfectly without leaving marks – same for my rings

To confirm that I do actually have a smaller waist than it currently looks like I do

To lower my risk for health problems later in life

To get rid of the bulk on my thighs – I’ll never have a thigh gap but I can at least not have actual turkey legs

To be able to walk or run 4 miles every morning and not feel like I’m going to die

To stop being so utterly and constantly self-conscious and full of hatred about my own body

To not worry that the guy delivering my takeaway is judging me when I open the door

To look like someone who matches that “London life aesthetic”

To not fear stepping on the scale

To never hear my dad telling me I’ve gained weight again

To be able to encourage my mom in her own weight loss journey

To have thinner, more graceful fingers

To not be the fat friend

To be able to wear sexy, lacy lingerie and feel good in it and not have to buy it in a bigger size and then still be too self-conscious to wear it

To be able to be impressed by my own before and after pics

To not be afraid to see my own naked body when I get out of the shower

To be able to say that I did this, that I achieved my goal and changed my own life

To look good in baggy clothes, not like I’m trying to hide behind them

To enjoy exercise and feel the endorphins it produces

To be confident enough to go for nights out in London and have fun

To be able to buy a whole new wardrobe without feeling like I can’t buy certain things because there’s no way that they would look good on me

To have a higher percentage of muscle than fat

To feel like in at least one area I’m in control of my life and not letting it control me

To sleep better and wake up feeling rested

To hear the comments from my dad’s family in Egypt

To be able to dance around my apartment and not be worried that I left the blinds up

To feel more comfortable in various social situations

To not think that a guy who may or may not be looking at me from across the room is thinking negative things about my looks or my weight

To be able to fit into my fame & partners dress should I ever have an occasion to wear it

To stop feeling so desperate to find new, fad, or quick diets that probably wouldn’t work anyways

To be able to wear clothes like Julia from the magicians

To not feel like no matter what my makeup looks like I’m still ugly

To see the final goal weight number on the scale

To feel like I am worth the work and the effort and maybe even actually believe it

To be able to wear crop tops should I want to

To look good in any youtube videos I decide to make

To be able to make a youtube video or a series of videos at some point about how I lost weight and kept it off

To be able to tuck shirts in to my jeans or skirts and not immediately untuck it because I hate how it looks

To never have to spend hours looking up “weight loss” anywhere on the internet ever again

To feel my clothes get more and more loose

To know what it feels like to have a flat stomach

To not feel like I’m faking whenever I wear something stylish or remotely form-fitting

To be “that hot new phd student”

To have the possibility of a stranger telling me I’m pretty like they do my friends when we’re out (this one is quite selfish but I acknowledge that it’s still a reason)

To get to the point where eating healthy and drinking a gallon of water a day isn’t something I have to remind myself to do, it’s just second nature

To get to a point where I love myself, my whole self, rather than just hating the body I feel like I’m stuck in.

To get to the point where i love exercise and look forward to doing it multiple times a week

To eat intuitively and for enjoyment instead of eating recklessly and unhealthily

To know that I am what i have worked hard to become

To not feel so terrified about changing clothes when others are around

To have slimmer, toned legs

To have a good, shapely bum

To have my hair be my biggest concern when getting ready in the morning instead of “what clothes can I wear to hide my body today?”

To be able to take pictures of my body that will help inspire me and may in turn inspire others should I share them

To see the looks on my friends’ and family’s faces when I get back after being away for a while

To hear the comments from my friends and classmates

To stop hiding behind the camera all the time and be happy to stand in front of it

To stop the thighs of my jeans from wearing out so quickly

To be able to actually live in my body rather than just have it be the thing that takes my head from room to room

To stop feeling envious over the bodies of my friends (I know this is a toxic thing to do/think/live with and I want to get ride of this urge)

To not turn out like a lot of my family

To look more like the girl I used to be when I was a kid and to do her right/do her proud

To see more of the actual shape of my face (do I have good cheekbones? do I have a jawline that could cut a man?)

To be confident enough to go and do my running outside rather than feeling too awkward like people are going to stare and then just using a treadmill.

To get to the point where I know enough about nutrition and my body to be able to listen to it and give it what it needs, not just what I think I want

To get rid of some of the emotional and mental blocks that my physicality has built up for me which prevent me from doing the things I want to do and being the person that I want to be

To have a healthy relationship with food, with exercise, with myself, and with my mental image of myself.

To change the way I think about and talk about myself, to be less self deprecating and more proud

To be able to look at my own body and pictures of myself and find myself sexy and attractive

To be able to buy clothes in stores and not worry that they won’t fit when I get home and try them on

To get rid of the back rolls and actually see some definition in my shoulder blades

To see the look on old friends’ faces (and maybe even more so on those who weren’t friends) when they see how much I’ve changed

To prove people wrong

To prove myself wrong

To be the me that I pretend to be in my fantasies and daydreams

To be more myself, fully and completely, uninhibited and unrestrained

[mikes-on-prometheus]

Roman is getting used to his new family. Here are two instances that made him think that he ruined everything he has managed to build with them.

Roman centric for @dragonofthemountain

platonic/familial sides (including dark sides)

Warnings: sympathetic Deceit, sympathetic Remus, former dark side Virgil, sides as family, hurt/comfort, injury, guilt, isolation

Wordcount: about 3200

---

Roman was Creativity. Before, he was Creativity but he wasn’t Roman. Back then he was... well he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t remember much from before he was Roman. He knows there was Creativity and then there were Roman and Remus and they were both Creativity.

And then his family split and his brother was torn away from him. He stayed with Morality and Logic and they became the Light Sides while Remus joined the Dark Sides. Roman had at that point only really cared about Remus.

Sure he knew Deceit and Anxiety but they were minor nuisances more than anything. He didn’t interact with them much.

And as time passed he and Remus grew more and more apart. Remus’ ideas became more and more absurd and disturbing until Roman was almost scared of his brother. So Roman avoided Remus just as much as he avoided Deceit and Anxiety.

All this changed however, when Anxiety became Virgil and opened the door between the Dark and Light sides. Sure they played up the beef for Thomas’ videos but there were some tensions they had to work out.

It took time but Logan and Patton and Roman became Logan and Patton and Roman and Virgil which soon became Deceit and Logan and Patton and Remus and Roman and Virgil.

They started to work together and grew closer until they were a family again. Sure they were a family before but that was just the Light Sides and the Dark Sides separately.

Roman has always been protective of his family and now his family was double the size it used to be which means there are three more people he has to protect and it’s so unfamiliar. 

He usually had to protect Patton of stray spiders or his own clumsiness and he made sure Logan didn’t overwork himself too much and providing plenty of Crofters jam for the logical side.

Now he provided safe heating opportunities for Deceit since Remus’ creations could be volatile if he didn’t focus on it perfectly which was hard for the Other Creativity.

He acted as a rubber duck for Remus so he could share his ideas in a healthy, productive way instead of bottling it up and ending up with Thomas losing sleep.

He distracted Virgil from his worries and came up with new fidget toys for him.

With all three of the previous Dark Sides he made an effort to include them more in day to day life.

Logan and Patton regularly joined him on his tamer adventures in the Imagination and he was happy to see that Deceit, Remus and Virgil seemed interested in joining him as well though they were hesitant to join with Patton and Logan as well.

Roman understood that. They had lived on their own for years, almost two decades even. It was understandable that they would be a little overwhelmed by their much louder dynamic, even with how loud Remus was by himself.

So they went out on adventures one-on-one. It seemed to make the others more comfortable so Roman was immensely pleased with it.

But then two things happened and he stopped asking any of them to join him on his adventures.

---

The first thing happened on a wednesday. He had invited Virgil out to the Imagination. Just exploring the town and finding ways to fortify it since Virgil enjoyed knowing he helped in keeping people safe.

Roman was right in a way. He had intended to find ways to make it harder for enemies to invade the city. What they ended up doing was finding ways to make living in the town safer.

“You should make the sidewalk a little elevated in comparison to the road, the carriages and wagons could run onto the sidewalk and hurt people or damage houses.” was the first suggestion.

Then “I know you love your medieval cobblestone aesthetic but can you make it more even? There’s a huge difference in height between them, they’re a tripping hazard and horses could get injured by it too, not to mention wagon wheels.”

Of course Roman wrote every tip down on his little notebook, he would make sure to take care of those issues as soon as possible so he could show Virgil next time. Virgil would be happy to know that his concerns had been taken seriously and something had actually been done to prevent the things he worried about happening.

They were taking the stairs down to the town square, chatting as they went.

“These stairs could use redoing. They’re really worn down and slope downwards, people could slip. Also, dude where are the handrails here?” Virgil complained, interrupting Roman quite abruptly.

“Alright. The stairs will be the very first thing I take care of okay, Green Emo?”

“I don’t even listen to Green Day, Roman, do your-” he wasn’t able to finish his sentence. He had turned towards Roman a little as he spoke and didn’t notice how strong the slope of the step he took was, foot slipping off and bringing him out of balance.

Roman, a few steps behind and above Virgil could only watch in horror as his friend’s hand shot to the side where he expected a handrail to steady him. He reached out, trying to at least grab Virgil’s shirt to help him but as his fingertips barely brushed the fabric of that familiar hoodie Roman knew he was too slow.

Virgil landed at the bottom of the stairs in a still heap and Roman was next to him within a heartbeat, falling to his knees by the downed side.

“Ow, fucking hell.” Virgil was already cursing, trying to get up. Luckily it had only been half a dozen steps, they had been almost down.

Roman breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?” his hands were fluttering all over Virgil, unsure whether or not to touch him. His decision was made for him when Virgil hissed in pain and almost fell back down when he put pressure on his arm to push himself up. Roman wrapped his arm across Virgil’s chest to get him up on his knees, from there they got up slowly.

“Shit, my arm hurts. And my leg but it’s not as bad.” he groaned, hanging on to Roman to keep his balance.

“Okay, okay we can do this. We have to get you back home, sides can’t heal as quickly in the Imagination. Can you walk?”

“I think so. I’ll try at least”

They hobbled forward a few paces and Roman was acutely aware that Virgil was in pain, something he never wanted to see in the first place and he hoped he would never have to see it again.

“This is obviously hurting you even more. Please let me pick you up, that way we can get you back sooner.”

Luckily Virgil didn’t put up a fight and let himself be carried home where Patton fussed over him and Logan made sure to check for broken bones before they could grow together wrong. His wrist was badly sprained and bruised and his ankle wasn’t as badly sprained so Logan supplied Virgil with some ice packs and ordered him to stay settled on the couch for the few hours it would take him to heal.

Roman had locked himself up in his room as soon as he knew Virgil would be fine. Sides had very fast healing rates so it wouldn’t take long for Virgil to heal but until then he would be in pain and it was Roman’s fault.

It was his fault Virgil got hurt, it was his fault Virgil was even in the Imagination to get hurt in the first place! And God damn it, Roman would feel guilty about it to the end of days probably.

But he couldn’t just stay in his room and feel sorry for himself. He had to do something!

So he went back to the town he had visited with Virgil and with a bitter taste in his mouth he set about addressing every single issue Virgil had noticed. Roman had seen one person get injured by his careless creation already. He couldn’t bear the weight of the guilt of Virgil getting hurt. He would surely break if anyone else got hurt from his negligence.

---

Roman didn’t end up showing Virgil all those improvements. He didn’t want the other side in there. It was like Roman had turned into Anxiety himself with how anxious he was about Virgil potentially getting hurt again.

He had slowly warmed up to the idea of inviting the others in again when the second incident took place.

Roman had kept the other sides out of the Imagination but he couldn’t keep Remus out since they were both Creativity and both had equal influence over the Imagination.

Where he used to isolate his part of the Imagination from Remus’ part, the borders now blended into each other seamlessly and it was not a surprise to see the Duke in the Prince’s city or wandering the castle.

Whenever one of them got antsy or needed to free his head to figuratively make space for new ideas they would ride out, sometimes just to enjoy the wind on their faces and each other’s company after years of separation.

More often than not though, they went out to look for trouble in the form of a daring quest.

Remus was the only one that Roman told about his guilt over Virgil getting hurt. While it felt good to get it off his chest Remus’ advice didn’t help him much.

“Oh why don’t you get him one of the stones he landed on? You could dig it up! Or you could find him the biggest, most venomous spider in the woods! Virgil loves spiders!”

Yeah, suffice to say that Roman stopped him before he could get any more ideas that would leave him with nightmares.

That idea with the spider sounded kinda good though. Not the biggest or most venomous though. Maybe a tarantula

Luckily their quest to battle the Dragon Witch managed to take Roman’s mind off the matter for a while.

While the Prince and the Duke had been out of the Imagination the Dragon Witch had claimed a spot of land and had leveled the town that had occupied that very land until a few days ago.

They found the Dragon Witch’s lair soon enough and went in, brave and brazen as they always were in quests like this one.

“Dragon Witch! We are here to challenge you! Return the land to the people you stole it from!” Roman declared, sword already drawn as he caught sight of the monstrous figure.

“You dare challenge me, little princeling? With your little Duke because you fear coming alone? So be it. I will not give up this land, it is mine and mine alone.” The Dragon Witch was obviously prepared for them, already armed and in armor.

Of course Roman couldn’t just back down now, he was a prince after all and it wouldn’t be very princely if he turned his tail now that he had already challenged the Dragon Witch.

He saw Remus circle the Witch to the right so he took the left side, that way they’d have the best chance at making this fight a short one.

The twins lunged at him as one and Roman quickly lost himself in the rush of adrenaline the fight provided.  He didn’t even notice any cuts when he didn’t quite move fast enough to dodge the Dragon Witch’s long claws. What he did notice however, was Remus yelping, a thump and then he saw his twin slumped on the ground by the wall he had been thrown against.

Roman jumped back into action, stopping the Dragon Witch from coming after Remus. That way the Duke could take a moment to collect his wits and get back on his feet again.

“You good, Remus?” he called over his shoulder when his brother didn’t join him after a moment.

Silence on Remus’ part and Roman turned around, using his power over the Imagination to freeze the Dragon Witch in that moment of time. He saw Remus still slumped on the floor and now that he took a closer look he saw blood at his temple.

And Roman felt his blood freeze in his veins just like the Dragon Witch was frozen behind him. “Remus!” he yelled, rushing over to him.

Not again. Please not again.

He had let it happen again. He had let one of his loved ones get hurt again. 

He should have been more careful! He should have made the quest less dangerous! He shouldn’t have asked Remus to come out with him in the first place!

Remus didn’t wake up at Roman’s efforts so Roman carefully scooped his twin into his arms so he could take him back to the mindscape or at least back to the castle, away from the Dragon Witch. He could alter the Imagination’s reality at some other point in time to reverse the damage done by him.

Sadly he wouldn’t be able to reverse the damage the Dragon Witch had done to Remus. Only time and first aid could help with that.

---

Remus woke up a while after they got back to the mindscape and Roman hid himself away in his room just as he had done when he had seen Virgil get hurt.

He refused to let anyone back into the Imagination after that. So much so that the others staged an intervention. To his surprise it was Virgil who came to his room and refused to leave without talking to him.

He plastered a smile to his face as he realized that. He opened the door to Virgil, fist raised to knock once again.

“Hello, System of a Downer, how may I help you this magnificent day?” he asked, putting as much bravado into it as he could muster.

“You can drop the act, Princey. You’ve been so anxious I feel it down to the bones.” Virgil was frowning at him, looking displeased and annoyed but it did a bad job concealing his concern. Without even waiting for Roman’s response he squeezed past him into his room. 

Rude.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Verge.” he lied. He didn’t like lying to his family but he liked worrying them even less. He did, however, offer the anxious side a seat on his bed.

“Don’t lie to me or I’m calling Dee. This is about Remus and me getting hurt on your watch isn’t it? You felt anxious when I got hurt and it started up again around the time it happened to Re and it’s been getting worse ever since. Patton also thinks you’re mad at him because you haven’t invited him to the Imagination again.”

Roman looked down, unable to meet the other’s eyes. He hadn’t even considered that Virgil might be able to feel his anxiety and he had not thought about the possibility of Virgil knowing exactly what was bothering him.

“No, it has nothing to do with that at all, what are you talking about? I just had a stroke of genius, the ideas don’t wait for anything!” he tried, still hoping to bring Virgil off the right track.

No such luck. Of course, it would figure that the personification of the fight or flight instinct would be too perceptive to be deceived like that.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Uhm did you miss the part where I’m literally Anxiety? Don’t worry is not an option for me. So talk to me. I’m right am i not? This is about us getting hurt and you like- feeling guilty about it? Responsible? I know you too well, I notice when you lie to me.”

Roman sighed and flopped down next to Virgil on the bed. 

“But it is my fault. You were telling me what was wrong, I should have fixed those issues as soon as you told me about them. I shouldn’t have even made those errors! I should have noticed. And I was the one who dragged Remus out on that quest! I should have done better, paid more attention, made the damned quest safer. I got you both hurt and I refuse to let anyone else get hurt.” he ranted, hoping Virgil would be unable to hear him with how he had buried his face in the blankets. 

Hopefully the fabric would muffle his voice, maybe even swallow him whole so he could avoid more talk about feelings. Ugh.

“I know, Ro. But get this - those were accidents, out of your control. I could’ve gotten hurt even if those stairs had been good, I could have tripped and fallen regardless of the state of the stairs. And have you seen Remus? He’s been raving about how cool that quest of yours was. He had fun and didn’t really care about the injury. It wasn’t even bad, you know head wounds usually look much worse than they actually are.”

No such luck apparently. Now he understood why Logan hated admitting to his feelings so much. Emotions were so nasty and messy when they weren’t good ones.

“Still my fault you got hurt.” he told his blanket petulantly, only to squawk when a sudden weight landed on his back. “Wha- get off of me!”

“Nope, can’t, so sorry. You know how this family apparently solves emotional distress. You’re not getting rid of this living weighted blanket.” Virgil shimmied his shoulders a little as if to accentuate how comfy he was making himself on top of Roman’s back.

Roman put up a token fight but didn’t truly mind. To be honest it was quite comfortable. Virgil’s weight on top of him was warm and grounding, comforting.

He hadn’t even noticed how touch starved he had gotten during his self-imposed exile. Having Virgil pressing down on his entire back was a little overwhelming at first but Roman was soon able to relax completely. Patton was right to hug everything out. It did help. A lot.

But Roman would rather burn his sash and melt down his crown than admit it to Virgil. So he just stayed there, silent and comfortable.

He would still blame him for this family getting hurt, those feelings had quite some time to settle and grow roots but with his family there to help he would be able to get over it.

In a few hours he would follow Virgil downstairs and talk to the others about what had been going on in his head. A lot of talking would follow and some more hugs and some of Remus’ usual comments would help lift the weight off his shoulders a little.

But right then Roman had a different kind of weight on his shoulders, the good kind.

And a little nap wouldn’t hurt right?

Exactly. So Roman stayed put and fell asleep, much to Virgil’s amusement. What could he say? Virgil made a great weighted blanket!

It should be a compliment, really.

___

Taglist: @3-has-charm  @adreamisadishyourmommakes  @analogical-mess @bubbliee0  @iris-sanders-athena @letthefandomsbegin @emthetimelady @ilovereadingandilovebreathing @ravenwashere1776 @stormcrawler75 @soulwillriseinperfectlight

[overdrivels]

Imploration

This is a sort of prequel to an old fic of mine, On Guard. Mostly talks about conspiracy and the stuff that led up to the events of that fic. I wrote this long, long ago, but just never finished it. Apparently the last edit was back in 2018, so I’m actually happy I got my ass back into gear to finish it up.

It’s basically just a tangent of potential lore-weaving and what-if Sojiro Shimada wasn’t an asshole and knew Gabriel Reyes.

----

「Sapporo, please.」

“Water.”

The two men waited in silence for their respective drinks to come. They sat side by side at the counter in the furthest seats away from the door with a great view of the dinky ramen shack that could barely seat ten people. One was obviously a foreigner to this place. The other patron was obviously from the area, dressed in nothing but jinbei, and personally greeted by the shopkeeper warmly in his thick dialect (「Welc–oh! So-chan, long time! How are th'boys?」)

Their drinks were placed in front of them not too long, and they each took a pull, relishing in the relief the liquids brought them in this humid weather. The cicadas were loud, and combined their voices with the cheap electrical fan overhead, almost enough to make up for the simmering silence in the shop. Though, one of the patrons decided that cicadas make for terrible conversationalists, and that perhaps the man next to him would be better.

“Are you a perhaps a tourist?” Sojiro asked coolly in near perfect English, eyes crinkling in mirth. Gabriel’s eyes swept the shop before focusing on the man. There were very few who would know English in this part of town. Both were able to speak freely in this nearly abandoned shop. The shopkeep himself was tending to his broth unhurriedly.

Gabriel took a sip of his water, condensation already forming on the side from the hot summer air.

“Yeah, something like that. You a local?”

“Something like that,” he repeated cheekily. Gabriel snorted. His new friend had a sense of humor.

“Are you here for business, then?”

The air shifted briefly when Sojiro said that, and Gabriel had to grin. It reeked of danger and shady dealings. “I’m just here for…sight-seeing. Heard that Hanamura was quite…magical this time of year.”

Sojiro mirrored his expression, a knowing look in his eyes. “Of course. Hanamura is very beautiful. You’ve come at a good time, friend.” He jerked a chin at the shopkeeper behind the counter.

「Koma-chan!」

「Ay, So-chan? What can I do fer ya?」

「My new friend here wants your Tonkotsu special. Double eggs, extra firm noodles, make them wavy. Oh, and don’t forget the garlic. Two heads of it.」

With a knowing nod, and a curt, 「Sure thin’,��� the shopkeeper clicked off the fire to his broth, provided the two a pitcher of water to drink at their leisure, and disappeared into the back, leaving the two customers by their lonesome. The lights above their heads flicked momentarily, and a dull buzzing current that Gabriel could feel crawling up the back of his bare neck. Neither of the patrons moved until they could hear the wooden door to the shop click shut, and a body leaning heavily against it–basic assurance that no one will come in.

In the privacy of the shop guarded by a man who’s paid to keep secrets, both men were able to drop their pretenses.

“Where are my noodles, Shimada?” Gabriel gestured grandly at the kitchen just behind the bar table they sat at. “You promised me noodles when I got here.”

Sojiro laughed out loud. “You’ll get them, Reyes-san. Where is your hat?”

The Blackwatch commander ran a hand over his bare head, seeming annoyed now that he was reminded that he was bereft of his signature beanie. “At home getting tossed ‘round like a toy by some ingrate. Probably.”

The Japanese man had to raise an eyebrow at that. “Oh? A dog, is it?”

The image of Jesse McCree as a dog–the correct analog was a roadside mutt, really–wasn’t entirely wrong, but Gabriel waved it off. “Something like that. But enough of this bull.”

“Yes,” Sojiro said coolly. “Welcome to my Hanamura, I am very pleased you were able to make it.”

The possessiveness does not go unnoticed—a dual invitation and a threat.

“’was getting tired of talking to you through stupid cigarette paper.” From one of his inner pockets, Gabriel tossed out a rolled up piece of scrap onto the table, which Sojiro picked up, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, amused.

“I had assumed you liked my style. Apologies.” The paper disappeared into the inside of Sojiro’s sleeves as he crossed his arms.

Gabriel snorted in disbelief. “If you were really sorry, you’d get your ass on one of our comms already and not send one of your mechanical birds. You’re a damn hack, Shimada,” he said, pounding the table just once to get his point across.

“You flatter me.”

“That ain’t a compliment.”

“Then I’m afraid I misunderstood.” He pressed a mocking hand to his heart. “Forgive the ignorance of this old man.”

While the runaround was annoying, Gabriel could appreciate the sarcasm, it’s much better than listening to the straight-laced Jack Morrison all day. “Just get on with it. You said you had a favor to ask Blackwatch?”

“Ah, yes.”

Sojiro leaned against the bar counter with one elbow, suddenly donning the posture of one more fitting of his actual position. Comfortable, unhurried, but menacing. “But first, allow me to tell you the tale passed down from our family throughout the generations.”

The Blackwatch commander drained the last of his water, and waved the bottom of it at him, willing him to continue. He had a feeling that he’d be forced to hear it whether he wanted to or not.

“My family tells of an ancient legend about two great dragon brothers…”

By the time the story was over, Gabriel was leaned over the counter, his palm digging another crater-sized dimple into his face. "And? What does that have to do with your clan?”

“We, the Shimada clan, descended from those dragons,” he paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before he looked at Gabriel with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "or so it’s said. Though, some have interpreted the story to mean that the two dragons were once the rulers of the Shimada clan. When the Dragon of the North killed his younger brother, he did not fall to the ground. He fell on a Shimada.”

The image of a multi-ton mythical snake falling onto some poor soul made Gabriel laugh out loud, and he slapped the table, shaking the empty glasses in his mirth. Sojiro was not particularly bothered by this, and let him laugh it out–he’s dealt with worse, he has two sons that could disappear at a moment’s notice (one of which does it on a nearly bi-hourly basis).

Gabriel finally calmed down after a couple of minutes, he was clutching his stomach, tears at the corner of his eyes. By that time, Sojiro has already drained the last of his alcohol. “That’s hilarious, Shimada.”

His lips quirked upward and he shrugged far more casually than a man who just had his family legacy laughed at should. “There’s more–”

“Did he fall on more than one?”

“–to this theory. When the elder Dragon was asked to descend, he did not descend onto any land, but into a Shimada. Possessed a human body.”

“That interpretation’s a stretch, isn’t it?”

Sojiro shrugged again. “Regardless, these dragons are in our family. And the Shimadas have the ability to control them.”

“And? If you have those mythical dragons running around, why do you need our help?”

Sojiro laughed humorlessly. “Because, Reyes-san, you are a smart man. You should understand.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Shimada. I’m not making my people do your dirty work for you.”

“Of course not, and this request is not without adequate compensation.”

Sojiro poured water into Gabriel’s empty glass and then into his own. Gabriel watched quietly as the man turned away from him and ran a hand through his hair slowly, the streaks of grey a testament to how difficult his life must have been. The man’s chest expanded with a deep breath, unwilling to actually sigh, before he faced the Blackwatch commander again.

“They killed my wife, Reyes-san,” Sojiro said solemnly. “Now they seek to kill me to control my sons.”

His eyebrow raised. “The news said she died of heart failure.” Not that Gabriel believed everything he heard in the news, but he was admittedly not very concerned with Japanese politics at the time. The Shimadas always kept their affairs to Japanese soil, though there were always rumors of the clan being seen in various areas of South and East Asia.

The widower scoffed, downing his new glass of water as though it’ll cleanse him of this reality.

“They lie,” Sojiro huffed bitterly. “They killed her. Because she was a strong woman. She frightened the clan elders.” A flash of fondness crossed his face. “She was beautiful. Powerful. But then…”

He gnashed his teeth, and Gabriel could’ve sworn he was imagining it, but something beneath the clan leader’s clothes seemed to glow. “The filthy cowards. They thought I would not discover it.”

“Discover what?”

“They did something to her. She became different.” The older man’s hazel eyes became hard, glaring holes into the wooden counter. “It was still my wife, but she—she began to lose sight of herself. She looked the same, but she…” He shook his head roughly. “I do not know what happened, but only that the clan elders were responsible.”

“You said something about killing you to control your sons?”

“Yes, yes.” He waved a hand, nonchalant, as if his life was a trivial matter. “My sons are still young. In the case of my eldest, Hanzo, I’m afraid his burden is a much heavier destiny than he can bear.”

“How so?”

“The eldest’s role is to lead the clan.” 

“So, he’s just a you 2.0.” 

Sojiro shakes his head. “It would be my greatest joy, but my greatest sorrow if he were to become like his father.” 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” 

“If only my second son fell nearer. Wild and rambunctious; capricious.”

“Why? Second son belongs to the milkman?”

Even Reyes knows when he’s crossed the line, regretting those words the instance they left his mouth. There was a threatening crackle in the air, every sense in his body running rampant and screaming danger was near. Sojiro’s face remained carefully neutral, but there’s hardness to his eyes that even Reyes, a hardened soldier and having given the look himself many times, felt compelled to retract his statement. 

“My bad.”

Sojiro nodded. “Do you know our clan’s symbol?”

He’s seen it several times before in pictures of the mobster in the reports he’s given occasionally. Sojiro normally wore it proudly on his back during the day, unlike now, in an unassuming set of the equivalent of lounging clothes. The two dragons like an ouroboros–eating the other rather than itself. Normally, an ouroboros signifies the cycle of creation and life, all as one. Ana had taught this to him before among other things during their times of idleness.

But two of them trying to eat the other? Gabriel could fathom a guess, but he’s sure it’d be a poor one. He’s not much for this sort of philosophical thinking. (It was honestly more of the space gorilla’s favorite pastime.)

“It is rare that both dragons, North and South, are born together in the same generation. Both my sons have received the blessing of dragons.” Sojiro swirled his glass, the water formed a mini-tornado within. “It was supposed to be joyous. The strongest generation, the elders claimed. Finally, the two dragon brothers have been reunited.”

“Isn’t that a good thing for you guys?”

“But there is a problem. My son, Hanzo, has two dragons.”

The meaningful look Sojiro gave him forced the truth upon him so quickly, he got figurative whiplash.

“So they only require one of the brothers, then.”

Sojiro’s eyes were downcast, the grip on his empty glass so tight, it was clattering against the table. “Once they have Hanzo, they will have no need for Genji.”

“Didn’t know the dragon legend had a third brother.”

“Not explicitly. But if one were to read between the lines of text, you could infer the existence of an East and West Wind. But that is hardly relevant. Who would believe such a thing?”  

Gabriel shrugged. It’s true. If it’s not mentioned anywhere, there’s no reason for anyone to believe such a thing. “But why kill your other son? Isn’t the more dragons the better? More auspicious, isn’t it?”

“No. It has to be two dragons, or one of the two.”

“In that case, Genji has no use. They could just oust him or something.” 

Sojiro slammed his glass against the table in anger. “It is because Genji still has a use that the clan elders want him dead. They cannot control him, so they will seek his death.”

It would be easy for another faction to challenge Hanzo’s legitimacy. Hanzo may have two dragons, but they could argue it’s the result of some defect—one dragon split into two. It’s a stretch, but a very compelling possibility. Genji, on the other hand, is whole. If a branch family were to rally behind Genji and claim him as the true heir, the clan elders would either be forced to recognize it or forced to have a civil war. Neither options were desirable.

Genji, from Sojiro’s account, is a force of nature; untameable and unflappable. A cheeky young thing with no regards toward tradition or hierarchy. A walking nightmare for a band of traditionalists stewing in their own filth they call “order”.

“Should you really be leaving your sons alone, then?”

“My eldest cousin, Asahi, is guarding my youngest, Genji. My other cousin is guarding Hanzo. I trust them both to watch over my sons properly.”

Gabriel took a contemplative sip of water, staring off into space. “Cousins, huh? So they’re branch members?”

The unspoken implication hung heavily over their heads, but Sojiro responded, “Reyes-san. I trust them.”  

“Glad someone does.”

It’s not unheard of for the branch members of a family in the middle of a power struggle to take sides or drastic measures. It’s natural, even. Some members may even want to lay claim to the Head seat themselves. But the case of the Shimadas, whose worth was determined by the family’s dragons, they could only make due with manipulating the leader. Gabriel has seen more than his fair share of skirmishes over seats of power, and the inevitable mess of an aftermath. 

Gabriel tapped the counter. “I don’t see why I’m here, though. If we’re talking allies, Talon should be higher on the list than us.”

Sojiro’s lip curled in derision. “They do not know their place.”

“Oh, and we do?” 

“You’re much more preferable to work with. And many times more trustworthy than Talon.”

“Well, I’m honored,” Gabriel answered sarcastically, putting a hand to his chest. “That you think we could do something that even you or Talon cannot do.” 

That Sojiro spoke of his sons and the sticky matter of his clan’s politics to an outsider was extremely telling. It’s a weakness that Gabriel never thought he’d ever get to see. 

“It must be funny to you that the head of the Shimada clan–ruler of all Hanamura–can’t even protect his own children,” Sojiro spat out bitterly. “It is shameful for me to ask an outsider this, but…”

Gabriel did not expect the man to suddenly get on his hands and knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. “Please, protect my sons. I beg you as the father of these two children, please.”

“Get up, Shimada.” Despite his words, the Blackwatch commander was already trying to pull him up. This look does not suit the head of the Shimada empire. Such a powerful man grovelling at his feet when he was only stomping around on things unmentionable just the week before was unsettling.

The man refused to budge, as though the weight of his request and the lives that rested on Reyes’ answer kept him glued to the floor. 

“I beg you.” 

“Don’t be an ass, Shimada.” 

“When I die, I have no power to protect them. They are too green. They lack power.”

“Isn’t that your damn job as a parent?”

“I cannot!” Sojiro shouted. “I have failed as a parent. I cannot hope to pretend to be one now. I can only entrust this to someone I trust.”

“You’d trust an enemy, Shimada?” 

“Yes.”

It was a peculiar thing that most people would never understand. Multiple encounters of their teams clashing, outsmarting each other, outmaneuvering the other forged an ironclad trust that many people would never have the privilege of experiencing. Someone who knows all your weaknesses, your strengths, morals, and respects the rules which you play by. It’s how they were both able to meet in such a place, neither with weapons or additional guards. This was a peculiar bond that perhaps only enemies would ever know. 

Gabriel sighed, dropping his ass onto the ground. “You’re a real piece of work, Shimada.” 

“So I’ve been told,” Sojiro replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. He slowly raised his head from the ground, a red mark maring his forehead. “Is that a ‘yes’, then?”

Again, Gabriel sighed. What Sojiro was asking of him was not only going to be difficult, but risky as well. It could put Overwatch (and Blackwatch) at serious political risk with the Japanese government. Even worse, it would make them the target of the Shimada clan and all of its affiliates and stakeholders. Jack would definitely be opposed to such a plan. 

Even if they managed to protect the two brothers, the only thing Blackwatch would get out of this is the lukewarm gratitude of two brats who would not know the desperate lengths to which their father went to protect their lives and future. And they would likely never understand or appreciate it. 

High risk, low reward was not how Blackwatch liked to operate.

But Gabriel Reyes was a different story. 

“We’ll need a proper plan. Can’t guarantee it’ll work out, but we need your cooperation if we’re going to maximize our chances of getting either of your sons out of this in one piece.” 

“Of course. You have my thanks, Reyes-san.” 

The deal was sealed with a handshake and the ramen that Sojiro owed Reyes. Both men made small talk for the rest of the night before leaving to don the mantle of their respective roles. 

When Gabriel returned, the details with Sojiro were confirmed. Blackwatch’s mission is to keep a watchful eye over the two brothers and ensure they stay alive. If possible, get them out by force. 

He assigned you to Hanamura under the pretense that you will be gathering information about their arms trade by becoming the bodyguard of a Shimada heir. You will get close to them, get them to divulge their secrets. While it’s true that the Shimadas were involved in the exchange of weaponry, he did not disclose to you the real reason—it’s better if you didn’t know. You will protect them anyway, keep an eye on both brothers regardless.

After all, it goes without saying that in order to fool your enemies, you must first fool your allies.

The implant goes without a hitch, at least, from his part.

Sojiro continued to communicate with him through the tiny scrolls delivered by his robotic birds—entirely indistinguishable from ordinary ones. His coded messages were short, but expressed his gratitude and trepidation.

The news of Sojiro’s death does not surprise him. 

What did surprise him was your insistence on leaving. 

“I’m with the wrong Shimada!” you hissed into your communicator, and Gabriel stopped himself from telling you just how wrong that statement was. 

Instead, he carefully considered your words. If you were to leave, there’d be no one around to report on either Shimada brother. It was hard enough for Sojiro to get you accepted in their fold, and it wouldn’t do to waste such an opportunity.

But on the other hand, the oligarchy surrounding the new Shimada head would be considerably less cautious if the outsider finally leaves their midst. Their guard might even be down for a short while as they take the chance to eliminate you which meant a short window of opportunity. 

It might be worth taking this chance. They could get you and one of the brothers out alive. From your reports, you’ve built a fair amount of trust between yourself and your charge. A few words and the promise of freedom might convince the younger Shimada to go with them. 

“Jack, we’re storming Hanamura.”

“What? Gabe! We don’t have jurisdiction over Japan! What are you thinking?”

“I have an agent who wants out. This departure is going to turn the Shimada’s inside-out, I can’t imagine the clan will let a foreigner leave so easily.” 

Moments of silence later, Jack heaved a shuddering sigh. Gabriel could just imagine the man rubbing his forehead, trying to formulate a speech for the media when this all goes to hell in a hand basket. “When?”

“A week from now. Dead of night.”

Little did he know, a week from now, they’d be storming Hanamura for very different reasons.