#the conversation barged into my mind and wrote itself

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

Idea:

The Phandom really likes giving Danny a lot of titles.

Chief among them being The Balance, and The Bridge Between Life and Death.

Danny can see the unseen.

Tiny blob Ghosts that can't yet get strong enough to be visible flock to the ecto in his aura. So al along the day Casper High see Danny start giggling at random times, for no reason. They think he's finally gone mad.

Until, just as Lancer is considering calling him out on it, right in front of the whole class, the little blobs finally charge enough to vibe visible, and suddenly Danny is absolutely COVERED in tiny blob ghosts, chirping and wiggling against his neck and in his hair, and trying to crawl under his shirt because they're curious about how clothes work.

A collective "Ah, that would explain it" moment for everyone in that classroom.

Small ghostly rodents and birds chase each other around his ankles and head. One particularly brave starling nestles in his hair for a bit, until a small natural portal opens up and it flies away after it's companions.

He comes across a pregnant lady in the store, and while her husband helps get that baby carrier they've been eyeing down from the upper rack, she sees this twig of a kid with green glowing eyes waving at her. So naturally she waves back, but he's not looking at her. He looks at her baby, kicking away like the energetic ball of sunshine they are, and whispers a blessing at her before leaving

"Was that the Fenton kid?"

"Uh...yeah...? I think he just blessed us or something? I think he was waving at the baby?"

"You think he can see them?"

At school, hes the only one who's allowed to go anywhere near the group of trees the local crowd have taken over as their nesting grounds, and he keeps feeding them, and praising their hatchlings...while they're still in the egg.

I think Danny should get to see the dead that joined his people in the Realms, and those about to be born, especially those that are former ghosts but being reincarnated into another life.

Can you imagine being the couple that is set to raise Ember's next life?

Or better yet, Pariah Dark?

You go to sleep in the arms of your dear Beloved, and in your dreams you see the Personification of Sleep and Dreams that took the whole city under their spell once.

No biggie, you and everyone e else has seen Nocturne in a dream before, and woke up just fine the next day.

Except this time he's joined by...you assume it's Phantom, but he looks made of stardust, and galaxies, and there's twin quasars that swirl contemplatively. He's barely anything-shaped, and looks more like he'd fit in somewhere like Bloodborne, or on the cover an H.P. Lovecraft book.

Wings unfurl and peacock feathers stare at you with eyes that glimmer like gemstones, and the galaxies rotate, singing in conjunction between Sleep and Space.

And they come with a message.

"Pariah Dark, former Ghost King, has been dethroned, as you know."

Yeah, who could forget the time when the whole city got pulled into the Ghosts' dimension?

Nocturne picks up where Phantom stops.

"The Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep has proven...ineffective at dealing with the problem permanently. Therefore the Ancients have gathered, to find alternatives."

Ok, making sense so far. If it don't work, try a new option.

"Phantom, among others, has put forth the option of attempting to rehabilitate Pariah, and rebirth has the potential for the best results. Therefore, parents must be chosen. And, at Phantom's behest, you have been considered and found to be ideal."

Wait, what? Phantom said what?! Confusion abounds, and you have no fucking clue WHY the local hero would consider you a good mother to a dead Tyrant!!!!

"I don't know if you remember this, but...I remember when I'd just started out, and had no idea what was going on or what I could even do." Space curls in on itself, and Phantom solidifies in front of you...scratching at his neck like an anxious kid. "The reason why I mentioned you, among our options, as the best candidate, is because I remember when you found me...and I was mid-breakdown after a really rough fight. You didn't hesitate. You saw a kid needing help, and you set aside all the anti-ghost stuff, and hugged me until I was ok."

And oh, yeah, now you remember that. It had seemed like the natural thing to do at the time. If there's a kid having an panic attack, you do your best to help them through it. You did it before for one of your little cousins. Evidently, it meant so much more to this kid.

"You seem like a genuinely good person. Not because you're perfect every day. But because you naturally choose kindness whenever you can. And that's rare. Very rare, and you don't have to accept. I know it's a big responsibility, to raise the former Ghost King's reincarnation. But I just had to as least ask, right? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, or whatever?"

Phantom's starting to ramble, so you cut him off by resting your hand on his head and scratching like he's a small cat.

"Count me in, kiddo."

"You're accepting?"

"I mean, we've been trying for a kid, so this comes at the right time. But if the baby stars glowing or making me float, I'm borrowing Skulker's tech and hunting you down for sport until you help me get all the ghost stuff under control."

where's my Danny that can see the ghosts no one else can see.

where's my Danny constantly watching all the spirits of little rodents and roadkill roaming the town, the ones that aren't strong enough to manifest to the point to be seen by humans, but can definitely be seen by a fellow ghost.

where's my Danny being able to see and smell the auras of all the humans around him to the point where he can pinpoint someone's exact emotion without even speaking to them.

where's my Danny that can hear all the otherworldly sounds human ears fall deaf to.

where's my Danny that people give funny looks to bc they see him bending down and talking to thin air.

where's my Danny who's the only one able to perceive these things and see beyond the veil?

[gukyi]

into the wilderness | pjm

summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was... disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

{camp counselor!au, unrequited love!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: park jimin x female reader genre: angst, fluff, comedy word count: 27k warnings: unrequited love, camp shenanigans, awkwardness, secondhand embarrassment/hurt, ot7 cameos a/n: hello and welcome to the one thing that guyi has wanted to write for literal years now but never go around to! finally i can cross camp counselor au off my list. anyway, it’s been over a year since i wrote for jimin so i hope that this monster 27k fic can make up for that !!! i swear the ending is happy. i swear. i promise.

Something about last summer sucked. 

Maybe it was the record six wasps’ nests you found around the cabin, leaving you with more bee stings than mosquito bites by the end of camp. Maybe it was that weird murky green color of the water in the showers and the sinks that didn’t go away until three weeks in, when you were already positive you had contracted some sort of pond disease from brushing your teeth. Maybe it was the lack of Namjoon, who had an internship and couldn’t come, therefore removing all sense of order and leaving you and the rest of the counselors in a state of chaos.

Or maybe it was the fact that, on the very last night, at the very last counselor campfire, you told Jimin that you loved him. 

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how badly it would go. But telling him was so much easier than keeping it hidden, than letting it drag on and on, this boulder sitting on your chest for the rest of time. You had spent the whole eight weeks of camp rationalizing it to yourself, so much so that by the time the last counselor campfire rolled around, you were convinced that it wouldn’t be that disastrous. 

There was no part of you that thought Jimin would reciprocate your feelings. No part of you that secretly hoped that maybe he felt the same, and that you could end the summer with more money in your bank account and a boyfriend on your arm. You knew he didn’t. Jimin was sweet, and thoughtful, and gentle, which is exactly why you fell in love with him, but he was like that to everyone. You didn’t think that telling him would suddenly make him fall in love with you.

You told him because people like Jimin deserve to know that somebody loves them. 

You told him because you thought that nothing would change. 

What you didn’t really expect to happen was this:

Your marshmallow is burnt beyond recognition, poking off of the edge of a stick like a sad piece of coal rather than a sweet treat. At this point, it’s even darker than the chocolate sitting on the graham cracker in your lap, waiting to be smushed together into the sugar-fest known as a s’more, so eloquently named because you will apparently always want some more. 

“Uh, hello? Earth to Y/N?”

Taehyung’s hand waves furiously in front of your face as he leans forward to make eye contact with you.

“Huh?” You ask, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Your mind has been awfully cloudy these days, overcast like the weather around here. It’s a wonder you’re able to make your way through. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, an eyebrow raised. “Your marshmallow looks like what happens when I try to make scrambled eggs.”

“Your scrambled eggs look like that?” Seokjin interrupts, pointing accusingly at your charred marshmallow. You’ve seen Taehyung in the kitchen. It’s not that bad, is it? “Next year you should sign up for some of Yoongi’s cooking classes. The six-year-olds can cook better than you.”

“You’d have to pay me way more than the shit they’re giving us to get me to teach Taehyung how to cook,” grumbles Yoongi. 

“I’m fine,” you promise Taehyung as Yoongi and Seokjin launch into a tirade about raising minimum wage. “I just—” You glance at your marshmallow. You don’t even think the fish monster at the bottom of the pond would eat it. And he apparently eats people whose hearts have turned to stone. Like Seokjin, who swears that it had eaten the tip of his pinky finger. “—like my marshmallows really cooked.”

Taehyung looks skeptical but drops the subject nonetheless, turning back around so he can find a different conversation to barge his way into. You’re willing to put money on him finding some way to annoy Jungkook. 

Insecure about your apparent lack of marshmallow-roasting skills, you pull your stick away from the campfire, blowing on it until you decide that you’re willing to risk burning the tips of your fingers. You pluck the marshmallow from the skewer, hissing to yourself as you quickly plop it onto the graham cracker, squishing the whole thing together. 

The marshmallow is so burnt that it barely gives underneath the press of your fingers, bouncing back up like rubber. You frown at your s’more, which clearly should be renamed to something else because nothing about the thing in your hands makes you want some more. 

Next to you, Jimin laughs at your pitiful attempt at a classic campfire treat. 

“You want mine?” He asks with a smile, holding out a flawless s’more, the kind that they make in movies to perpetuate the illusion of perfection. You look up at him and in the light of the fire he glows, like a spark from the flames had created him right then and there, like he had been born with light in his eyes, a halo surrounding his body. 

You wonder if Jimin knows how beautiful he is. How beautiful he has always been, radiating kindness and joy and laughter. He must know, right? It must be impossible for him to notice how everyone falls in love with him. You certainly aren’t an exception. 

He holds out the s’more in his hands, laughing as he looks at you because there must be something endearing about being a shitty s’more maker, and you think, what’s the worst that can happen?

“I’m in love with you.”

The s’more drops to the ground, hitting the grass with a thud. 

Jimin’s eyes meet yours, and for once, they are unreadable. This tragic sort of confusion, like he can’t believe the words you’re saying to him. Like his mind refuses to accept them as true. 

He opens his mouth, but you answer for him. 

“It’s okay,” you assure quickly, reaching a hand out to rest on his own. The touch makes him look away, like your fingers are the flames of the campfire, burning him where they touch his skin. “I—I know you don’t feel the same.”

It’s not a secret. Not to him, and not to you. Jimin purses his lips because he feels guilty for not loving you back. Because he is so good, so kind, that he feels as though he has wronged you because he doesn’t love you the way you love him. Like it’s his fault. 

“Y/N—” He starts, but he does not finish. 

“You…” you interrupt, looking down at your feet. You can’t look at Jimin because looking at him hurts, and you can’t look anywhere else because Jimin is all you think about. All you ever think about. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He speaks, and it’s as if the words don’t belong to him. Don’t belong to anyone. 

“What are we supposed to do?” He asks. 

You shrug, resigning yourself to this. You knew that he wouldn’t feel the same. You didn’t know how terrible he would feel because of it. “Nothing,” you tell him. “I just thought you should know.

He nods, because he knows, and he nods, because he can’t do anything else. 

The fire crackles beside you, s’mores forgotten on the ground as your friends laugh and cheer, distant sounds that echo in your head like white noise. Jimin is all you can think of and right now you’re thinking about what happens next.

“I’m sorry.”

Maybe telling him wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

“Me too.”

Your busted-up sedan revs angrily as you rally up the mountain, shaking your head in an attempt to rid the memories of the campfire from your mind. Unfortunately, the nasty thing about memories is that the more you try to forget them, the more you seem to remember.

You sigh. Something about last summer sucked. 

Nothing about this summer makes you feel like it’ll suck any less.

The good thing about being thirty minutes late is that you’re still thirty minutes earlier than Taehyung, who does not have a single punctual bone in his body. You can count on one hand the amount of instances where he’s actually been on time, all of which are because you and the other counselors conspire to tell him that events are an hour earlier than they actually are just to make sure he doesn’t stroll in an hour late and improperly dressed. 

The bad thing about being thirty minutes late is that everyone besides Taehyung is already here, waiting for you. 

Your sedan crawls to the clearing at the top of the mountain, fighting against gravity and itself as it chugs up the last few feet, coming to a rough stop in the dirt, sunken in from countless tires tracking across it. 

Through your windshield, you can make out two figures with two clipboards, only one of which has something genuinely useful on it. 

“Y/N!” Hoseok cries out excitedly, splaying his arms out as if to hug the entire front of your car only to reveal the near-blank clipboard in his hand. All that’s on it is a neon green Post-it note with a caricature drawing of who you assume to be Yoongi, if the grouchy expression and chef’s hat are anything to go by. There’s no signature or name, but Hoseok’s art skills are on par with those of the campers you work with and Jungkook has a fun and quirky habit of vandalizing all drawable surfaces with pencil sketches of the counselors, so you take a wild guess as to who the artist is. 

You pop the door of your car open and step out into the sticky weather, warm and muggy despite the clouds above. It’s the same as when you step into your bathroom after your two roommates have showered, using up all the hot water and leaving a layer of fog on the mirrors for you to all play hangman on. Only, this steam never goes away. 

“Hoseok!” You cheer, letting the man wrap you up in a sweltering hug, your hands gently patting the top of his back so as not to come in contact with the dampness soaking through his thin cotton t-shirt. You haven’t seen each other for nearly a year, though, so you give in more than you usually would and relax into his hold. “You look good, I like the hair,” you compliment, two fingers coming up to twirl at his bright red locks, deep and vibrant like the cherries you pick. 

“Dyed it just so I could tell the kids I’m a superhero!” Hoseok grins. He’s already heading over to the back of your car to pop the trunk and pull out your duffel bags so that he can park your car in the garage at the other end of the campsite.

“Then who’s the villain?” You call, tossing him your keys.

“I guess that would be me.”

You whip around to find a platinum-blonde Namjoon standing happily before you, looking at least a little bit resigned as he grins at you. His hair is longer this year, like growing it out would somehow compensate for frying it with layer after layer of bleach. And with his silver-white hair and the fact that he is the only counselor any of the kids are genuinely afraid of disobeying, you suppose he would be the antagonist after all. 

“Namjoon, nice to see you again.” You go in for a hug even though Namjoon clearly had no plans on instigating one himself, because someone as hardworking and patient as Namjoon deserves a little platonic affection every one in a while. What, with everyone else constantly conspiring with the campers to oust him every summer. 

The truth is that all of you know that without Namjoon, this camp would be nothing but chaos in its purest form, with the counselors unable to wrangle the kids and the kids using that knowledge to their fullest advantage. Take last year, where everything seemed to go wrong because Namjoon had his stupid internship with a business firm and spent the entire summer drilling finances into his head instead of losing brain cells watching kids eat sand.  

If you had any dignity left you’d blame your rotten confession to Jimin on Namjoon’s absence as well. 

“Nice to see you, too, Y/N,” Namjoon says when you part, checking your name off of the list on his clipboard. “I feel like it’s been ages since I was here.” You can see red marks all over the page, blank only where the name Taehyung is written. 

Some things never change, you suppose. 

“Well, we definitely missed you last year,” You say with a chuckle, trying not to immediately associate your personal misjudgements with the lack of Namjoon, who you can hopefully keep from ever finding out what happened at last year’s end-of-camp counselor campfire. The problem is that Namjoon picks up on social cues and body language like a sociologist, so your only hope is pretending that the campfire never even happened. “Camp was pretty much a mess without you.” In more ways than one.

“Namjoon!” Someone calls. You and him both jerk around to the source of the sound when you see a figure barreling towards the both of you, face obscured in shadow. 

You almost don’t recognize him, with his pitch black hair and thick voice, like he has somehow become a new person in the nine months you’ve gone without seeing him. But the moment he comes into view, you know, and you can’t even pretend to not know, not with the way your heart freezes in place, mid-beat, like the sight of him has turned you to stone. Not with the way that Namjoon is right beside you, and how you don’t think you can bear explaining to him why you and Jimin aren’t as close as you used to be. Not with the way that Jimin looks as beautiful as he always has and always will be, no matter how many summers pass, this timeless portrait, this piece of art that’s come to life. 

There’s a part of you that’s shocked still at seeing him, like you had almost thought that after last summer at least one of you would bail on this shitty summer job, filled with mosquitoes and mud and wifi that only works in the room that doubles as the gymnasium and the mess hall. It’s the same part of you that wants to go back to pretending that nothing ever happened last summer. 

But Jimin is here, in front of you, eyes wide and out of breath and gorgeous, and pretending that last summer never happened is the same as pretending that you never fell in love with him at all.

“The water in the boys’ cabins sinks is green,” he says with a tense smile, making Namjoon nearly smack his clipboard into his forehead. 

“Ugh, seriously?” He asks, and you can’t tell if you’re thankful or hurt that Jimin’s failed to acknowledge you. “Fine,” he scribbles something down on the clipboard, this handwriting scrawl that only he can read, “I’ll figure out what to do with that later. In the meantime, just don’t drink it.”

“Seokjin’s already made lemonade with it, though—”

“Great,” Namjoon says, exasperated as he takes off towards the main cabin, where Seokjin is sitting on the balcony with his feet up on the railing with a glass of suspiciously murky lemonade in his hand, one that he’s offering up to Yoongi with a devilish grin on his face. 

His disappearance leaves only you and Jimin left standing at the entrance, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet in the hopes that one of you will either leave or spare the other the torture of a conversation. 

“Hey,” Jimin says quietly, trying to meet your eyes. 

You look away, pretending to smack an imaginary mosquito on your arm while an actual one bites your leg. “Hey, yourself.”

“It’s been a while.” The last time we saw each other you told me you loved me. 

“Yeah, it has.” I know.

“How are you doing?” Do you still love me, or was the distance and time enough?

“I’m alright. Same old, same old.” I never stopped. “How are you?” What about you? Did you stop seeing us as just friends?

“Doing well, thanks.” No. You’ll always be just a friend to me. Jimin sighs, looking up at the overcast sky with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, taking in the scenery before him. He exhales, long and heavy, before turning to you with a soft little smile, the kind of grin that almost makes you feel like forgetting might not be the best thing to do after all. “I just feel like this summer is a fresh start, you know? Like, I feel like there’s something different about being here this year.”

Maybe this summer, you can learn to move on from me, too. Because something’s gotta give. 

“I hope you’re right about that,” you tell him, because being around him hurts and being away from him makes you replay that night over and over, wondering what would have happened if you had just kept your stupid mouth shut. You open your mouth to say something, anything else, anything to break the ice that didn’t used to be there before, cut between the tension that has settled between the two of you, but your tongue is dry and your heart is sore just looking at him. 

Defeated, you walk over to where Hoseok’s left your duffel bags, hiking them onto your shoulders and heading towards the girls’ cabins, ready to end this conversation before it tears you in two. 

Jimin seems to flounder, standing awkwardly for a few moments as he watches you walk towards the cabins, skirting around him a few feet away because brushing by his side seemed too close for comfort. But then he says, “Hey, Y/N?” 

And it makes you stop dead in your tracks, unable to deny him an answer. 

You turn around to look at him, and he offers you a grin. 

“Are we good?”

Your love for me, will it affect our friendship?

You swallow.

It already has. It always has. From the very beginning, loving you was part of our friendship. I don’t know how to be friends with you without it. Even when you didn’t know it, I loved you. In a way, it was easier back then. Telling you was the one thing I shouldn’t have done. 

“Yeah, Jimin,” you tell him. “We’re good.”

The trek to your cabin from the main buildings of the camp is nothing if not familiar. Familiar in the way that the ground curves beneath your feet, leading you up to the top of a small hill where the building sits, looking out over the rest of the clearing. Familiar in how the scent of the woods that surround you fills up your senses, this fresh, airy feeling, like the very oxygen is smothering you. Familiar in how this place reeks of the memories of summers gone by, summers spent beneath the stars and by the campfire. 

Summer memories that make your heart burst with fondness and summer memories that… don’t. 

The fact is that it has always started and ended here. 

When you kick open the door to the cabin, there is only one other occupied bed. It belongs to Hazel, a counselor in her sophomore year in college who joined the crew last year and assumed that the Namjoon-less pandemonium that was camp last summer was just the norm. Hopefully she can take a much-needed break this year now that Namjoon’s back and she’s not the only one fruitlessly trying to cajole the campers into behaving. 

You beeline towards the bunk bed that has been your summer home for the past three years, the one shoved right up against the back right corner, giving you a perfect view of the entire cabin. The downside is that it’s the same corner that spiders seem to prefer as their location of choice for their webs, but better you, a stone-cold college student, than a terrified six-year-old. 

Plopping your duffel bags on top of the mattress, you let out another sigh. You wonder what it is about this summer that is so damn tiring, so exhausting that you can’t help but outwardly exhale every ten seconds, like merely being here is wearing you out, bit by bit. 

You’re looking forward to when the campers arrive tomorrow. Sleeping alone (well, nearly alone) in a cabin feels uncomfortably empty. Plus, you’re hoping that they’ll provide you with some sort of distraction so you don’t have any free time left to spend dwelling on the what-ifs and the should-have-dones. When there’s only a dozen of you, it’s much easier to run into him. 

The moment you collapse on your bed, a messy brown head of hair comes bounding out from the shared bathrooms in the center of the cabin. 

“Y/N!” Hazel cries out, launching herself across the room and into your arms for the tightest hug you’ve had in a long while. 

“Hey, Haze,” you greet in return, offering her a squeeze back. You didn’t often mix in your camp activities, with Hazel in charge of the nature walks and animal conservation activities while you hide in your air-conditioned arts and crafts room, but living together brought upon you a closeness you otherwise don’t share with anyone else. Plus, Hazel keeps a family-sized pack of Oreos and a gigantic jar of smooth peanut butter by her bunk at all times for emergencies. 

“I feel like it’s been so long!” She laments when she finally releases you, looking positively thrilled to be here right now. 

Not long enough, you think to yourself, though you don’t suppose any more time apart from Jimin would make seeing him again any easier. “Yeah, but the year goes by so quickly,” you agree half-heartedly. Too quickly. 

“I’m so excited for this year.” Hazel grins, clapping her hands together. “I have so much planned for all the nature walks and everything. I spent all of last week reading up on edible plants and berries found in this part of the country. I’m gonna teach all of the kids what they can eat in case they get stranded in the forest!”

“Fun,” you say with a hesitant nod. It’s not that you don’t trust Hazel to have done her research, it’s more that, knowing the campers and knowing the counselors, someone’s going to try and get lost in the woods around the camp, eating everything they can. Not to mention the fact that Hazel’s so innocent she’d probably reveal to someone like Seokjin or Jungkook which plants were poisonous without even realizing it. 

Camp last year was a mess, but at least nobody died. 

“Hey, aren’t you excited, too?” She asks, a hand on your shoulder as she notices your reluctance. “Apparently Namjoon’s a great leader so this year isn’t going to be as bad as last year.”

“Last year wasn’t bad just because Namjoon wasn’t here,” you comment vaguely. Hazel doesn’t need to know about all of the drama that goes down between the counselors. Hopefully she can get out of here without being dragged into something by one of you. 

“Well, this year is supposed to be better!” She cheers you on, determined to get you to feel as enthusiastic as she is. “No matter what did or did not happen last summer. Plus, you know that if anything bad happens I always have my secret stash, counselors only.” She winks. 

“Thanks, Haze,” you say, sighing again like it’s your job to be worn out by life. “I think I just need a bit of time to get back into the swing of things.”

“That’s the spirit!” She rallies. “I’m gonna head back to the main camp and see if there’s anything good to drink. I’m thirsty.”

“Stick to soda,” you advise, eyes wide at the thought of her downing anything that Seokjin’s had a sneaky hand in making. 

She doesn’t seem to notice your worry, already bounding towards the door, light on her feet. “I was feeling a Fanta anyway. See you at the camp counselor meeting if I don’t see you around beforehand!” She pulls open the heavy wooden door, half outside when she stops to turn back at you, wagging a finger in the air. “Remember, Y/N, leaves of three, let them be!” 

The door slams shut behind her, creating a cloud of dust in its wake. You watch helplessly as the particles dissipate into the air, as the silence that was once so comforting begins to terrorize you once more. 

You collapse back onto your bunk. If only last summer’s murky green water had poisoned you. Then maybe you’d finally have a good enough excuse for your utter lapse in judgement, and you wouldn’t be sighing so much.

There were no camp counselor meetings last year. There were only haphazard caucuses, irregular get-togethers where no one knew quite what was going on and there were no real announcements to be said, no real orders to be given. You had almost forgotten what it was like to have someone with genuine leadership skills working here. 

The problem last year was not getting everyone into the same room for thirty minutes. It was keeping everyone focused in that same room for thirty minutes, which was essentially impossible because, at your age, submitting to someone of authority is the very last thing you want to do. Especially when the consequences pretty much only amount to having to drink Seokjin’s murky green lemonade.

But like with everything else, Namjoon has, somehow, made the impossible possible. 

“Guys, guys, can we stop drawing on the board, please? I need that,” Namjoon begs as he walks into the room to find Jungkook and Taehyung with chalk in their hands and a chalkboard at their disposal. What they’ve accomplished so far is an expert drawing of Spongebob and Patrick with their faces missing, waiting to be filled in by one of the unlucky people in this room. 

“Okay, so who’s Patrick?” Taehyung asks the audience. 

“Hoseok!” shouts Seokjin.

“You!” shouts Hoseok. 

“Seokjin!” shouts Hazel, too, just because she likes being involved in things. 

Jungkook lets out a cackle at that. “Are you kidding?” He asks. “If anything…” He does a quick sketch on the board, hand flying across it so quickly you’re actually a little bit impressed, “Seokjin would be Plankton.” 

He steps away from the board to reveal a scarily-realistic drawing of Seokjin’s angry face on Plankton’s tiny, antennaed body, making everyone—even Namjoon, who usually tries to keep the roasting between counselors to a minimum—laugh. 

Seokjin scowls, and normally you would feel bad for him always being the butt of Jungkook’s endless jokes, but you can see a half-empty glass of green lemonade by Jungkook’s side, and you decide that he can hold his own just fine. 

“I think you guys would be Spongebob and Patrick,” Jimin pipes up from the back. You freeze, turning your head slightly just to see him sitting on the table pushed up against the wall. You hadn’t even noticed him. Or maybe you had, and your brain just decided to pretend that you hadn’t. 

Nevertheless, hearing his voice doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Jimin’s right,” Jungkook agrees, already beginning to fill in the blank space where Spongebob’s face would normally go with a caricature of his own. “I’d be Spongebob because I have a wider face than you, Tae.”

Taehyung doesn’t object, instead moving his hand to an empty spot on the board. “Yeah. Oh, and Namjoon’s Mr. Krabs, obviously,” Taehyung says, adding his own drawing of Mr. Krabs with Namjoon’s camp get-up on—cargo shorts, a short-sleeved flannel shirt, a baseball cap, and high-tops.

“I would not be—hey, give me that!” Namjoon shouts, indignant, before ripping the chalk from Jungkook’s hands as he cackles wickedly, clearly pleased with himself. Namjoon shoos the both of them away from the board before wiping it with the eraser, which has very obviously not been cleaned since last year, leaving a trail of pale yellow dust in its wake wherever Namjoon drags it across the chalkboard. “Chalkboard for official matters only.” He glares at Jungkook and Taehyung, who high-five each other. 

The chatter soon subsides as Namjoon writes down the meeting to-do list on the board in his same old scratchy handwriting. Namjoon’s one of those people that writes exclusively in capital letters, simply enlarging any letters that actually need to be capitalized. You’re almost one-hundred percent positive it’s to establish written dominance over the rest of the counselors. 

“Okay, first order of business,” Namjoon begins after coughing to get everyone’s attention. “It’s come to my attention that the entire cabin water system is green.”

“Hasn’t it always been—?” Hazel asks, innocent eyes wide in confusion. 

“I called the utilities people and they’re coming tomorrow to fix it, so in the meantime, do not drink the water. Showering and using the bathroom is fine. I would use water bottles for brushing your teeth, though,” Namjoon says, crossing off something on his clipboard as the rest of the counselors murmur in approval. 

“See, this is what happens when Namjoon’s here,” deadpans Yoongi, motioning up to him where he stands at the front of the room. “Shit gets done.”

“Okay, secondly, no swearing in front of the kids,” Namjoon says, adding that onto the board as a final reminder. “The fact that I have to tell you guys this multiple times every year is ridiculous.”

“Fuck you, I can do what I want!” Taehyung shouts, earning a chorus of fuck yeah’s. 

“You guys do know that I have the power to fire you, right?” Namjoon says pointedly, making Taehyung shut his trap. “Okay, moving on. Everyone’s been assigned to the same things that they were assigned to do last year, and if you weren’t here last year, then the year before that.” Namjoon receives some cheers and some groans in response to this, the former mostly from people who work indoors, and the latter mostly from people who don’t. 

“Seriously?” Seokjin whines. “I don’t think Yoongi has stepped foot out of the kitchens in literal years.”

“And I would like to keep it that way, thank you very much!” Yoongi counters. 

“Oh, shut up, at least you get to spend some time indoors teaching all of the kids how to play Hot Cross Buns on their guitars,” Taehyung counters. “I got more mosquito bites than freckles last summer.”

“My students have long advanced from Hot Cross Buns,” Seokjin says proudly and a little bit devilishly. “We’re working on something more technical now.”

“Like what?” Jungkook challenges.

“Okay, continuing…” Namjoon says loudly, eyeing Seokjin suspiciously. “If you’re new, you should have already received notification as to what activities you’re in charge of, but if you’re not sure, come and talk to me.”

“Oh, so Jimin’s still on first aid, then?” Taehyung asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you think Y/N’s gonna do to get herself sent down to his tent? Glue her fingers together? Burn herself with a glue gun?”

“Shut up,” You mumble tensely, embarrassed that somehow you and Jimin’s relationship has turned into a counselor affair. 

Last summer, you had accidentally given yourself a palm full of splinters from the birdhouses that you had the campers paint to bring home with them, and the first aid tent is the only place that has bandages. Jimin was there, as he always is, and the two of you spent the evening plucking out all of the pieces of wood from your hand and patching it up with Band-aids that had Spiderman and Moana on them. Contrary to apparently popular belief, it was not on purpose, even though the hour of hand-holding was rather nice. 

“Or Jimin can just find some excuse to visit Y/N in the arts and crafts room,” Seokjin tacks on unhelpfully. “You know, last summer I don’t think I saw them eat lunch in the counselor room at all. They were always finding secret places in the woods.”

“Maybe we were just busy during lunch?” Jimin suggests, clearly equally uncomfortable. 

“Busy fucking, probably,” Taehyung mutters. 

“It’s none of your business,” you snap, because the last thing you want to be talking about right now is how wonderful your relationship with Jimin used to be, when all that’s left this summer are the burned remnants of it, the ashes of something that could have been. You don’t need a reminder of why you thought that you and Jimin would be alright, of why you thought that telling him wouldn’t be that bad. It was terrible, and now all you can do is pick up the pieces, patch together a friendship whose thread has come loose. 

“Alright, let’s keep going,” Namjoon says, picking up the weirdly tense atmosphere and doing his best to bring the attention back to him and the meeting at hand. “You guys should know that this year, Hoseok is thinking of adding in a counselor dance to the end-of-camp show…”

You look over at Jimin, who immediately turns away when he spots your gaze, making to pick at the rips in his jeans, doing anything and everything he can to avoid eye contact with you, and your shoulders sink. 

Jimin had asked you, “Are we good?”

And you had responded, “Yeah, Jimin, we are.”

And the two of you must have both known that was a lie. 

You turn back to face the front, focusing on how Hazel is rubbing your forearm and not asking questions, and you try to feel a little bit better. 

After the meeting, you and Hazel decide to spend the night holed up in your cabin eating from her Oreo stash instead of eating dinner with everyone else, half because it’s only the first day and already being around all of the other counselors is tiring, and half because you don’t think you can handle seeing Jimin any more today, but not before Namjoon stops you on the way out of the door. 

“Y/N,” he says, making you pause in your tracks. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” You ask, hoping to God that it’s not about everyone thinking you purposely injure yourself just so you can see Jimin at the first aid tent. 

“Just quickly, you and me,” Namjoon says casually, pulling you to the corner of the room, away from any windows so no one can see you two talking. “Did today’s meeting make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you lie like a liar. “What are you talking about?”

Namjoon’s too observant for his own good, you decide, when he frowns at you, clearly not buying whatever it is you’re trying to sell him. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” he says quietly. “But I know that something happened between you and Jimin.”

You open your mouth to object and tell him that you and Jimin are fine, but Namjoon raises his eyebrows at you, like he’s challenging you to tell him another lie. 

“Well…” you begin, resigning yourself to the truth. “Yeah. Last summer.”

Namjoon purses his lips, nodding in understanding. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You’re not my mom, Namjoon,” you say with a smile, even though maybe telling someone about it might not be a half-bad idea after all. Plus, Namjoon’s your friend and the only one around here who’s any good at keeping secrets, so getting the words off of your chest could be good.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” he reminds you, because he’s wonderful like that. 

“No, it’s alright…” you sigh. “I guess someone else has to know.” You close your eyes, willing the words to come up from your throat, willing them to not hurt you as they leave your lips. “Last summer at the campfire I told Jimin that I loved him.”

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. 

“And he doesn’t love me back, which is not the problem because he shouldn’t change how he feels about me just to make me feel better. It’s not his fault, and I’m not angry at him or anything. I knew that he didn’t love me back when I told him,” the words come up like bile, slowly and carefully before spilling out in front of you. “But I was an idiot, and I thought telling him would make me feel better, or something. And it didn’t, because now Jimin and I don’t know how to act around each other anymore, and everything sucks.”

Namjoon offers you a careful, hesitant smile. 

“So yeah. That’s what happened.”

“Sounds like you and Jimin should talk about it,” Namjoon suggests, and maybe he’s smart, and a good leader, and attends a prestigious college along the coast, and studies business and sociology, but that is the worst idea he has ever had. 

“No,” you immediately say, shaking your head. “It’s no big deal. Jimin and I are still friends.”

“Are you, though?” Namjoon asks. 

You sigh, reaching up to rub at your forehead. “Yeah, we are,” you insist, perhaps more to yourself than to Namjoon. He looks skeptical, but doesn’t ask any questions. “It doesn’t even matter. I made a mistake and now I’m gonna deal with the consequences.”

“I can try to get the rest of the boys to stop teasing you and Jimin. I know it must be weird for you both right now,” Namjoon offers, always wanting to help. You scoff. Weird would be the biggest understatement of the century. 

“Jimin and I can handle it,” you say, not wanting to disrupt the rest of the counselor dynamic just because you and Jimin are dealing with things right now. Besides, the teasing has always been in good fun, and you know the boys well enough to know that they aren’t doing it out of malicious intent. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“Just doing my job,” Namjoon says proudly. You stand there in silence for a few more seconds until he coughs awkwardly to fill up the space. “You can go now, by the way, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“I’m fine,” you promise, silently hoping that one day, when you talk to Namjoon, you won’t have to lie to him anymore. “Thanks for checking in.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” he says in that comforting way, that warm way that wraps around you like a mug of hot cocoa on a cold winter night. 

You crack open the door to find Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook tossing around a frisbee on the open lawn as Seokjin and Yoongi watch from a picnic bench, soda cans sitting next to them. Someone must have mentioned the green lemonade. Jungkook purposely tosses the frisbee too high for Jimin to reach, making him jump wildly in a fruitless attempt to grab it. He falls backwards onto the soft grass, laughing alongside Taehyung and Jungkook as Taehyung pulls him back up to his feet. 

You smile to yourself, the longing and the pain and the love settling deep within your heart, finding a home amongst the wishes and the dreams. Seeing him there, the widest smile on his face as he tosses around a frisbee with some of his best friends, letting the rays from the setting sun fill him up with joy, it reminds you why you fell in love with him. It reminds you why you’re still in love with him.

Something seizes up at your heart, clenching it between its fingers. That used to be you, the thing whispers. You used to make him laugh like that. 

You did. From the moment you met him, you let his laughter fill your senses, burned the sound of it into your brain. You used to be so close. You used to think that maybe, just maybe, Jimin might love you back. 

You should have never told him, it murmurs, grip growing tighter. Look at where it got you.

If I could turn back time and redo that night, I would, you fight back. 

But you can’t.

The wicked thing releases your heart, lets it drop to the floor. You don’t pick it up. 

Every year, you and the other counselors keep a scorecard on the chalkboard in the meeting room to see how quickly someone gets sent to the first aid tent, whether it be from stumbling over a twig or contracting poison ivy or drinking the green water. Last year, it took two hours and thirteen minutes. 

This summer, it happens barely an hour after all of the campers have arrived. 

You make a mental note to write down the time on the scorecard as you run over to help the poor boy off of the ground after slamming into a spruce tree while playing an early game of tag with his friends. The side of his cheek is imprinted with the texture of the tree bark, and he has some scrapes on his hands and knees from the fall. 

“Whoa, hey, you alright?” You ask, leaning down to help him up. “You gotta watch where you’re looking, okay? Don’t want you to get hurt.” 

The beauty about young children is that very little actually causes them great pain. If it weren’t for all of the overprotective counselors, the kids would probably run themselves into the cabin walls and trees for the entire duration of camp.

“I’m not hurt,” the young boy says, standing up proudly. “I’m fine. My mom says I have thick skin.”

“What’s your name?”

“Eli,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly. “That’s my cabin.” He points to the one to the west of the camp that Taehyung and Jungkook are in charge of. Why Namjoon continuously assigns them to the same cabin year after year is beyond you. Once, they convinced everybody in their cabin that Seokjin and Yoongi’s cabin was haunted, and the only solution was to out-scare the ghosts by yelling and screaming right outside. 

“Is this your first year at camp?”

“Yup,” Eli says, rocking back and forth on his feet. He is not at all fazed by the blood and broken skin on his hands and knees, nor the pieces of wood and bark sticking out of the side of his face. 

“Alright, Eli, even though you have thick skin, I have to take you to the first aid tent. Really quickly, okay? Just to make sure you aren’t gonna get an infection. Then you can go and tell all of your friends how thick your skin,” you say, already beginning to usher Eli towards the first aid tent.  

“I think I have the thickest skin out of everyone here,” Eli says, as if goading you on. 

“You know what? I have to agree with you,” you say. “I get hurt really easily. My mom always says that I need to be extra careful here.”

“I’m sick of listening to my mom,” Eli pouts, stomping on the ground as you lead him towards the first-aid tent. 

“Me too,” you agree. No point in telling him that he needs to yield to his parents when he probably won’t even remember this conversation by the time he wakes up tomorrow. Besides, it’s never too early to begin teaching kids about rebelling against authority figures. “But you won’t have to listen to everything I say, okay? We’re just gonna be really good friends.”

“Like with my babysitter,” Eli says. 

“Exactly,” you say, stopping right outside of the first-aid tent. You’re not even positive that anyone’s inside, especially since it’s barely been an hour since camp officially started. Hopefully, Jimin’s somewhere else so you can just patch Eli up yourself. 

The first aid tent is not so much a tent as it is a shed with a fabric entrance, two curtains attached to a rod above the entryway to provide some semblance of privacy since nobody in the camp is handy enough to actually install a working door. But calling it the first aid tent is better than calling it the first aid shack, which, in the wise words of Yoongi, makes it sound like “a hospital where people go to die.”

When you push open the curtain, the first thing you notice is Jungkook and Seokjin in the far left corner, each with ice packs and suspiciously identical markings on them. They’re both making desperate attempts to patch each other up, fighting with the gauze and bandages that are laid out on the table beside them, as if in a competition to see who can better take care of the other. 

Besides that, Jimin is lounging along the wall, leaning back against it as he gazes into nothing, deeply lost in thought. His eyes trace the lines of the shed, foot tapping to an imaginary beat, brows furrowed. You wonder what the hell it is that Jimin could possibly be thinking about so intently, what it is that is making him not even pay attention to the two overgrown children in the corner of his tent, attacking each other with first-aid materials. 

Watching him, you almost don’t want to disturb him. Almost want to grab one of the kits on the shelf by the doorway and pull Eli outside, partly because you don’t think Jimin absolutely needs to be present for you to clean Eli’s wounds and give him some Spiderman Band-aids, and partly because you don’t think you can bear having to say hello to him. 

Eventually, and only because Eli would start thinking it was weird you weren’t talking to each other (and not because a part of you just wants to hear his voice again), you take another step forward, coughing. 

“Wha— oh, hi,” Jimin says, the sound of your arrival breaking him out of his trance. He rubs at the nape of his neck, clearly trying to brush off any awkwardness. “How can I help you guys?” His voice is unrecognizable. 

“Eli here crashed into a tree while playing tag,” you say tensely, doing your best to look around the room, anywhere else, literally anywhere else, just so you don’t have to look at him. “I just brought him here to make sure he’s alright.”

“I’m fine,” Eli insists. 

“Well, Eli, we just have to double check that,” Jimin says comfortingly, reaching down to bring Eli over to one of the benches. He sits him down and kneels so that he can be at eye-level with him, and says, “Sometimes our bodies say that they’re alright even when they really aren’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jimin meets your gaze, looking at you like there’s nothing left that you can do, looking at you like there is so much that he wants to say but no way to tell you. 

You open your mouth, willing for the words to come out, but your throat is dry and your heart is pounding in your ears, a painful thud with every breath that you take. He must have known that what you said was a lie. He must have known what you were going to say when he asked, but he asked anyway, not to get the truth but to see where your relationship stands. 

As it seems, your relationship doesn’t seem to be standing at all. 

It lies in front of you, shattered into a million pieces like a broken mirror, cursed but still doing its job, still showing you this fragmented reflection of yourself. Mixed together like this, you can’t see where your friendship ends and your love began. Mixed together like this, it is impossible to repair. 

“Y/N—” Jimin begins. 

“I should go,” you say at the same time, making the two of you stop in your tracks once again. “Thanks for, uh, patching Eli up. Just make sure he gets to the mess hall in time for dinner.”

“I will,” Jimin says with a nod. There is so much that he wants to say but you don’t think you can bear listening to another word come out of his mouth, to another apology for not loving you back when it wasn’t even his fault to begin with. 

You ruined your friendship but Jimin seems to think that he is the one to blame. 

“I’ll see you at dinner?” Jimin asks. 

You look back at him, wanting so desperately to say yes, to pretend that everything is back to normal, to act like this is the beginning of last summer instead of this one, where you loved him and he didn’t know and everything was alright. But you can’t, because it’s not last summer. It’s this one, and you still love him but he knows now. He fucking knows and just thinking about it makes your heart shake in its cage, holding itself together but unable to stop itself from cracking from within.

Jimin must have known you wouldn’t have agreed. Why did he ask?

“Wait, Y/N, hold up!” 

You’re already halfway out of the makeshift door when you turn around to see Jungkook barrelling after you, leaving Seokjin in the dust as he joins you outside, pulling you away from the entrance instinctively. No one has ever been particularly good at keeping secrets here. 

“Can I help you, Jungkook?” You ask, blinking at him, trying to act as normal as possible. 

“Are you alright?” He leans in close, looking into your eyes, concern washed over his features. 

“Everybody seems to be asking me this,” you say, acting like you don’t know why. “I’m fine.”

Jungkook, for all of his wide-eyed innocence, for the way that he views the world as perfectly imperfect, doesn’t buy it. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says. “I don’t know what went down between you and Jimin.”

“Nothing happened,” you say, forcing a laugh just so you don’t sound miserable. 

“Whatever it is, I just want you to know that it doesn’t always have to be like this,” he says, reaching out to take your hand in his own, his calloused thumb rubbing soothingly against your skin. “But you should be honest with your feelings, don’t you think?”

“You and Namjoon both think that I don’t have a handle on this, when I do.” You don’t. And being honest with your feelings is what got you into this mess in the first place. 

“Come on, Y/N, you don’t think we haven’t noticed, have you?” He asks, soft and sad and desperate to get through to you. 

“It’s no big deal,” you insist. “Jimin and I are alright. We’ve always been alright.”

“If you say so…” says Jungkook, no less skeptical than he was when he initiated this conversation. 

“Are we done here?” You ask, already pulling your hand from his grasp so you can go back to your cabin and pretend that the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, resigned as he lets you go. “But you know I’ll always be here for you, right?”

“I know, Jungkook,” you promise, because he always has and he always will be. “Thanks for looking out for me.” You begin to scurry away from the first aid tent, praying that Jimin didn’t hear you and Jungkook and wishing that everything was the way that it used to be.

“Be honest!” Jungkook shouts when you’re a hundred feet away, rushing back towards your cabin. 

Jungkook wants you to be honest?

Telling Jimin that you love him ruined your life. It ruined camp, it ruined your friendship, and it ruined your future. Seeing him now makes your heart ache and your brain dizzy. Every night you replay that conversation in your head, over and over, wondering if there was something that you could have done differently, something that you could have changed so you wouldn’t have ended up like this. Jimin wants to be friends again but you don’t know how to do that without him feeling guilty for not loving you back. 

You want to be honest?

Jimin makes you feel like there is a fire beneath your skin that you can’t extinguish, the flames creeping towards your heart. 

The only solution, it seems, is to smother them. 

The worst part about being in love with Jimin is that he’s impossible to avoid. 

You peer into the mess hall to see if lunch that day is any good and you see him laughing at a table surrounded by elementary schoolers munching on hot dogs and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You go hunting in the storage shed for some extra packs of popsicle sticks and find him cleaning out the old flower pots to use in the greenhouse. You lead your group of campers from the arts room to the lake and see him and Taehyung setting up the net for some friendly water polo, laughing as they try to tie each other up in the rope. 

It feels like you’re watching a movie unfold in real time, one where he is the star and you are nothing but a background character, the desperate loser who confessed to him in the beginning of the film just to develop his character arc, make him seem personable and relatable, then forgotten about until the end when you spot each other on the street and nod silently to each other, as if to say you’ve both inexplicably reached a peace between the two of you. 

Is that what the future holds for you? A wordless camp, an empty conversation? Will you simply go the rest of the summer without speaking, then nod to each other right before you leave? Will this be the last time you ever see each other?

The worst part about being in love with Jimin is knowing that just because you want things to be different doesn’t mean they will be. Just because you want Jimin to love you back doesn’t mean he will. Just because you want everything to go back to normal doesn’t mean they will. 

As it turns out, love confessions don’t always end in fireworks.

Park Jimin is impossible to avoid not only because he’s everywhere but also because he is everybody’s best friend, the campers’ favorite counselor and the counselors’ favorite companion. He is kind and thoughtful and electric. He is magnetic. He makes others laugh without even trying, he names the plants in the greenhouse after the people he loves, he stays behind after activities to clean up when no one else will. 

Falling in love with Jimin wasn’t you picking out your favorite traits of his, wasn’t you seeing him do one selfless thing and deciding that he could do no wrong. It was submerging yourself in the lake, little by little before you dive in headfirst. It was catching glimpses of his goodness until you were consumed by it. It was knowing that you prefer yourself when you’re around him.

Falling in love with Jimin was like the heat in summer—endless. 

If only falling out of love with him would be just as easy. 

The weather has been unusually nice today. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the sun beats down on you, rays peeking through the tall branches and leaves of the spruce and oak trees that surround you, casting hazy shadows on the grass beneath your feet. It isn’t too muggy, isn’t too sticky and sweaty, this perfect medium between warm and hot, between dry and humid. It’s the sort of day that you romanticize every day of summer being, only to realize that summer actually consists of sweating through three different t-shirts and needing to eat your ice cream in ten seconds before it melts into a puddle on the concrete. 

Nonetheless, camp policy has always been that when it’s a beautiful day, the campers are going to spend every hour they’re awake outside, going on nature walks and playing capture the flag and eating watermelon on the splinter-y picnic benches. It’s nice, because it gives you a break from having to tell the kids not to touch the tips of the glue guns, but it also stinks, because it forces you to leave your sweet, air-conditioned paradise in favor of a mosquito-infested summer hell. 

Luckily, the kids have been washing off the summer heat in the cool water of the lake with the counselors that actually prefer being outside, playing volleyball in the shallows or canoeing out where it’s deeper. Sometimes, you wonder why Namjoon will let so few counselors supervise so many campers, and sometimes, you decide that it’s better them than you. 

You take a seat on the picnic bench by Yoongi, who is drinking notably clearer lemonade than in days past, so you assume that Namjoon got the water problem fixed like he promised. The two of you have never been outdoorsy people. Why you’ve been working at a summer camp for the last three years escapes you both. You and him lean back against the edge of the built-in table. From here, you have a perfect view of the lake, clear and blue and filled to the brim with rambunctious children, keeping at least somewhat of a watch over them so that Namjoon can’t shout at either of you for slacking off. 

“You know that Seokjin gave you murky water lemonade earlier, right?” You ask, just to make conversation. 

“I know,” Yoongi says, wholly unfazed. He takes another sip and sighs, feeling refreshed. Without batting an eyelash, he deadpans, “You know that you and Jimin aren’t going to get any better if you don’t talk to each other, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You scoff, playing dumb. 

“Just because all of those other idiots didn���t hear what went down between you and Jimin last summer doesn’t mean I didn’t,” Yoongi mutters monotonously. 

You jerk up, stick straight at his words, eyes wide as you glare at him. He heard you?

Yoongi laughs at your reaction, reclining back impossibly farther. “Relax, I haven’t told anyone. You know it’s none of my business.”

“Well,” you sputter out, “if it’s none of your business then why are you talking to me about it?”

Yoongi frowns. “Because you’re my friend, Y/N. And I hate seeing you like this,” he says, that soft lilt to his voice peeking through the rigid words spilling from his lips. “I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore. A lot of the other counselors do.”

You purse your lips together, guilty. 

“Especially Jimin.”

“I just need time,” you say, trying to be honest for once in your life. Loving Jimin was never going to go away without a fight. 

“You need to talk to each other,” corrects Yoongi. 

“Talking is what got us into this mess,” you huff out, dejected. Yoongi heard it himself—your confession sent you and Jimin’s relationship down the garbage chute. 

“And talking is what’s going to get you out of it,” Yoongi tells you pointedly, truthfully, in that horrible way where you know that he’s right but refuse to accept it. “Promise me you’ll try?” He reaches out to place a hand atop yours, looking into your eyes with hopeful promise. “We want you back.”

“I’ll try,” you sigh out, because it’s never been worth fighting with Yoongi. Not when he cares so deeply. 

“Try what?”

You and Yoongi whip your heads around to find Jimin standing on the opposite side of the picnic bench, helping himself to a piece of sliced watermelon. 

“Try enjoying the outdoors more,” Yoongi covers for you instantly, making you breathe out a little sigh of relief. “We both hate when Namjoon makes it an outside day.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jimin says with a smile. The only reason Jimin doesn’t mind it is because he gets the best of both worlds—half the day spent inside the first-aid tent, the other spent inside the greenhouse by the woods. “There’s beauty in everything.”

Yoongi scrunches up his nose. “Like that?”

In the distance, you spot three things: Jungkook and Taehyung, laughing evilly as they run down along the rocky beach. The clothes clutched in their hands, crumpled up in their grasps while they hoot and holler. And Seokjin, hair sopping wet and half-naked, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and ugly lime green water shoes on, chasing after them. 

“I’m out,” Yoongi says without missing a beat, grabbing his lemonade and dashing off to safety. Yoongi’s exit leaves you and Jimin standing there, stranded, frozen in place, as Jungkook and Taehyung rush by you, each grabbing a piece of watermelon on their way. Something falls from Jungkook’s hold as they pass you, and Jimin reaches down to pick it up. It’s one of Seokjin’s socks. 

“Give that back, Park Jimin!” Seokjin’s banshee screech rings in your ears. 

“Run,” Jimin says, and you don’t get another say in the matter before Jimin is grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him, Seokjin’s angry caws echoing throughout the clearing. 

Even though Jimin didn’t even actually steal his clothes from the locker room by the lake, Seokjin has determined that anyone who runs from him is automatically guilty, thus lumping both you and him into a wild goose chase alongside Jungkook and Taehyung, who are almost always the guilty parties when it comes to practical jokes like this. For a few moments, it’s the four of you running across the open field with Seokjin hot on all of your heels, desperate to catch up to at least one of you despite being severely out-matched, both in athletic ability and footwear, and then suddenly Jimin is pulling you behind the shed as Jungkook and Taehyung make a sharp right, headed in the opposite direction. 

Crouched behind the shed, you and Jimin stop for a minute to catch your breath, chests heaving after doing more exercise in the last thirty seconds than you have in the last week alone. You’re pressed up against the back siding, and only after your heart rates finally slow down do you become faintly aware of Jimin’s hand still gripping your wrist, like he’s simply forgotten to let go. 

“You think we lost them?” He asks with a wicked grin, and it’s impossible to avoid his gaze when he’s so close like this, when there’s barely a foot of space between your bodies, when his fingertips still press against your skin. 

“I think so,” you heave out in response. 

“Better stay here for a bit longer just in case,” Jimin says, and it’s the flirty sort of thing that he would say if it were last year, the flirty sort of thing that he would say if you two were friends like you used to be, but you aren’t anymore, and now it feels like Jimin is trying too hard and you aren’t trying hard enough. 

“I… I mean,” you say, pulling your wrist out of his grasp, rubbing at where your skin sizzles from his touch. “We’re probably fine.”

“Are we?” He asks, and this is exactly why you shouldn’t try to talk to him, exactly why talking won’t erase the tension that has settled between you two, repair the cracks in what you are. You’re not fine, because everything changed when you told Jimin that you loved him, and you’ve never been good at adjusting. You’re not fine, because for the first time in your years-long relationship, loving him is getting in the way. 

“I hope we are,” you admit, more to yourself than anyone else. Oh, how you so desperately wish that things were back to normal. Oh, how it would be so easy if only things were just a little bit different. 

“Me too,” Jimin says, and he smiles and, oh, how it makes you feel real and true and whole. He stands back up and reaches an arm out to help you do the same. For once, it doesn’t feel like a Band-aid on top of a stab wound. It feels like a lifeline. 

You let Jimin help you back to your feet, and for some reason your heart feels just a little bit lighter. 

“You think we’re alright?” Jimin asks. 

“Yeah,” You respond with a nod. “I think we will be.”

One thing that Namjoon is big on is interdisciplinary recreation. This is half due to the fact that he attends a private liberal arts school on the east coast and half due to the fact that he doesn’t always trust some of the counselors when it comes to chaperoning a whole group of kids on their own. You aren’t going to name names, but they’re the same people that steal clothes for fun. 

He’s got a list up on one of those massive sheets of lined paper filled with suggestions for all sorts of things that combine two or more of the basic activities the camp offers, ranging from making handmade bird seed treats in the kitchen to put out on nature walks to dodgeball in canoes. Some of Namjoon’s ideas are a lot more feasible than others. 

Namjoon’s never been a pushy person. He’s repeatedly said that he purposely avoids telling people what to do within their activity sectors because he doesn’t want the counselors to think that he’s stepping all over them or doesn’t trust them to come up with their own entertainment. The list in the counselor meeting room is titled: ACTIVITY SUGGESTIONS, bolded and circled, just so everyone knows that he isn’t forcing you to do anything (if you’re being honest, the emphasis on suggestions somewhat works against his whole niche). But sometimes, especially for someone whose greatest fear is stripping away others’ creative freedom, he can be rather insistent. 

Take, for example, the two stacks of plain flower pots left anonymously inside the arts and crafts room when you walk in to set up the activity for the day. You were originally going to have the younger kids color in their own guitars to hang up in the music room—an activity that was not on the activity suggestions list—and give the older ones some clay and let them go to town, but you suppose that decorating flower pots will be just as entertaining. At least you didn’t have to go hunting for the materials. 

The only problem with decorating flower pots is that, once the campers have painted streaks and polka dots and glued charms all over them, the flower pots have a rather specific place to go. A place that is part of a notable Park Jimin’s domain. 

A sneaky little feeling beneath your skin suspects that someone may have let it slip to Namjoon that you and Jimin could do with a bit of relationship repair. And Namjoon and Yoongi have been bunking in the same cabin for as long as you can remember. 

Sighing to yourself as you begin to set up the flowerpots on old newspapers spread out on the wooden tables, you decide that spending an hour with Jimin in the greenhouse (maybe even less if you can find an excuse to get yourself out of there!) couldn’t be any worse than being crouched down behind that cobwebbed old shed with his hand on your wrist and his eyes gazing into yours. At least you’ll have thirty campers to maintain the distance between the two of you. 

You suppose that you do have the easier of the two jobs. Arts and crafts is a rather simple activity to oversee, barring the occasional papercut or glue gun burn. Luckily, painting flower pots means that you will really only have to worry about the campers mod-podging their fingers together, and even then, the bathroom is just down the hall. Jimin, with his having to wrangle the kids to garden neatly and not hit each other with the trowels, is going to have it much harder. 

There’s a part of you that knows you’ll stick around. Not just to lessen the load of campers for him, but just so you can spend a little more time in the same room, breathing the same air, pretending that things are the way that they used to be. 

When you leave the arts and crafts room to hike the ten minutes to the greenhouse, followed by all of the campers dutifully carrying their brand new flowerpots in their hands, you feel like a young bird leaving the nest. Taught to fly little by little, but one day forced to face the real world and exist without the safety net you’ve called home for so long. The arts and crafts room hasn’t always been your favorite place in the camp, but this year it’s felt like you’ve been holding on particularly tight.

Jimin is already waiting happily in the greenhouse for your arrival, this stupid old gardening apron tied around his waist with a faded picture of a cartoon cactus on the front that says free hugs. He watches fondly as all of the kids shuffle into the greenhouse, the whole room just barely big enough to fit all of you, wide eyes peeking out from behind seed packets and green leaves. 

You stay in the back corner as Jimin gets to work, having all of the campers place their pots on the tables in front of them, bright plastic buckets of soil at the ends of their tables, flower seeds waiting to be planted. 

As much as Jimin is fantastic at patching kids up inside the first aid tent, the greenhouse is where he really belongs. The harsh rays of the sun are softened by the glass walls as they beam down on him, surrounding him with this warm yellow halo, painting him into the scenery behind him. Here, amongst the lush vegetables and flowers and ferns, Jimin doesn’t look like an underpaid camp counselor carrying the weight of thirty children on his back. He looks like this fairy in the woods, this forest sprite that has grown up amongst the trees and the moss and the wildflowers, who has learned to tend to the world’s greatest garden. He looks like someone whose mere presence makes the plants smile a little wider. 

Jimin’s like that with everyone. It should come as no surprise to you that the plants feel better when they’re around him, too. 

Jimin has always been so good with kids. More so than any of the other counselors, really, though they all try their best to be fun and friendly and gentle and stern all at once. But there’s something in Jimin’s nature that just makes him the best at it, something about the way he cares for them so deeply, something about the soft lines of his face that earns him their trust the fastest. He’s good with everything that camp throws at him, from frisbees to murky water to lake monsters, but nothing has ever seemed quite as right for him as his connection with the campers. 

The children don’t know how lucky they are to know someone like Jimin. Someone who believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of others, someone who will stop at nothing to fix what has been broken. 

You think about how lucky you are to love someone like Jimin every day of your life.

“Mr. Jimin?” A squeaky little voice pipes up. It’s a young girl named Zoe, whose flower pot is decorated with a painting of her entire family, a group of four stick figures with red shirts and purple dresses holding hands together, loopy smiles drawn onto their faces. 

“Just Jimin, alright?” Jimin corrects. 

“Are you sure these seeds are going to turn into flowers?” Zoe asks, looking skeptically at the packets in front of her. 

Jimin laughs, and it is as warm as the rays of the sun that stream through the glass walls. “I can’t promise that they will, Zoe.”

“Then why are we doing this?” She pouts. 

“Because,” Jimin says, pointing to the packets in front of the campers, “the only way that I can promise that these seeds will turn into flowers is if you guys can promise to love them. Because no matter how much sun they get, no matter how much you water them, they will only bloom if you really, really love them.”

“How do they know?” Another girl pipes up. 

“Flowers are just like us,” Jimin tells her gently. “They can feel when they’re loved, and they love us back by blooming for us.” He shuffles around the back of the greenhouse where he stands, fishing through the shelves lining the walls until he emerges with a rather large pot in his hands, placing it down on the table beside him with a thud. “Take this hydrangea, for example.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the blue flowers flashing before your eyes. 

You planted those together. Last summer. You and Jimin snuck out to the greenhouse while everyone else was eating potato salad for lunch and spent the hour listening to pop songs from the eighties and planting a baby hydrangea. 

They will bloom every year, Jimin said. 

So they’ll always remind us of us, you responded. 

It’s the first time that you and Jimin have looked at each other since you entered the greenhouse. He catches you off-guard, eyes wide as you stare back at him, suddenly feeling this gut-wrenching ache from deep within your belly. And Jimin—

God, Jimin looks like he’s tried everything under the sun and moon to keep that damn hydrangea from wilting. 

“They were planted early last summer. And they bloomed, right? But they look so sad,” Jimin explains, rallying himself and turning his gaze away from you. “And I gave them new soil and watered them regularly, but I’m still missing something.”

“Love!” Zoe shouts. 

“Right,” Jimin says with a tense nod, eyes flickering to yours once more. Your shoulders slump. “But I have a lot of love to give, so hopefully they’ll be alright soon. You guys just have to remember that love is the most important thing that you can give to your flowers. Just like you and me, the flowers need to know that there is someone who loves them.”

But you do know, you want to shout out to him. You’ve known this whole summer and you knew back at the campfire and you probably knew even before that. You’ve known for so long and still the flowers that we planted together are fucking wilting. Like they can’t even bear that this is what we’ve come to. What do you mean, they need to know that there is someone who loves them? You do. And I love you. You must know that, don’t you?

You feel the vines of a thorny rose wrap around your heart, clenching it tight. It’s been in bloom for a year now, thick red petals filling up the empty spaces between your bones, nectar swimming within your veins. And when you picked it, cut it off at its stem to place in Jimin’s hand, it grew only stronger, bloomed only harder.

Oh, if only that hydrangea knew how much you loved him. 

Afterwards, you stay back to help clean up. There’s soil all over the floor, buckets knocked over in the campers’ frenzy to go play games in the gym with Jungkook, discarded paper seed packets and trowels left littered across the tables. 

Jimin doesn’t put on any eighties music. Instead, you stand there in silence, brushing the leftover soil into dust pans and buckets, placing the gardening tools on the rack by the entrance. 

Even though you know flowers don’t wilt that fast, it feels like with every second that passes, the hydrangea is a moment closer to death. The color seems to fade every time you look at them, going from its vibrant pale blue to a sallow green, no longer able to tolerate being in the same room as the two of you. 

Your love doesn’t seem like it’s going to fix it this time. 

“I didn’t know that it was doing so badly,” you say, and the words don’t even feel like they belong to you when you hear them back, making Jimin stop dead where he stands. 

“What?” He asks. 

“The hydrangea.”

Jimin looks over at the pot on the table, and he sighs, helpless. “I’ve tried everything. It just doesn’t seem to be working with me this year.”

It’s no secret to the both of you why. 

“Hopefully you can figure something out,” you offer alongside a half smile. “I would hate to see them die after only a year in bloom.”

“Me too,” Jimin sighs. 

“How have you been?” You ask him, because you never really did get a real answer when you asked him that very first day. And because no matter what you do, you’ll always be curious about him. 

“Alright,” Jimin says, and it’s not a lie. “I’m looking forward to graduating next year.”

“Yeah, me too,” you say, even though you’re only looking forward to the not-being-in-college part of graduating. Not so much the being-chucked-into-the-real-world part. “How’s the major coming along?”

“Well, physics never gets any easier,” Jimin jokes, and even though it’s a little bit forced it makes the two of you both laugh, desperate to get back to the way that things used to be, step by step. “What about you? Still going for English?”

“With a side of business so that I don’t end up a broke poet,” you remind him. “But yeah.”

“Maybe you can write me into one of your stories,” Jimin suggests. 

Oh, but doesn’t he know already? He’s the main character in every single one. All of your poems are about him. He is your inspiration and your muse. He fills up each blank page all on his own. Doesn’t he know? 

“Maybe,” you agree, even though there has never been a ‘maybe’ when it comes to him.

You nearly drop the plastic bucket of soil on your toe when you hear his next question. 

“Have you, uh, been seeing anyone lately?” Jimin scratches at the nape of his neck, clearly nervous. Your heart sinks. Out of all of the possible questions he could ask you to keep this relatively casual conversation going, he chooses that one? 

You look up at him, wondering why on earth he’s asking you this when your love has already been laid out bare in front of him, every corner unfolded so he can read across the lines like a map, memorize the splotches of color. You look up at him and you are helpless, desperate for him to realize that even with thousands of miles and hundreds of days between you, for you, it has always been him.

You wonder if the only reason he’s asking is to see if you were starting to move on. 

“No,” you mutter lifelessly. “I haven’t.” And then, like a devilish whisper in your ear, “Have you?”

You almost expect him to say yes. You almost expect to hear him recount all of the fantastic dates he’s been on, all of the loving relationships he’s been in, but instead, he says, “Me neither.”

And that? That makes your heart stop dead in its tracks. 

“I tried to, you know,” Jimin says, and each word is a puncture wound inside of you. “But I just couldn’t. Nothing really stuck.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you tell him, because you are. Because Jimin deserves to love someone who will love him back. Someone that isn’t you, someone who hasn’t been hopelessly pining after him for a year. 

“No, it’s alright.” Jimin shrugs. “I’m kind of glad that nothing stuck.”

And if hearing the words “me neither,” leave his lips made your heart freeze up, then hearing these words set it aflame. You don’t respond, instead choosing to let the words etch themselves into your memory, carve themselves into your heart, give you hope, if only a droplet of it. Any is enough to have your heart beating a little faster.

“I miss this,” Jimin breathes out, and if you closed your eyes and pretended that you were somewhere else it would almost sound like a confession. You glance up at him, and he is so empty, clinging hopelessly onto the remnants of things past just like you, and you realize that being honest is really the only option you have left. “I miss doing stuff like this.” 

The with you goes unspoken, but it rings loud and clear in your ears anyway. 

“I miss it too,” you say, because Jimin must know already, doesn’t he? How if you could choose to go on loving him without him ever knowing, then you would do it in an instant? How loving him silently was painful but loving him like this, unbearable. “I feel like it’s been a long time.”

A long time since you both really spoke to each other. A long time since you were friends the way you used to be. A long time since you first began to love him.

“Can’t we go back?” Jimin asks, a foolish question. He should know better than to ask for something he already knows he can’t get. 

“You know we can’t,” you tell him. You’ve already tried.

“Then can we begin again?” He proposes, the two of you meeting in the middle of the greenhouse, right in front of the hydrangea. You hadn’t even realized you were barely three feet away from him until you were already there. “Please? I miss us, Y/N. Don’t you miss us, too?”

Gazing at Jimin, you feel your heart tremble. One thing that hasn’t changed is how weak you are to his touch, to his eyes, to the way that they make every part of you feel like jelly, feel like you’ll collapse without him to hold you up. You’ve never been able to say no to him. It’s one of the things you don’t think you’ll ever outgrow. 

“We can try,” you say, because being honest may be hard, and talking even harder, but now you would rather try to piece yourselves back together than spend the rest of the summer wondering what to do with the shattered remains on the floor, stepping around them instead of cleaning them up, repairing what has been broken. 

It’s like the words are music to Jimin’s ears, the way he lights up, grinning wide and real and true. He inhales and it feels like a breath of fresh air, like a brand new season has come to rest upon the two of you. It feels like relief. It feels like hope. It feels like new.

You hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve been dying to make him smile. 

Next to you, the hydrangea seems just a little bit brighter. 

It’s getting easier. 

No longer are you turning in the opposite direction whenever you see him hanging around the center of camp, praying that he hasn’t spotted you from where you stand. Nor are you making excuses about having to go help Namjoon with something or run back to your cabin whenever he shows up to spend time with you and the other counselors. 

And even though it’s still a little tense when you accidentally look up at the same time and meet eyes, even though it still feels like you two aren’t quite the same, it’s getting easier. 

You’ve even begun to eat lunch together again. 

It’s not exactly like it was before, not like when you would scurry off to the greenhouse or the shed or some other hidden place, spread out a picnic blanket and bask in each other’s company, laughing about anything and everything, but it’s better. It’s better than how it used to be, when you would always bring your lunch back to your cabin to eat in silence, drown yourself in your comforter and your thoughts, letting them pile on top of you, one by one. It’s better than how you used to pretend that you didn’t even know each other. 

Slowly, step by step, things have almost started to feel normal again. 

“You guys seem happier lately,” Taehyung commends mindlessly as he sits down across from you and Jimin, three pieces of meat lover’s pizza on the paper plate he sets on the tabletop. 

You and Jimin smile at each other. You suppose that you have been.

“Three, Tae?” The moment gone too soon, Jimin’s focus is immediately redirected to the behemoth meal in front of Taehyung. “Seriously? Aren’t you lactose intolerant?”

“The meat balances it out,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly, even though it definitely doesn’t. He takes an enormous bite out of one of the slices, eating nearly half the pizza in a single chomp. “But seriously, I mean it. You guys look a lot happier. Yoongi!”

Yoongi freezes in his tracks from where he’s walking by your table, spilling his open soda can all over his plate of pizza at Taehyung’s shout of his name. 

“Don’t you think that Jimin and Y/N seem happier?” Taehyung asks, motioning to the both of you. 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says with a shrug, aloof as always. You chuckle to yourself, knowing fully well that it was him who got Namjoon to leave two stacks of flower pots in the arts and crafts room to give you an extra push towards talking with Jimin. Taehyung huffs, disappointed but not surprised that Yoongi contributed so little to the conversation, but he doesn’t notice how Yoongi gives you a smile and a thumbs up as he heads over to where Namjoon and Hoseok are sitting. 

“Well, I think you guys do,” Taehyung says pointedly. 

“Did we seem… unhappy to you?” Jimin asks, an eyebrow raised. 

“No,” says Taehyung. “I don’t know, you guys just seemed different. You know, I was talking with Jin and he and I were convinced that the two of you were dating last year and then broke up sometime before this summer because you guys were acting so weird earlier.”

“Really?” You ask, cracking an awkward smile just to keep the mood light because god, Taehyung really is a lot more observant than you give him credit for. “That’s so funny, honestly.” It’s not. “You know that we’re just friends, Tae.”

Next to you, Jimin is staring down his lunch like it’s insulted his family. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, goddamnit, anything that will make you feel like you’re not the only one who wants you two to be friends again. Anything that will remind you that being friends is all you have left because he will never love you back. 

“You could have fooled me,” Taehyung acknowledges. “Seokjin was pretty convinced, too. We even had a bet going to see which one of you would admit it first.”

“You guys bet on us?” Jimin asks, a little horrified and a lot of something else, something that you can’t quite place. 

“Not with money!” Taehyung defends. “Marshmallows for the end-of-camp counselor campfire. But neither of you ever said anything so we ended up just dropping it and ate as many marshmallows as we wanted.”

Oh, if only Taehyung knew. Oh, if only he had heard you that night, heard you pour your heart out in front of that fire. Oh, if only he had noticed, noticed the warm yellow glow that made Jimin look like he had been bathed in candlelight, noticed those roasted marshmallows over the heat, noticed the words that replay in your head like a broken record. 

There’s a part of you that wants to know who Taehyung was betting on. A part of you that is wondering why on earth would either of them ever assume that Jimin would be the one to confess first when he has only ever seen you as a friend and you have always seen him as something more. Seen him as this dream come to life, seen him as the answer to all of your prayers. 

Jimin never would have confessed first. That hasn’t changed. 

“Thinking back, it was kind of stupid of us to bet on you guys when you hadn’t even confirmed anything,” Taehyung says with a sigh, pursing his lips together tightly. “I don’t know. I guess that Seokjin and I both really, really wanted you guys to get together.” He chuckles, but it isn’t funny anymore.

Believe me, Tae, you think to yourself. You guys weren’t the only ones.

“Eh,” Taehyung hums, shrugging to himself. He clearly isn’t as caught up about it as you and Jimin, who wonder every day how different things would be if you had just kept your damn mouth shut that night, if you had never loved him in the first place. “I guess I’m just glad to see you both smiling again.”

“Thanks, Tae,” you say, because even if Taehyung doesn’t know the whole story he’s still hit the nail on the head, and even if he can’t pick up the way that Jimin’s body has tensed up beside you, even if he doesn’t notice how normal feels like the furthest thing to describe the two of you right now, he has always wanted the both of you to be content.

“Makes me kinda sad to know you guys are just friends, even though I’m obviously not going to force you into anything.” Taehyung takes another bite of his pizza, the words just conversational to him even if they clearly aren’t to either of you.

Slowly, Jimin looks back up from his lunch, like he’s finally made up his mind. You meet Jimin’s eyes when he does, and for once you don’t dare jump into the swirling sea of his irises, for once you can hardly tell if the waves are calm or rough. For once, it feels like Jimin is looking at you the way you look at him—helplessly.

Taehyung smiles, looking fondly at the both of you. “You guys would have been cute together,” he says it because he means it. “You make each other so happy.”

He means that part, too.

The end-of-camp show is a longstanding tradition where all of the kids, divided by age group, celebrate the best part about summer and going to a sleepaway camp: being away from their parents. There are dance performances choreographed by the counselors (namely Hoseok, who has the most free time because his other job mainly consists of making sure Namjoon doesn’t lose his head), a guitar performance organized by Seokjin (who has promised not to rickroll everyone this year), and an art show setup by you to display all of the treasures that the campers have created. But your favorite part of the show is how, no matter how much time time is spent practicing and rehearsing, the performance will always end in chaos. The only predictable thing about it is its unpredictability. 

This year, as suggested by Hoseok and immediately implemented by Namjoon, the counselors are being roped into a performance of their own, one that is bound to be even more disastrous because even though you can all listen to directions, you are all also just as capable of purposely disobeying them. 

Part of you suspects that the only reason Hoseok even recommended that you all do this is because he enjoys watching the camp counselor collective crash and burn. Like there’s something cathartic about watching you go up in flames.

Nevertheless, you do it, because if not for yourselves then for Hoseok, and if not for him then for Namjoon, both of whom tirelessly to make sure that camp is a place where you and the other counselors can do the dumbest things without repercussions. If it weren’t for the two of them, camp would be a lot less fun.

Hoseok also just absolutely relishes in being in charge of something, something that involves dancing and singing and performing, which are his favorite things to do, and it would be cruel of all of you to deny Hoseok this opportunity, if only for a silly little camp performance. 

Hoseok manages to wrangle a time and space for rehearsal thanks to one of those magic scientists that perform cool things with chemicals, one that Namjoon has arranged to visit camp to give you and the other counselors a much-needed break from the endless excitement of children. 

And so, you all trickle into the empty counselor meeting room at three in the afternoon exactly, waiting to see what the hell Hoseok has come up with now. 

All of the tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous furniture has been pushed up against the walls, leaving just enough room for all of you to fit relatively comfortably, with Hoseok standing smack in the middle of the room, looking proud. 

“I’m scared,” Hazel admits to you as you pass by Hoseok to stand where the rest of the counselors have gathered. You sneak a peek at the clipboard in Hoseok’s hand, which isn’t empty this time, and is instead filled with sheets of paper that look like they belong in the hands of a sports coach, X’s and O’s and arrows littering the pages. 

“Don’t be,” you say, though the tremble of your voice is probably doing very little to calm her nerves. You end up grouped together with Jimin and Yoongi, who are both standing in silence, waiting for something to pull them out of their thoughts. “Hey,” you say softly, giving Jimin a nudge. 

“Hey,” Jimin responds, face lifting a little when he sees you. From behind him, Yoongi is eyeing the both of you, but he doesn’t seem very worried. Jimin laughs tensely. “I’m nervous about what Hoseok has in mind for us.”

You glance over to Hoseok as he talks animatedly with Namjoon, who looks a little bit in over his head. Namjoon must have known that Hoseok would spare no expense when it came to a counselor performance. 

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” you assure him with a squeeze to his wrist, making him smile weakly at you. 

“First Namjoon makes us sit outside, and then he makes us do exercise?” Yoongi huffs. “When will it end?”

“High time he got you out of the damn kitchens,” Jungkook mutters to himself, making all of the other counselors within earshot laugh. Yoongi turns around to give Jungkook half of a noogie before Hoseok claps to get everyone’s attention. 

“Alright, hi everyone!” Hoseok cheers. “Glad you all could make it.”

“Did we have a choice?” Seokjin asks. 

“Nope!” Hoseok grins. “Anyway, as you know, this year Namjoon and I have been thinking of doing a counselor performance at the end-of-camp show to show unity and entertain the kids, since they’re the ones who have been doing all of the work thus far to make the camp show a reality. And I, as your assistant head counselor and dance choreographer, get to set it up!”

“Oh, God,” Taehyung says. 

“It’s not going to be a super serious thing because this is camp and we’re literally performing for prepubescent children, so don’t worry!” He says, doing nothing to ease people’s worries. He turns around to face the chalkboard, and begins to magnet the pieces of paper from his clipboard onto it, page by page, as the rest of you stare on in horror. “But I have come up with a bit of a dance for us to perform…”

“Oh, God,” Seokjin repeats dramatically. 

“Anyway,” Hoseok says, clapping his hands together once more to redirect everyone’s attention from the mess on the board back to him. “It’ll be a bit of a partner dance for the first half, and then everyone gets about five seconds worth of a solo in the middle where you can do whatever you want—” when Hoseok spots Jungkook, Taehyung, and Seokjin already beginning to scheme, wicked smiles widening, he quickly adds, “—within reason, and then a big old group thing to finish it up. Does that sound good?”

“Whoop,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Great!” Hoseok says, fumbling for another piece of paper in the stack that he still has left on his clipboard. 

“God, a partner dance?” You ask awkwardly, feeling noticeably more worried than before. It’s not that you’re dreading having to dance, or even having to perform in front of a bunch of kids, it’s the idea of having to dance with someone else, a specific someone else in particular, that has your stomach doing flips. “Why did Hobi think that was a good idea?”

“It might be fun, don’t you think?” Jimin says, trying to keep the mood light. It’s clear he has no worries about the potential for being paired up with you, which might have been able to fly last year but this summer, you’re not so sure. You and Jimin just managed to start eating lunch together again without wanting to curl into a ball and hide. What’s going to happen if you have to dance with each other?

“I’m not a very good dancer,” you admit, a weak excuse for your real fear. 

“Then I’ll teach you,” Jimin says, and the words are hopeful and filled with light as he works so desperately to remind you that not all has been lost. That you can begin again. 

“Okay, partners,” Hoseok says, looking at his list. “Namjoon and Yoongi, Jungkook and Seokjin, Taehyung and Hazel, Maria and Ruby, Jia-yi and Quinn, and Jimin and Y/N.”

Shit. 

Yoongi, noticing your alarm, immediately interrupts, “Uh, is it possible for us to switch partners?”

“Why?” Hoseok asks innocently. 

And in that split second, that moment of pause, you look from the wide-eyed Yoongi to Jimin, who is gazing back at you like he’s finally got it right, like he’s finally been given an opportunity to fix what you had broken, to repair your relationship, brick by brick, if only for a stupid counselor performance. Jimin, who is smiling and smiling and smiling because you are finally eating lunch together and you are finally watering that damn hydrangea and you finally get to dance together, and everything in the world is slowly beginning to feel right, the dust is beginning to settle after a month’s worth of storms. 

You inhale, then you exhale, and you say, “I’m fine with my partner. I don’t think we need to switch, do we?”

And you swear, your heart feels lighter already. 

Jimin pops into the arts and crafts room more often these days. Sometimes he actually does it because he needs to drop something off, because a camper left something in the greenhouse or because Namjoon is making him, but most times, he does it just to say hi, just to charm all of the campers as they make collages out of old magazines or glue together fabric for no-sew pillows. 

And every time he does it, every time there is that familiar knock on the door, you nearly tumble over yourself from excitement. The best part about it is how normal it’s all beginning to feel, how familiar it is. You are almost back to where you used to be. 

Almost back to when you loved him, and he didn’t know, and everything was alright. 

Today, the kids are making cards for you to mail back home before the summer is done, before camp comes to a close and they return to their lives and you return to yours. Normally, you’d automatically send the letters back to the parents, but this time, you offer up an alternative. 

“These cards are going to be mailed back home to the people that you love,” you say, holding up your own as an example. It’s a basic one, yellow cardstock with daisies made out of construction paper glued onto it, but it serves as a good guideline for whatever the campers want to do with their own. “You just need to provide their address so that we can make sure it gets to the right person.”

“It doesn’t have to be our parents?” One boy asks.

“Nope,” you say with a smile, shaking your head. “You can send it to anyone you love. It’s just to let them know how you are, and that you miss them.”

“Who are you sending yours to?” A different girl, Rose, asks. 

“I’m not sure yet,” you say, because you don’t really need to let your parents know how you are when you text each other constantly, and all of your friends from back home can see all of the shenanigans you get up to on your social media, but a letter is no fun if only one person ever gets to read it. 

“You should send it to Jimin,” Rose suggests matter-of-factly, making you sputter out the water you were taking a sip of all over the table in front of you. 

“Jimin?” You repeat, forcing a smile. “I see Jimin all the time.”

“But you really like him, don’t you?” She asks, even though she obviously already knows the answer. Goddamn, kids pick up on everything. “I can tell.”

“Is that so?” You return, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, me too!” The boy chirps up. “You always look so nervous whenever he comes to say hello. Like you don’t know what to say. That’s what my mom looks like whenever she comes home from a new date with a boy she really likes.”

You do? That is news to you. 

“It’s okay, though,” Rose interrupts. “I think that he really likes you too. Otherwise he wouldn’t just be popping in every other day to say hello!”

“Maybe he really likes seeing you guys, instead!” You offer, feeling your cheeks heating up at the thought that you and Jimin have laid yourselves out bare like a board book for everyone to read. 

“I don’t think so. He looks too happy when he sees you.” The girl shakes her head. “You should send your card to him, so he knows that you love him.”

Oh, he knows, that’s for sure, you think to yourself. There’s no way that Jimin hasn’t already realized that you still love him. That you have always loved him. Even the campers have it figured out, and they’re still in elementary school. But you think that the worst part of this, the worst part of all of these freakishly observant children verbally beating you up with reminders of your relationship with Jimin, is how they seem to think that Jimin likes you back. That Jimin sees you as something more. 

Because he didn’t, last year. And he didn’t, earlier this summer. And there is no way things have changed that much. 

“You guys should keep working on your cards,” you say, desperate for the subject to drop, desperate to talk about anything, literally anything, besides Jimin. “We want to send them by the end of the week so that the people you love will get them before camp’s over.”

“So you do like him!” The boy exclaims. 

“Cards, Oliver!” You reprimand him, earning a chorus of giggles, though there is no mistaking the way your body has tensed, the way your words are shaking. No mistaking how your heart trembles at the thought of Jimin, sweet, wonderful, beautiful Jimin, actually liking you back. 

It can’t be. 

You and Jimin have always just been friends. That’s all you’ll ever be. You swear. 

You swear.

“The hydrangea looks better,” you comment as you enter the greenhouse, eyes immediately darting towards the pot on the table at the front. In it, the hydrangea has blossomed fully, its petals a vibrant sky blue, basking in the faint glow of the sun as it streams into the greenhouse, peeking between the misty gray clouds, painting everything with a hazy yellow warmth. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jimin asks from where he’s wrestling with an enormous packet of soil, pausing his battle to turn and look at the blossom, smiling to himself. “I think we must have worked some sort of magic.”

“Or maybe it’s just your expert gardening skills,” you tease, hauling in some plants by the door that Jimin has been meaning to bring inside the greenhouse for days now. “I’m not in here enough to make any sort of noticeable difference.”

Jimin scoffs disbelievingly. “You’re in here almost as much as I am nowadays.”

“Just to help out,” you defend weakly, pouting to yourself. It’s not like you’ve completely abandoned your air-conditioned arts and crafts room to fool around in the balmy greenhouse, soil underneath your fingernails and seeds stuck to your clothes. You just prefer to spend your free time here. Nothing criminal about that.

Plus, Jimin sure doesn’t seem to mind. 

“And for that, I thank you,” says Jimin with a grin, the bag of soil finally beginning to cooperate with him. He hauls it over his shoulder to bring into the back room, where he keeps all of the bigger tools and plants that are too advanced for the campers, and you pretend not to ogle the way his biceps bulge as he carries the soil away, the bag easily fifty pounds or more. 

What? You didn’t fall in love with Jimin just because of his electric personality. 

“Besides, you come into the arts room so often that all the kids are starting to think you work there instead of here,” you remind him pointedly. He laughs, and the sound bounces off of the glass walls, filling up the room. 

Jimin comes out of the back room, a little bit of soil smudged onto his cheek from his gloves, and he’s smiling. “Maybe I just like seeing you.”

“Next time we do a craft I’ll make sure to prepare an extra one so you can do it with us,” you joke, ignoring the way his words warm you from the inside out, convincing yourself that this is what it was like last year, too, so Jimin doesn’t mean anything by it. 

Convincing yourself that Jimin has never loved you the way that you love him. 

“Am I going to be allowed to sit next to you?” He asks as he walks up to where you’re working, that same flirty lilt to his voice, that teasing tone that he always used to use on you, especially whenever it came down to spending time together. 

“Only if you’re good,” you chide in response, leaning over to pick up a flower pot just so you don’t have to see his damn face, so you don’t have to see the way his eyes glint in the sun as he toys with you, as he presses all of your buttons with ease.

Obviously, you had seriously miscalculated how far away he was, because by the time you’re standing up straight he’s right behind you, playfully pinching at your waist, the sensation sending an electric jolt through your veins. You jump and gasp at the feeling, nearly dropping the goddamn flower pot, body suddenly turning to jelly. Behind you, Jimin is in stitches. 

“I could have dropped this!” You scold him as he doubles over in laughter, giggling and giggling and giggling, so much so that you can’t even pretend to be angry at him, too endeared by his happiness, by his pure joy, to shout at him any more. 

“You’ve always been so ticklish, Y/N,” Jimin says between puffs of air, trying to catch his breath.

“I am not! You just surprised me!” You defend, even though Jimin’s right and he knows it. Your outrage leaves him in hysterics still, amused by the way you so easily fall right into his trap.

“Whatever you say,” he singsongs, helping you haul in the last of the flowerpots. “I think that’s the last of them.”

“Next time I show up, a whole different part of the greenhouse will need work,” you say with a sigh, because no matter how much you do, no matter how much you clean and reorganize, there will always be something left. 

“The work is never done,” Jimin says with a smile, having already resigned himself to this fate. “But I think it looks pretty good.”

And looking at the greenhouse, looking at the vibrant hues that fill the room, from the rich golden marigolds to the bright pink lilies, from the rich green leaves to the soft blue hydrangea, you have to agree. It’s no wonder why Jimin loves this place so much, spends so much time in it despite its severe lack of circulation and the absence of reliable shade. It’s because everything in here he has had a hand in making. Everything in here is here because of him. 

This place will never not remind you of him. 

“It’s getting late,” Jimin says, checking his watch. “You think they have dinner ready for us?”

“God, I hope so,” you say with a sigh. “I’m starving.”

“Then shall we feast?” He asks, holding his arm out for you to take. 

You wrap your arm around his own, and you grin. “We shall.”

Then the thunder cracks, and the sky begins to sob. 

You’re barely three feet out the door before you feel the wet splotches on your shoulders, cold drops on your skin, made thicker by the leaves above your head, forcing you to retreat back into the greenhouse. Thanks to the glass, the raindrops that hit the rooftop ring like mallets on a drum, booming and loud, echoing throughout the room. 

“Damn,” Jimin says, staring out at the once sunny clearing, now shrouded in a grey haze. “It was sunny two minutes ago.”

“It’s just a summer storm,” you assure, arm still wrapped up tight in his own. “They never last long.”

“Think we should wait it out?” He asks. 

“Whatever you want to do.”

Jimin grins, squeezing you tight. “How about this? Five minutes, and if it doesn’t stop, we make a run for it?”

You nod. “Five minutes.”

Five minutes pass and the rain has no intention of letting up, seemingly getting heavier as you count down the seconds, the light grey fog that has blanketed the clearing turning to an angry deep blue, thick and endless. The alarm on Jimin’s watch goes off, signifying your wait’s end, and you open your mouth to suggest that maybe you should wait here a little longer, but barely get the first letter out before Jimin is flinging open the door to the greenhouse and pulling you out into the rain. 

You shriek as the drops hit you, little pellets of water striking you like beads, soaking your clothes and your skin everything in between. Jimin looks back from where he’s running in front of you, one hand still wrapped around your wrist, and his hair is in strands and his shirt is sticking to his torso, and you don’t think that, in your three years of knowing him, you’ve ever seen him happier. He pulls you out into the rain and he looks like a shot from a movie scene, looks like the hero in a coming-of-age film, letting the rain wash away his worries and his insecurities, letting himself be reborn beneath the crying sky. 

And he stops, and you stop, and you stand there in the pouring rain just looking at each other, picturesque frames, moments in time, letting the water soak into your skin, letting it trickle down your cheeks, decorating your eyelashes. You feel his hand sink down to your own, feel your fingers intertwine. And he is smiling, God, he is smiling so fucking wide, smiling at you like there is no place he would rather be, smiling at you like you smile at him when you think he isn’t looking, like you are the reason he is filled with light. Jimin stands there in the rain with his hand on your wrist and droplets of rain dotting his skin, and he is brand new. And you watch him, watch the way it rains down upon him, and you wonder what the hell he is thinking. 

You wonder what on earth he sees when he looks at you. 

(Is it the same as what you see when you look at him?)

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask him, feeling like your voice is a distant melody, feeling like it’s coming from somewhere else. 

He shakes his head, and you can see the rain spraying from the ends of his hair, soaked strands framing his face. “Isn’t this wonderful?” He asks up to the sky, tilting his head up to let it rain down upon him, let the droplets drizzle down his cheeks. “Don’t you love it?”

“It’s nice,” you admit, because there’s something refreshing about being here, about being caught in the midst of a summer storm, washing away the dirt and sweat and worries. 

“It’s perfect,” Jimin corrects, voice trampled by the rain, thick and heavy. “I feel like this is just what I needed.”

“Needed for what?”

He looks back at you, looks at the way your bodies are still connected, at the way you’re standing barely a foot apart in the pouring rain, and he grins and says, “Just what I needed to know.”

You don’t have time to ask him what he needs to know, what he has been so desperate to learn, before he’s pulling you back into him and up onto the deck, wet footsteps on the wooden porch as you heave yourselves out of the rain and into the counselor meeting room, drenched from head to toe. 

“Oh my God, what the hell happened to you guys?” Seokjin asks, shocked when he spots the two of you, still holding hands. 

“Got caught in the rain,” you say sheepishly, still feeling out of breath. 

“In the rain?” Taehyung asks. “For how long?”

“Long enough,” Jimin answers this time, finally letting you go to run towards the back of the room. You watch helplessly as he does, your hand clenching around nothing, missing his touch. When he returns, he’s got a dry windbreaker in his hand, crumpled up from being in his backpack for so long. “Here, use this,” he says, placing it over your shoulders, pulling the collar tight at your front. 

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly, wondering what the hell Jimin is going to use to dry himself off, clothing so soaked not even a day in the sun could dry it. 

“That was fun,” Jimin says, fixing the windbreaker over your shoulders to make sure it’s covering as much of you as possible. “Who knew, right?”

“Right,” your voice trails off, too focused on the way his brows are furrowed as he tries to dry you off with a jacket made of fabric meant to repel water rather than absorb it, mouth pressed into a pout as he shuffles it around, drying off whatever he can. 

“Maybe we can do it again sometime,” he says when he’s satisfied, gazing into your eyes, trying to get you to gaze back into his own. When you falter, he chuckles, this little huff of air dispelled from his lungs. “I’m gonna go bother Hoseok for something dry. Don’t stay in those clothes too long, or you’ll catch something.”

With that, he disappears into the other room, soggy footsteps leaving prints in his wake. You’re so busy watching his back disappear from view that you don’t even notice Namjoon coming up to you, a sage expression written all over his face. 

“What?” You challenge, not liking the way he looks so suspicious. 

“Nothing,” he says with a laugh and a shake of his head. “I just… don’t know if you really do have anything to worry about when it comes to him.” He nods his head in the direction of Jimin before vanishing, called over by Seokjin and Jungkook to complain to him about something, leaving you floundering in the doorway to the counselor’s room. 

Does Namjoon know something you don’t?

Are you missing something here?

Because as far as you’re concerned, you and Jimin are finally getting back to where you used to be. As far as you’re concerned, you and Jimin did these same things last year, worked in the greenhouse together, planted flowers together, ate lunch together (okay, maybe you didn’t stand in the pouring rain together), and you are positive Jimin didn’t love you back then. As far as you’re concerned, this isn’t different. This is normal. 

Outside, the rain has stopped, a rainbow hidden behind the trees the only reminder that it was ever there in the first place. 

Despite the fact that you will literally only be performing for a bunch of children, Jimin is insistent on teaching you how to dance. 

At least, that’s it looks like, when he asks you to meet him in the counselor’s room one day half an hour before the mandated practice that Hoseok’s arranged for the whole group of you while the all the campers are off on a nature hike with some of the local rangers from the reserve nearby. You don’t know why this couldn’t wait until during practice, when Hoseok puts on some upbeat dance music and lets everybody do what they want, which usually ends up in someone getting twirled (usually Seokjin), but you don’t really mind. Your other option was to lie around in your cabin waiting for the next social event. 

Jimin’s already inside by the time you arrive, this smooth, soft jazz playing from the little speaker that he brought with him, set up on a table at the front of the room. The furniture hasn’t been moved back to their original spots since the first practice, so anytime Namjoon calls a meeting everyone ends up sitting on the floor like a kindergarten class, but at least it makes dance practice easier. 

Even though he’s not really dancing, his body is still moving, absorbed in the music as it echoes around the room, hips swaying and head bobbing. He loses himself in the melody so easily, letting each and every note pluck along to the strings of his heart, this deep, mellow sound that fills him up like a wine glass, dulcet and sweet. 

“Hey,” you say softly from where you stand, watching him from the doorframe. 

Jimin jumps a little bit at the sound of your voice, almost embarrassed that he hadn’t spotted you sooner. “Hey,” he says in return, coming to a halt. “I didn’t, uh, see you there.”

“That was kind of the point,” you joke, walking into the room and joining him where he stands in the center. “Why did you want me down here?”

“You mean I need a reason to see you now?” Jimin teases in return, a little smirk playing along his lips. You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, unimpressed. He gives. “Alright, you got me. I promised you a dance lesson, didn’t I?”

“This isn’t the kind of music that Hoseok puts on, though,” you point out, even as Jimin intertwines his hand in your own and pulls you in close to him, the two of you stepping in time to the beat, not too slow but not too fast, either, this even, steady swing, the sort of thing an old bar would play during the evening rush. Jimin doesn’t pay your comment any attention, instead focusing on his hand on your side, your fingers laced together between your bodies. 

You have, admittedly, never been much of a musical person. You never go out to clubs because sweaty, drunk people just aren’t your style, you don’t ever dance, and you can barely keep a beat when you sing in the shower. Your body has always been stiff as stone despite your (and your friends’) best attempts to achieve otherwise, and as such, you had long resigned yourself to the fact that you do better with your mouth than with your feet. 

But still, Jimin rallies on, because you’re here, goddamnit, and even if you never dance again after this, at least you can say that you have. He moves you around the room in time with the honeyed melody, even daring to pull some advanced tactics like spinning you beneath his touch, hand held above your head as you twirl in place. And you try to let loose, try to lose yourself in the music like he does, but it’s hard when you have always been more of a wordsmith than a dancer.

What’s also not helping is how every bone in your body always seems to freeze up at his touch. 

“Relax, alright?” He says, guiding you across the old wooden floor, boards creaking beneath your feet. “It’s just me.”

That’s the problem, your brain supplies unhelpfully. 

“I told you that I wasn’t a very good dancer,” you say bashfully, unable to look Jimin in the eye when he is so close, when his body is practically pressed up against yours, when his fingertips leave burn marks where they press against his skin, sparks flying. 

It’s different than when it was raining, because when it was raining, even though you were close, there were other things for Jimin to look at besides you. He gazed up at the sky and thanked it for its tears, gazed around the clearing and surrounded himself in the navy blue haze, closed his eyes and felt the drops on his skin, felt them wash away his nightmares and replace them with dreams. 

It’s different now, because there is nothing impressive about the counselor room. Because the janky old tables and dirty windows aren’t something to be gazed at. Because Jimin’s focus is on you and only you, and it makes you feel like he’s staring right through you, like he’s gawking at your heart where it sits in its cage, trembling beneath his eyes. Jimin makes you want to board yourself up, wall yourself in, and reveal yourself bare all at once, like there is so much that he already knows but so much more that he could, if only things were just a little bit different. 

“You’re doing just fine,” Jimin promises, voice as soft as his steps, padding on the hardwood. You’ve lost track of the number of times you’ve circled the room, Jimin guiding you without reason or rhyme, just rhythm. He makes sure you’re always looking at him, reaches a hand out to tilt your chin back up if you dare glance away, keeping his steely gaze trained on you, determined to have you do the same. “Isn’t this nice?” He murmurs. 

“It is,” you agree. You don’t even have to think about your response, letting the words fall off your tongue, because even if you do feel tense, even if your bones are stiff, there is something about this that sets you at ease. 

And you stay like that, wrapped up in each other, swaying to the beat of this song, a beat that is strikingly similar to the drums of your hearts, and the moment feels as though it’s freezing. Feels as though the rest of the world is fading away, leaving only the two of you and the warm, rich tune that floats through the air, slowing down as time seems to come to a halt. 

“Do you still miss us?” You breathe, and you can see the words as they leave your lips, see them written out in puffs of smoke between you before they fade into nothingness. 

“No,” Jimin responds, equally as speechless. The word disappears quickly in front of you, replaced by his next ones, “because this is what I had been waiting for.”

The words stare down at you angrily, your eyes raking over them, line by line, letter by letter, hoping to imprint them into your skin and your brain and your heart, hoping to keep them locked up besides your love for you to replay, over and over, one of many memories that keep you up at night, that you flicker back to watch like an old film, reminiscing of who you used to be, what you used to do. 

They disappear far too quickly, and suddenly time begins again, and you get dizzy just from how much the rest of the world needs to catch up, whizzing by you in fast forward. Or maybe you’re just dizzy because Jimin has always made you feel this way, always left you gasping for air, weak in the knees, heart pounding. 

God, he makes your heart pound. He makes it drum in your ears like the Nutcracker, like thunder during a summer storm. 

“Don’t you want…” he asks, trailing off, eyes hazy and deep, absolutely unreadable. 

“Want what?” You respond, and you swear you aren’t doing it on purpose but you feel yourself leaning forward, closing the gap between you, inch by inch—

“Want to see me lift Seokjin up in the air?” Jungkook’s voice rings out into the room. “I can, you know, he weighs like two pou—whoa, alright.”

A hoard of people stop behind Jungkook as he stands in the doorway like a floundering fish, blinking at you and Jimin. His arrival does not give you enough time to part without things looking suspicious, without all of the damn counselors already making their assumptions, leaving the two of you separating awkwardly, smiling tensely. 

“What were you guys doing?” Taehyung asks, breaking the silence that has blanketed the room. 

“Practicing,” you say quickly, looking as far away from Jimin as possible. Not even you are buying into your excuse. 

“Sure thing,” Taehyung responds, eyebrows raised in understanding, already having formulated his own, likely more realistic answer. 

“Alright,” Hoseok says, appearing from behind the crowd with a clap of his hands. “I guess that means that Y/N and Jimin don’t need to be joining us today, off you guys go.” He gestures for the two of you to leave, but the only exit doubles as the entrance, which means the two of you are left to shuffle past a crowd of counselors, all of whom are staring at you as you pass them by. Jimin doesn’t reach out his hand, and you don’t make any attempts at changing that. 

You nearly suffocate on the way out, overwhelmed by the tension that has filled the atmosphere, leaving everyone helpless to it. 

Jimin goes in one direction and you go in the other, the both of you clearly too stupefied to say anything meaningful to each other, determined to spend the rest of the night apart in an effort to dispel the dozen rumors that you know have already begun to circle the camp. 

On your way back to your cabin, alone and lost in thought, you finish your conversation. 

“Do you want…” Jimin asks, voice trailing off. 

“Yes,” you say. “I want it all. I want you.”

You wonder if Jimin feels the same. 

There is something eerie about the camp late at night, when the only lights that shine are the dim yellow wall sconces outside of the cabin doors, when everyone is sound asleep in their bunks, when there is only the moon and its stars to keep you company, watch over you from their place in the universe. There’s something eerie about the quiet, not because you have a reason to feel unsettled but because you’re so used to camp being this lively, bustling place, filled with things to do and people to see. 

When you see it like this, empty and silent, it almost makes you think you aren’t even in the same place anymore. 

The one and only place that you go when you cannot sleep is the pier, extending out over the lake, the cool, clear lake, looking out into the midnight horizon, a perfect view of the stars and their reflections, cast over the water, twinkling endlessly. You take a seat on the edge, legs dangling over the water, and you stare out into the world, a cool breeze tickling your skin. 

You wonder what it is that’s keeping you awake tonight. What it is that is holding sleep just out of your grasp, your dreams suspended above your head. Camp ends in three days and for once you finally feel satisfied, feel as though you have done what you wanted and accomplished what you had hoped. The last few days of this summer are a far cry from those of last summer, where you were wearing yourself thin thinking about your confession, thinking about what you would say and when you would say it, and what you would do based on the fifteen thousand different things that Jimin could say in response, so hung up on telling him that you barely focused on anything else. 

But this summer, you and Jimin are finally starting to be alright again. And even though you don’t think you will ever move on from loving him, you have moved on from the fact that he will probably never love you back, moved on from your failed confession, and you are learning to be okay with what you have, even if it’s not what you want. 

The truth is that you and Jimin have never felt closer. Driven by your mutual desperation to be friends again, to return to the way that things were when you were together, when you were inseparable, you have been pulled together like moths to each other’s flames, like the thunder and the lightning. You can’t think of anything from this summer that you have wanted more than to be by his side again. But things are different from last summer, different because you and Jimin are not only friends but friends who have had to reckon with love, with its disastrous effects. 

So maybe that’s why you’re awake tonight. Because this summer feels inexplicably stranger than last summer, and you feel like you’re missing something. 

“I thought I’d be the only one still awake.”

You whip your head around at the voice to find Jimin standing at the other end of the pier, ink black hair hanging over his eyes, stars swimming in his irises. You can barely make out his face this late at night, when there is nothing to cast upon him a glow besides the moon and its lonely companions, but you will never mistake his soft, honeyed voice, never mistake the way his eyes sparkle and shine. He is grinning at you, warm and kind, as he slowly makes his way towards you, footsteps tapping along the worn wooden planks, until he sits down next to you, feet hovering above the water. 

“You and me both, I guess,” you feel yourself whisper, not daring to speak a decibel louder. 

“Lots on your mind?” He asks, looking out into the horizon. You sigh, too tired to respond. He understands anyway, just like he always does. “Mine too.”

You let the silence wash over you like a wave that bathes the shoreline, gazing out into a world that carries on no matter the time of day, no matter who watches over it. Like this, you and Jimin don’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Don’t need to force a conversation just for the sake of filling up the quiet night. Like this, your presence is enough, the knowledge that he is here beside you, staring out into the same sky, into the same moon and stars, is all that you need. 

Something has long gone unspoken between the two of you. Something that you can’t quite place. Jimin has had something to say for a long time but he lets his body do the talking, lets you fill in the gaps. But this time, it feels like the more you try to read between the lines the less you understand, and goddamnit you wish that he would just tell you, would just say it so you don’t have to keep wondering and wondering and wondering—

“I never did tell you,” Jimin says, breaking you out of your reverie.

“Tell me what?”

“Tell you what I was thinking, that night.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate any further for you to know what night he’s talking about. You stare down at the lake, at the way it seems to move into itself even though there is nothing to disturb it. 

“I guess I was just so shocked that you, you know, liked me like that, that I didn’t really focus on anything else. Didn’t think about why, or how, or when, or what to do. It existed separately from all of that,” he admits, breaths heavy. 

“You didn’t need to focus on that stuff,” you assure him softly. “It was my burden to hold. I was the one who chose to tell you. It wasn’t your fault.”

Does he know? Does he know that you never hated him for not loving you back? That you didn’t expect him to do anything about it? 

“I just felt so bad,” he says, and you hear the way the words prick at his tongue, leave burn marks along his lips. “Because I didn’t know what to do after that. I wanted to love you back so badly but I just couldn’t.”

And even though you already knew this, even though you were already well aware that Jimin has always only seen you as a friend, for some reason hearing him say it aloud still hurts, still pierces your heart, wounds that your love for him alone cannot fix. 

“It’s not your fault,” you promise him, because throughout all of this, no matter what, you have never, ever blamed him for not loving you back. “I didn’t expect anything. At all. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Don’t I, though?” Jimin asks, and God, he sounds so helpless, sounds like he’s tried everything under the sun to figure things out and still, nothing has felt right. “We had always been so close. I wondered why I couldn’t fall in love with you and the things that we did together when you could. I thought that I was doing something wrong. You deserved someone who would love you back, and I so desperately wanted to be that person.”

“You owed me nothing,” you declare. “You still don’t owe me a damn thing. All I wanted was for you to know.” And look where that got you.

“Knowing didn’t feel like enough,” Jimin divulges. “I wanted to do more for you than just acknowledge it. I replayed that night in my head, over and over, wondering what more I could have said to you.” He sighs, deep and slow and filled with weight, filled with a year’s worth of thoughts he never told anyone else. “You told me you loved me and it was all I could think about. Then and now.”

“You still think about it?” You wonder aloud, sad because Jimin doesn’t deserve to have this weight on his conscience when you are the one at fault, and hopeful because maybe, just maybe, your confession meant just as much to him as it did to you. 

“I can’t stop,” he confesses. And then he turns to you, turns to you in the glow of the moon, his eyes drowning in starlight, and he says, “Every time I look at you I think about how you love me.”

You don’t know what to say. You are too absorbed in the swirling sea of his irises, letting the warmth wash over you in waves, filling you up before emptying out again, shocks of cold before the heat races through you. Jimin is right there, right here, and he is gazing at you and you wonder. 

You wonder, what if. 

You wonder, what if he loved me back?

“Even when I was away from you I thought about it,” he chuckles to himself, amused at his own obsession. “I thought about you, that night, at the campfire. You were wearing this neon pink camp t-shirt and your marshmallow looked like coal and you had this warm orange glow on you, and I swear to God, that image is imprinted in my brain. I see it every time I close my eyes.”

You didn’t know that. 

“When I went on dates, I saw you instead. I would be sitting in a booth with some girl and she would be trying to talk to me about the menu and all I would see is you.” Jimin exhales, filling the pauses that he leaves between his sentences, eyes raking you up and down as if he’s trying to commit this scene to memory, as if this night on the pier is something worth remembering. “They knew, too. All of them told me that I should get over my ex before going on a brand new date.” 

Get over you? What about you was there to get over? Your love has always been one-sided. You have never known a world where it hasn’t.

“And I wouldn’t even try to explain to them that I didn’t have an ex to get over, and that you were the one who confessed to me, and that I didn’t love you like that,” he forces another laugh, like he doesn’t even believe the words he’s saying himself. “Then this summer rolled around, and I saw you arrive and I just can’t tell you in words how happy I was to see you. How looking at you just lifted my spirits.”

“I hardly recognized you at first,” you admit shyly. 

“I dyed my hair,” Jimin reminds you. That’s right. He had brown hair last summer. “And I wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t know how to without bringing up all the shit that happened last year, and things were awkward between us, and I guess…” he trails off, thinking for a moment. “I guess I just really, really wanted us to get back to the way things were, but I didn’t know how to. And I didn’t know what had changed.”

“Nothing changed,” you say, even though everything did. But loving Jimin has always been a constant in your life, a truth, and this summer was no different. “I wanted to go back to being friends with you, too.”

“I thought I wanted that, too.”

This time, you are the one who turns to look at him. What could he possibly mean by that? 

(Can it be?)

“At first, that’s all I wanted,” Jimin begins. “I wanted us to go back to being friends, I wanted us to eat lunch together and have it not be weird, I wanted us to spend time in the greenhouse and the arts and crafts room together, I wanted us to hang around the rest of the counselors without them noticing how different we were. But then I noticed that the hydrangea was wilting no matter what the fuck I did to keep it alive, and I realized that wanting our friendship back wasn’t enough for me anymore.”

You are frozen in place. You are locked into his gaze, body turning to stone, unable to even utter a single word. To breathe a single breath. And you look into his eyes, Jimin’s beautiful, ocean eyes, Jimin’s sparkling, ink eyes, and you pray. 

“And then Hobi partnered us up for the stupid camp counselor performance, and we got caught in the rain, and then we danced in the counselor meeting room and I just—” His chest heaves, words flounder. As if he has so much to say, as if the words are practically spilling off of his tongue, and yet they are still not enough. He closes his eyes. Pauses. Catches his breath. And then he asks, “If I asked you if you still loved me, would you say yes?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“If I asked you if you wanted me to love you back, would you say yes?”

“Yes,” you whisper again. 

Jimin blinks.

“If I asked you if you wanted me to kiss you, would you say yes?”

You barely get out the first letter before Jimin is pulling you into him and pressing his fiery lips upon yours. His hand cradles your cheek, the other one splayed out on the wooden pier to keep his balance, dragging you into a messy, desperate kiss, one that sends sparks ricocheting throughout your body, turning your blood into liquid flames, that fills you up from the inside out. The feeling of his lips pressed upon yours makes your heart shake so wildly in its cage that it frees itself, growing a thousand times wider. The rose inside of you vanishes, finds itself replaced by a blooming, bright blue hydrangea, one that settles deeply within your soul. 

Your legs dangle off the pier as your arms wrap around Jimin’s body, curling around his torso in a futile effort to bring him closer than he already is, to feel the warmth of him press against you, sending jolts down your spine, into your bones. You feel yourself getting dizzy just at the feeling alone, kiss drunk, the rest of the world spinning like a goddamn teacup ride, but you cling onto him and you know that he will always be there to catch you if you fall. You know that he will always be there to steady you when you feel the world slipping out from beneath your feet. 

You have him, you have him, you have him. You have him, and he is right here, and he loves you like the sun loves the moon, and you love him like the waves love the shore.

When you part, you almost lose your balance and fall right off the damn pier. Jimin reaches out to grab you just in time, saving you from a watery grave (or just major embarrassment), and the two of you laugh, letting your voices fill the moonlit air, heads light, bodies blissed out. 

“Honestly, I was a little nervous you were going to say no,” he admits with a laugh. 

“Impossible,” you chide. “You know I’ve always loved you.”

No matter what, that will never change. 

“And now,” he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead, this one gentle and plush, “you know that I will always love you, too.”

It doesn’t feel like something long overdue. It doesn’t feel like something that you have been waiting and waiting and waiting for, something you have expected from the moment you told him. 

No. This feels like something new. 

This feels like your heart is in bloom. 

The end-of-camp show, no matter how much time and effort Namjoon puts into making it go smoothly, is a train wreck. But it is a train wreck in that wonderful way, in that way where you would be suspicious if things actually went according to plan, in that way where chaos and disarray reign supreme. Quite frankly, when it comes to the end-of-camp show, you never expect anything less. 

The truth is that the majority of the end-of-camp show performances are just for the counselor’s entertainment, an afternoon of fun to wrap up the end of camp, topped off by a fun meal (usually pizza) and a night around a bonfire, letting the heat warm your bodies from the inside out. Unless Jungkook and Taehyung pull some extremely ridiculous prank, the last official day of camp is usually everyone’s favorite, filled with snacks and music and laughter.

The performances by the campers go about as well as any performance by a bunch of elementary schoolers can go—that is to say, the kids remember the first five seconds of the choreography before they devolve into pandemonium, dancing as many weird, trendy dances as they can, and some you don’t even think have been invented yet. Nonetheless, Hoseok is proud, and beams at all of the campers as they scurry away from the center of the gymnasium once their dance is done, grabbing little snacks on the tables by the windows before settling in to watch the next stage. Hoseok does a good job of keeping the music current and upbeat so that nobody falls asleep, and gives the campers enough creative liberty so that it doesn’t feel too practiced. 

Lightly rehearsed, Hoseok likes to say. 

Absolute madness, Yoongi usually corrects.

After the dances, Seokjin and his hoard of campers with guitars the size of an overgrown ukelele make their way to center stage, and you and the other counselors bet on what stupid song he’s taught them all. He starts it off with everyone’s favorite and the most timeless of all tunes—Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star—before the musical highlight. 

(“It’s gonna be Fireflies,” Taehyung insists, so confident in his choice that he even wagers two of the homemade Rice Krispie Treats that Yoongi got all of the campers to make for today’s celebration. 

“It’s been too long since he rickrolled us,” Jungkook says, eyes narrowing suspiciously to Seokjin at the front of the room. “I’m just waiting for it.”

“Wonderwall, obviously,” Hoseok contributes, even though Seokjin got all of the campers from last year to play that. 

You and Jimin are both almost positive Seokjin has chosen to perform Let it Go, a song that will never truly escape you, but you keep your comments to yourselves. 

“I’m thinking Photograph,” Namjoon comments mindlessly, late to the conversation.

“The Nickelback song?” Yoongi says with a scoff. “Dude, we’re the only ones old enough to even know that song. No no, I think it’ll be Despacito.”

“If I have to hear Despacito one more time, I’m going to jump out of the f—” Taehyung stumbles on the syllable as Namjoon turns to glare at him, making Taehyung sputter for a replacement. “F… -reaking window. Watch me.”)

In the end, none of you guess correctly, because Seokjin has chosen to teach all of the campers how to play Country Road, Take Me Home, and honestly, none of you can even be mad about it because by the thirty second mark, you’re all singing along. There’s just something about that song that forces you to belt out the lyrics, something magical and irresistible. 

Afterwards, it is finally time for the counselor’s performance, which, if the camper’s excited screams are anything to go by, is apparently the peak of the afternoon. Hoseok puts on the same upbeat dance music and all of you go to town, following his choreography without any hitches before jumping into the solo section. Namjoon and Yoongi both attempt a trendy Internet dance and fail miserably, Taehyung and Hazel do a little tango that involves no accidents, and then it’s you and Jimin’s turn. 

The music isn’t really appropriate for the slow dance that Jimin taught you in the counselor meeting room, but he makes it work and you follow along, tracing his footsteps and laughing at the prickly sensation his hand on your waist sends shooting through you. You really have always been ticklish there. Hoseok only gives everyone thirty seconds before they’re booted off to the sideline, but thirty seconds is just enough time for Jimin to spin you once before pulling you into a kiss in front of dozens of campers and all of the counselors, whose hollers and hoots fill the gymnasium, bouncing off of the walls and ricocheting into your ears, when they watch you. It has your cheeks heating up something fierce, all embarrassed by Jimin’s big reveal, but the great big smile on his face makes it all worth it. He looks so happy to be here with you. He looks so goddamn happy to have you. 

It makes you feel like you can do anything. 

Ultimately, Jungkook and Seokjin get the greatest applause, because Jungkook lifts Seokjin into the air figure-skating style before Seokjin comes crashing down on him, and they land in a puddle on the gymnasium floor to the screams of all of the campers and counselors, who have never seen anything quite as artistically dramatic in their lives. 

Afterwards, you and Jimin retire to the snack tables alongside the rest of the counselors as the campers are free to roam the building, check out the art on display and eat as many ants on a log and homemade Rice Krispie Treats as they can get their grubby hands on. 

“Congrats, you guys,” Namjoon says, raising his dixie cup filled with lemonade. “It worked out after all.”

“I’m proud of you,” Yoongi murmurs to you, a soft smile gracing his features. 

“Love always prevails,” Jungkook declares, sighing happily, always a hopeless romantic at heart. You sure hope that one day, Jungkook will fall in love with someone who loves him back unconditionally, because he deserves it. 

“Which one of you confessed first?” Seokjin says, Taehyung nodding furiously behind you. You see that the bet is still on. 

“Me,” you say. 

“Me,” Jimin says. 

You both look at each other, eyebrows furrowed, clearly on separate wavelengths. 

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “Alright… which one of you said ‘I love you’ first?”

“That would be me,” you admit sheepishly, having a year’s headstart on Jimin when it comes to love confession. 

“I fucking knew it,” Seokjin says, palm out. Taehyung begrudgingly smacks five dollars into Seokjin’s hand, muttering to himself about how he was convinced that Jimin would tell you first. It makes you wonder, just a little bit, how long Jimin had known.

You open your mouth to defend yourself and your weak, weak heart, when you feel a tap on your side. Behind you is the same girl from the day that you were making cards to send back home to people you love, the one who absolutely grilled you about your feelings for Jimin. 

“Yes, Rose?” You ask happily. 

“So did you send it to him?” She questions. 

“Send what?”

“Your card. Did you send it to Mr. Jimin?” She elaborates, eyes wide in curiosity. You make a mental note to remind her to never stop being inquisitive. It will take her far. 

“No, I didn’t,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head. You look back at Jimin, where he’s laughing with Seokjin and Taehyung about their stupid bet on you, and you grin. He is so beautiful. It’s still hard to believe he’s yours. “Jimin doesn’t need a card to know that I love him.”

Not when he’s right here, and not when you know he loves you back. 

The counselor campfire is held on the day very last night that you spend together, after all of the campers have left the mountain, returning home, and you finally have the place to yourselves. Namjoon and Yoongi light it because everyone else has been banned from doing so after the Great Flame Incident two years ago, and then you all sit on the logs around the fire pit, reminiscing of the summer gone by, musing aloud about what the future holds. 

You and Jimin snuggle up together, and this night faintly reminds you of the one from last year in the way that Jimin still glows, warm and yellow, in the light of the fire, in the way he seems to make perfect s’mores no matter what, in the way that he laughs at everything that you say. But even with all of the similarities, nothing, literally nothing, could top how you feel right now, dancing on cloud nine with Jimin by your side. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d have him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your confession would amount to anything more.

“You’re burning your marshmallow again,” Taehyung points out crudely, the side of your marshmallow already turning an ashy coal color. 

“Ah, fuck,” you mutter to yourself, yanking it away from the fire as you blow on it. 

“You’re never gonna learn, are you?” Jimin teases. He plucks his off of his stick, perfectly toasted, and holds it out for you. “Here, have mine.” You open wide and he pops it onto your tongue, the crisp, sweet flavor melting in your mouth as all of the other counselors groan, clearly wishing that they were somewhere other than here. Jimin’s fingers reach up to your chin, tilting your face towards him, before a thumb comes out to wipe away at the smudge on the side of your lip, a sticky white crumb that he pops into his mouth, earning another round of whines.

“Gross,” Seokjin says, nose scrunched up. “Just because you guys are in love now doesn’t mean you have to keep showing us. We get it.”

“Oh, just leave them alone,” Yoongi chides. “They’ve been pining after each other for so long, let them have this.”

“Thanks,” you murmur to Yoongi. You have a lot to thank him for. He has always been on your side, even when you weren’t. 

“Anytime,” he promises. 

“If they’re gonna be like this next year, then I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” Taehyung admits with a fond sigh, because no matter how much he pretends to be annoyed, you know that he’s happy for you. 

Namjoon sucks in a breath. “Uh, yeah, about next year…” he says, wringing his hands together. “I’m not going to be coming back.” You fall into silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire, the rustle of the wildlife in the woods. “I have another internship at a firm, and then I’m going to be going into the job market, so I don’t, uh, I don’t really see myself coming back here.”

“Me too,” Yoongi chirps up, earning a surprised look from everyone else. “I’ve just been given an offer to produce music for this small record company, but they’re located across the country, so I’ll be moving soon. I guess—well, I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you all.”

“Congrats,” you tell him, sad to hear he won’t be back but thrilled to know he’ll be doing something he truly loves instead. “Seriously, Yoongi. That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, man, that’s sick,” Jungkook pipes up. “When you’ve won your Grammy you have to remember to mention us.”

Yoongi chuckles to himself, small and quiet, but even in this orange light you can see the way his cheeks are turning cherry red, relishing in the praise. “I’ll miss you all,” he says. 

And slowly, one by one, you all begin to admit that even though you love it here, being a camp counselor had always been temporary, and it just wouldn’t be the same without everyone else here with you too. You and Jimin will be graduating this coming school year. So will Taehyung. Seokjin has a Master’s degree in acting that he wants to pursue. Even Jungkook, who is younger than all of you besides Hazel, has said that he plans to travel with his college lacrosse team next summer. 

“Damn,” Taehyung says when everyone is finished, as you all begin to count how many of you there will be left for next summer. “Who’s gonna do Namjoon’s job?”

“I already asked,” Namjoon says with a proud grin, “and Hazel said she is happy to take on the responsibility.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Seokjin shouts, giving Hazel a massive hug, nearly crushing her in two. “Hell yeah, Haze! You are going to be kick ass at that. I’m proud of you!”

The rest of the counselors soon follow suit, congratulating Hazel and cheering for her future. It almost makes you want to come back, but you know that Hazel will be fine without you. As long as she still has her secret stash. 

“Nice work, Haze,” you tell her, earning a shy smile from her in response. “You’ve always been a leader.”

“I’m just nervous I won’t be as good as Namjoon,” she admits timidly, clearly a little overwhelmed at such an enthusiastic response. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Namjoon assures her. “I know you’ll be fine. Plus, you won’t have all of these losers to worry about, so your workload will be much lighter.”

“Hey!” Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook all shout at once. 

“Don’t get me started on the two of you,” Namjoon chides, eyes narrowed. “You’ve caused me more stress than my senior thesis.”

“Out of love,” Seokjin swears, Jungkook and Taehyung nodding enthusiastically next to him. Namjoon rolls his eyes, even though you know that he secretly loves the extra work that they give him. It keeps him young, in that old-timey kind of way. 

“Then I guess this is it, isn’t it?” Hazel asks, standing up and holding out a finished s’more, already taking on her newly-bestowed head counselor duties. “I suppose I’ll do the honors. Congrats to Y/N and Jimin for finally figuring their relationship out, congrats to Yoongi for getting into that record company, congrats to Namjoon for getting his internship, and congrats to everyone else for doing what they love, and for not letting their dreams be dreams. This summer feels sort of like the end of an era, in a way, don’t you think? I mean, lots of us are moving on to bigger and better things, celebrating the past and aspiring to become people that we hope will be admired in the future. And I guess that I just want you all to know that no matter who you become, no matter what you do, I’ll always be someone who admires you.”

If you were a little drunk or just a little more sentimental, Hazel’s words would almost bring tears to your eyes, but instead you just join everyone in cheers, standing up and clinking your s’mores together.

And in a way, it really does feel like the end of an era. No more summers on the mountain, no more late-night camp pranks, no more hydrangeas in the greenhouse. You’re moving on, not only from this part of your life but from your almost-fruitless quest for love, from the place that led you to fall so deeply for Jimin, the place that has housed every memory you have ever saved of him. You’re moving on to a world where Jimin is with you every step of the way, where you know that he will always be there for you, where you no longer have to fight yourself to keep from loving him, where you have to do everything you can to preserve an already-fragile friendship. 

No. Now, you can take your first step forward with Jimin by your side. 

“Cheers!” Everyone shouts. 

“Cheers,” Jimin says to you, pulling you in for a quick little kiss, and no matter how hot the campfire burns Jimin’s lips upon yours will always be what warms you from within. “Cheers to us.”

You grin against his lips, pressing back because you can never get enough, and you murmur, “Cheers to us.”

“Hey! Jungkook!” Seokjin shouts right as Jungkook hops into his car. “When we text you in the group chat you better fucking respond!”

“I will, I will!” Jungkook screams back, voice so loud you can hear it despite the fact that all of his windows are rolled up. 

“No, he won’t,” Yoongi deadpans as he passes you by, duffel bags hanging from his shoulders. “You know he won’t.”

“He never does,” you agree. Getting a text from him is almost as impossible as winning the lottery. “I’ll call you, alright? I know you don’t really like texting, either.”

“Talking is just easier,” he says with a nod. “I’m looking forward to it. Call me whenever you need me.”

“I will,” you promise, watching as Yoongi bids you one final goodbye before heading to his own ride. He plops his bags into the trunk of Namjoon’s car before getting into the passenger seat. Namjoon pushes his head out of the window to wave, smiling wildly at you as he starts the car. You grin, waving back, and watch him, Yoongi, and Jungkook, disappear down the mountain. 

“You’re next, right?” 

You whip around to find Jimin standing behind you, a frisbee in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He won’t be leaving for another couple of hours, when Taehyung’s finally ready to go. They live close to each other so they figured they’d save money by splitting an Uber, which will be waiting for them at the bottom of the mountain.

“Yeah, gotta get back before college starts,” you say, dropping your bags at your feet. “But we’ll see each other before then, right?”

Jimin and you attend universities on opposite sides of the country. Loving each other is the easy part. Staying in love is what will challenge you. 

“Of course,” he promises. “I’ll visit whenever I can. And I’ll come see you on all my breaks during the semester, too. You and Jungkook.”

“Good, you better,” you say, and you pull him in for a bruising hug because you know that this will be the last time for a while. Not a long while, but a while, and even if you have committed every slope of his figure, every inch of his face to memory, you still have to remember how warm he is when you hold him, how soft his lips are when they touch yours. Those things… those are new. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he assures you. “But I’ll miss you too.”

Several feet away, Hoseok honks the horn of your car to let you know that you’re all ready to go.

“I’ll call you when I’m home, okay?” You promise, pulling him in for another hug, one last time, feeling this strange desperation rush through you, like you won’t see him for weeks and this is all you’ll have left. “Isn’t it weird? You’re right here and I miss you already.”

“We’ll see each other again before you know it,” he says, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, quick kiss. No matter how many times he does it still sends sparks shooting through your veins, but you suppose that that’s just another thing you’ll have to remember. When you part, he notices your worry, eyes softening at the sight. “Hey,” he says, lifting your chin up so you look at him. “I love you.”

You crack a smile. “I love you, too.” 

It’s not a goodbye. 

It’s an until I see you again.

You grab your duffel bags and hike them over your shoulder, footsteps heavy and weighted as you slowly make your way towards your car. Every four steps or so, you turn back just to make sure that Jimin’s still there, and sure enough, he’s watching you, this lopsided, love-drunk smile lacing his features. 

You place your bags in the backseat of your car before heading to the driver’s side, hand on the handle as you look up one final time. 

There Jimin stands in the middle of the clearing, the warm afternoon sun bathing him in a halo. There he stands, beautiful, and kind, and lovely, and in love. And you are so in love. You wave. He waves back.

And you know that you two will be alright. 

You jump into your car and tug the door shut behind you, keys in the ignition, engine revving, and you sigh, content and feeling confident in life. You peer into the rearview mirror to see Taehyung running up to Jimin, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and waving goodbye to you. You lift your hand up in response, watch as they bid you farewell as you creep towards the slope down the mountain. 

As you drive down the mountain, you take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh summer air, and you smile. 

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[bloody-bee-tea]

Raise

Ever since he and Nie Mingjue broke up, Jiang Cheng has only been going through the motions. He’s still fulfilling his duties as a Sect Leader—his pride in his Sect won’t allow him to do anything else—but that’s about it.

There’s nothing in life to take enjoyment from anymore and Jiang Cheng feels a lot like he did right after the war, except with less existential dread. But he’s lost and unmoored and he doesn’t know what to do.

He hates it a little bit that Nie Mingjue still has this kind of power over him, but mostly he’s just fucking devastated.

Now he understands his sister and her tears and her sad smiles a bit better.

Getting your heart broken really is the worse and Jiang Cheng guesses it doesn’t help that at least he knows that Nie Mingjue felt the same for him.

Jin Zixuan was a complete asshole to his sister, which must have made it a little bit easier Jiang Cheng hopes, because he wishes this for no one.

When he realizes that he lost himself yet again in his own head, he scoffs. It’s been happening a lot lately, and usually all of his thoughts turn to Nie Mingjue but he can’t afford to slack off.

No matter what his second in command keeps telling him on a daily basis.

If Jiang Cheng would take a day for himself, he wouldn’t do anything but wallow in his misery anyway, and he prefers working over doing that.

So he goes on, and on, one letter after the other, until he made a considerable dent into the stack that built itself up during his last weeks with Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together when he realizes that he’s yet again thinking about the other man and he slams his hand on the table in his rage.

He really wonders just how long this will go on; how long he will be haunted by the thought of Nie Mingjue. Right now, he hears Nie Mingjue’s laugh echo in the hallways they frequently walked together, he feels Nie Mingjue’s phantom touch on his shoulder whenever he sits hunched over some work for too long, and he still feels all the love Nie Mingjue had for him.

But duty comes first, Jiang Cheng understands that. He doesn’t have to like it, but he understands.

“You can’t just—no, wait,” Jiang Cheng suddenly hears from outside and he lifts his head a second before someone barges into his study.

“You fucking asshole,” is what Nie Huaisang greets him with and Jiang Cheng knew that the break-up would throw a little bit of a wrench into their friendship, but he didn’t expect this.

“Huaisang,” he still greets his old friend, but he figures he shouldn’t have when Nie Huaisang glares at him, clearly too agitated to even get his fan out.

“Do not even dare,” Nie Huaisang hisses. “You absolute fucking asshole. You said you would love him!”

“I do,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh, getting up to close the door behind Nie Huaisang, hoping that not all of Lotus Pier heard him yet.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Nie Huaisang sarcastically gives back. “It’s so very evident in the way you broke up with him.”

“Don’t be unfair,” Jiang Cheng whispers, but he can’t meet Nie Huaisang’s eyes.

It still hurts too much.

“Unfair. Unfair! The only one being unfair here is you!”

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng snaps, now slowly getting angry himself.

He can understand the protective instinct of a sibling, but this is really going to far. It’s not Jiang Cheng’s fault, and he didn’t actually want to break up with Nie Mingjue, but since it was what Nie Mingjue had wanted, he had done it.

And it seemed unfair to be attacked over this now.

“No. I’m going to ruin you,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and while usually Jiang Cheng wouldn’t give much thought to a threat like this, he knows that if Nie Huaisang really wants to, he will.

Going by the glare Jiang Cheng gets, Nie Huaisang really wants to.

“Why? It’s not my fault,” Jiang Cheng snaps at him and Nie Huaisang laughs right in his face.

“Right, not your fault. Of course not. How could it be? You’re just the guy who broke up with my brother.”

“Because he wanted to!” Jiang Cheng shouts at him, his heart still hurting so damn much and that at least is enough to shut Nie Huaisang up for a few seconds.

“He wanted to,” Nie Huaisang lowly repeats. “That’s what you’re going with? Really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jiang Cheng asks, suddenly drained of all energy and he goes to sit back down at the table.

He doesn’t want to fight with Nie Huaisang and he doesn’t want to do it while standing up, and all he really wants to do is go crawl into bed with Nie Mingjue and curl up against his chest, but it’s not like he’ll ever be able to do that again.

“My brother finally opens up to you about the qi deviations and your first instinct is to run away and break up with him? And now you’re trying to twist it like it was actually his idea? You’re really something else, Jiang-zongzhu. I thought better of you.”

“That’s not what happened, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng says with a small frown, because Jiang Cheng remembers that conversation a lot differently, and he was actually present.

“Then enlighten me,” Nie Huaisang hisses. “What did happen?”

Jiang Cheng desperately doesn’t want to speak about it—the pain still too near and fresh—but Nie Huaisang is levelling him with a look that promises pain and absolute ruin if Jiang Cheng doesn’t start speaking like five seconds ago and so he sighs.

“He told me about the qi deviations,” Jiang Cheng says, because so far they are on the same page. “That he’ll die soon and young and violently.”

“And you left him for it,” Nie Huaisang says with a nod, as if there could be no doubt about it.

“I love him. Do you really think that low of me?” Jiang Cheng asks, a new kind of hurt finding its place in his chest.

Jiang Cheng thought he was long over being hurt by people being disappointed in him, but it seems like he was wrong.

“Seeing as he is back home, absolutely devastated and you’re going on like nothing happened, I think the only possible answer can be yes,” Nie Huaisang sneers at him and Jiang Cheng sees red.

“I have to do this,” Jiang Cheng yells and shoots up. “I have to because if I don’t keep busy, if I don’t distract myself, I’ll be a fucking shell. I want to do nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry for a good week but what good is that going to do me? It’s not going to get me Mingjue back and my Sect actually still needs me. I was miserable all through the war and for a good while after and I don’t want to feel like that again. And besides; he made his choice. What use is there for me to cry after him.”

“He made his choice? The audacity you have! And don’t raise your voice at me like that,” Nie Huaisang gives back, clearly unfazed by Jiang Cheng’s explosion and it cuts all of Jiang Cheng’s strings.

It doesn’t matter what he tells Nie Huaisang, he realizes. He has his mind already made up.

“He told me about the qi deviations and that his Sect must come first,” Jiang Cheng still mutters. “He needs an heir.”

Jiang Cheng barely gets the words out, and he hates himself a little for how his eyes well up almost immediately. It’s been almost a week by now and the words still hurt as much as they did when they left Nie Mingjue’s mouth.

In front of him, Nie Huaisang freezes.

“What?”

“He said he needs to prepare, that he needs someone to take over eventually. It’s not that hard to understand his meaning,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

Nie Mingjue needs an heir. And for that he needs a wife. It’s as easy as that.

“Did he say it like that?” Nie Huaisang asks and Jiang Cheng nods miserably.

“That fucking idiot,” Nie Huaisang mutters and finally sits down himself, slamming his fan on the table. “Listen here, Wanyin,” he says and Jiang Cheng wonders when he switched back to being Wanyin again.

“I’m listening,” Jiang Cheng says because clearly Nie Huaisang is waiting for a response from him.

Though he’s not quite sure he can take any more accusations today.

“My brother is an idiot,” Nie Huaisang solemnly says and Jiang Cheng fights the immediate urge to defend Nie Mingjue.

He’s not sure he still has that right.

“Why?” he asks instead, because it seems like the safer option.

“I am his heir,” Nie Huaisang tells him and Jiang Cheng goes very still. “When father died and da-ge decided to not take a wife, they wrote that down somewhere. I’m to inherit the Sect should anything happen to my brother.”

“He—it didn’t sound like that when we talked,” Jiang Cheng carefully says.

It makes no sense. Nie Mingjue had looked sad as he had said that he needs to prepare. Why would he look sad if he already has an heir.

“There was sadness on his face when he said it,” Jiang Cheng weakly goes on, because he still remembers that look and it cuts him just as much as it did then.

“It was probably regret. Da-ge wanted to give me an intensive few months of Sect Leader training, so that he could hand off the reigns sooner, before his qi deviations get really bad. He resolved himself to not see you during those months, because he said you distract him too much.”

“No, he—” Jiang Cheng starts, putting his head in his hands. “That’s not how that conversation went.”

“Clearly, it’s not,” Nie Huaisang says drily. “But we both know da-ge and we know you. Both of you tend to draw your own conclusions. Da-ge thought he made himself perfectly clear—asking for a few months with nothing but letters for contact—and you thought he was breaking up with you. I can see where you would get that idea from, don’t take me wrong—da-ge is horribly bad at wording things—but it’s not what he wanted. He’s moping and heartbroken at home. I didn’t even get any training yet.”

“You hate training,” Jiang Cheng mutters, his head spinning.

“I like logistics and getting people to do what I want,” Nie Huaisang corrects. “And I would like my brother to be happy again,” he tacks on, with a raised eyebrow.

Jiang Cheng swallows.

“He doesn’t want to take a wife?” he asks, just to make sure. “He doesn’t want to sire an heir?”

“He does want to adopt a kid with the guy he had been courting for a while,” Nie Huaisang says, absolutely nonchalant as if it’s not blowing Jiang Cheng’s mind to hear that Nie Mingjue thought about a little family of their own.

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asks, his voice full of hope and his heart hammering away in his chest.

“Really,” Nie Huaisang assures him, finally picking up his fan and flicking it open with the by now so familiar gesture.

“I think I have to cut your visit here short, then,” Jiang Cheng says, already scrambling to his feet.

“You go on ahead,” Nie Huaisang waves him off, draping himself over the table. “The flight here was way too exhausting for me.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says, rolling his eyes, but not actually bothering to convince Nie Huaisang.

If he flies alone he can push himself as much as he wants, and then he gets to see Nie Mingjue sooner.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to announce his arrival and Nie Mingjue’s disciples clearly don’t deem it necessary to do it, either, it seems, because Jiang Cheng simply barges into Nie Mingjue’s quarters without anyone telling him.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue asks him, his voice rough and Jiang Cheng sees the dark circles under his eyes and how pale he is.

It seems they both didn’t deal well with the temporary break-up.

“Huaisang invaded Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng tells him and Nie Mingjue immediately draws himself up.

“Whatever he said, don’t listen to him. I respect your choice,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng wants to go to him and hug him and kiss him, but for now he simply rolls his eyes.

“He said there was a misunderstanding.”

“A what?”

“You said you need someone to take over the Sect. You never mentioned Huaisang. I thought you meant you want to take a wife,” Jiang Cheng explains in as little words as possible, because he is dying with the urge to finally get his hands on Nie Mingjue again.

“A wife,” Nie Mingjue repeats and blinks. “If anything she would be the second wife, because I intent to marry you.”

Jiang Cheng flushes bright red at that, but his heart is dancing in his chest. With happiness, for a change.

“Yeah, I should hope so,” Jiang Cheng says and dares to step closer. “But I understand duty to your Sect and so when you said it like that—”

“You thought I would ask you to step back so I can focus on my Sect. You would have allowed me to take a wife?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Duty comes first,” he says because if he learned anything in his youth then it’s that. “I understand that. I didn’t like it, but it sounded sensible to me.”

“Nothing about that is sensible, I love you, what the hell would I ever do without you?”

Find someone else to love, Jiang Cheng wants to say, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t let him, because with two big steps he’s right in front of him and he doesn’t hesitate to crush Jiang Cheng to his chest.

“What would I even do without my heart?” he whispers again and Jiang Cheng’s resolve is broken.

He slings his arms around Nie Mingjue and presses himself as close as he can get, his breath leaving him in shuddering bursts.

“I didn’t like it,” Jiang Cheng chokes out. “I missed you so much. I love you.”

“Never think something like this again,” Nie Mingjue begs him. “I would never do that to you, not for any duty in the world.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng weakly says and Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to his head.

“Not for any duty,” he repeats and Jiang Cheng nods.

“Okay, alright,” he gets out, his voice choked up with tears.

For once they are tears of happiness because he’s finally back where he belongs.

Link to my ko-fi

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

A distant memory - Loki

Loki Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Thor finds a letter Loki wrote to a woman called Y/n. He does not know this woman but the language used in the letter is loving and sweet, so Thor decides to ask about her. What he doesn’t know is that this woman has passed.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2110

My dearest Y/n,

Not a day passes without my mind, body, and soul yearning for your touch and pleasant conversation. Just yesterday I slept on your side of the bed in hopes of smelling traces of your perfume on the pillows. It did not help. Your books still hold your bookmarks on the places where you stopped. I must say, I admire your will to read every book that belongs to you but worry that you might never finish one. Just today, I found five different books that have your bookmarks. Yesterday, I found two. I have put them aside for you to make it easier to finish them. A fair maiden asked me for a dance last week at one of my father’s feasts but I had to refuse. No maiden could ever be as fair as you, even if you do step on my toes while we dance. It gives us more reason to keep practicing. My love for you grows every day and so does my longing. I fear you might be away for longer than I can take and I wonder if you would mind if I came over to see you for a day or two. Just the two of us.

Love,

Loki

‘Brother, who is this letter for?’ ‘What letter?’ Thor holds a letter that looks old and withered. It takes less than a second for Loki to realize what it is. He suddenly looks enraged. ‘Put it down,’ he snaps with venom laced in through his words. The sudden change in demeanor surprises and scares his brother. As careful as he can be, he puts the letter back on Loki’s desk. Loki rushes over and picks up the letter with the utmost care, gently putting it back in a drawer that he locks right away. ‘Who is Y/n?’ Loki sighs and leans against his desk. He looks tired when Thor looks at him again. It’s like a pain has been buried deep within him and has been eating at him for ages. ‘A hundred years or so ago, I went to Midgard to do some business for father. He send me to visit a pagan family that worshiped us to bless them. On the next farm over lived a young woman and when I went to the pagan family, they kept insulting her. I felt I could not justify giving our blessing if this maiden wasn’t the terrible person they said she was,’ Loki explains, ‘so I went over to her house to see for myself.’

Confidently, Loki strides over to the maiden’s house. Her garden is filled with flowers and herbs. From what Loki can tell, there are animals behind the house. This woman is sustaining herself but why? Why would a young maiden live so far removed from the fuss of the city? Especially since the family says she’s not married. Loki knocks on her door and hears fuss inside. It sounds like a dog barking at the door and a big one at that. He watches as a small latch in the door opens and a woman looks outside. He can only see her eyes but the eyes are the gates to the soul and her eyes are beautiful. They sparkle like the gems his mother wears, the reflection of water, or dewdrops on roses. ‘What is your business?’ ‘Forgive me for barging in miss. I have traveled long and far and need a place to rest my head. Would you allow me to sleep in your haystack or shed? Anywhere that’s dry.’ He hears the door unlock and out runs a big, black dog. He looks like he crawled from the debts of hell but his demeanor is friendly when his owner shows kindness. Loki doubts he acts the same if she is in trouble. ‘You make me sound cruel. Please come inside. I’ve got food to spare,’ she tells him with a friendly smile. Her door is wide open but Loki hesitates to step inside. He takes a good look at the maiden. As beautiful as she is, how is she capable of being this friendly. He can not imagine she has not been taken advantage of at least once. ‘You do not know me. Are you certain you want to show me kindness?’ ‘Why would I not? I have Bella to protect me if I need it and if I am frank, you look withered and weak. I doubt you’d be able to lay your hands on me,’ she tells him, ‘come inside. There’s a storm coming.’ Loki steps inside and follows her into the house. She offers him a chair at the table and gets him a plate as well as a drink. If this is a wicked woman, what is the family next door like? They show no kindness. Bella, the big dog, lays itself down under the table by her feet. She seems at ease as the maiden pets her a few times over the head. ‘So tell me, traveler, where are you going?’ ‘You don’t want to know where I’m from?’ ‘I doubt you’d want to talk about it if you’ve been traveling for long,’ she says, offering him a gentle smile, ‘besides, where you’re going tells more about you than where you’ve been.’ ‘I like your ideology miss. May I ask your name before I tell you?’ ‘Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?’ ‘I fear you may want me out if I tell you.’ She nods, not pushing it any further. Loki feels like she wouldn’t mind who he is as she does not seem like a judgemental person but he wouldn’t want to run the risk. ‘My name is Y/n.’

Early in the morning, Loki awakes on the comfortable couch in Y/n’s living room with more blankets covering him than he went to sleep with. He is awoken by the wet, warm sensation of Bella licking his face. ‘Good morning Bella.’ He pets the dog a few times and gets up from his resting place. He hears Y/n call for Bella, who runs out excitedly. She must be outside, taking care of her animals. He dresses quickly and walks outside to see what she’s up to. He finds her sitting in the field, one of her cows laying beside her resting it’s head on her lap. She calls out commands to Bella to herd her sheep together and back to the pen. After the raging storm last night, she probably wants to see if they’re all alright. Loki walks towards her and sits down next to her in the grass. She nods to him, too busy to greet him. It’s only when all the sheep are in the pen that she fully acknowledges him. ‘Did you sleep well?’ ‘Yes, but the strangest thing happened,’ he tells her with a slight smirk on his lips, ‘I woke with three blankets while I’m sure I had only one when I went to sleep.’ ‘You looked cold.’ ‘You are a very kind host, miss Y/n.’ She smiles and looks out over the field. Bella comes running their way and sits down next to Loki. ‘She has taken a liking to you,’ Y/n notices, ‘she doesn’t like many people.’ ‘I feel honored.’ Loki pets the dog as he looks at Y/n. She looks beautiful in the morning light. Almost as beautiful as she had looked in the candlelight last night. ‘I feel like I have been untrue to you, miss,’ Loki tells her. ‘Why would that be? You are a traveler, are you not?’ ‘I am but not of the kind you know,’ he tells her, ‘you have been a wonderful host and I feel you deserve the truth.’ She chuckles. ‘You speak like this will change everything.’ ‘It might,’ he lets his head hang, ‘my name is Loki, god of mischief. I originally came here to bless the family next door for their devotion to us but they spoke ill of you. I felt I had to be certain you were a bad person if they were to deserve our blessing.’ ‘And what might your conclusion be, Loki god of Mischief?’ ‘They should deserve our blessing for their faithfulness and devotion to us but not for their treatment of others.’ She smiles. ‘I see.’ ‘May I ask why they talk of you this way?’ ‘I am an unmarried woman living alone on a farm. If I’m not being called a spinster, I’m being called a witch. It changes with the season. I’m used to it by now.’ She shrugs it off like it’s nothing but Loki feels a pit of rage in his stomach. A woman as lovely as her should be worshiped. He rips a piece of his golden armor off and puts it between his hands, forging a golden bracelet from it. ‘If you’ll allow me, I’d like to protect you,’ he says and shows her the simple, golden band. She looks hesitant and Loki understands. He’s the god of mischief. ‘Forgive my hesitation but I have been fending for myself for what feels like forever. It’s a kind gesture but I do not need it.’ He nods but gently takes her hand and puts it on. ‘Wear it,’ he tells her, ‘I will not protect you but I will watch over you. If you need company, just call out to me.’ She smiles again, putting her hand over his. ‘That is very kind, Loki.’

As summer progressed into fall, Y/n harvested her crops and made sure they’d survive winter. Her harvest wasn’t great but over time she noticed her supplies would not lessen, even if she took something. It would just reappear when she returned. Loki had visited her a few times during summer but when fall got colder, he stayed away. She feared she might’ve read his actions all wrong as she felt her feelings grow towards him. She thought he felt the same. When Winter thawed and the ground got softer, she called out to Loki in hopes to ask him about it. He did not appear and she feared he had forgotten about her. That is until- ‘Did you miss me?’ She couldn’t stop the smile appearing on her face if she tried. It’s like her feet work on their own as she runs over to him and throws her arms around him. ‘It’s so good to see you again. I feared you had forgotten me.’ ‘Forget the fairest maiden I have ever met? I could never,’ he tells her with a smile. His eyes linger on her lips for a second. ‘I stayed away in hopes your feeling would lessen.’ ‘My feelings? How did you know?’ ‘Darling, I am a god.’ ‘That’s fair, I should’ve known,’ she says with a grin, taking his hands, ‘but why?’ ‘I am not the best suitor and a maiden like you surely deserves better.’ ‘I do not want better.’ He frowns and looks down at her darling eyes. They still shine like gems and are filled with love. ‘My darling, I cannot marry you,’ he tells her, ‘I am prince, heir to the throne. They expect me to marry a goddess.’ ‘I understand.’ She smiles but he can tell she feels terrible. Her heart dropped and her smile faltered. It wasn’t hard to tell that his words hurt her. ‘I wish I could. I truly do,’ he promises her. ‘Then, don’t marry me but stay with me until you have to give yourself to another.’ ‘My darling, my mischief seems to have rubbed off on you,’ he speaks proudly, ‘yes. I will stay loyal to you until I must love another.’

‘But the villagers started a witch hunt and as a single, unmarried woman she was the first target,’ Loki tells his brother, ‘I could not protect her. Father would not let me.’ ‘You loved her, didn’t you?’ ‘I did but it’s in the past now. There’s no bringing her back.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Don’t be. I was young and stupid. I fell in love with someone I couldn’t have.’ Thor nods and takes a deep breath. ‘Believe me or don’t but you deserve love, Loki. I hope you’ll find a woman like her.’ Loki lets out a breathy laugh. ‘There is no woman like her.’ Thor leaves Loki’s room. It takes Loki a second to come back to reality. His hand reaches for the drawer and unlocks it once again, taking out the golden band she had worn. He deserves love, yes, but he has already met the person he was supposed to be with and no one else will ever compare.

[buffaloborgine]

Of Zack Fair, Genesis Rhapsodos and the strange narrative POV of FFVII-Crisis Core (Part IIIa)

Part I: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/650462647672766464/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange

Part II conclusion: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/653809930861674496/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange 

_______________________________________________

Warning: Sincerely, this part takes on a very controversial route. Please read the previous parts first before reading further on this part. (I did have the link to part I in case you are new reader)

Also, please keep an open mind when you read this. I appreciate any kind of discussion about theories, but please, try to keep your bias out when we discuss on an objective subject. Thank you. 

_________________________________________

Before we get to the main problem of this part, let me introduce you to a term that maybe you have heard somewhere before: the Rashoumon effect. 

The Rashomon effect is a term related to the notorious unreliability of eyewitnesses. It describes a situation in which an event is given contradictory interpretations or descriptions by the individuals involved. 

This is a kind of effect that is used very frequently in detective stuffs, as a way to fool the audiences, driving them away from the main problem, the objective truth.

Why am I telling you about this? Well, in many Japanese stuffs, ranging from movies, books to games, no matter what the genre is, the Rashoumon effect is utilized to create plot twists. And of course Rashoumon effect is also used in FFVII as well. 

Take one example, the Deepground incident in Dirge of Cerberus. While Vincent and the WRO believed that Weiss is the one leading Deepground at that time, and we don’t even get to know the truth that Nero is the real leader of Deepground until Vincent and Yuffie finally barged in the throne hall in Reactor 0. It’s just one of the clearest example of the Rashoumon effect in FFVII. And if you have read the other parts of this theory series, you may see the pattern of Rashoumon effect in both events that I have pointed out: the Genesis’s parents’ grave and the Seven Wonders. 

So, let’s move onto our main problem this time. 

_________________________________________

The Mails (a). 

One of the strangest systems that occurred in Crisis Core, is the mail system, 

Zack can access the mails through his phone, along with many other systems like Materia Fusion, Equipment, Shop, DMW, Mission and some others. 

Problem with the Mails is that, reading one mail from one person may give you a contradictive information to the info you took from the mail of another person, and it even contradicts with the details you discovered in places around the game. Because mails are written according to the view point of the writers, will get confused with many info that the mails provide. 

However the worst problem with the mails is that Zack only receives the mails, he never answers them. We never see Zack point of view in this, which in turn, forcing us to use our own point of view to examine the information given by the mails. 

Here, I want to discuss the reliability of one of the most well-known CC mails: the 1sts’ fanclubs’ mails. 

Keepers of Honor 

Fanclub of Angeal, the group releases mails that provide “unauthorized” info about Angeal’s profile. While there is not much to take from the mails of Keeper of Honor, there is one particular mail we have to look into. 

“Angeal Fan Club Newsletter 313

Today's update features a conversation between Angeal and Genesis.

G: You'd better do something about those plants in your room.

A: Those plants represent nature. Some of us converse with nature to hone our spirit and honor.

G: And some of us are getting bugs in our rooms because of those blasted things.

A: Come on. Don't you remember? We used to have bugs in our rooms all the time when we were kids.

G: That's why I hate them. And the past? It can stay there. We're in Midgar. We're not supposed to have nature here.

City-born Genesis, and nature-lover Angeal: so completely different, yet friends all the same.” 

Just when Zack came to Fort Tamblin with Angeal, Angeal told Zack about the dumbapple. And one those lines is: 

Angeal confirmed that Genesis, his childhood friend grew up with him in Banora. But in the mail above, the Keeper of Honor believes that Genesis is “city-born”. Although the word itself can be understood in two ways, one is “born in the city” and the other is “having city life style”, if you first read into it, you will immediately think that they mean Genesis is born in the city, which is not true, the other meaning may fit with the situation more, perhaps? So we could agree with them that Angeal loves nature and Genesis has a city lifestyle, thus, Genesis gets annoyed with nature, right? 

Guess what? When Zack found out Genesis’s diary, the info may get contradictive. 

Consider the fact that Genesis won an award for inventing the Banora White Apple juice, it means that he has to have a great love for nature, especially the apple trees and the fruit to actually spend time to invent the juice. 

This info and Angeal’s confirmation contradict with the info given by the mail from Keeper of Honor. This means the fanclubs’ mails themselves are just sources with medium reliability, especially when the fanclub of one person wrote about a different person in the trio. Besides, the event described in the fanclubs’ mails may not even exist, because in Keeper of Honor’s mails, those are “unauthorized” Angeal’s profile. 

In conclusion, by not showing Zack’s replies to the mails to the players, Crisis Core forced the players to check the reliability of the mails given to Zack through their own perception, not everything written in the mails are true because they are affected by the POV and biases of the ones giving them out. 

I think that’s enough for the beginning of this part, we will continue on the other ambiguous mails in the next parts. Thanks for coming to my Ted-Talk and have a nice day. 

_________________________________________

Part IIIb: https://buffaloborgine.tumblr.com/post/656350606029701120/of-zack-fair-genesis-rhapsodos-and-the-strange

[haikyuuwaifu]

Trip

Genre: Drama, Angst, Humor, Crack, NSFW

Reader x Keigo x Bakugo x Shoto x Shinsou Poly

Warnings: Swearing

MASTERLIST

WAGYU NIGHTMARE

“This is a pretty fancy place boss!” Toga, muttered tugging her sweater over her holey jeans. “Stop worrying doofus, we’re only here to try the Wagyu beef, apparently it’s the super good shit.” Y/N muttered, practically salivating at the mouth. 

In the restaurant a man with deep purple hair in a man bun sat tapping his fingers against the table cloth. He had gotten his undercut lined up and had worn a nice white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms showing off the intricate linework and the shirt itself stretched snuggly across his body; almost as if it would snap at any sudden movement. The man himself caught the attention of every woman and every gay man that passed him by. He had checked his watch again, and huffed a sigh when he realized Nejire was going to be late yet again. 

As Y/N and Toga made their way to the table, a blue haired woman rushed passed the two of them, all dressed-up. Toga scrunched her nose in disgust, as Y/N simply shook her head. “I know this is a fancy place, but the get up might be a bit much.” Y/N whispered to Toga as they sat down. “She’s a city girl, they always dress like their famous; when in reality they look ridiculous” Toga mumbled as the waiter made his way over. “You’re talking about wannabe barbie right?” the waiter asked pouring their waters. “I’m Aoyama by the way and I’ll be your server this afternoon; she’s here with this sinfully hot man covered in tattoos” he gushed nodding towards their table that was in perfect sight of the couple. Y/N flicked her eyes up and choked on her spit at the sight of the purple man. “Okay Aoyama, what the actual fuck is in the water here?! That’s the fourth sexy man I’ve seen in the course of the last couple of months I’ve been coming back and forth.” Y/N seethed, slamming the menu shot. “There’s no chance all Tokyo men are that hot!” 

The blonde man snorted a chuckle, “Sweetie they’re not. Men like him are the exception to the rule.” he mumbled as the trio watched the blue haired woman talking. “What do you think they’re talking about?” Toga murmured pointing towards the appetizer she wanted. “I dunno sweetie, but you bet your ass I’m gonna find out.” Aoyama declared waving down his floor manager. 10 minutes later found Aoyama serving Shinsou and Nejire who were in a deep discussion about Nejire’s plans for Shinsou. Y/N, Toga, and the floor manager were sitting together idly pretending like they weren’t invested in the drama. “Shinsou, seriously; you can’t just sit in that dingy shop forever.” Nejire huffed out as she perused the menu. “Do you have anything, with no fat, no carbs, no sugars?” she asked looking up at Aoyama. “Yeah, that’s called water sweetie and that’s free.” he answered flashing a grin in her direction. “It’s not a dingy shop jire, on top of that; I don’t have any plans of starting my own.” Shinsou answered still perusing the menu. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? That I’m doing what I enjoy?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. Nejire reached her hand across the table to stroke his and she smiled softly. “I am happy for you babe, but I’m just thinking about our future. I want to be the wife of the boss; not someone’s underling.” At the sound of the word wife, Shinsou huffed out a snort. “Nejire, I’m not looking for a wife and we’ve only been together for a year.” he declared shutting the menu, and telling Aoyama his order. As the blonde man wrote everything down, his body shook with excitement.

Pushing the order towards the kitchen, Aoyama booked it to Y/N’s table. Toga slid over and made room for the man, hands clutched together in anticipation. “So get this shit, he’s a tattoo artist and he absolutely loves his job!” Aoyama started, gushing at the thought of the purple haired mans face of concentration. “So this bitch, wants him to leave the shop he’s at and start his own!” Toga, and the floor manager gasped for effect while Y/N just shook her head. “What a bitch, telling him to move on. It’s so hard to find good people you mesh with.” she mumbled biting down on a piece of fried cheese. “It gets better!” Aoyama giggled clapping his hands excitedly. “She said she just wanted to be the wife of the boss not the worker; and mans just looked at her like she was stupid!” Aoyama screeched, as Toga and the floor manager cackled. “He said...He said he wasn’t going to marry her since they’ve only...been together for a year....and she got the ugliest scowl on her face!” Aoyama declared between laughs. By this point the entire table was laughing, when they looked to see Nejire standing in front of them. “You’re supposed to be working! And I changed my mind about my order.” she huffed out stomping her foot slightly. “Jire, he is working, and it’s kind of rude to just barge in on another person’s conversation.” Shinsou mumbled standing behind her. Toga didn’t know how she did it, but she praised Y/N on her ability to not even look at the big purple haired man standing in front of their table; because holy shit was he a big man. “Look, I’m a paying customer and I demand five star service!” Nejire screeched, stomping her foot. 

“This is a 5 star restaurant Tokyo Bimbo, I mean barbie; so go back to your seat and shut the fuck up.” Y/N mumbled smiling up at the blue haired woman. “If it’ll get you out of my face faster, order whatever you want. It’s on my; but right now I’m about to devour the fuck out of this Wagyu and I don’t need a snarky bitch like you ruining it for me!” Y/N huffed shooing the couple away from them. Before Nejire could say anything else, Shinsou had her behind him and already facing their table. “You don’t have to do that, I’m sorry for disrupting your meal.” he mumbled. Y/N simple waved her hand towards him; motioning for him to bed down. As he leaned forward she shot her hand out and flicked the middle of his forehead. “ Don’t apologize for someone else’s stupidity; and if you’re happy where you are, fight to stay there.” she stated whispering the last part and shooting him a wink. Shinsou found himself smiling softly and nodding before turning and escorting himself and his girlfriend back towards their table. 

At the end of his meal he went to pay, when he was told that the woman he had spoken to earlier had already paid for his meal. Turning towards the table he was bummed to see that Y/N and Toga were already gone; the two of them having decided they’d get dessert elsewhere. They didn’t leave without setting aside a fat tip for Aoyama and a promise to be his regulars at least three times a week. But Shinsou left, a little disheartened that he couldn’t properly thank the stranger who not only paid for his meal; but gave him the small boost he needed to put his foot down about not opening his own shop. He loved working with his boys, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

@dabilove27 @ouijaeater15 @kit-kat428 @lia-faerie-queen @stickystrawberrysyrup @mushimoon14 @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @patricia-ceballos @starrygoblin @cathy8taffy @moon-spirit-yue @eraser-baby @yafriendlyfangirl @ditu-m9 @loverofallthingsfoxy @percabethismyotp14 @alorathebear

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Parallels | Chapter 20

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist! | Parallels Masterlist

Characters: OC! Violet Grace Dawson, Luke Patterson, Julie Molina, Carrie Wilson, Bobby Wilson, Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer, Flynn nolastname, Willie nolastname, Nick Danforth-Evans, Dirty Candy 

Guideline: Sunset Universe is the universe in which Sunset Curve is famous and Violet is friends with Carrie, Julie and Flynn. Candy Universe is the universe in which Dirty Candy is more famous and Sunset Curve has broken up. 

Song(s) used: Perfect Harmony - Julie and The Phantoms

Warnings: Bit of cursing

Words:  2,777

The knock on Alex’s door startled him a little. He was getting ready for the day, not expecting anyone to knock on his door before nine in the morning. None of the boys were ever up that early. 

“Come in?” he called, making it sound more like a question than a command. 

The door slowly inched open, revealing a shy-looking Violet in the doorway. He wasn’t used to this version of Violet. He’d befriended the confident, sassy version of her. The one that just barged into rooms, owning her place on this earth. 

“Vi, hey!” he greeted, a little surprised to see her there. 

She chuckled slightly, nervously fiddling with her handbag. “I don’t know why I’m here, but something told me this morning that I should come and have a chat with you…” 

Alex’s head tilted slightly. 

“I had a dream about us talking about a song you wrote. It felt more like a memory than a dream, so I felt like I should… I don’t know… Come and talk to you?” 

A chuckle erupted out of Alex. “I had a conversation with Violet before she left. I showed her a song I wrote.” He turned to his nightstand and grabbed the notebook he had left on it. Opening it on the right page, he showed it to Violet. 

Something inside her shifted. She hadn’t worked on any music since getting back, but she felt as though Alex did need her help a little, as though he was asking her for some help. With more than just the song. 

Her eyes skidded across the page. She could feel the hurt and melancholy seep off the page. She could only imagine what it would sound like with the music added to it. 

“You should show this to the boys,” she whispered, amazed by the power this song held. 

Alex shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not today, at least. Our manager is coming over soon for a meeting.” 

“All the more reason to show them!” Violet exclaimed excitedly. This was the most joy she had felt since returning to this universe. “I know what this song is about, Alex. I know about Willie…” 

The mention of the boy’s name caused Alex’ head to snap up in surprise. “How do you know about Willie?” 

“You guys are actually in a relationship in the other universe,” she told him with a small smile and she could see the relief on his face. “Why’s it you’re not out in this universe?” 

“Management,” he replied angrily. Violet decided not to push it. She could feel the frustration around the topic. “That’s why I can’t show this song today. Not when our manager is coming over.” 

A burst of confidence coursed through Violet as she spoke the next words. “Do you mind if I sit in on this meeting?” It surprised herself a little, but she went with it anyway. 

“Why?” Alex questioned, shutting his notebook and placing it back on his nightstand. 

Violet shrugged. “I feel like it’s a good day for a meeting.” 

While Alex went to wake up the boys, Violet occupied herself in the kitchen, getting some breakfast ready for them. In her mind, she went over the things she would say to their manager. There were a bunch of things she wanted to say. A bunch of which were things she knew the other Violet would say. 

“What are you doing here?” Reggie asked when he entered the kitchen, a surprised smile on his face. 

Violet snapped out of her thoughts, facing the boys that walked in. “Getting you guys prepped for this meeting with your manager,” she replied and handed them plates with stacks of pancakes. 

The boys happily ate the breakfast she’d made, no questions asked. Not even when she joined them in the music room when their manager had arrived. All five of them settled on the couch while their manager sat on the armchair. 

“Okay, I’m gonna cut to the chase. Here’s what we’re gonna do to promote your new album; a launch party at the mansion, like we’d done last time. After this, all four of you will be seen with at least one girl on your arm.” The boys stirred in their seats when the manager’s eyes landed on Violet. “But I can tell one of you is already on that.” 

Violet couldn’t help but roll  her eyes at him. “Seriously?” she spoke up, surprising everyone in the room, including herself. 

“Excuse me?” The manager challenged. 

“I’m gonna cut to the chase,” she started, mimicking the boss himself, “Here’s what we’re gonna do for the promotion of their next album;” she raised her voice a little when saying the next words, “actual promotion of the album.” 

“I’m sorry?” he scoffed. 

“Yeah, you should be sorry.” Violet’s heart started beating faster as she continued. “You’ve been living off these boys’ lives without asking them what they wanted. They wanna make music. They wanna love who they wanna love without any restrictions. They wanna live their lives and be them. Authentically. Unapologetically.” 

The boys stared at Violet with wide eyes and surprised smiles. This was the Violet they had come to know. The Violet that had lived here over the summer. Had they switched again without them even noticing? 

“I’m sorry but who are you to tell me how to run my business?” 

Violet stood up from her spot on the couch next to Alex. “I’m Violet Grace Dawson, and I’m gonna need you to step the fuck up and let these boys do whatever they wanna do. Let them make the music they wanna make. Let them love who they wanna. It’s not gonna affect their music or their success. If anything, them being true to themselves will attract even more people because they’re gonna be able to identify themselves with them. The whole world is queer, why not let this band be queer?!” 

“It’s been proven that straight white men have more success than the queer,” the manager objected. “And what are you gonna do against me, huh? Little girl?”

Violet scoffed. “If you’re not gonna be a good manager to them–” she thought about what she was gonna say next and eventually settled on, “I’m gonna do it myself!” 

The man let out a bitter laugh. “As if a child like you would ever be able to manage a band like this one!” 

“This child has her connections. My mother happens to be a lawyer and my father is a manager himself. Used to be pretty good in this game. So either you step the fuck up or I’m gonna get this band the manager they deserve!” 

Her face had gone beet red, her hands clammy and her heart was pounding. That was exhilarating and scary at the same time. But the payoff was more than worth it. The manager got up from his chair, regarded Violet once more before turning to the boys. 

“You’re fired,” he said to them, but all four of them shook their heads. 

“You can’t fire us,” Luke said and got up as well. “Because we’re firing you.” 

Everyone held their breath as the guy opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and turned to leave the room. A collective sigh echoed off the walls before the gang erupted into cheers while wrapping Violet up into a group hug. 

“Did you switch places with the other Violet again?!” Bobby questioned excitedly. 

Violet giggled. “Nope, still me… Gosh that was scary!” 

“Your parents really can help us though, right?” Reggie queried anxiously. 

“Obviously. My dad owns a chain of supermarkets, but he used to be a music manager back in his days. I’m sure if he knew he had a band as great as this one, he’d get back to that world asap!” 

“You’re amazing,” Luke told her, shaking his head. 

“Thanks for doing this for us, Vi,” said Alex. 

She smiled at him. “Don’t miss the gun at the starting line.”

   While the boys tried to figure out a way to switch the two Violets back, the girl herself kept her mind preoccupied with Dirty Candy rehearsals. Though she wasn't sure what to think of the new route the band was going into, especially since she had no clue how to play the drums. 

She asked the girls to focus on choreography right now, stalling every possible instrument-rehearsal for as long as she could. Thankfully, Carrie helped her out and came up with new excuses every single day. 

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked Violet at the end of the Dirty Candy rehearsal. 

“Yeah,” Violet breathed out, “I’m really feeling it today, you know? Keeps my mind off of things.” 

Carrie knew what she meant by ‘things’. It was Luke. She knew that if Violet stopped, she’d be thinking of the boy she had fallen in love with. The boy from the alternate universe. 

“Should we try and find a way to get you back?” Carrie then asked. “We did it once, I’m sure we can do it a second time? Which is technically a third since  the first was accidental…” Carrie’s blabbing reminded Violet of other Carrie. She was this intense, this excitable. 

“I’m sure that, if the universe wants me back, it’ll do its job.” 

Violet knew there was nothing she could do to switch them back. The universe had to figure this one out by itself and all she had to do was wait. Wait and wait and write. That same night, she picked up a pen and her notebook. 

“Don’t blink, no I don’t wanna miss it One thing and it’s back to the beginning ‘cause everything is rushing in fast Keep holding on, never look back And it’s one-two-three-four times That I’ll try for one more night Light a fire in my eyes I’m going out of my mind” 

Then the melody in her mind switched, as though someone had switched the radio station. For a second, she heard Luke singing. She heard his voice, singing these words to her that she had never heard before. Words that were meant for her to hear. Words she needed to hear. 

Not wanting to forget those words, she flipped through to an empty page and started jotting them down while her heart bled and beat faster at the same time. These were Luke’s words. She could feel it. This was from him, to her. 

This was the perfect harmony. 

After Reggie, Alex and Bobby had left the rehearsal space, Luke and Violet were the last ones left. There was a comfortable silence wrapped around them as they sat on the couches, basking in each other’s company. 

“How did you do that?” he asked, “With the manager? Back in the day, you barely dared to say ‘hello’ to strangers, let alone give off on our manager like that.” 

Violet shrugged, “I may have learned a thing or two about confidence from Carrie and Luke – the alternate universe versions of you.” 

Luke couldn’t help but smile at that. “If you could, would you wanna go back?” 

The question had taken Violet aback a little. Would she want to go back? She did miss Carrie and Bobby’s bickering. She missed Reggie’s smart ass and Alex’s sass. She even missed Dirty Candy a little. 

She missed Luke. More than anything. 

“If I could, yes…” Luke tilted his head slightly, urging her to elaborate. “I felt right, there, you know? Like a fish in water. That was my place, my home. More so than this has ever been…” Luke shot her a tight-lipped smile. “But there’s no way I’m ever gonna be able to get back.” 

There was nothing Luke could say to that. He wanted to help her. Somehow. Someway. If it would mean this Violet could be happy. If it would mean he’d get his Violet back. But there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was make this universe as bearable as possible for this Violet. 

“I started writing a song, by the way,” Luke announced and got up to retrieve his songbook from the piano wing. He opened it to the right page and showed it to her. At first glance, Violet could tell this was a song he’d written with Violet in his mind. 

Something this Violet had wanted him to do for years. 

Violet got up from the couch and made her way to the piano. She sat down and started playing the keys, a sweet melody floating out of the majestic instrument. Her eyes quickly found Luke’s, urging him to start singing. 

“Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before”

Violet smiled to herself. Who’d have thought that this guy, whom she was convinced was the biggest jerk on the planet, would write this song for a girl? A version of herself. A better, more confident version of herself. But that was something she needed to shake off. 

She took the next verse, just to preoccupy her own mind with something other than her alternate self. 

“Here in front of me Shining so much brighter than I have ever seen Life can be so mean But when he goes I know he doesn't leave”

Their voices blended together on the chorus and it reminded them both of each other’s parallel self. Though their personalities were completely different, their voices still sounded the same. Their voices still worked so well together. 

“The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony”

“Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony”

Luke grabbed Violet’s hands, pulling her up from the piano stool and guiding her towards the middle of the rehearsal space whilst they alternated lines. 

“You set me free”

“You and me together is more than chemistry”

Holding her hands close to him, the two sang to each other, almost forgetting this wasn’t the song for the two of them, but rather for their alternate selves. 

“Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands”

“We say we're friends, we play pretend You're more to me, we're everything Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony”

“I wrote a song,” Violet had told Luke. She had written a song and now the two of them were dancing together. As though they’d forgotten all about the parallel universes and they were singing to the person they had fallen in love with over the past few months. 

“Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony”

It felt so natural, dancing and singing together. Like they had been doing it for years. 

Luke then stopped, holding her hands in front of him as they sang the bridge together. They were all smiles and glistening eyes. In a dream-like state, hoping their parallel selves would feel what they were feeling. 

“I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah You are my brightest, burning star, whoa-whoa I never knew a love so real (so real) We're heaven on Earth, melody and words And when we are together we're In perfect harmony”

Luke then swayed her to the left, then to the right. She twirled and they shuffled along to the music in their heads. 

“Whoa, whoa Perfect harmony Whoa, whoa”

Violet almost felt like they were in Dirty Dancing, her favorite film, and they were having a moment like Johnny and Baby. Intimate. Sensational. Craving the wrong person. 

“We say we're friends We play pretend You're more to me We create”

Luke had twirled her inwards before twirling her outwards, letting her turn and turn and turn until she returned to him from the other side. 

“a perfect harmony”

The girl that had just been in his arms seconds ago, had gone. She’d disappeared and instead, reappeared on the other side. He knew right then and there that it wasn’t the same girl. He knew who he had caught in his arms. 

“Violet,” he whispered, looking into those brown orbs he’d come to love. “It’s you, isn’t it?” 

The girl looked around her. Seconds ago, she was dancing with Luke in the rehearsal space in Beverly Hills. Now, she found herself in Luke’s arms in Julie’s garage. She was back. She was home. 

“I’m home,” she whispered before Luke kissed her. Sweetly. Hungrily. Lovingly. 

She was back home. They managed to switch them back. Once more. 

To the universe where she felt most herself. 

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TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST | PARALLELS MASTERLIST

[hypmicyume]

The Cabin in the Woods (Hypnosis Microphone Edition)

Yo! Before I jump into this “short” fic I wrote for fun, I’d like to give a few warnings and credit. Credit is based on the original movie: The Cabin in the Woods (2011) Directed by Drew Goddard. The story is the same concept but replaced with some of the Hypnosis Microphone characters! I also added in an extra “Role” (the original movie only has five of these) since I included one member of each Division in this story, this was to help it make more sense. It doesn’t follow the exact movie story line, just the plot idea, events are different (but some very similar as well). Okay! Next I have a small gore warning. It’s not very graphic but there is some in there, so just a heads up! Some NSFW is insinuated but the story itself doesn’t describe it in anyway. The last thing is that even though I call this a “short” fic, it’s actually pretty long at 14,254 words. Okay that’s it! Please enjoy the story!

“Is that so? Well, how could I pass up such an enticing opportunity from such a lovely kitten?” Hifumi asked, voice alluring and smooth as the atmosphere around him seemed to sparkle.

His client, a woman in her early thirties, kept going on and on about a quaint little “cabin” her family owns, insisting Hifumi take a weekend there to recharge and relax. She pressed the idea of him going with some friends, it’d be much more fun than going alone after all. Hifumi agreed, his mind wandering; who could he invite along on a little backwoods adventure?

Hifumi had just arrived home, Doppo was still gone at work, this was no surprise. Hifumi’s client had arranged for him and his guests, whoever they may be, to stay that weekend at her family’s cabin, Friday until Sunday. It was rather short notice; it was Wednesday today! Unlike Hifumi, there was no way Doppo could get time off work on such short notice, looks like he wouldn’t be able to invite him along as much as he’d like to.

Hifumi pulled out his phone and gave a quick call to Jakurai. “Hey, hey Sensei! So, I got this awesome deal from a client to stay in her cute little cabin this weekend located off in the forest and I wanted to invite some friends along! Doppo won’t be able to make it since it’s for this weekend, the notice won’t be enough, but I was hoping you’d come!”

Jakurai chuckled, quickly followed with a small sigh. “It sounds like a lovely time, but I’m afraid I agreed to cover for a coworker of mine this weekend at the hospital. I apologize Hifumi-kun, I cannot accompany you.”

“Awww! Dang… That really sucks! I might not get another chance to go but I don’t wanna go all alone! Now what do I do…” Hifumi pouted, a deep sigh of disappointment escaping him.

Jakurai was silent for a moment as he thought before speaking up and offering an idea. “Hifumi-kun, why not invite people from the other divisions along? You could get to know them a bit better and perhaps make some friends in the process. It’s worth asking if you really don’t want to waste this opportunity.”

“That’s a great idea! I’m sure someone will be willing to go! Thanks Sensei, I’ll give that a go!” Hifumi exclaimed eagerly.

And somehow, by some miracle, Hifumi was able to convince one member from each division to come along with him to the cabin. Jiro, Jyuto, Gentaro, Rosho, and Jyushi all agreed to come along on this weekend venture into the woods.

Jiro didn’t take much convincing, actually. Hifumi called and asked to speak to Ichiro. When Jiro inquired about why, Hifumi explained he wanted to invite Ichiro along on a trip. Jiro wasn’t having it, Ichiro and this host hanging out? No way! He jumped in and said he’d go along in Ichiro’s place. In Jiro’s mind, he was protecting his big bro.

Jyuto almost got out of going, that’s right, he didn’t want to go. He suggested Riou since he was a more suited fellow for this kind of thing, but Hifumi pressed Jyuto to come, saying he wanted to know more about the guy who somehow knows his best friend. Jyuto couldn’t come up with any excuses, so he reluctantly agreed. It’s only a weekend, right? And a cabin is better than a tent like at Riou’s.

Gentaro agreed right away to come along, though, it’s not because he wanted to go on a trip with Hifumi and company per se. Gentaro and Hifumi don’t have the best relationship after all. A quiet trip to the forest, very scenic, a lovely place for inspiration and writing is reason enough to go, he just might avoid everyone else while he was there. Another reason being, perhaps, that he wanted to watch this potential train wreck take place as it occurred.

Rosho was unwillingly dragged into the unfortunate situation of going along with Hifumi as a practical joke. Hifumi spoke with Sasara, inviting him along on the trip, but Sasara had to decline because he had a show that weekend. Sasara, unbeknownst to Rosho, enthusiastically told Hifumi that, “Rosho will go! He loves that kind of thing! Just be at his house Friday morning and he will be ready to go!”

Jyushi was another unwilling candidate pushed into this against his will. Hifumi called and caught Jyushi while Jyushi was at the temple with Kuko doing some training. Jyushi had initially declined, but Kuko overheard the conversation and told Hifumi that Jyushi would be going because, “It’s excellent training to be out in the wilderness! It will strengthen your body and mind, you’re going!” Despite Jyushi’s tears and begs to not make him go, he ended up agreeing to go anyway.

Hifumi was up bright and early Friday morning, all packed and loaded up into an RV he’d rented for the weekend trip. No one had a car large enough to hold everyone and traveling together is half the fun! Renting an RV was definitely the way to go in Hifumi’s mind. He set off, having told Doppo of his weekend plans the night before, though, Doppo would likely not recall since he was half asleep listening to Hifumi ramble on about the cabin. All Doppo thought about was how he wanted to go to bed and how unlucky he was to have been dragged into weekend overtime.

The first stop was in Ikebukuro, Hifumi parked in front of the Yamada residence and honked the horn a few times as he leaned out the window of the RV. “Yoooo! I’m here for Jiro-kun!” He called out.

Unprepared as usual, Jiro was still in the middle of packing his bag when Saburo barged into his room, annoyed by the noise Hifumi was making. “Jiro! Hurry up your ride is here! Seriously, how annoying.” He complained, a scowl on his face as he loitered in Jiro’s doorway.

“Don’t just be barging into my room like that Saburo!” Jiro snapped as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Jeez, seriously though. You’re really going out to a forest with that host and whoever else he invited along?” Saburo asked, stepping aside when Jiro passed him.

“Yeah well… It’s for Nii-chan. If I didn’t go then he’d be stuck going. Anyway, it’ll probably be alright. Maybe a little fun even.” Jiro shrugged as he made his way to the front door.

“Be safe Jiro, have a good time and make sure to behave, alright!” Ichiro called out to Jiro from the kitchen, giving him a wave and a wide grin.

“Don’t go and do anything stupid. Oh wait, sorry. I shouldn’t ask such an impossible task of you.” Saburo snickered.

Jiro irked, flipping Saburo off as he left out the front door. “See ya in a few days Nii-chan! And fuck you Saburo.” He growled as he left out front, pausing a moment when he saw the RV.

Hifumi swung the door open and greeted Jiro with a big, cheerful grin. “Ya-ho! Come on in! We’re headed to Shibuya next! Hurry, hurry! I wanna make it to the cabin by night fall, ‘kay?” He hummed as he returned to the driver’s seat.

Jiro sighed, stepping into the RV and setting his bag aside, sitting down in the RV cabin next to the window. He was already regretting agreeing to come along.

Not 30 minutes passed before arriving in Shibuya to retrieve Gentaro. Once again, Hifumi parked and honked the RV horn signal he’d arrived. “Hey Gentaro! We’re here!” He called out from the window.

Gentaro had already been awake a while already and was patiently waiting for Hifumi, reading a book to pass the time. He heard the all too familiar obnoxious voice calling out and closed his book with a sigh. He picked up his bag and headed out promptly, stopping and staring at the large RV in front of him.

“A recreational vehicle? Is this really necessary?” Gentaro asked as he slowly made his way into the RV.

“You betcha! Ya see, no regular vehicle would hold us all and taking more than one car might be a hassle, so I went ahead and rented this!” Hifumi grinned proudly.

“Mm, I see.” Gentaro replied simply as he took a seat, glancing to Jiro when he spotted him. “Oh, the middle Yamada brother. Hello.” He greeted calmly.

“Yo.” Jiro gave a little head nod to Gentaro, not saying much else.

Hifumi continued on, making good time so far. Next stop, Yokohama. Hifumi parked, again he honked the horn and was about to shout when Jiro spoke up.

“Do you have to honk and yell every damn time we stop to pick someone up?” Jiro complained, visibly irritated by Hifumi’s behavior.

“Huh? How else will they know we’re here?” Hifumi pouted.

“Well, might I suggest stepping out of the RV, knocking on the door, and alerting the person you’ve arrived that way? You know, like a normal, decent human being?” Gentaro retorted with a slight hint of sass and a small smirk on his face.

“Haaa? What’s that supposed to mean?” Hifumi frowned slightly as he stood up and exited the RV.

Jyuto heard a knock and sighed deeply as he picked up his luggage case. “Let’s get this over with.” He mumbled to himself as he answered the door. “Izanami, you’re right on time. I’ll be honest, I’m a little surprised.” He teased.

“Haha! Of course! I wanna make sure the trip goes well after all! Okay, right this way to the RV!” Hifumi laughed as he made his way back to the vehicle.

“The what now?” Jyuto asked, blinking. He looked past Hifumi, seeing the large vehicle. “Oh lord, you can’t be serious…” He muttered as he walked into the RV with Hifumi.

“Okay! We have a little bit of a drive to Nagoya so get comfy everyone! No stops for 2 or so hours!” Hifumi declared as he went back to his driver’s seat.

Jyuto found himself a seat and glanced at Gentaro then to Jiro. “Seems you two were invited along as well. How interesting.”

“Eh?! Why’d you go and invite this shitty cop for?!” Jiro growled, glaring Jyuto down.

“Hah! Well, I could ask why Izanami would invite along a delinquent high schooler, but you don’t see me doing that, now do you~?” Jyuto retorted with a sly smirk.

“HAAH? What did you say you scum bag-” Jiro started to shout as he abruptly stood when he was interrupted.

“Hey, hey! Come on no fighting!” Hifumi pouted, glancing at the bickering two in the rearview mirror. “Play nice! I don’t wanna have to tell Ichiro-kun that you were fighting the whole trip!”

Jiro flinched slightly and sat back down with a plop, crossing his arms, angrily looking away from Jyuto and out the window. “Tch. Not worth my time anyway.” He muttered to himself.

Gentaro watched the commotion, hiding a small smirk behind his open book. “Things are off to an entertaining start. This is going about as well as I anticipated.” He thought to himself.

The next stop was Nagoya to pick up Jyushi, again Hifumi parked and was about to honk when he paused, hand hover over the horn. Hifumi was feeling a bit disheartened from the bickering between Jyuto and Jiro the entire drive to Nagoya. He sighed softly, getting up and walking to Jyushi’s doorstep. He internally pumped himself up a bit, he didn’t want the trip to be a bust and he wasn’t the type to dwell on things, he’d get things back on track for sure! Okay! Back to smiles and enthusiasm!

Jyushi soon heard a knock and squeaked, gulping, and taking a moment to calm himself. “It’s okay… It’s a trip meant to be fun. Kuko said it would be good for me and… I trust him. Okay. I can do this, here we go.” He pep talked himself, hugging his stuffed pig Amanda close.

Hifumi grinned brightly and gave Jyushi a happy little erratic wave when the door opened. “Heyo! Ready to go?”

Jyushi gave a silent nod and followed Hifumi out to the RV, entering and looking at the others in the RV, his anxiety rising a bit. “H-Hello, it’s been a while.” He mumbled a bit as he quietly headed towards the back of the RV and sat down.

“Oh? How interesting.” Gentaro hummed to himself when he saw Jyushi had been invited along.

Jiro glanced over and then looked away. “Should a guy like that be out in the forest? He’ll probably just get scared. Oi, you sure you wanna go?” He asked Jyushi, looking over his shoulder at him.

Jyushi flinched slightly and nodded, his eyes drifting away from Jiro. “M-Mhm… I’m sure. I know, I don’t seem like the type to do something like this and honestly, I’m not but… This is something I need to do for myself.” He answered with a bit more assurance in his voice.

A small smile crept across Jiro’s face as he looked back out the window. “Huh. I didn’t know you were that kind of a guy.”

“Right-o! Next stop Osaka!” Hifumi piped up as he took a seat and took off on the road once more to pick up their last, and unknowing, guest.

Another two hours passed on the road, Hifumi was feeling again like things weren’t off to a great start. The ride to Osaka wasn’t filled with bickering like from Yokohama to Nagoya, but instead an unsettling and awkward silence. Gentaro silently read his book, Jiro fell asleep while staring blankly out the window, Jyuto was checking emails on his phone, and Jyushi was playing games on his phone while listening to music through his earbuds. Hifumi was determined to turn this trip around and make it fun. Soon they arrived at Rosho’s home, Hifumi got out of the RV and knocked on the door eagerly awaiting Rosho to answer.

“Hm? Who could that be?” Rosho mumbled to himself as he set his bowl aside. He had just been eating lunch when he heard the unexpected knock at his door.

“Heya there Rosho-kun!” Hifumi greeted happily. “Are ya ready to go?”

Rosho was completely and utterly confused. His gaze went past Hifumi to the huge RV behind him before his eyes fell back on Hifumi. “Pardon?”

“The trip! Are you ready to go?” Hifumi asked once more, it not dawning on him that Rosho had no idea he’d been volunteered to go on a little wilderness trip. “Sasara-kun said to pick you up around this time, maybe I was told the wrong time? Anyway we all just got here and from here it’s straight to the cabin down in Nara!”

Rosho heard Sasara and instantly knew he’d been set up. He irked and sighed, about to tell Hifumi that he never agreed to such a trip when he saw the sparkle of excitement in Hifumi’s eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn’t crush that child-like excitement. “A-Ah… Right… Sorry, I had last minute grading to do so I’m not ready. Please give me just a moment.”

Rosho hastily packed a bag, stuffing clothing violently inside along with things he thought he may need when out on this trip he knew little to nothing about. The entire time he cursed Sasara under his breath for throwing him into such a situation and on a teacher’s holiday too! He had planned to take it easy and enjoy himself, but now he was being forced on some strange outing with a man from Shinjuku that he barely knew as well as the other mystery participants going along on this excursion.

A mere 10 minutes and Rosho was ready to go, following Hifumi back to the RV and climbing on board. He took a brief pause when he saw the others in the RV. “The idiot Buster Bros brother, the dirty cop from Yokohama, the liar from Fling Posse, and that Visual Kei kid from Nagoya…” Rosho thought to himself as he decided to seat himself in the passenger seat next to Hifumi.

“Yes! We got everyone, now it’s a straight shot to the cabin in Nara!” Hifumi cheered, pumping a fist into the air before he took off driving once more.

“Um, Hifumi-san, sorry to ask but Sasara didn’t exactly fill me in on much… Or anything for that matter… What are the details of this trip again?” Rosho asked curiously. He wanted to know what he was blindly walking into.

“Haha! That’s no prob! Ya see, I got a cool little deal from a client of mine to stay at her family’s cabin this weekend, so I called up people to come along! I thought it’d be more fun than going all alone.” Hifumi explained as he drove along.

“Well, that makes sense but why go with people you don’t know well? Or… I don’t know maybe you do know the others well, but why invite me?” Rosho asked.

“Well I was gonna invite Sensei and Doppo, but they were both busy and Sensei suggested I try and get to know others a bit better so here we are!” Hifumi grinned happily.

“Ah… I see. Well, thank you for inviting me along then.” Rosho smiled a bit. He thought perhaps this would be a relaxing weekend after all.

A long three hour drive later, Hifumi was off the main roads, driving down a bumpy dirt path that could barely even be called a road. The trees around became more and more dense as they progressed. They went over the mountain pass, entering a tunnel. It was dark and was carved right through the mountain itself. Dimly lit and narrow, the RV barely made the clearance of the tunnel. Rosho and Gentaro insisted it wouldn’t fit, but Hifumi wasn’t backing out and somehow, he made it work. Another two miles after exiting the tunnel and they finally pulled up to an old, but large sized “cabin”. Well, not really a cabin as much as it was just a very old, traditional house from the Ashikaga period… Very, very old! Hifumi parked the RV right out front and was the first to eagerly exit.

“Whoa! This is super-duper old! Huh, when my client said a cabin, I was thinking an actual cabin, but we don’t really have old cabins like in the Western countries! But this is neat!” Hifumi chuckled as he waited for the others to join him.

Out next was Rosho who went straight into a history lesson. “Ah, this style of architecture looks about 14th century. It’s really well preserved for the age. These kinds of structures are still found in places like this, but…” He trailed off, something just seemed off about this lone house in the forest.

Gentaro walked up beside Rosho and hummed, eyes sparkling. “It’s very beautiful. I’m eager to have a look inside.” With that, he wasted no time walking towards the door.

“Haha! Do you feel more at home with housing that matches your wardrobe, Gentaro?” Hifumi asked teasingly, not meaning any harm, but boy… Gentaro took offense instantly.

Gentaro came to an abrupt halt, irking and clenching his teeth. “What was that?”

Jyuto was quick to act and deflect for Hifumi as he walked past. “Well then, we were going inside, right? It’s a decent size so let’s go in and set up where we’d all like to sleep.” He walked past, right up and into the house.

Jiro and Jyushi exited the RV one after the other. Jiro stretched, eyes watering at the corners as he let out yawn. “Huh, this is the place? Does it even have electricity? I sure as hell don’t have a signal out here.” He groaned as he held his phone up higher, trying to catch a signal to no avail.

“Oh wow! It’s really kinda cool! It reminds me of the temples and stuff when I go for training with Kuko!” Jyushi gasped in awe as he hurried past Jiro, following right behind Jyuto into the house.

Gentaro sighed, deciding to let the comment from Hifumi slide for now and followed the others into the house, Rosho followed behind Gentaro. Hifumi was the last to enter, still not realizing he’d even offended Gentaro. The house looked like it had a few minor renovations here and there, but most of it was original and traditional, the colors white and dark brown; It was quite plain. There were several oil lamps scattered around and even a wood stove which looked to be one of the few non-original additions to the house along with the tea green flooring.

“Ugh, seriously? Living in the stone age up in here. I can’t even charge my phone!” Jiro complained with an exaggerated sigh.

“It’s cute and it’ll be fun! Like pretending you lived in the old country and whatnot!” Hifumi laughed, patting Jiro on the back firmly. “And you can charge your phone in the RV, we all can! But we should make sure to conserve the gas for the trip home, so I am limiting it to once a day!”

“Ugh, so lame… Yeah, alright, fine.” Jiro agreed, it was better than nothing after all.

Jyuto had wandered into one of the side rooms of the house, finding it to be open and simple. There was a single small closet and small wooden window on the far wall. “Tch. Not decorative at all. I’m not too surprised but… Are there even sleeping mats?” He asked himself as he slid open a closet door, finding exactly what he’d mentioned. “Oh good. They look to be new too, that’s nice. I won’t be too uncomfortable then.”

Gentaro wandered into another of the spare rooms, finding the same as Jyuto did. “Well, that’s good. I wonder… Two sleeping mats in here. I hope there are more in the other rooms.”

Rosho was in the final spare room, once again, same as the other two. Identical in the colors, a single small window, and one small closet with two sleeping mats tucked neatly inside. “I wonder if the other rooms are the same?” He asked himself as he slid the closet door shut.

Jyushi looked curiously around the small kitchen area, opening storage containers, all of which were empty. “I wonder if Hifumi-san brought food along? There’s nothing here at all… Not even a refrigerator or an ice box!”

“Well, I found two sleeping mats in that room. Were there more in the others?” Jyuto asked curiously as he walked back out into the front room, meeting back up with everyone else.

“Were there? The room I explored also has two.” Gentaro hummed as he walked out.

“Really? The room I was in also had two…” Rosho mentioned as he rejoined the others.

“Awesome! We all have sleeping covered then!” Hifumi cheered. “We can share rooms, it’s only for sleeping anyway. I’m surprised there was that many side rooms in a house like this to begin with!” He laughed, leaning back against the wall.

“Share? Who should room with who then?” Jiro asked, yawning again, he looked rather bored already with everything.

“Ah, before that… Hifumi I am curious. Did your client know we were all coming? Looking around I have noticed things have specifically been set up for six people.” Gentaro asked, pointing out a few strange details.

“Huh? Well they knew I was coming with people yeah! I don’t really remember if I mentioned how many or anything like that.” Hifumi shrugged, not thinking much of it.

“Wait, there was only six sleeping mats, that’s a stretch to call it being specifically set up for six people.” Jyuto chimed in.

“You’re not very perceptive then. I’ve only just skimmed around the house, but I see utensils for six, teacups for six, sleeping arrangements for six… The more you look around the more you notice everything is for exactly six people.” Gentaro corrected.

“Well like I said, my client knew I was coming with guests and I’m sure I probably mentioned a number at some point. We should thank her for being so on top of it!” Hifumi hummed happily. “Anyway! We’re here now, though the suns starting to set… We can go out and explore the forest a bit tomorrow but for now, let’s have some fun inside!”

“Fun? Well, I’m not opposed but shouldn’t we figure out sleeping arrangements first?” Jyuto reminded Hifumi.

“Okie dokie! Who do y’all wanna room with then?” Hifumi asked, watching the other’s as a silence fell over the room.

After an awkward moment or two, Jiro spoke up. “Uh… I’ll share with Jyushi because we’re closer in age and it’d feel weird as hell rooming with any of you. Uh… No offense or whatever.”

“Me?” Jyushi blinked, a little surprised to hear someone was so willing to room with him. “I… Yeah okay!” He smiled softly.

“Alrighty! What about you Rosho-kun?” Hifumi asked, moving things along. He was eager to get this sorted out so they could start partying.

“Oh, well…” Rosho began to say before Jyuto pipped up.

“I’ll room with Tsutsujimori.” Jyuto smiled. He’d much rather room with Rosho than a host or Gentaro. Between the three, Rosho seemed like the best option.

“Oh! Well, alright then I’m fine with that.” Rosho nodded, finding that acceptable.

Hifumi clapped his hands together and grinned. “Sweet! Then that’s all figured out! Now, are we ready to-”

“Wait, wait, wait hold on a moment.” Gentaro interrupted. “That would leave us to room together.” He told Hifumi apprehensively.

“Yeah, so?” Hifumi blinked.

Gentaro was silent, he so badly wanted to refuse sharing a room with that boorish host, but it would only cause a commotion. He’d deal with that problem later. “…Well, as long as you remember your manners and watch what pours out of that mouth of yours, I suppose it’s tolerable.”

Hifumi disregarded most of what Gentaro said, only wanting to liven up the atmosphere, and in a hurry. “Cool, cool! Yeah, no sweat! Alright now~ Let’s party!” He cheered loudly, throwing his hands up in the air.

The night set in quickly, the sun was long gone, and the old house was lit only by the soft glow of the oil lamps and the wood stove. Always being prepared for a good time, Hifumi had supplied champagne to those of age, even offering some to Jiro and Jyushi once he was a few drinks in, though, Jyuto was quick to remind Hifumi that it was illegal and he was a cop even out of uniform. Hifumi was pretty smashed, Rosho close behind and Jyuto not doing much better, Gentaro had only a single glass of champagne, and Jiro and Jyushi nothing at all. Hifumi had brought in food from the RV, he really was well prepared for the trip, not forgetting a single essential thing, and some not so essential.

“I feel so out of place. Look at these idiots.” Jiro sighed, sitting cross legged on the floor near Jyushi as he watched the adults make fools of themselves.

“It’s kinda funny to watch but yeah… Maybe they shouldn’t have invited younger people like us along.” Jyushi agreed with a small giggle.

“Well, consider who invited us all. He’s not the brightest.” Gentaro added, overhearing Jiro and Jyushi.

“And another thing! I swear to God if Sasara pulls something like this again I’m gonna deck ‘em square in his face!” Rosho ranted to Hifumi and Jyuto, he’d been going on and on about Sasara for a while now and how he’s always pulling jokes at his expense.

“My oh my, aren’t you aggressive? I wouldn’t have expected that from a schoolteacher.” Jyuto chuckled. “Sasara-kun can’t seem to stay away from those types.”

“Hehe~ Everyone has a type! We’ve pinpointed Sasara’s!” Hifumi laughed, stumbling a bit as he walked around, a bottle of champagne in one hand. He bumped into Rosho, earning himself a shove.

“Oi! Watch yourself!” Rosho snapped as he shoved Hifumi off of him.

Hifumi managed to stumble away and fall into the adjacent wall. His shoulder pressed into a wooden beam, it concaved in slightly, like a long thin rectangular button. A small portion of the wall suddenly became ajar with a POP, revealing a wooden staircase down into pitch black.

“Whoa! What the hell is that!” Jiro gasped as he jumped up and walked over to the newly found mysterious path.

The others gathered around as well, Jyuto helping Hifumi to his feet and steadying him a bit. “A secret door?”

“It’s not too uncommon in certain types of houses even from this era but…” Rosho mumbled a bit as he stared at the staircase with a studying gaze.

Gentaro grabbed one of the hand lamps and started to walk through the hidden door when Jyushi grabbed him by the shoulder. “W-Wait! What are you doing?” He asked, his voice quivering.

“Hm? What’s it look like? I’m going to see what’s down there.” Gentaro answered bluntly. “This is too good to pass up, think of the material I could come up with even if there’s nothing down there at all. I’m going down for a look.”

“Yeah! Let’s see what’s down there! It’s kinda spooky but it’s too cool and tempting to not take a look!” Hifumi agreed, following down the staircase close behind Gentaro.

“Well, it’s probably a simple cellar or maybe a type of panic room. Whatever the case, I’ll take a look too.” Jyuto decided, more than anything he didn’t want to look cowardly.

“Escape routes aren’t uncommon I suppose in this type of house… It probably leads outside.” Rosho muttered as he followed behind Jyuto. He was uneasy about the dark descent but like Jyuto, he was no coward and his curiosity was getting the better of him. A nice bonus would be that it’s something interesting to tell his class back at school.

Jiro, as well, didn’t want to look like he was afraid and began to follow Rosho when he suddenly stopped. He noticed Jyushi was frozen where he stood, an obvious look of fear in his eyes. “You comin’?”

“I-I…” Jyushi’s voice trembled as he clutched his jacket over his chest. He wanted to retreat into his room, hug Amanda and pretend they never found this eerie hidden doorway.

Jiro held out his hand and offered it to Jyushi. He’d do the same for his little brother if he were scared, well… If he wasn’t being a little shit that is. “It’ll be alright. Stay with me, okay?” He smiled comfortingly, trying to help ease Jyushi’s fear and worry.

Jyushi hesitated a moment before slowly reaching out and taking Jiro’s hand. A sense of ease slowly came over him as he very slowly followed Jiro’s lead. “A-Alright… Th-Thank you…” He whispered.

The staircase went down in a straight path of nine steps. Gentaro looked around for any other oil lamps he might be able to light, finding three and lighting each. The room was small and rectangular, Gentaro had to hunch over as to not hit his head on the ceiling of the very small room. It was filled with many very old, bizarre items that varied in size and shape. Soon Gentaro was joined by the others, all of them piling into the cramped room; everyone began to take a look at the odd items the room held.

Concurrently, unknown to the six back in the old house, they were being watched via hidden video cameras and hidden microphones. Every action each of them made was being watched and influenced by a secret task force. This whole thing was a set up! But… Why?

“Last call on bets! Get them in!” Called out a scientist collecting money from other workers in the large observation room.

It was filled to the brim with large monitors and rows of control panels lined with numerous buttons and switches, each labeled neatly.

“Oh, there you are! We weren’t sure you were going to show, Amayado-san.” Another scientist chuckled when he saw a tall man sporting a fur coat, sunglasses, and black fedora walk into the room.

“Yo! Haha, miss this? Not a chance.” Rei chuckled as he walked over, glancing to the screen that displayed the six back at the house. “I was a little behind schedule, this isn’t my only shindig y’know. Not to mention I had to set up for this all to happen.” He reminded him.

“We are very grateful! Of course, you’ve been paid directly into your account already.” The scientist informed Rei. “Will you be making a bet this year?”

“If there’s money to be made, then you know it! I haven’t lost a single year yet, so let’s see…” Rei tapped his chin as he looked at the screen and decided his bet. “I know my bet.” He answered, handing the money to the scientist, and whispering into his ear.

Back at the old house, the group began taking a look through what they found down in the mysterious hidden room.

“What is all this?” Jyuto asked as he picked up and examined what looked like an ancient hand lamp but without a place to put oil or fuel for use.

“It looks like this room is simply a storage unit of sorts.” Rosho replied to Jyuto as he picked up a headless straw doll. “Seems some of these things are falling apart, but that’s not surprising, they seem to be antique.”

“Neat-o! Look at all this really cool old stuff!” Hifumi gasped excitedly as he walked past Rosho, picking up a beautifully carved and painted wooden box, decorated with pink and white sakura blossoms.

Gentaro looked upon an old bookcase holding a few scrolls, his eyes skimmed through them, one with a gold shimmer to the paper catching his eyes. “Your client has an interesting collection of ancient things; does she belong to a family of collectors?” He asked as he began to reach for the scroll.

“No idea! I’ll have to ask her when I see her again!” Hifumi chuckled as he moved to lift the lid of the box he held.

Jiro released Jyushi’s hand when they had reached the bottom of the stairs and laughed as he looked around. “This is so cool!” He quickly made his way towards the back of the room, something covered on the wall caught his eye.

“J-Jiro wait!” Jyushi called out, managing to grab and hold the tail of Jiro’s jacket like a small child as he followed him to the back of the room.

“What do you think this is?” Jiro asked once he reached the covered object on the wall. He didn’t bother waiting for Jyushi to guess, quickly pulling the cloth off the item to reveal an old sterling silver, oval mirror.

Jyushi screeched in surprised when he was greeted by his and Jiro’s reflection in the mirror. Unintentionally and without thinking he hugged onto Jiro’s arm out of fear. “Wah! I hate this!”

“Whoa, calm down! Jeez my fucking ears.” Jiro glared slightly, shaking his head to rid his ears of the ringing from Jyushi’s high pitched wail.

“C-Can we please just all go back upstairs? This stuff isn’t ours! We shouldn’t be messing with someone else’s things! A-And don’t you know what happens with old things like this? Curses!” Jyushi began to sob as he continued to cling to Jiro’s arm. “Please, please, please I just want to go back upstairs!” He begged pitifully, burying his tear stained face into Jiro’s shoulder, makeup beginning to run down his face.

It was uncomfortable and awkward, but more than that just plain pitiful for Jiro to see. He sighed heavily and covered the mirror and led Jyushi back to the front of the room. “Hey, he’s super upset and shit can we just go back now? He’s got a point about it not being ours and whatever. He’s fucking terrified, let’s go.”

Rosho was the first to agree with Jiro and Jyushi. Jyushi reminded him of his students; he felt bad for the poor kid. “You’re right. It’s rude to just look at someone else’s things.” He set the doll he had down and began to leave with Jiro and Jyushi. “Come along now, we obviously aren’t meant to be down here, the room was hidden after all.”

“Aww! But-” Hifumi started to complain, setting the box he had down and closing the barely ajar lid.

“But? You don’t want to betray your clients trust and kindness, do you?” Jyuto asked Hifumi as he put the lamp back where he found it.

“No… Dang. Well, it was fun just seeing this stuff I guess!” Hifumi chuckled, following the others. He stopped at the stairs and looked over at Gentaro. “Come on Gentaro, time to go!”

“Of course, be right there. I’ll put out the lamps down here then be right up.” Gentaro called, his eyes still fixated on the scroll, but his hand slowly backing away.

“No, no, no!” One of the scientists back in the observation lab yelled, slamming his fist down on the table. “This is bad! If they don’t activate anything then the whole thing is a bust and the world is fucking screwed!”

“Heh, calm down.” Rei smirked slyly as he casually walked over to the control panel, flipping a switch. The reaction in the house caused the scroll to fall off the bookshelf. “The Deceiver just needs a little coaxing, that’s all~” He hummed as he glanced at the screen in front of them showing Gentaro.

Back at the house, Gentaro turned and took a single step when the scroll fell from the bookshelf and onto the floor. He paused and looked back at the scroll on the ground. It only took him a moment to think about it before he turned, picked up the scroll and slid it into his robe. He then put out the flames of the lamps and returned swiftly to the others upstairs.

“Woohoo! Alright let’s get back to partying!” Hifumi cheered, hopping around, and pumping his fist into the air.

“I won’t say no to more champagne.” Jyuto chuckled, making his way to pour himself a glass in the kitchen area.

“I’m going to turn in for the night. You’ll have to have your fun without me.” Gentaro replied quickly as he resealed the hidden door.

“What a wet blanket! No fun!” Hifumi pouted as he joined Jyuto for another drink.

“Your opinion.” Gentaro shrugged, making his way past the others and into his and Hifumi’s shared room, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, pour me a drink too!” Rosho called as he walked over to Hifumi and Jyuto. He couldn’t seem to shake this uneasy feeling that came over him, perhaps another drink would help settle his nerves.

“I-I’m going to go to bed too…” Jyushi spoke barely above a whisper as he rushed into his and Jiro’s shared room in a hurry.

“O-Oi Jyushi, wait!” Jiro called, sighing when Jyushi closed the door to their room. “I guess that really shook him up. I should make sure he’s alright I guess…” He muttered, following Jyushi.

In Gentaro’s room, he’d set up his sleeping mat on the far side of the room. He changed into his sleeping robes and got comfortable in bed, pulling out the scroll he’d sneakily taken from the hidden room. He removed the string binding the scroll and slowly unraveled it, revealing the contents.

“Oh, it’s written in… Old Japanese.” Gentaro mumbled as he skimmed the scroll. “I am pretty sure I can make this out.” He smirked confidently as he began to read the scroll silently to himself.

“On the night of New Moon in the new house something terrible happened. Two large monsters came down from the mountain. Their looks like that of an ox, but their size far more massive and with sharp claws and teeth bigger than that of a tiger. The house took damage and while father, elder brother, and I were able to escape and hide in the forest until dawn, mother was not so lucky. Her blood still stains her and father’s bedroom walls and floor.

The monsters in the mountains come more often. Father and elder brother have figured out now that as long as you set out an offering, the monsters will eat and leave us. Father made a room in which to hide. I am to stay until morning while he and elder brother keep watch on the New Moon.

There was less to hunt this time, there’s no wild animals to be found, we have to hide it out this time, the monsters will be very displeased.

They’ve come into the house. They can smell our scent, our fear. They will find us I am sure. There is not much time left. I don’t want to die.

Morning has come, I have survived. The monster’s accepted my offering. Father and elder brother didn’t make it, but their fate was sealed once they failed to protect me. It’s their duty and they failed. I have the blessing of the monsters now. Every New Moon I will provide them their offering, even after I am dead and gone.”

Gentaro closed the scroll and chuckled, setting it aside. “An old folk legend. That was an interesting read.” He glanced around the room at the white walls and the matted floor. The matting wasn’t original, it’d been replaced and was another of the few newer renovations to the house. “What a silly thought. I’m sure the deaths never even happened at all.” He told himself, laying down and covering himself up. He put out the lamp lighting the room and closed his eyes to rest.

Jiro opened the door to the room he and Jyushi were sharing and peeked in. “Uh… Yo Jyushi, you alright in here?”

Jyushi was in the corner, sitting on his sleeping mat, hugging Amanda close to him, his knees to his chest. He glanced to Jiro, but quickly looked away, hiding his face into Amanda. “Mm…” He answered in a mumbled, though, it was incoherent.

“Huh? I can’t understand you when you’re mumbling and covering your face, speak properly!” Jiro scolded, though it was a gentle scolding. He walked the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind him and made his way over to Jyushi, sitting beside him.

Jyushi raised his head slightly and glanced over to Jiro, face cherry red, eyes matching from the crying. Black makeup was smudged all around and down his eyes. “I-I’m alright…” He managed to mumble a bit more clearly.

“Jeez, you look like a complete mess. You’re wearing makeup? What are you, a girl?” Jiro asked, not realizing his words were as sharp as they were.

Jyushi looked away, eyes beginning to tear up once more. “I-If you’re going to make fun of me then leave me alone…” He muttered shakily. He didn’t want to pick a fight, but he wasn’t letting anyone bully him anymore.

“Hah? Making fun of you? I’m the one here checking to make sure you’re okay, aren’t I?” Jiro frowned. He stood up and momentarily left the room without an explanation of where he was going.

Jyushi watched him go, trying to bite back more tears welling up in his eyes. “...J-Jiro…” He muttered quietly, not that he would be heard.

Jiro quickly returned with a damp wash cloth in hand and knelt down in front of Jyushi. “Look at me.” He demanded in a soft tone.

Jyushi looked up at Jiro, face redder than before now as Jiro began to wipe away the running make up from his face. He was close, too close! Fear was the last thing on Jyushi’s mind now as he was flooded with very confusing feelings. His heart was racing, his body temperature rising, and… was he holding his breath? Why?

At the laboratory, Rei was flipping switches and pressing buttons, turning knobs and dials with the help of the two other scientists left in the large observation room with him now. “Everything is in motion now. Everyone will fill their role, the sacrifices will be made, and the world will be safe.”

“Amayado-san isn’t that boy there one of your sons? You’re really alright with this?” One of the other scientists asked, pointing to the monitor displaying Jiro and Jyushi.

Rei glanced up then away and shrugged. “I mean, these circumstances are being controlled but even if we weren’t influencing cognitive function and bodily functions and this was happening, I have nothing against gays.”

The scientist sweat dropped and shook his head. “No, not that! I mean sacrificing your son!”

“Oh! Well, I don’t want to see him die, no but… Well if they don’t then I along with my other two sons and the entire world does, so it can’t be helped.” Rei answered simply. The less he thought about it, the less it would hurt him. Or at least, that was his logic.

“I’m glad you understand how important this is. I’d do the same.” The other scientist chimed in.

“It’s for the best. Now, moving on…” Rei hummed, changing the focus to Hifumi, Jyuto and Rosho. “All the Roles are being set as we speak. Looks like Hifumi-kun is passed out, he’s easily solidified his Role as the Fool. The champagne he was sold was drugged to cause poor judgment. This will help the Whore, Jyuto-kun, play his role and the others to make decisions they wouldn’t normally make.” He explained.

“Good, the Whore must reveal themselves as the Whore otherwise the Role won’t take effect.” One of the scientists added.

“Don’t worry about that. Their room is pumped full of pheromones and those gloves Jyuto-kun has been wearing this whole time are laced with another type of chemical similar to the one in the champagne, basically, it makes him an extra loose guy.”

“Your son’s being influenced to play the Athlete’s Role while that goth kid has already solidified his Role as the Virgin.” One of the scientists explained, gesturing to each on the screen.

“Rosho-kun’s constant analyzing as him set as the Scholar and Gentaro-kun taking that scroll sealed him as the Deceiver.” Rei added.

“And with the opening of the scroll, the demons will come. We can only hope things go smoothly.” The other scientists sighed.

Rei chuckled and nodded. “Indeed. And those monsters are on their way down to the house from the mountain as we speak.”

“Hifumi-kun is passed the hell out.” Jyuto chuckled. “What should we do with him?”

“I ain’t moving his ass! Cover him up and let him sleep where he is, I’m goin’ to bed.” Rosho slurred a bit, tossing a blanket sloppily over Hifumi then stumbling towards his and Jyuto’s bedroom.

Jyuto walked up behind Rosho and hugged him from behind to “help” steady him. “Having trouble~?” He purred into Rosho’s ear, pressing himself close against Rosho. Slowly over the night his brain had become foggy, the chemicals laced in his gloves stimulating his body heavily.

Rosho was highly uncomfortable and wasted no time opening the door and squirming out of Jyuto’s hold and getting away from him. “What the hell are you doing?!” He snapped, now in the pheromone filled room.

Jyuto walked into the room and closed the door behind him. “Heh~ Calm down, relax~” He purred, his gaze fixed on Rosho as the pheromones filled his body.

Back with Jiro and Jyushi, things had progressed to an unexpected make out session between the two thanks to just a tiny push of pheromones into their room. Jyushi’s more inclined to give in and follow an “alpha” thanks to tampering done to his nail polish. Jiro’s hat was laced, causing him to take on more protective and alpha male traits, securing their roles as the “Athlete” and the “Virgin” for this sacrifice. Everything that everyone had used was tampered with in some way to influence them.

Things began to progress a little bit further when Jyushi broke the kiss and gasped softly. “Ah- Wait- I-I’m a virgin-” He blinked and blushed darkly. “I don’t… I don’t know why I mentioned that?” He spoke in a semi question.

“Do you… Uh… Should we stop…?” Jiro asked in a whisper, still staying close to Jyushi.

Jyushi blushed a deep crimson and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Let’s continue~” He flirted shyly, leaning back in to kiss Jiro.

BAM!

Jiro was about to reconnect the kiss when he fell back with a startle from the loud noise. “The FUCK was that?!” He shouted, heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline course through him.

“I-I-I dunno!” Jyushi squeaked, his heart pounding and fear filling him once more. “I-I’m scared… Jiro…” He whimpered quietly.

“Stay here, I’ll go see what this is about, okay?” Jiro smiled reassuringly at Jyushi, giving him a soft pat on the head.

Jyushi nodded and was quick to grab Amanda and hug her close as he stayed in the corner, hugging his legs to his chest. Jiro headed out of the room and looked around the front room. It was silent. He saw Hifumi peacefully asleep on the floor and no one else around. He picked up one of the oil lamps from the front room and headed to Gentaro’s room to ask if he heard the loud noise when an ear-piercing shriek came from Rosho and Jyuto’s room.

Jiro ran to the source of the scream and ripped the door open, looking inside, shining his lamp in front of him. “What’s going on?!” He asked frantically, his lamp lighting the room with a soft yellow glow.

There was a massive hole where the window once was in the room, blood was dripping from the jagged edges of the hole. A large smeared trail of blood revealed a path from the center of the room and out the gaping hole. The sleeping mats both stained from white to crimson, the top half shredded.

Jiro was frozen in shock for a moment before he frantically looked around the room for Rosho and Jyuto. “Oi! J-Jyuto, Rosho!” He called out, spotting Rosho in the furthest corner from the window, on the floor, stark naked, and trembling harshly in utter terror.

“J-Jiro-kun!” He gasped, stumbling over himself as he crawled over the door, through Jiro’s legs to get out of his room. “Close the door! ARE YOU DEAF?! CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!” He snapped, managing to his feet.

Jiro slammed the door shut and looked at Rosho. “What the fuck is going on?! Where is Jyuto and why are you naked?! Is that fucking BLOOD?!” Question after question came as Jiro and Rosho were quickly joined by Jyushi, Gentaro, and Hifumi.

“What is with all the yelling-” Gentaro asked, stopping in his tracks when he saw Rosho standing there naked and smeared with blood.

“Jiro! Are you okay?!” Jyushi asked worriedly as he ran over, coming to a halt when he saw Rosho. His face paled and his heart thumped. “W-What… What… I-Is…”

“Ugh… you’re all so loud… I’m trying to sleep!” Hifumi complained, still under his blanket and oblivious to the state Rosho was in. He was too tired and dumbed down to care about anything but sleep right now.

“Oi! Care to fill us in on what the FUCK is going on?!” Jiro snapped at Rosho, demanding answers.

“It’s not safe… It’s not safe! We can’t stay here, we’re sitting ducks! We…” Rosho explained in a panic before gasping and running to the hidden door of the house. “Hurry! Everyone into the hidden room! I’ll explain down there but it’s not safe here and we need to hide NOW!”

Rosho was gone in an instant running down the steps into the concealed room. Gentaro watched, his face losing color as his heart rate slowed. “This is impossible! The scroll… It… It was just a folk legend! This can’t be happening… No, there’s no way such things are real. There has to be an explanation.” He thought to himself as he desperately tried to think of a logical reason for what was happening. He needed more details before jumping to conclusion.

While Gentaro was lost in thought, Jiro called to him as he let Jyushi go down before him. “Oi come on! Grab that host while you’re at it!” He then headed down into the hidden room to join Jyushi and Rosho.

Gentaro snapped out of his trance and nodded. “Right…” He pulled the blanket off of Hifumi and nudged him with his foot. “Hifumi! Wake up! We need to go into the hidden room, now!” He stressed.

Hifumi didn’t move, he only groaned and curled up into a ball on the floor. “Nooooooo…” He whined quietly.

Gentaro irked and grabbed Hifumi’s arm, forcing him to his feet. “Yes! This is no time to play games and be lazy now shape the hell up and listen for once!” He snapped.

BANG!

Hifumi jumped, violently startled hearing the loud bang that broke the front door open, the wind gusting in and sending a child over Hifumi and Gentaro. Gentaro cowered slightly, holding Hifumi in front of him unconsciously as if he were a shield. A low, sinister growl echoed from the pitch black of the doorway, all the oil lamp’s flames blown out with the gust, and with the New Moon, not even moonlight illuminated the night. Slow, heavy footsteps made their way into the house, creaking on the floorboards as they approached. Two sets of eyes glowed a bright red, their gazed fixed on Hifumi and Gentaro.

Gentaro’s heart sank in his chest as he realized the so-called fairytale, he read was all too real and right before him. He knew what was coming and he also knew how he could save himself. Without hesitation, he shoved Hifumi towards the two beasts with all his strength then ran down the steps of the hidden room, sealing the door behind him as he rejoined the others down below. He ignored the horrific cries and screams for help, deafening them from his ears.

Hifumi stumbled right into one of the monsters, letting out a grunt when he snacked against the beast’s skull between two large protruding horns. His eyes wide with terror, he stumbled back, falling instantly over his on feet, landing with a thump on the floor. The beast instantly pinned Hifumi and bit into his abdomen, pouring his guts all over the light green floor mats. The other beast tearing into Hifumi’s lower half with its claws, ripping a leg clean off and instantly devouring it.

“GENTARO! PLEASE HELP! HELP ME!” Hifumi screamed and sobbed out as he reached out for anyone, anything to help him as he was viciously devoured, torn limb from limb by the monsters, his blood paining the walls around them.

Gentaro reached the bottom of the stairs, panting and trembling as he tried desperately to settle his nerves. “Did… Did I really do that? I… I killed…” He thought to himself, his sanity slipping from his grasp. He was quick to clutch to reason, shaking his head as his breathing evened out. “No… No, this isn’t my fault. He should have listened! Why should I die because he was an idiot and didn’t listen to me?! Right… Right… It couldn’t be helped…”

“Gentaro?” Jiro called when he heard someone had come down. “Oh good, it is you I… Where’s Hifumi-san?”

Gentaro looked away and made up a lie on the spot. “He… I did what I could… I couldn’t save him I’m sorry… These two… beasts… They burst through the front door and I tried to run with Hifumi but… But one of them grabbed him! He… He’s gone…”

“W-Wait… M-Monster? You said a monster…?” Jyushi asked, voice shaking as he hugged onto Jiro’s arm.

Rosho had just finished slipping on some old pants he found in the room among all the other items, they were a bit short on him, but it was better than being naked. “No, not monster, monsters. There are two of them, maybe more! But… Those bastards… They crashed through the window and ripped Jyuto from me right before my eyes, I only narrowly got away as they… They dragged him off into the woods… His screams… It happened so fast and I couldn’t… I couldn’t do shit!” He slammed his fist against the wall, closing his eyes tight as he choked back a sob.

“Hold up… That… in your room… That was caused by monsters? And… And Gentaro-san you said you saw these monsters too and they got Hifumi-san?” Jiro asked, trying to put together what was going on.

Gentaro nodded, his voice hushed. “It sounds unbelievable but… I know what I saw. Two witnesses… It’s true.”

“Whatever they are, it doesn’t matter. What matters is our plan of escape to get the HELL out of here!” Rosho declared, clearing his throat. “Listen, we need to get to the RV. We can haul ass and get out of this hell hole as long as we make it to the RV.”

“Right! We can do this! We just need to get from the house to the RV, that’s what, like 500 feet?” Jiro asked in a hushed voice.

“W-What about the keys? D-Doesn’t Hifumi-san… He was…” Jyushi’s voice trembled and cracked as he held tight to Jiro’s arm.

“Last I saw, the keys had been set on a shelf in the kitchen after his last trip out to the RV for drinks. That was before he passed out on the floor. They should still be there or close around.” Rosho explained calmly as he became more analytical of the situation. “This needs to be done in one go, no fuck ups.”

“How exactly do you propose that we do this?” Gentaro asked, raising an eyebrow. “Can this even be called a plan? Go get the keys and run to the RV. We may as well be handing ourselves over on a silver platter.”

“We need a diversion.” Jiro muttered. “Someone needs to go up alone, get eyes on the monsters, and keep them away while the others get the keys and run to the RV.”

“Hah! So now you expect one of us to willingly offer ourselves as bait? I knew you were the dumb brother, but this is ridiculous.” Gentaro scoffed, shaking his head.

“H-Hey! Jiro isn’t dumb! H-He’s right and at least… At least he’s trying to contribute!” Jyushi argued in a stutter.

“Hey, it’s fine Jyushi.” Jiro smiled softly, looking over to Gentaro with a glare. “Tch. Unlike some people, I’m no coward. This will work and no one’s gonna die.”

“Jiro-kun… You can’t be serious, you…” Rosho trailed off as he realized Jiro was offering to be the distraction.

“I’m probably the most athletic and fit out of all of us. I can be sneaky, and I know I’m not the smartest, but… I know I can do this.” Jiro spoke with determination.

“Jiro no! What if… What if something happens?” Jyushi held tighter to Jiro’s arm, trembling at the thought of Jiro willingly going off to face those monsters alone.

“He suggested it, he should be the one to do it.” Gentaro pointed out. “And he’s right, he’s the most physically fit. If one of use were to pull it off, it’d be Jiro.” He agreed, just wanting to get the possibility of himself having to do it off the table.

“I will be fine. I promise.” Jiro smiled, patting Jyushi’s head. “Just make sure you stay safe and get to that RV, okay? I’ll rejoin you guys soon. I promise.” He spoke softly.

Jyushi nodded and hugged Jiro tight just for a second before letting him go. “I promise…”

Jiro grabbed a few items from the room, putting them in his pockets before making his way up the stairs with one of the oil lamps from down below. He cracked the door silently, only enough to see out. When he heard and saw nothing, he opened the door another few inches and slowly stuck his head out, looking at his surroundings. It was dark and silent, nothing in sight. He very silently moved out from behind the door and sealed it behind him. He tiptoed to the room farthest in the back, Gentaro and Hifumi’s room. He slowly opened the door and peered inside, entering once he saw it was empty. He took a deep breath and placed the oil lamp on the windowsill and left the bedroom door wide open. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small teacup and hurled it at the wall by the lamp and proceeded to shout in an attempt to draw attention to himself in the room.

“OI! WHERE ARE YA FUCKERS?! COME ON! I’M RIGHT HERE! COME AT ME!” Jiro shouted at the top of his lungs, heart racing and pounding in his chest as he listened and looked for any sign of something coming.

After a brief moment, he saw the flame of the lamp flicker as an eerie silence fell over the house. He rushed to the closet, opening the door, and squeezing himself into the small space, shutting the door. Seconds after Jiro had concealed himself, the window where the lap sat was struck with a loud THUD! The walls cracked, caving in. The lamp fell, the light going with it. Heavy breathing could be heard along with thumping, heavy footsteps. Jiro covered his mouth with his hands and made sure to keep his breathing silent and under control. He heard clawing, thumping, breathing right near the door, a few moments seemed like an eternity before the footsteps trailed off. Jiro shakily reached out and cracked the door open only a hair, peeking out he saw nothing but darkness. Cracking the door only an inch more, he saw the shining reflection of a glowing red eye by the bedroom door. It was now or never, Jiro flung the closet door open, springing to his feet and throwing another item he’d taken from the hidden room, an ancient kunai. Though he threw it blindly, he managed to hit one of the beasts directly in the eye! Jiro didn’t look back, he took off right through the massive hole the beast’s created by in the wall and ran as fast as he could, yelling as loud as he could to alert the others in the hidden room.

“GO! GO NOW! HURRY!” Jiro shouted as he disappeared into the forest. The two beasts snarling and growling as they both charged after Jiro, their sole focus on him.

Jyushi, Rosho, and Gentaro heard Jiro’s shouts and hurried up the stairs and to the kitchen. Rosho snatched the keys from the shelf and ran out to the RV, Gentaro and Jyushi right on his tail. He fumbled a bit, cussing under his breath as he hastily unlocked the RV door and hurried inside, sitting, and starting the engine immediately. Jyushi and Gentaro hurried in after Rosho, Gentaro shutting and locking the RV door behind them.

“Go! Fucking go!” Gentaro yelled, a bit of panic finally showing through in his voice.

“Wait! We can’t go, we’re supposed to wait for Jiro!” Jyushi protested, looking out the window to see if he could see Jiro anywhere.

“There’s no way we can wait! Who knows if he’s even still alive! We need to go now while we have the chance!” Gentaro argued, his frustration showing though.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you! We’ll wait one minute! If we see those fuckers we’re out of here before then! I’m sorry Jyushi-kun, but it’s the best I can offer you in this situation!” Rosho snapped at the two of them, his eyes on the clock in the RV to start the time for the single minute wait for Jiro.

The minute seemed like twenty as everyone watched the windows, on edge and terrified. As soon as that minute passed, Gentaro was sure to say so. “Time’s up let’s go! He’s not coming.”

“Shit… I’m sorry Jyushi but we can’t wait.” Rosho sighed, hesitating a moment before putting the RV in gear and starting to move forward.

The RV had just turned around back to the road when something slammed on the side of the RV door. “IT’S ME! LET ME IN, HURRY!” Jiro shouted, out of breath and pounding on the door.

Jyushi gasped and swung the door open, quickly pulling Jiro inside as the RV was still moving. “Jiro!!! Oh my god! Oh my god…” He sobbed, hugging Jiro close and cradling him in his arms.

Gentaro slammed the door shut once Jiro was pulled inside and shouted at Rosho. “Step on the gas! FUCKING DRIVE!”

Rosho floored it, taking off at high speeds down the dirt road. “I can’t believe it! Jiro-kun, you’re amazing! You actually did it and survived!” He praised, utterly shocked.

Jyushi helped Jiro take a seat and looked him over, noticing he had a large gash in his left side. “You’re hurt! Do… Do we have a first aid kit somewhere?” He asked, tears still streaming down his face.

“Heh… Yeah I did what I could, but those things are fast and one of ‘em got me. I’m alright though…” Jiro chuckled weakly.

“Shit… Check around, I’m sure there’s one somewhere in here. Maybe the bathroom?” Rosho suggested as he drove, the road beginning to wind a bit, causing him to slow his acceleration on the sharp curves.

Gentaro was seated in the middle of the RV, tapping his foot anxiously, eyes fixed on the floor, mind racing. He was oblivious to anything being spoken. When he did finally look up from the floor, he looked to the windshield, seeing something in the road up ahead. “LOOK OUT!” He shouted to alert Rosho, though it was too late.

Rosho slammed on the breaks, simultaneously, one of the monsters leapt through the windshield, glass flying everywhere. The beast pierced and sank its claws into Rosho’s chest. “AHHHHH!” Rosho screeched in agony, gripping the claws of the beast, kicking and flailing as he desperately tried to escape.

Gentaro, Jiro, and Jyushi were throw forward with the collision, Gentaro quickly recovering and getting to his feet. “SHIT! FUCK!” He cursed, trembling, and acting with only one thought in mind: Survive.

“G-Gentaro!” Rosho called out, reaching to Gentaro who was only an arm’s length away.

Gentaro’s breath was ridged, he trembled violently as he moved quickly and grabbed Rosho… But he didn’t pull him away from the beast in an attempt to save him, instead, he shoved Rosho to the beast and sat himself in the driver’s seat and took off as soon as the beast had swiftly dragged Rosho off into the forest, Rosho’s cries echoing through the trees.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!” Jiro screamed at Gentaro as he got to his feet, leaning on Jyushi for support, wincing in pain as he held his side. “You just fucking KILLED Rosho!”

Gentaro snapped back defensively at Jiro, driving as quickly as he could away from the beasts. “H-He was already dead! They pierced him through the chest, through the heart! We wouldn’t have been able to save him, but we can save ourselves! I… I was thinking of you two! It was too late for Rosho, but not for us, we need to get you medical attention quickly as well! We can’t waste time!” His words were convincing, his face wore heavy concern as he glanced back at Jyushi and Jiro. But… It was all a lie.

“Bull shit! BULL SHIT!” Jiro cussed, wincing, and panting a bit. “Ah… Fuck…”

“J-Jiro! Here, sit down. You need to take it easy!” Jyushi cried with concern, gently lowering Jiro into a seat. “L-Listen… Gentaro-san, he’s… He’s just like us… Doing our best and trying to make the right calls for the majority, right? S-Sometimes the right call is hard to make but… I don’t think he’d have done what he did without a good reason…”

Jiro groaned, not bothering to arguing anymore. He didn’t believe it for a second, but it was pointless, and he didn’t have the energy. “Whatever…”

Gentaro was rounding a bend and at rather high acceleration causing the RV to tilt and sway, nearly losing control. “S-Shit!” Gentaro gasped when the RV was suddenly hit with a great force, toppling it and sending it rolling.

The RV rolled several times, crashing and knocking down smaller trees before coming to a halt, smashing into a few larger ones. Gentaro, Jiro, and Jyushi were tossed around like ragdolls within the RV as it crashed and rolled, all of them losing consciousness in the process. Then all was silent with the exception of the hissing steam coming from the destroyed engine.

Jyushi awoke, groaning and disoriented. It took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. He stayed deadly silent; eyes wide as he tried to keep his irregular breathing hushed. He glanced around but couldn’t see anything, it was just darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he began to be able to make out a few shapes close to him. He saw Jiro, right next to him, unconscious. He quickly moved his hand and gently placed it on Jiro’s back, feeling for a rise and fall. It was shallow, but he was breathing. Jyushi let out a quiet sigh of relief then tried to move, wincing in pain. It hurt, but he could move. He crawled forward inch by inch, making his way through random debris that had been thrown about in the RV cabin until he was close to the windshield. He didn’t see Gentaro anywhere. After a moment of listening for any sounds he crawled back to Jiro and as gently as he could, he pulled him and himself from the wreckage. He moved himself and Jiro away from the RV, hiding behind a few trees a couple hundred feet away. He propped Jiro up against the tree and quietly tried to wake him.

“J-Jiro… Jiro wake up, we need to keep moving…” Jyushi whispered softly, cupping Jiro’s face in his hands. “P-Please Jiro I-” Jyushi suddenly fell silent when he heard something moving from behind. He whipped around and was about to let out a shriek when Gentaro slapped his hand over Jyushi’s mouth.

“Hush. Do you want the beasts to hear you?” Gentaro scolded quietly. “Come on, we need to go.” He whispered as he began to drag Jyushi by the wrist away from Jiro.

“W-Wait!” Jyushi exclaimed in a hushed tone. “We need to get Jiro. I… We can carry him he’s just not come to yet…”

“No. Jyushi, look at him. He’s dying. If we leave him, we can still escape, and it will keep the beasts distracted for longer.” Gentaro explained, continuing to drag Jyushi away.

Jyushi yanked his arm away harshly from Gentaro and gave him a look of pure disgust. “You… You want to use him as a decoy… You don’t care about any of us… Do you? Jiro was right…” He scoffed, taking a step back. “You only care about yourself. Tch. Go. Escape on your own. I refuse to go along with you. I’m going to get out WITH Jiro! I won’t leave him!”

“Jyushi!” Gentaro snapped, sighing, and shaking his head. “You want to die? Fine, stay and die, I-” Gentaro paused, hearing heavy footsteps approaching. He turned and saw one of the beasts towering over him.

“O-Oh god…” Jyushi whispered in complete terror, about to turn and run back to Jiro when Gentaro grabbed him by the arm.

Gentaro yanked Jyushi over to him, shoving him to the ground in front of the beast as he ran off as fast as he was able in the opposite direction, not looking back.

“Fuck! The Virgin needs to be the last to die!” The scientist back at the lab cursed as they watched the events unfolding. “Hurry, we need to deter the monster from that kid!”

The other scientist gave a nod and pressed three different buttons, pheromones poured out of the ground in the forest, acting as a repellent to the beast, the scent of the pheromones covering a large area of the wreck site.

The monster reared up one of its arms, about to take a swipe at Jyushi when it snarled and stopped, suddenly turning tail, and running off into the forest. Jyushi was trembling, face down in the fetal position, too terrified to move or look up to see what happened. He suddenly felt a hand on his back and gasp, flinching in fear.

“Jyushi… It’s me.” Jiro spoke with a scratchy voice. “Hey… Get up we gotta keep moving… The monster ran off.”

Jyushi turned his head and looked up at Jiro, jumping up and hugging him, sobbing yet again. “J-Jiro! You were right… Gentaro he… He wanted to use you as bait to escape… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” He cried.

“Hey, it’s okay… Let’s worry about that later, right now we need to go.” Jiro muttered weakly, leaning onto Jyushi as he ushered him along.

It was slow going, Jiro’s ankle was broken, and he needed to limp along with Jyushi’s support. Jyushi wasn’t much faster, having torn a calf muscle in the wreck. They stayed near the road, but off of it directly, keeping their eyes peeled as they slowly made their way back to the tunnel the entered to get here. When they finally arrived to their destination, they were met with a very unfortunate discovery.

“What… What the hell happened?” Jiro’s heart sank as he looked on at where the tunnel once was, it now caved in and sealed tight with fallen boulders.

“W-What do we do now?” Jyushi asked, choking back sobs, his hope fleeting.

“This… This can’t be the only way out. Maybe there’s another path… We just gotta find it. It’s gonna be alright Jyushi…” Jiro tried to reassure him, though, he’d lost a lot of blood and his consciousness was beginning to fade once more.

“J-Jiro? You’re really pale… Here sit for a minute.” Jyushi helped Jiro sit on the roadside and held him close. He moved behind once of the large fallen boulders to keep them both out of view. “Rest a while, then we can worry about finding a new way out.”

“…I’m sorry. I’ve become a burden. Heh… Jyushi… Hey, promise me if those fuckers show up… You’ll run. Leave me… Okay?” Jiro whispered faintly before slipping out of consciousness.

Jyushi silently cried, holding onto Jiro as he waited in silence for Jiro would awaken. Everything was silent for a long time while Jiro rested, two hours passed, Jyushi watched out for threats diligently the entire time. Soon, a figure showed up walking down the road towards them. Jyushi could make out that it was a human silhouette, it must be Gentaro! He laid Jiro down gently and kept him hidden where he was and walked out to confront Gentaro.

Gentaro saw Jyushi and hurried over but kept his distance. “Jyushi! You’re still alive! I’m… I’m glad… You may not believe me and that’s fine, but I’m so glad…” He sighed heavily with relief. “H-Have you seen the monsters around? Where’s Jiro?” He asked curiously, noticing Jyushi was alone, he was unaware Jiro was hidden away, very much alive.

Jyushi didn’t trust Gentaro, not anymore, so he was the one to lie this time. He wanted to protect Jiro. “He… Died. He managed to throw himself in front of me right before the beast went in for the kill.” He glared Gentaro down, his eyes cold with hate.

“I-I see… Jyushi… I-I’m sorry. I know that means nothing, I basically tried to kill you to save myself. It was wrong, I know… I was terrified… I-I’m not handling things well and-” Gentaro was very quickly cut off by Jyushi.

“Yeah. You did. You threw me to my death without hesitation. You did the same to Rosho-san. And… And I am starting to think you did the same thing to Hifumi-san too.” Jyushi spoke coldly. “You may have found me, but I won’t work with you to escape so… So do what you want but do it alone.” He glanced back at the sealed tunnel. “As you can see that route is blocked. You’ll have to find another way.”

Gentaro flinched and irked slightly. “Is that so? I can’t say I blame you. Well… I will find a different way then. Good luck to you, Jyushi.” He muttered before walking past Jyushi and over to the side of the mountain, peering over the side. “Looks like there’s no escape, huh? We can’t get out.”

“Are you saying we’re doomed to die? I don’t accept that. There’s gotta be another way out. And I’m going to find it.” Jyushi scowled at Gentaro, being sure to keep his distance.

Gentaro hummed and casually approached Jyushi once more. “I didn’t say there was no way to survive, I said there was no way to escape.” He corrected.

“W-What… Are you saying we fight those beasts?” Jyushi asked, keeping a watchful eye on Gentaro as he got closer.

“Fight? Hah…ha… No, that’s silly. There is no way mere mortal humans could kill such beasts.” Gentaro chucked, his gaze fixed on Jyushi. “However… I know how to survive this.”

Jyushi frowned, taking a few steps back, nut soon hit a boulder, he was trapped now. “If you know, then why not tell us? Why not say something sooner?!” He demanded to know.

Gentaro chuckled darkly, the laugh growing into something rather maniacal and menacing. “Jyushi… Telling everyone would give it away.”

Jyushi gulped, becoming more and more terrified by the deranged look in Gentaro’s eyes as he spoke. “J-Just out with it already! Stop beating around the bush!”

“Saying I know how to survive would reveal that I know why this all happened to begin with.” Gentaro explained. “That room, my… You were spot on Jyushi! Those things were cursed. We should have left them alone, but I couldn’t resist. I took a scroll, I hid it and read it in my room. It was a story, similar to what is happening now, but long ago when that house was still new. There was a lone survivor… You know how she survived?”

Jyushi was in complete at Gentaro’s claims. He was the cause of all this? Countless questions were swirling in Jyushi’s mind, but the one on the forefront came out. “How? How did she survive…?” He asked in a whisper.

“She appeased the beasts; she gave them her offering! Her father and brother, they both perished, and she was able to live! Do you see? Do you see now, Jyushi? Only one of us can survive! Those beasts will be here soon enough and I’m going to give them their final offering!” Gentaro laughed crazily, grabbing Jyushi violently by the wrist and pulling him closer. “I was chosen, don’t you see? That scroll fell to me, it called to me, I was meant to feed these beasts and I will fulfill my part so that I can LIVE!”

Jyushi fought, trying desperately to pull away from Gentaro’s grasp, looking past him and seeing the glowing eyes of the beasts as they approached. “G-Gentaro let go! This isn’t funny! You’re talking crazy! Those things… They’re right there! We need to run!” He pleaded, tears falling from his eyes once more.

“Run? Why run? I am not afraid, once I give you to them, I will be spared. I will be SAFE!” Gentaro turned and faced the beasts, any fear he had before was gone now. He pulled Jyushi along closer to his death.

“STOP! PLEASE!” Jyushi begged, pulling back, and beginning to kick and fight more aggressively. “LET GO!” He managed to get loose and ran back to the tunnel, stopping when his path was cut off by the fallen rocks. He turned around and faced Gentaro, terror in his eyes as Gentaro ran up and slammed Jyushi into the boulder.

“Stop making this so difficult and accept your fate!” Gentaro growled, fighting with Jyushi, them both getting dangerously close to the edge of the mountain side.

The beasts were charging in from behind, closing in fast on Gentaro and Jyushi. Hearing the rapid footsteps, Gentaro looked over his shoulder, his grip suddenly slipping from Jyushi. He was gone! Nowhere to be seen! He looked around frantically, his eyes widening at he stared one of the beasts in the face, a grunt escaping him as he felt warm liquid running down his chest. His gaze shakily fell, the beast’s large claws pierced right through him.

“Heh… I guess… This is the end.” Gentaro muttered weakly, coughing up blood as his vision blurred. The beasts ripped open Gentaro’s torso, guts spilling out onto the road, blood staining the dirt and rocks.

Jyushi’s eyes were shut tight, he felt the sensation of falling for a long time before feeling as though all the air was forced form his lungs, his whole body overcome with intense waves of pain with a sudden impact, though he was not able to make a single sound. After a few breathless minutes, his lungs filled with air once more and he struggled to catch his breath. He hurt too much to move, looking around without moving, he realized he was laying on something that felt softer than just the ground. That’s when he heard a very weak, struggling voice.

“J-Jyush…Jyushi…” Jiro muttered, barely audible.

Jyushi’s eyes widened, he forced himself to roll off of Jiro, crying out in pain in the process, clenching his teeth. “Gah! Nhg… I-It hurts…” He whimpered, gasping, and shakily looking over at Jiro. Tears overflowed his eyes instantly as his heart shattered at the sight before him. “Jiro…”

Jiro was barely clinging to life, he was pale, eyes only holding a flicker of life to them, blood dripping from his lips. “I never was very smart… But… This was all I could think… To do… To maybe… Just maybe… Save you…” He coughed weakly, more blood spilling from his mouth. “S-Shit… I’m… I’m fading fast Jyushi…” He muttered softly as his eyes slowly shut.

Jyushi struggled but made his way closer to Jiro, gently cupping his cheek with one hand as tears continued to stream down his face. “Jiro… Why did you do this? Why? I’m not…” He lowered his head and bit back a sob, shoulders trembling.

“…Who knows why…” Jiro chuckled weakly followed by several violent coughs. “Follow this stream until you make it back. D-Don’t stop until you’re back… Keep… Moving… Hurry…” His voice slowly trailed off, his last breath exiting his body along with his life.

Jyushi sobbed silently for a few moments, his face buried into Jiro’s chest as he slowly gathered himself. He calmed himself, raising his head before leaning back down and kissing Jiro’s forehead softly. The Virgin sacrifice is always optional, so long as it’s last. Yet another year of a successful ritual, another year the Gods remain in their slumber and the world safe and oblivious. It was a struggle, he crawled his way back to civilization, the lone survivor, but Jyushi eventually-

“Are you serious? That’s the ending?” Walking along the roads of Shibuya and listening intently the entire time up until now, Dice couldn’t help but to butt in and interrupt Gentaro.

“What, no good?” Gentaro asked, frowning slightly as he walked beside Dice, tapping his chin. “I haven’t written a horror like this before; you really don’t think it’s any good?” He asked.

“No way! None of it is believable at all!” Dice laughed, coming to a stop outside Ramuda’s office. “There’s so many random elements and no one is acting like themselves. You didn’t even put me in your story!” He complained with a small pout.

“I suppose it could use a little revision perhaps.” Gentaro admits with a small sigh, glancing over when he heard the front door of Ramuda’s office open up.

Heya Gentaro~! Heya Dice~!” Ramuda cheerfully greeted, hugging them both tight.

“Oi, Ramuda what did you call us over for?” Dice asked, trying to squirm free of Ramuda’s tight grip on him.

Ramuda released Dice and Gentaro and twirled around with a little hop. “Hehe~ I got a really cool offer from an Onee-san I just saw! She has a cute old rustic house out in the country and said I could stay for the weekend and wanted to invite you two along~!” He cheered happily.

Dice paled and went silent, Gentaro was speechless as well before smirking and speaking up while nudging Dice with his elbow. “You don’t want to go, Dice? I thought it was a stupid story?”

“Huh? You don’t wanna go? Awwww! Why not? Please, please, please!” Ramuda begged, hugging onto Dice’s arm tight.

“Yes, Dice, why not? Sounds like fun~” Gentaro chuckled, only teasing.

“NO, NO WAY! NO WAY IN HELL!” Dice yelled, slipping away from Ramuda’s grasp and taking off down the street.

“Diiiccceee! Come back! Wait! Why won’t you gooooo!” Ramuda whined as he ran down the street after him, Gentaro chuckling as he followed behind.

 End

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 16 - Best friend

Heeeeyy look who's FINALLY updating!! I thought this chapter would be much shorter, but I got really carried away by Lena and Violet, it almost wrote itself. I hope you enjoy the result :)

-

“We’ll clean our guest room tomorrow, but in the meanwhile, you can sleep with Violet.”

Colin finishes with a smile, and Lena nods. Her fingers are tightly gripping the armrest of the comfortable couch she’s sitting on, next to Violet; she’s not nervous, not really, but she needs something to physically anchor her in reality. Because none of this feels real: being back from the shadow realm, Webby being safe and sound and still her best friend, and her getting to live in a real house, with real living, breathing beings, after being offered so by a new friend.

The word still feels somewhat alien to her. It used to be something she’d hear only from her aun- from Magica, and it wasn’t ever spoken without disgust and contempt wrapped all around it. And although Lena has grown accustomed to hear it being used as its intended meaning, as a term of endearment from Webby, it’s still a bit weird to think that yeah, she is someone’s friend, she has friends- oh, using its plural is even more bizarre, and Lena hopes it’s something she never grows tired of.

“Would you like to come and see your new sleeping quarters, Lena?” the small bird sitting next to her offers.

The question sounds very detached, but Lena now knows it isn’t, she knows it’s just the way Violet speaks, emotions sometimes having trouble to show beneath the polite and wordy sentences the young erudite strings.

“Yeah, sure.” the duckling agrees, getting up and stretching her arms, a bit stiff after the long discussion she’s just had with the Sabrewings.

---------

Lena had been worried at first, when she had understood she wouldn’t be allowed to stay in the McDuck mansion. Webby had done her best to ask, plea, beg her grandmother and Scrooge for her best friend to stay with them, especially since she had nowhere to go save for a small, humid basement by the beach, but the adults had remained firm. Webby hadn’t needed to give Lena and Violet a full report of Bentina and Scrooge’s reasonings; the two girls had managed to hear it all, thanks to the makeshift stethoscopes Violet had crafted, sticking the devices on the office’s door and listening to the whole argument.

Lena can’t blame them, especially after what Magica did to Scrooge and his family. She had expected the outcome – but what she hadn’t expected had been the softness the old billionaire had explained his reasonings to Webby, and how he had carefully added that maybe, after Lena had grown used to a life amongst the living and without Magica’s influence, he would be happy to take her in.

Still, Lena had been left homeless after that discussion, and although it had worried her, she had done her best not to show any of that concern to her best friend. And that’s when Violet had intervened, before Lena could even attempt to lie to Webby:

“Perhaps I could call my parents. We have a spare room, and I am most certain they wouldn’t mind welcoming you at all, Lena.”

The usually snarky duckling had been left silent, for once- just like Webby. And before Lena could brush off Violet’s offer, her stupid pride getting in the way of a comfortable bed in a comfortable house owned by normal people, Webby had jumped at the small bird, giving her the warmest and most joyous hug she could- which, by Webby standards, meant that the two of them had ended in a happy pile on the floor, soon joined by Lena.

Surprisingly enough, Violet’s dads had agreed easily. One of them, Colin, is a preschool teacher, and he loves children; and although Lena is no toddler, she’s glad it made him open to the idea of fostering a duckling made out of someone’s – someone who very recently wreaked havoc on Duckburg – shadow. Her surprise must have shown on her disbelieving face, because Webby had been quick to elbow her:

“Not everyone’s like Magica, Lena.” the girl had smiled. “People are usually nice and happy to help.” “Yeah, I guess.”

Her reply had been as noncommittal as possible, but there’s truth to Webby’s words – it’s just that it’s still hard to imagine a world without Magica, even though there’s nothing Lena wants more.

“Are you alright, Lena?”

A pair of dark, inquisitive eyes had intently been watching her. It had startled Lena a bit, but she had remembered it had nothing to do with suspicion or malice; it had just been Violet’s weird, yet somewhat charming, analytical approach transpiring in her soft, piercing gaze.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. It’s just… weird to think I’m gonna have a room all to myself, in a real house and not in some abandoned, underground hideout.” “It’s going to be awesome!” Webby had chimed in, jumping on her spot. “We’ll help you carry all of your stuff, and then we can go shopping and you can get even more stuff to decorate, and-” “Woah, easy there, Pink.” Lena had fondly stopped her friend, still a bit dizzy at the perspective of living an almost normal life. “I don’t think Mr and Mr Sabrewing are going to be very happy if I just barge in and go all Extreme Makeover on their house.”

Violet had giggled, a charming sound startling both her friends and making them smile.

“I don’t think they would mind that much, actually. Papa is rather fond of that show, and he loves nothing more than spending an afternoon choosing a new plant, or a new shelf, or some new décor.” “Sweet, I guess I’ll go all out then!” Lena had entertained the thought. “Like, paint the walls some sick dark purple, with some crimson splatters here and there.” “Oh! Oh! And a black floor to make drawing summoning circles easier!” Webby had added. “Mmh, perhaps even an altar of sorts.” Violet had continued. “Surrounded by enough shelves to store old ritual scrolls, and mystical books of all kinds.”

And thus, the night had ended, with the three girls grabbing sheets of paper, colored pencils and glitter pens to draw their ideal room and jot down ideas.

 ------------

Now that Lena stands in Violet’s room, that conversation feels so distant. There’s a world between being told that you’re going to be fostered by a family, and actually setting a mattress on the ground, with soft pillows and freshly washed bedsheets. Lena’s been promised a lot by Magica, and almost all of those promises have been nothing but empty words used to ensure her absolute obedience. Which is why it’s eerie to have someone be true to their words, for once.

“Are you alright?”

It’s when Violet speaks to her with the tiniest hint of worry in her voice that Lena realizes she’s been staring at her pajamas for a few minutes. They’re nothing fancy, just sweatpants and a tee-shirt Largo’s leant her, since she’s too big to fit in Violet’s clothes, but they faintly smell of cinnamon, and the scent is reassuring for some reason. Like she’s holding on to something that isn’t hers, something that belongs to someone else who’s been happy to give it to her.

“I’m fine.” Lena finally answers, realizing that she is telling the truth. She’s a bit lost, but she is fine. “I’m just gonna get changed.” “Sure.” Violet nods gently and offers her a kind smile. The small bird is sitting on her bed, wearing her own turquoise pajamas, her wild hair down to her lower back. “I’ve set a toothbrush for you in the pink glass near the sink. You can use whichever toothpaste you like; mine is strawberry flavored, and my fathers’ is mint.” “Thanks, Vi.” Lena nods, and gets out of the room.

The whole process of reaching the bathroom, putting her pajamas on, brushing her teeth and coming back to Violet’s room is almost surreal. Lena still has trouble believing all of it is real; it feels like a dream, and it almost hurts with how simple and good the mundaneness of it all feels. There are tears pricking at the corner of her eyes when she slips under the warm blanket Violet’s given her; she blinks them away, hoping her new friend hasn’t seen them.

If she has seen them, Violet doesn’t say a word about it. She does ask something, though:

“Would you like to sleep with one of my stuffed animals?” the purple bird offers, gesturing towards the end of her bed, where a few plushies are neatly lined up. There’s a shark, a teddy bear, a duck and a rabbit; they all look equally soft, taken care of and warm, comforting to the touch. Lena is tempted to accept, but she feels it would be too childish.

“Nah, it’s okay, but thanks.” “As you wish. Good night, Lena.” “’night, Vi.”

Violet claps her hands, and the ceiling light turns off. Lena whistles, amused by the fancy system. But the sudden darkness cuts her amusement short, and she feels her throat get tight and painful. Her breathing quickens, and Lena shuts her eyes quickly, trying to ignore the obscurity surrounding her.

It doesn’t work.

Even though her eyes are closed, Lena can still feel the darkness around her, she can feel its heavy weight on her body, pushing the blanket on her, pushing and pushing until her chest is tight and breathing is almost impossible. Her thoughts are racing, panic and fear and determination a toxic cocktail drowning her brain; sweat rolls down her forehead, cold beads dripping on her beak; her mouth is drier than a desert; and suddenly there’s a hand on her shoulder-

Lena screams, something feral and heartbreaking, and her upper body stands straight, leaving the sheets beneath her damp with cold sweat. The ringing in her ears barely calms down enough for Violet’s voice to reach her:

“I’m sorry, Lena, I didn’t mean to startle you...”

There’s a hint of panic and regret in her friend’s tone, but Lena’s brain is too saturated by terror to pick up on it. The door opens, and the sudden light filling the room abruptly brings Lena back to reality. Violet’s parents are standing in front of her, slowly making her way near her mattress. She tries to pace her breathing, hating the tears she can feel rolling down her cheeks, when a gentle, warm hand finds her trembling shoulder:

“Are you okay, kid?” “It’s my fault, Dad.” Violet apologizes, taking Lena’s hand in hers and not letting go, her grip gentle but firm. “I heard her breathing quite loudly, so I got worried, and I wanted to check on her, but… I…”

Largo embraces them both, making sure to leave some room for Lena to reject his hug if she’s overwhelmed by his presence. She doesn’t; Lena’s never been much of a hugger (Webby is an exception), but in that instant, the embrace feels like a lifeline, and she throws herself into it, openly sobbing now. Violet makes sure to wrap an arm around Lena as well, her small hand rubbing soothing circles in her back. Colin slips outside of the room, leaving his husband handle the situation.

Time stands still, in the best way possible. Warmth slowly fills Lena’s freezing body. Her sweat dries, and so do her tears. Her breathing steadies, her heart stops pounding. The fog heaving over her mind lifts, leaving her thoughts clear.

Lena takes a deep breath and scoots back, away from Largo and Violet. Her friend slides next to her, keeping a respectful distance but making sure to let Lena know she’s here- she’ll always be here.

“Do you feel better, Lena?” Largo asks as his partner steps inside the room, two steaming mugs in his hands and a small box tucked between his arm and his hip. “Yeah, I just… I dunno.” she shrugs, stifling a yawn. The panic attack has drained her, and she doesn’t even have an explanation to what just happened. “I have no idea what just… ugh.” Lena sighs, angry at herself for losing control like that. “It might have been because of the dark.” Violet suggests as Colin hands her and Lena a mug of hot cocoa. “Perhaps it triggered some strong, deep fear inside of your psyche. I’m sorry, I should have thought about it.” “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, Vi.” Lena objects, hating to see her friend’s remorseful expression as the small bird’s grip on her mug tightens. “It’s not like you could have guessed I would lose it just because you turned the lights off!” “But-” “Lena’s right, little bird.” Colin softly cuts his daughter, petting her unruly hair. “Your father and I tend to forget that because you’re a genius, but you’re only eleven.” “Yeah, Vi. You’ve done so much for me already, so don’t feel guilty about it, okay? It’s nothing. I’ve survived worse stuff, trust me.” “Okay…”

Violet drinks some of her cocoa, not entirely convinced. Lena does as well, the rich, creamy beverage feeling like ambrosia as it slides down her parched throat. It’s almost like liquid comfort, especially with the small marshmallows floating in the foaming cocoa.

“I also brought this.” Colin adds, a triumphant smirk on his beak as he holds a small box up. “Violet’s old nightlight. No more darkness that way.” “Thanks.” Lena smiles, her beak sporting a chocolaty mustache. “No problem, kid.”

A comfortable silence falls on the room, Colin setting the small lamp up while the girls finish their cocoa under Largo’s tender gaze. The two older birds then bid the girls good night, closing the door behind them. Lena fills the beginnings of a panicked storm filling her lungs, but relief washes over her when she notices the nightlight shines faintly near the door, providing just enough light so the room isn’t filled by the cold, aggressive obscurity.

Lena is about to bid Violet good night, when she notices the girl is slightly hunched over in her bed. Frowning, she gets up and slips under Violet’s covers, startling her friend.

“It’s just me! Do you mind if I spend the night here? The mattress’ comfortable, but…”

Lena doesn’t finish her sentence, and she doesn’t need to. Violet removes the stuffed lion lying between them, tucking it under her other arm, and scoots towards the wall so Lena can be comfortable as well.

“Hey, Vi, why are you looking so sad?”

The light provided by the small lamp is faint, but just enough to allow Lena to see the way Violet’s beak is twisted in a small frown, her brows slightly frowned and her eyes looking down.

“It’s not because of my little episode earlier, is it? Come on! That was nothing important, no need to-” “I disagree.” Violet’s soft voice cuts her. Lena’s surprised, but she lets her friend talk. “It is important. You must have been through so much, between how Magica behaved towards you and being trapped in the shadow realm… you shouldn’t have to endure any of those hardships anymore.” “Yeah, I could have done without all that and what happened just before, but…”

Lena hesitates, careful in her choice of words. The raw vulnerability Violet is displaying in front of her is preventing her from being her usual almost blunt self.

“Things happened, and there’s nothing we can do about them.” Lena finally sighs, her arms wrapping around Violet in what she hopes is a reassuring, comforting hug. “And things will keep on happening, because I can’t just forget the stuff Magica’s done to me – believe me, I wish I could. But Vi… what you’re doing, all of this, helping Webby summon me even though I could have been dangerous, helping me save her and not being mad at me for putting her in danger, accepting to be my friend after all the nasty stuff I said about you, taking me in with your family… all of that is gonna help me move on from my past. You have no idea what all of this means to me. Vi, no one forced you to do all of that, and you still did it, and then some more!”

It’s taken Lena all her leftover strength, and all her breath. She hates opening up about her feelings, about how hurt she’s been, about how hurt she still is sometimes. But Lena knows it’s what Violet needs to her, and with everything the girl has done for her, it’s the least she can do. Her pride taking a small hit is nothing compared to the sheer kindness Violet has offered her before she was even back from the shadow realm, and Lena hopes she managed to convey just how grateful she is for Violet to have helped her get a second chance at life, at friendship, at happiness.

Violet’s eyes meet hers, the two purple pools shining with tears as the small bird hugs Lena closer.

“Hey, I’m still short on air, don’t squeeze it all out of me!” Lena teases, the banter helping her go back to her usual self, to put the intense fright behind her and bask in the present, in the way she’s spending her night in her new home, with her new best friend. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that.” Violet smiles. “Hmm, yeah, I think we should work on that.” Lena nods. “Too much time at the library, not enough punching stuff. Webby’s good at finding stuff that needs to be punched, so I’m sure you’ll get some exercise real soon…”

Lena takes a deep breath before adding:

“…lil’ sis.”

It’s nothing; two words, spoken hurriedly, almost silent in the middle of the night, and Lena is as surprised as she’s delighted with how good and natural the words feel on her tongue. Violet gasps when she picks up on them, making Lena blush.

“I look forwards to this, sister.”

No fanfare, no “aww this is so sweet Lena I’m touched!”, no tears. Simply a small smile and a reply that comes as naturally as Lena’s nickname, and it’s so perfectly Violet that it immensely satisfies Lena.

They fall asleep shortly after, exhausted by their day, happy to be in each other’s arms, happy to have found each other. --------------------------------------------------------------- I'm really happy to have finally written something about Lena and Violet! I'm a bit disappointed we didn't see Lena moving in with the Sabrewings, but I hope we can see them in S3 :) I wanted to write something different for Lena. She's brave and fierce, and I felt like it could be interesting to show a more vulnerable side of herself - same goes for Violet. I hope neither were OOC. I also like that it was an opportunity to reuse Largo and Colin, my headcanon dads for Violet from chapter 1! :)

Panic attacks are the worst.

[fanficreadingcorner]

It’s been too long

Pairing: None just nice platonic relationships between three best pals

Words: on the shorter side with only 1,768

Masterlist

A/N: So I came up with this idea while I was talking to a friend and watching the Witcher. So right before the feast Jaskier asks Geralt if Witchers ever retire and Gerald says they do when they get old and get killed. Which lead me to think, hmmm does this mean that Witchers never age? If they don’t then that means they hunt monsters until they die. So I thought what if Geralt had finally killed all the monsters, then what? He would just continue his existence cause there are no natural predators to a Witcher anymore and this is what came to mind. A Geralt that never aged along with Jaskier who also stopped aging for reasons to be explained and you the reader as a witch. Let me know what you think, and if you want me to write them during a specific time or doing something. Let me know, my head cannon is that they’re responsible for a lot of things that happened. SORRY for the long intro, now on with the show!

         “Jaskier’s home” you said while moving to go unlock the door so that Jaskier could barge in like he did every day, there was one time you forgot to unlock the door and not only would Jaskier never let you live it down after he slammed himself against the door, but Geralt had also laughed so hard that day that it would forever be ingrained in your memory. He didn’t laugh often, or at all for that matter so that had been a rare treat. You moved to go pick up your laptop and things that were scattered around the dining table while Geralt grunted and went to go check on the mac and cheese that was cooking in the crockpot, it was his turn to cook today after all. Suddenly the door burst open and in strode the famous bard.

           “I’M HOME” yelled Jaskier at the top of his lungs. You would think that with how often he yelled that loudly that his vocal cords would have been damned by now but alas I guess the healing was something that came with when that witch ‘cursed’ him all those years ago.

           “We know, you tend to almost break down the door every time you throw it open” grumbled Geralt while you moved around setting up the table so that the three of you could enjoy dinner together, something that had originated sometime in the 18th century if you remembered correctly but it was really hard to pinpoint when exactly considering how long you all had lived at this point.

           “Aren’t you lucky then that I have absolutely not muscle in any part of my body as as to not hurt the door, unlike someone I know that stockpiles it like flour in 18th century France” jabbed Jaskier right back causing you to snort in amusement, you’d think that after living together for so long that they would treat each other with more love but not even 600 years, give or take a few, could mend somethings. Although admittedly this was how they showed their love for one another.

           “Well you would know wouldn’t you Mr. ‘I wanna be part of King Louis court it looks so fancy and I can probably make a lot of money out of it playing my songs. So I’m going to go to France by self’. How many times did we have to save you from the guillotine?” questioned Geralt while turning off the crockpot and then looking at Jaskier with a smirk on his face.

           “I lost count after 5” you added laughing when you saw the look of betrayal on Jaskier’s face. Before it quickly morphed into a smug face.

           “It doesn’t even matter because I’m alive and, guess whose song is number one on the charts again” bragged Jaskier while doing a little happy dance. You would think that after the first time this happened, he would have lost some of the excitement but it’s never a boring day with those two. Although admittedly it was a lot worse the first time this happened because he wouldn’t stop bragging for YEARS afterwards. Luckily it died down, although he still celebrated with the same dance every time. Laughing and shaking you head while you sat down to eat you remembered that you probably shouldn’t be surprised that his songs were this popular you forgot sometimes that this was the same man that made ‘Toss a Coin to your Witcher’ famous in what was basically all of Europe at the time which in itself was an impressive feat considering that things were not as wide spread as they were now.

           “Yes, while we’re glad that you found your calling as a song writer I still don’t get why you won’t become a singer again, you have a good enough voice” You stated while waiting for Geralt to bring the food to the table and Jaksier to finally sit down. “You’ve done it before, we know you can do it” You continued as Jaskier sat down and rolled his eyes at you.

           “I’ve already told you, it’s too much work and I make more than enough money this way, plus the last time we did this remember how hard it was to stage my murder?” he countered while Geralt placed the food on the table, sat in his chair and started serving the food to everyone.

           “Eh I guess you’re right, It was cool though when you went on tour and we were able to tag along. Have you talked to Paul recently?” you continued while taking your plate for Geralt to dig into.

           “No, he’s busy or something, also I’m still kinda upset. Not at him of course but at the queen, why didn’t the queen grant me knighthood as well. Lord knows we’ve known that family for years, plus Geralt helped them come into power! But nope she has to go and knight Paul, I wrote most of those songs you know!” huffed Jaskier while quickly spooning some mac and cheese into his mouth and chewing aggressively. You raised your eyebrows in amusement and shrugged.

           “Perhaps” started Geralt, who had been quiet as of so far, “It has something to do with the fact that ‘you’” he said with air quotes around the you, “were ‘dead’ and thus she couldn’t really knight you” he finished off pointing his fork at Jaskier and then placing it in his mouth.

           “She could have done it posthumous; she knew I wasn’t really dead” muttered Jaskier before continuing his assault on the cheesy noodles.

           “Anyways” you dragged out hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere before Jaskier got too caught up. “so casting is finally done for ‘The Witcher’” watching Geralts reaction only to see him groan and throw his head back in frustration. Rolling your eyes, you continued. “So, they cast a British actor to play you, I think his name is Joe Batey? Resemblance is uncanny to you and his acting’s great, plus he seems to be able to capture your essence pretty well.” You continued as you watched Geralt try to make himself as small as possible to avoid the next question that was undoubtably going to come from Jaskier, which was not an easy feat considering how large Geralt actually was.

           “That’s great! If you don’t mind me asking who got cast as Geralt?” Questioned Jaskier none the wiser as to why Geralt seeming very invested in his food all of a sudden and not the current conversation like he has been a few moments ago.

           “Oh no one in particular” You started off watching Jaskier reach for his water and take a sip. “Just some actor that goes by the name Henry Cavill” At that Jaskier spit the little water he had in his mouth out causing it to go all over Geralt, and then proceeded to laugh like a mad man.

           “You’re joking!” Jaskier managed to choke out in between his laughs while Gerlat grunted and slid his hand down his face to ride himself of the water that had landed no his face. Shaking your head no, you confirmed Jaskiers question, Geralt would be acting as himself. Once Jaskier managed to calm down a bit he asked a follow up, “how did you manage to get him to even audition, let alone take the role?!” now he looked like a teenager wanting to know how to the two most popular kids in the entire high school had gotten together. You looked over at Geralt expectedly waiting for him to answer.

           “I lost a bet” was all Geralt muttered before Jaskier started laughing again causing Geralt to groan in annoyance and roll his eyes. “It’s really not that funny Jaskier” he tried hoping to calm the bard down just a tad. Gasping Jaskier now had Geralts full attention.

           “Not that funny!?” he exclaimed dramatically, hand over his heart like Geralt had just said the most offensive thing in the world to him. “Forget ye not how you came into this predicament of even being an actor?” chuckled Jaskier while Geralt grunted under his breath. “That’s right, a bet, you lost a bet to me and now you lost a bet to (y/n), so I guess it’s safe to say that you probably shouldn’t bet anymore. Even if you were good at it before” finished Jaskier with a flick of his wrist before picking up his plate and washing it in the sink. Shrugging Geralt stood and started cleaning up the table before answering Jaskier.

           “I suppose my luck finally ran out, although I think that happened when the witch cursed you with eternal life” Geralt smirked while bring up the dirty plates to the sink. Causing Jaskier to whip around and gasp dramatically at Geralt.

           “I will have you know that I am a blessing to this trio that we have, isn’t that right (y/n)?” asked Jaskier catching you off guard as you placed the leftover in the fridge.

           “uhhhhhhh” you hesitated while closing the door and turned to face them. “I would like to be excluded from this narrative?” You tried hoping that they wouldn’t drag you into this.

           “Well I never!” huffed Jaskier. “I thought the writer of the famous Witcher novels would have more to say on this” he continued before turning back to the dishes.

           “Flattery will get you nowhere” responded Geralt while handing Jaskier more plates to wash while he finished clearing off the table.

           “It used to” mumbled Jaskier while aggressively scrubbing a patch of cheese on one of the plates before placing it in the dishwasher. You leaned against the counter next to him before responding.

           “To be fair it was a different time and in the stories I wrote you aren’t exactly immortal” you said before pushing yourself off the counter to make your way upstairs. “Anyways, the network wants me to have the pilot scene finished by tomorrow, so I will see you guys later” you excused yourself before making your way up the stair but not before hearing Jaskier start to bother Geralt again.

           “Hey Geralt which do you think was the better of these two songs I wrote, Bohemian Rhapsody or Thriller?” started Jaskier, hearing Geralt grunt in annoyance you knew this would not be over soon.

           “It don’t think it’s important” answered Geralt, while you heard Jaskier sigh in annoyance.

           ‘It’s very important and you know it! Some of my best work….” Jaskier trailed off as you made it into your office and shut the door. Never a dull moment with these two.

[delicioussshame]

Part Four of the MoShen thing wrote itself, so here it is. Now with MoShang!

From now on, you can find this story on AO3. I started posting here, so I’ll crosspost until the end.

Maybe it was strange to return home and be pleased that one’s husband wasn’t in their bedroom in the middle of the night, but since that is how it is, who is going to oppose Luo Binghe? His blood is still thrumming in his veins from the rush of a battle won. He was looking forward to staking another claim tonight, if Shizun wasn’t asleep. He doesn’t like waking up his lover so late for pleasure unless he asked first. It feels rude, like Shen Qingqiu is just a body for him to use when he feels the urge to do so. Luo Binghe always wants his husband, but he only wants to have him when that desire is reciprocated.

But if Shen Qingqiu isn’t in his own bed, it’s because he, too, felt the need for company tonight. He’ll still be awake and, if Luo Binghe is lucky, ready and eager for him when he appears.

None of the servants still guarding Mobei-Jun’s personal quarters say a word when Luo Binghe barges in. They know better than anyone what would happen to them if they did.

Sure enough, he can hear Shen Qingqiu’s unmistakable moans even through the heavy door separating him from his willing husband, fuelling the passion already coursing through him. He presses his hands on the fine wood, teasing himself by trying to guess the source of his beloved’s pleasure. Is he resting against the wall, Mobei-Jun kneeling in front of him, worshipping him with his mouth the way he deserves to be? Is he on all four on the bed, spreading himself out to let Mobei-Jun’s tongue in deeper, biting the sheets to try to smother his screams? Maybe he’s playing with one of the toys Luo Binghe had procured for him before he got him a real playmate, putting on a show the likes Mobei-Jun will never forget.

His next breath is ragged. He can’t wait anymore. Gently, as to not disturb the vision Shen Qingqiu is sure to be, he opens the door.

His breath catches immediately. His eyes are stuck to the beautiful arc of his husband’s back as he’s sitting astride Mobei-Jun, riding his cock with enthusiasm, completely obvious to Luo Binghe’s arrival.

Luo Binghe tears his eyes away from Shen Qingqiu to catch Mobei-Jun’s eyes, and with a gesture swears him to secrecy for a moment. While they have both worked to erode Shen Qingqiu’s self-consciousness in bed, he can still feel burst of shyness if he’s startled or he feels observed. Shen Qingqiu finds it hard to just let him look, no matter how much Luo Binghe tells him there’s no one more stunning than he when he loses all his inhibitions and lets himself just feel. Luo Binghe wants to feast his eyes on this spectacle for a little longer before joining them.

Luo Binghe still sometimes wonders how Shen Qingqiu’s lithe body can take them in easily and beg for more after, but he would never ever complain about it. He’s so beautiful while doing it too. Someday, Luo Binghe wants to convince Shen Qingqiu to tie him down by the bed with immortal binding cable, so that he can do nothing but observe as his husband shares his body with Mobei-Jun. What he would do to Shen Qingqiu when he finally freed him for that sweet torment… But they’re not there yet. For now, Shen Qingqiu is his to reach for. He cloaks his presence as best he can and closes in on the bed silently. Shen Qingqiu is too focused on his own pleasure to pay attention to him. Before he knows it, there are lips on his neck and a hand wrapping himself around his erection. “Husband, I’m back,” whispered softly in his ear as he straddles Mobei-Jun from behind Shen Qingqiu, pressing himself against his back and making him feel how much he missed him.

When Shen Qingqiu comes, he paints Mobei-Jun’s chest in milky white, but it’s Binghe name that rings into the room.

___________

“Shang Qinghua should come visit you soon.”

Mobei-Jun blinks at Shen Qingqiu addressing him. Shen Qingqiu shouldn’t be surprised. Luo Binghe usually prefers to monopolise Shen Qingqiu’s attention after he returns, taking advantage of his husband’s relaxed state and the presence of Mobei-Jun to update them both on his latest achievements. In one particular occasion, they’d planned a whole siege in bed, staining the already dirtied sheets with ink as they drafted plans. But Luo Binghe is silent today, seemingly happy to hold Shen Qingqiu close, so he might as well pass on the message.

Any mention of Shang Qinghua catches Mobei-Jun’s attention. Demons. They’re all the same. “Why?”

Shen Qingqiu lets his face turn a bit wicked to mask that he’s still not over having been spied on having sex by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky of all people. “He has something he needs to tell you about.” If Mobei-Jun has any sense, he’ll use the conversation as an excuse to tell Shang Qinghua whom he really wants to sleep with. Honestly, Shen Qingqiu was this close to tell him himself. He doesn’t understand why Mobei-Jun doesn’t go ahead and woo him or something. He’s much better than anyone Shang Qinghua could legitimately hope to be with.

“What is it?”

Was that eagerness? Oh, maybe he raised his hopes a little too much. He can’t expect Shang Qinghua to confess. He winces in response. “I’m not telling, but if you play your cards right you might be able to turn the situation to your advantage. It would be more than time.”

“What are you talking about?” Luo Binghe’s voice, slightly sulky from being ignored. What a spoiled disciple.

Shen Qingqiu pats the arm resting on his belly tenderly. “Shang Qinghua. They’re been dancing around each other for so long, they should get it over with already.”

“What?”

He hears Luo Binghe’s incredulity as he sees Mobei-Jun tense, and oh. Binghe didn’t know. “I thought you knew.” He thought Binghe knew from the very beginning, in fact. He turns to Mobei-Jun. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Mobei-Jun waves his hand in a move that means he’s forgiven. He gets a grateful smile in return.

“Why Shang Qinghua?”

A good question Shen Qingqiu himself resisted asking many, many times. “Binghe, it’s not our business who Mobei-Jun decides to be with.”

From Luo Binghe’s offended look, he doesn’t agree. “Why would he want anyone else? He has you.”

Shen Qingqiu smothers a laugh. Of course Luo Binghe thinks sleeping with Shen Qingqiu should be enough for anyone. “No he doesn’t. You do. Mobei-Jun should be allowed to have someone of his own.”

Luo Binghe frowns, obviously unhappy, but what is he going to do about it? He has no say over Mobei-Jun’s love life. “What would Shang Qinghua say about you then?”

Shen Qingqiu chokes. That… might get complicated. “There’s no point in worrying about that now, is there?” If Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to share, that… would be within his rights. Shen Qingqiu has no hold over Mobei-Jun. He might be a bit lonely sometimes, but he’ll deal. He’ll still have Binghe, which really should be enough for anyone.

“I don’t want him in your bed.”

That’s… He’s not talking to Mobei-Jun! “Binghe!” He knows he’s now bright red. “I never said anything about that!” That’s not why he wants them to be together! He just wants Mobei-Jun to be happy! Mobei-Jun deserves happiness too! And not the kind that’s gotten by getting Shang Qinghua and he in the same bed, because if Luo Binghe wasn’t into it, he can tell Mobei-Jun didn’t find the idea anywhere near as repulsive.

He’s not thinking about it! He’s not!

Binghe’s hold on him tightens, turning from gentle to possessive. “Shen Qingqiu is this disciple’s husband. Maybe I should remind him of it.”

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t bother to protest. He can already feel the lethargy leave him, to be replaced with longing under his husband’s touch.

___________

So he’s here now. Standing behind a door that’s apparently never closed to him, which, good to know.

He knocks anyway. Better not to do anything to piss Mobei-Jun off beforehand. “My king? Can I come in?”

He takes the lack of answer as approval, but still opens the door slowly and steps in loudly. He’s not catching them in the act again. “My king?”

“I’m here.” Shit he’s sitting at the Desk. Shang Qinghua will never be able to look at the Desk again without his mind going places it really shouldn’t.

At least he got him when he’s in a good mood? Shang Qinghua got really good at reading his various infinitesimal changes of expression, and Mobei-Jun is feeling pleased right now.

Maybe he, too, is remembering he got laid at the Desk.

Bad thought! Bad thought!

But also why Shang Qinghua is here, so. “My king, I saw Shen Qingqiu and he believed I should tell you something.” There, put the fault on Cucumber-bro. If something goes wrong, he can take it to his lover.

Mobei-Jun… perks up? He is! He recognises that slight straightening of his spine for what it is.

Is a mention of Shen Qingqiu all it takes for Mobei-Jun’s mood to lift?

He finds himself shrinking into himself in response. Soon enough he won’t be getting this response anymore. Mobei-Jun is probably just as possessive as Bing-ge. Just because he’d gotten Mobei-Jun to stop being so… physical with his displeasure doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of him still anxious about occurring his wrath.

Maybe he should just get out of there before things are too bad. It’ll be much easier to face Shen Qingqiu than Mobei-Jun. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you for something this trivial. Forget I stopped by. Have a nice day!”

“Don’t go. I want to know.”

Shang Qinghua stops in his tracks. It’s too late! Mobei-Jun’s interest has been picked. His king can be surprisingly curious when he feels like it. He turns toward Mobei-Jun with the levity of someone on death row.

A last-ditch attempt. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to waste my king’s time more than I already have.”

Mobei-Jun frowns slightly and nods.

Shang Qinghua gulps. “It’s just that… a few weeks ago, I came to your quarters to report to you, and…” the sentence dies.

“And?”

Shit. Shit! “You were having sex with Shen Qingqiu! I’m very sorry to have intruded! I swear I had no intention of spying on you! I was just worried about your well-being, considering Luo Binghe isn’t known for his generosity when it comes to Shen Qingqiu, but apparently he knows so everything is fine and that’s none of my business and I shouldn’t even have brought it to your attention, I’ll take your secrets to the grave my king, don’t worry about it, now if you excuse me I’ll be going now goodbye my king.”

He could cry when his escape is stalled by Mobei-Jun’s hand halting his movement. This light hold contains enough power to stop him in his tracks.

He swallows back the sobs. “My king?” Please don’t kill me.

“Why are you running away?”

Because I’m scared out of my wits. “I didn’t think my king would want me around after that.”

“Why?”

Why? Why, he says. “I wouldn’t presume to know, but maybe my king is embarrassed at having been seen, or angry at this violation of his privacy, and would rather be alone right now.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You… don’t mind.”

Mobei-Jun shrugs. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

That’s… Wow. That’s some self-confidence. It’s true, but… Wow. Shang Qinghua can’t imagine what being this sure of themselves must be like. “Of course my king is right. He is perfect in every way, why should he be ashamed.”

“You think so?”

Fuck what did he just say!? And why does Mobei-Jun look happy about it? Is he that vain that even Shang Qinghua stating the truth to his face pleases him? Either way, no point in lying. “Yes. Anyone with eyes would.” Shen Qingqiu must, that asshole.

A piercing glare thrown his way. “What about as a person?”

“My king?”

“How am I as a person?”

Shang Qinghua is going to die! What’s with these questions? “Did you and Shen Qingqiu fight?” Maybe they’re having issues.

Mobei-Jun frowns. “No.”

Mobei-Jun doesn’t usually lie to him, so it’s not that. “Is there anything wrong?”

Mobei-Jun seems even more frustrated. “No.”

“Then why are you asking me this?”

“I want to know.”

Shang Qinghua is so lost. “Then ask him. He’s your lover, isn’t he?”

“He’s not mine!”

Shang Qinghua supposes he isn’t. Bing-ge would kill Mobei-Jun if he went around calling Shen Qingqiu his. “But my king must like him somewhat if he’s sleeping with him, no?” He hasn’t seen much and they haven’t talked about the specifics, but that wasn’t hate sex. Shang Qinghua knows hate sex. At least a third of Bing-ge’s wives were intimately familiar with the concept.

Mobei-Jun stares at him before nodding slightly.

From Mobei-Jun, that might as well be a love confession! Fuck, maybe he’s in love with him and taking only what he can! This whole shit is terrible. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t leave Bing-ge for Mobei-Jun. Is his king condemned to unrequited love and hot sex for the rest of his life? Shang Qinghua must dissuade him from this path! “My king, Shen Qingqiu is in love with his husband. If you… care for him more than you should, you should probably distance yourself from him.”

“What?”

Yes! He totally miscalculated! That amount of confusion from Mobei-Jun means he has no idea what he’s talking about! He isn’t pining for Shen Qingqiu! “My king, forget what I just said!”

Mobei-Jun stares in silence. Shang Qinghua interprets that particular silence as mystified consent. Good enough.

He’s obviously useless, so he should leave already. “My king, unless you need me for something, I would take my leave now.”

“Don’t go.”

Damn it! He thought he was in the clear! “My king?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Fuck. “My king… is great. He’s strong, and regal, and he’s quite intelligent. He is rational. He can be patient why it’s needed, a quality few demons have mastered. He’s a good listener. He’s… Anyone would be lucky to have him.” Now, if Mobei-Jun would let him, he’d like to go kill himself before he dies of a heart attack after having been this pathetic.

Mobei-Jun seems happy, so at least he’s not creeped out by Shang Qinghua gushing about him? Go him?

“Would you?”

What now? “My king?”

“Would you consider yourself happy to have me?”

Shang Qinghua stops breathing. Did he just hear… Did Mobei-Jun just... proposition him? Did this just happen? Is he hallucinating? Yeah, that must be it! The stress finally got to him. That’s what more plausible than Mobei-Jun making a pass at him.

“I’m waiting.”

The hallucination wants an answer. Since he’s hallucinating, he might as well answer. It’s not like there’ll be consequences. “I’d be overjoyed.” Not like anything this nice would happen to him. Shen Qingqiu gets all those flags.

He gets all the bad ones too, so maybe it balances out.

Whoa, that hallucination has a really solid hand. His brain is really good at hallucinating.

Too good at hallucinating. Way too good!

Shit that’s not a hallucination Mobei-Jun is kissing him what the hell!! He pushes back with too much strength. “My king!! What is the meaning of this?”

Mobei-Jun looks as confused as Shang Qinghua feels. “I was kissing you.”

“I know! Why!?”

“I wanted to?”

“Why!?

“Because I like you?”

Shang Qinghua’s brain short-circuits.

A few minutes later, he finds himself sitting at the Desk, a very worried Mobei-Jun calling for a healer, now. “My king, that’s unnecessary. I’m fine.”

At the sound of his voice, Mobei-Jun turns toward him. “You’re not. I’m getting a healer.”

“I am. It was just… very unexpected.” Like, the most unexpected thing in his whole life and he got transmigrated into his own book.

“I thought I did it right. Shen Qingqiu said it would be fine.”

And that snaps it out of it, because Mobei-Jun just admitted Cucumber-bro and he conspired to get Shang Qinghua where he is now, and he’ll never forgive him. He could just have told him! If Shang Qinghua had any idea Mobei-Jun was into him, he would have made the first move instead of whatever this shit was! That asshole could have at least given him more clues than “talk to him”. There will be hell to pay. Later. “My king was perfect. He has nothing to worry about. I was the one at fault. I didn’t understand what was happening. I do now, so everything is fine.”

Yet Mobei-Jun won’t stop fretting, so Shang Qinghua steels himself and puts an end to that fretting with his mouth.

Mobei-Jun stops fretting.

[veridium]

favorite passage of 2018 tag!

I was tagged by the lovely @apostatetabris and @allisondraste (two of my writing heroes <3) to share my favorite passage written last year. Given it was my first half year of writing fic it would also be one of my favorites of all time, and I have done that tag before, but my favorites constantly change so *shrug.*

This passage is near and dear to my heart because it shows just how much being Inquisitor had changed Theia. In this passage she is back home in the Free Marches to help her sister settle family affairs after the death of their horrible Mother. Their brother, Tristan, is a sniveling philanderer, and their aunt Diana an elitist, prejudice snob. I wrote this ficlet and was heavily inspired by Jane Austen, and still to this day I love reading it because of how funny and energetic it is. Also, yeesh, my writing has grown so much from the time I wrote this so bare with me. In this scene, the family: the siblings, their father, and aunt Diana (the Mother’s sister) are in a family “meeting” that goes awry very fast. Enjoy!

-- -- -- 

From the Ficlet “A Sickly Branch” --

Three hours past with agonizing apathy, but, there she was, walking to the family dining hall which would surely reinvent itself as a lion’s den in due time. Her instincts as Inquisitor left her ready to field attacks from mercenary assassins on her way there, and truthfully a part of her was disappointed in the lack of backstabbing thus far. Though, the night remained young and promising.

Theia did not bother with an audience announcement or even knocking as she opened the double-doors to the dining hall, which was generously lit and filled to the brim with duplicitous emotions. Heads turned, though fewer in number, to see who just felt so comfortable as to barge in.

“Theia, my dear, how kind of you to join us,” Lord Trevelyan held his arms out, as if he had been expecting her this whole time. The man was truly pining for any ounce of attention she was willing to give, and it unnerved her. The Father she knew was calculated, logical, and had no muss or fuss about most anything. Perhaps his wife dying softened him beyond recognition.

“I hear there are family theatrics to be a part of other than stuffing faces in a Great Hall, so I will happily oblige,” she answered cleverly, coming to her Father’s side and taking hold of his extended hand. She used it to take a seat to his left side, parallel to her sister. The daughters now encased their patriarch in their reach.

Lucilla, never one for smugness, looked as though Andraste herself had kissed her on the forehead and dropped sovereigns in her lap. Watching Theia settle in, her joy was only curbed by the seething disdain she now felt from the other end of the banquet table. For, in all her glory, there was Lady Diana, taking the seat of where her sister would have been. To her direct left was Tristan, bluntly displaying just where his ideological loyalty was located.

“Father, why has she been invited? Lucilla, is this your conniving?” Tristan was now borderling frothing at the mouth with unrest, a mood that intrigued Theia’s masochistic desires.

“She is here because she is your sister and is thus entitled to the knowledge of her Mother’s estate and bearings,” Lucilla managed to quip back, in a surprising show of wit. Maybe she did, in fact have a backbone. Or, her patience could have been worn that thin.

Tristan scoffed with skepticism. Eyeing his all-knowing Aunt, who in turn remained expressionless, he leaned back in his chair.

“She has no right to anything. I am the lawful heir to Mother’s inheritance, as I am to Father’s. It is only befitting that I manage what is left of her finances and holdings.”

Theia sighed to herself. There was really no time for formality. Gazing up at her Father, she noticed the strain in his face. Like he was watching a newborn deer walk into the den of a wolf.

Lucilla’s voice interrupted her quiet observations.

“Tristan, you spend half the year at the University, beguiling school girls with your money, and then half the year taking shelter here for your liver to recover. You have shown me reason to question bestowing you such a responsibility.”

“You bestow me nothing, sister, you are barely my equal on a good day.”

“I am just as much Mother’s child as you, and I will have my say.”

“Your say, or your funds to spend on your parlor goods your husband won’t trifle with?”

“Tristan. Lucilla. End this,” there was the infamous Lord Trevelyan thunder, roaring but with little weight behind the storm. Theia watched quietly as they tuckered themselves out, though she did not deflect attention entirely.

“Now, now, Collin. You cannot throw a fox into the chicken pen and expect all of the birds not to tire themselves out from flying about for dear life. Before anything is set in stone, I beg we inquire as to why Lady Theia has honored us with her presence tonight?” Lady Diana’s words cut to the heart of the issue like a blade. All eyes were on the youngest Trevelyan now, who seemed all-too-tired of being in the spotlight already.

“Surely, Madame, you cannot suggest that the Herald of Andraste would be filed to the margins of her own Mother’s Estate,” Theia tested the waters for any jaws ready to bite on the bait.

“A title I hear you blaspheme every hour of every day,” Tristan countered, tilting his shoulders down in her direction.

“Tell me, my Brother, how many women you compel to scream for the Maker’s mercy, and we shall know which of us is better deserving of their stature,” her innuendo as cold as it was exacting. She stared him down from her periphery, ready for the verbal jugular vein to expose itself.

“I will after you tell me, sister, how many you have killed for the mistake of being in the company of a Mage.”

At that remark, Theia sent her eyes into a current of purple malice, and she widened them ever so slightly. Tristan flinched like the predictable coward he was.

“Theia, please, cut it out,” Lucilla asked, her hands falling flat on the table surface. At her request, Theia turned and stared back at her, blinking her irises once into dormancy once more.

“I have come to ensure my values and virtues as an Orlesian and indeed, as Inquisitor, are upheld in this negotiation. I can hardly sit by while my family’s resources are mishandled. I am, though no fault of my own, a product of this Bann,” she spoke like a Diplomat now, heeding the rhetoric of her traveling companion who stayed in her suite so as to let Theia seem stronger on her own.

Lady Diana smirked. “A lovely tale, I wonder if she bought it off a Bard.”

“Diana, please, it would do us all some good if we maintain a sense of sincerity and modesty in these conversations. This is, after all, in the legacy of my wife, and your Mother. She would not want us to get lost in the schematics of petty issues.”

“Mother invented schematics of petty issues, Father, or do you forget what “boarding school” I was sent to in my 14th year?” Theia eyed the fireplace.

“You would do wisely to hold your tongue, speaking ill of my dear sister!” Lady Diana showed a twinge of anger in her voice. It was like smelling blood to Theia, who was learning more and more about what everyone was trying to hide whilst all sat at the same table.

“Be that as it may, Theia, she was a woman of refinement and respect. I wish us to all honor that here. Tristan, perhaps you would be interested in enjoining with your sister in managing the inheritance together? A collaboration between your intelligence and her closeness to our home and our heritage would do us proud.”

Theia couldn’t help but want to laugh at that statement. When she heard a guttural sound of insult from her brother’s end, she felt confirmed in her opinion of it.

“I would sooner castrate myself,” he said colorfully, making his sisters each have their own faces of disgust.

“Tristan, your crassness insults us. It is a perfectly reasonable arrangement and is typical to families of our size. Why do you resist me?”

“Because you have been nothing but a quaint and provincial nuisance to me. Always clucking when I am home about my character and goings-on. You’re petulant and small-minded, and you are out of your depth in this! You wouldn’t know how to compromise an argument between the wind and the sky.”

“So is that why she wrote to me and compelled me to be here and back her play in the face of your onslaught then, Tristan? To prove to everyone just how small-minded and quaint she is?” Theia resented it, but the same nerve in her body that ordered her to defend her sister from attack was still very much alive. Her admonition sent everyone into an open-mouthed confusion – well, except for Lucilla, who looked mortified.

Tristan squirmed. “Aha! I knew your existence here was merely an aggravation! You have no reason to be here, you trout!” truly a tactful nobleman.

“Oh, shut up, you moronic toad of a boy!” Theia stood from her chair, leading everyone to flinch, not just from the noise, but from the expectation of what happens when a Mage loses their temper. The faces she was met with disgusted her, because she knew, she knew just what they were afraid of when the only closed their mouths.

“I am here because I have some shred of integrity in my bones, and a persuasive Diplomat who compels me to feel dedicated to this mess of a family.”

At that, a chilling laugh came from Lady Diana. She even clapped, entertained at the sight of it all.

“My dear, we all know why you treasure that Antivan pet of yours, and persuasion is an inadequate euphemism.”

“Diana!” Collin scolded, but it was too late. The frost powers in Theia’s palms showed themselves as she crunched her hands into fists, feeling the shifting and cracking icicles underneath her force. When everyone noticed, she felt the self-consciousness she was raised with. It angered her beyond comprehension.

Stilling herself, she took a breath, and the ice waned. But, the seething in her gut remained.

“Call any one of my personnel or company a pet again and I will see to it your fountain of youth elixirs come with a generous dosage of hemlock, my Lady Aunt,” she hissed in a low, lethal tone.

“Death doesn’t spur me, my dear, it is the likes of you who show up in honorable homes to cause disruption within the traditions of family. The day you were born, my sister’s life was cursed, and now your shadow rejoins us to remind us all of just how unfortunate she was. How unfortunate we all are, to have an ill-taken branch in our family tree.”

“Well then, allow me to be pruned from you all for good. Lucilla, you have gotten this far, pick up the shield for your own battle and finish it like a woman,” Theia slammed her fists sharply on the table before stepping away from it. As she felt released from the disastrous situation, her brother arose as well in a hurry to block her path.

“You go where I allow you to go as heir of this Estate!” he raged with false authority. Lord Trevelyan was about to intercede, but he was all-too-slow to account for misdeeds in his own family.

No need. Like clockwork, Theia kicked her brother square in the chest, and while he leg was exposed from her gown’s impossible skirts she slid out a hidden dagger blade attached to her thigh. In a snap, she was up in his face, holding the dagger in an underhanded grip up against his sniffling throat, trying to recover the breath she had swiftly kicked from his lungs.

“Y-y-y-ou, y-you…” he muttered, shaking.

“Ugh, typical. Let me guess, you thought I only knew how to freeze your mouth shut. Well, turns out brother, I also know how to slice your tongue from your throat. Leading a force of warriors, assassins, rogues, archers, and yes, mages, leaves you with an array of skillsets at your disposal,” she spoke up against his jaw, a growl residing in her throat.

Collin stood by, watching in concern as his daughter let her teeth show in more ways than one. Lucilla feigned concern as well, but, deep down it was a sick thrill she got from watching her brother stand to get the crap kicked out of him.

“Theia, enough,” their Father said quietly, betraying the urgency of the scene with his stoicism.

Theia spat on her brother’s well-tailored coat, stepping back and tossing the blade in the air briefly, rotating her hand and catching it with ease.

“You’re like all men I’ve cornered with a weapon. Soiled, pitiful, and not worth your weight in wood.” She then stuck the dagger blade into the corner of the dining table, by Lady Diana’s left hand side, before exiting the room.

“Here, a gift for my sister, after she inherits dust from you,” she growled over her shoulder.

Stomping down the hall, she almost begged for the dagger to be thrown at her back, to make shit actually interesting.

[avaantares]

So uh, I’m really really disappointed with the Torchwood fandom right now (over what you addresses in your post about being respectful/a normal human being online), and I’m just not quite sure how to deal with that. Sorry to barge in with this, but you seem like a really understanding, level-headed person 😅

I feel you, Anon, and you are certainly not the only one I’ve heard from! A number of people have told me they’ve been growing more uncomfortable with the fandom’s atmosphere lately, and have been actively avoiding posting about certain topics for fear of dogpiling. (This actually came up in a few private conversations before I made the post you referenced, and helped cement my decision to speak up.)

This post is long, so here’s a dash-saver. Below the jump I talk about the state of the Torchwood fandom, how people can avoid and resolve drama on their own posts, and some things everyone can do to make the internet a nicer place.

While my recent post was not targeted solely at the Torchwood fandom (the “how dare you differ in opinion from me” trend is disturbingly widespread; see also: politics), it is true that there has been a lot of sectionalism and polarization in that fandom lately. Fandom niches have always existed, but as the Torchwood fandom shrinks – whether due to natural attrition, lack of interest in the new content, or whatever reason – the Venn circles for each area of interest also shrink, making each group appear more segregated, and resulting in less crossover and less generalized Torchwood fandom.

Now, specific interest groups within the fandom are not a bad thing! They occur naturally, since not everyone engages with fandom the same way. Some people listen to the new Big Finish releases, while others have only seen the original series. Some people enjoy trading headcanons, while others aren’t interested. Some people create fanart or fanfiction, while others just reblog gifsets. Some people are only in the fandom for one specific character, and that’s okay! We’re all fans of the same source material; we can all share and respect each other’s unique interests!

The problems arise when we stop doing that, when interest groups become isolationist (i.e. ”we’re the only real fans”), or when one group decides their focus/interest is more important than another group’s or individual’s. If any group begins policing or calling out other fans who don’t share their views, that’s a problem. If fans are afraid to share their opinion on a topic because of the threat of harassment or name-calling from other fans, that’s a problem. If we can no longer politely discuss our respective viewpoints or agree to disagree, that’s a problem. If we all start blocking each other because we can’t get over the fact that Person A loves Gwen Cooper and Person B doesn’t, or Person C ships Person D’s NoTP, or Person E headcanons a character as a particular sexuality/alignment/whatever and Person F has a different headcanon, there will be no fandom left because everyone who loves Torchwood will be on another fan’s block list.

“But wait!” Person A cries. “[Opinion I hold] is really important to me, and is relevant to my personal identity! By disagreeing with me, Person B is being disrespectful to my identity!”

Sorry, but no. Certainly, Person A is allowed their opinion, and that opinion may well be informed by their personal identity or beliefs. But Person B is also allowed an opinion, which may also be informed by their identity or beliefs. Person A’s personal opinion is no more or less valid than Person B’s. It’s not about B being disrespectful to A by voicing an alternate opinion; it’s about both A and B showing mutual respect by acknowledging that the other person has an opinion.

Of course, just because you’re fully entitled to state an opinion doesn’t mean you are correct, or that you have license to say anything you want free of consequence. Any time you put your opinion out there, you are opening yourself up to disagreement or rebuttal.

“So how can I avoid people aggressively disagreeing with me?” Person A asks. “I hate reading dissenting viewpoints, especially on my own posts.”

Well, you have two options. Option 1 is for those who honestly can’t handle any level of conflict or disagreement, and that’s not to post your opinion at all.

“That’s no fun!” says Person A. “I like to share my opinions.”

Well, that brings us to Option 2: Set the tone of your posts. See, here’s the thing: If you post your opinion in an agonistic manner, you’re more likely to elicit agonistic response. Here’s an example of two different post tones:

A’s Post: I went outside today and looked up, and the sky looked blue to me, so I think the actual color of the sky must be blue.

This is a clear statement of opinion, phrased with supporting rationale, but it’s focused on the person who holds that opinion, rather than targeting or disparaging someone who subscribes to a different one. A dissenter might counter with this:

B’s Response: I’ve always thought the sky looked white. Those puffy spots up there are definitely white, so I think that’s the real color of the sky.

It’s relatively polite, with no offensive personal remarks, and (again) it’s focused on why they personally believe what they do. It is likely that this sort of rational discussion could continue for many exchanges without becoming heated or aggressive. Maybe one will convince the other, or maybe they’ll stick to their own beliefs and agree to disagree, but nobody’s getting hurt and nobody’s getting blocked.

Now, compare that to this type of post:

A’s Post: OMG I hate when those white-sky idiots say the sky is white, they must all be MORONS because it’s clearly BLUE and if you don’t agree you’d best unfollow me NOW because i don’t want you anywhere near my posts. This is a BLUE SKY ONLY BLOG.

This person has already personally attacked anyone with a different view, drawn a line in the sand, and declared that this is the hill they will die on – all without supporting their opinion with a shred of evidence or reason. Naturally, this will only serve to inflame the other side:

B’s Response: HOW DARE YOU CALL ME A MORON, I’ll have you know I have a Master’s Degree in Cloud Watching and I wrote my thesis on why the sky is white. Only uneducated idiots think the sky is blue. BLOCKED.

Yeah, this exchange is never going to result in any kind of rational discussion. It is already 100% emotional, and there is no actual discussing going on, just name-calling. Getting involved in this kind of argument is a waste of time and energy, will not change anyone’s mind, and will only succeed in stressing out all parties.

“But the sky really IS blue!” Person A protests. “It doesn’t matter what tone I take, I’m still right!”

Nah, in this case both sides are wrong. The sky’s apparent color depends on the angle of the sun’s rays, humidity, and the way light in the visible spectrum is scattered by air molecules. It looks blue when the sun is high, and red or orange when the sun is near the horizon, but the sky itself is colorless. (There’s your science fact for the day). Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how right OP thinks they are; chances are the other person is just as convinced that they’re right, and it’s entirely possible that you’re fighting over something completely arbitrary or fundamentally unimportant.

And that brings me back to the Torchwood fandom and the hill-I-will-die-on arguments that have been plaguing it more and more in recent months. There is one thing I think we can ALL agree on, no matter our individual interests, and that is that Torchwood’s canon is a hot buttered mess. The original TV series is internally inconsistent; the novels contradict both the TV series and other novels; the comics contradict themselves, the novels, and the TV series; Miracle Day contradicts EVERYTHING that came before, including parent series Doctor Who; and the Big Finish dramas try really hard to respect all the prior releases, and mostly just end up creating their own canon, because it’s utterly impossible to reconcile everything. If canon can’t even agree on relatively simple things like

whether or not Jack can get drunk (no: BBC novels / yes: also BBC novels)

whether or not Jack can sleep/dream (no: TV and BBC novels / yes: also TV and BBC novels, plus BBC audio dramas)

if Jack and Ianto went on a date after KKBB (yes: BBC novels / no: also BBC novels)

what year Owen was born (1980: TV and Torchwood Magazine / 1981: TV and BBC novels)

what Ianto’s sister’s last name is (Evans: The Torchwood Archives / Davies: CoE)

…there are bound to be contradictory fan views on more complex issues, and there may not be a clear “correct” or “incorrect” position. It is possible to find canon support for nearly any Torchwood headcanon, because Torchwood canon is consistently inconsistent. Don’t make every issue a hard line in the sand. Accept that people are different, and based on their own unique backgrounds and experiences, people can legitimately come to different conclusions when presented with the same canon evidence (or lack thereof).

(Hmm… it’s almost like this principle could also apply to real-life sources of conflict like politics, religion, and social and cultural norms. Maybe keeping an open mind is a good idea in general…?)

“Well, it’s MY blog, and I can say what I want,” says Person A. “If people don’t like it that’s their problem.”

That is absolutely true. But remember, whatever you put out there is likely going to come right back at you. If you go with a rude or aggressive stance, or if you make personal attacks, you should expect your replies/reblogs to be just as nasty. If you escalate, so will they.

“Okay, so what if I post something polite and someone STILL comes back with a nasty response?” Person A asks. “I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now, and it isn’t even my fault!”

There are a couple of solutions to this that don’t involve breaking out the napalm:

Check for a misunderstanding. It’s hard to interpret tone in plain text sometimes. If you think the person may have honestly misinterpreted your post, maintain the polite tone and either clarify your post, or ask them (nicely) to explain why they are so upset about what you posted. Look for resolution, rather than merely refuting their post.

Don’t respond. “Be the bigger person” may sound cliche, but believe it or not, the world will not end if you choose not to engage someone on the internet. There is great power in putting down the phone or stepping away from the keyboard, and it’s much better for your blood pressure and stress level. Plus, if that person keeps raging on posts and not getting any responses, it may make them wonder why nobody pays attention to their opinions. Speaking of which…

“YOO-HOO!” hollers Person Z from waaaaaaay over in the corner. “Hi there! I just came for the fanart, and I’d like to participate more, but I’m really stressed out by the way this fandom is arguing all around me. I’m worried that if I post anything, someone will yell at me and tell me I’m wrong. That would really upset me.”

So let’s talk positive reinforcement for a second! This is where the casual observers and innocent bystanders can have a lot of power to steer the direction that fandom grows. Ultimately, the goal of all social media is to elicit interaction, whether that’s in the form of Likes, Reblogs, Replies, Retweets, Shares, Follows, or what have you. Giving posts this kind of interaction is like praising the writer. Reblogging also makes that post visible to more people, potentially attracting them to your fandom circle. Posts with more notes get seen more, read more, and can set the tone for other fandom interactions. The more rational, polite posts get spread around and accumulate notes, the more rational, polite people will be likely to get involved, and the more likely a new post on that topic will be worded in a rational, polite way. Whereas interacting with argumentative, nasty, stressful posts will tend to make new people avoid your fandom, and will encourage more people to turn things into a drama-fest because that’s what gets the notes, and notes are currency.

So when you see a post that just looks like a slap-fight or upsets you in some way, just ignore it and keep right on scrolling. You don’t need to attract drama to yourself or your blog, and you don’t need to feed that machine. But if you see someone doing it right, or if there’s an ongoing polite discussion, consider getting involved in the conversation! You can comment, reblog, reply or just like if you don’t have anything to add. Pay the polite, thoughtful interactions in notes and let the harsh posts die an unreblogged death.

So, dear Anon, that’s a very long-winded expansion on my previous post, and one you didn’t exactly ask for. :) But you’re not alone; many of us want to initiate change for the better. I hope we can help the fandom return to the happier, more collaborative place it was not so long ago.

Be kind to each other, be respectful, let go of whatever is driving you to have the last word, and we’ll all have more fun and significantly lower blood pressure.

[andrewmoocow]

Fooly Falls 2 Ride on Shooting Star chapter 5: Ex-Partners in Crime (originally posted on May 30, 2019)

AN: And now the end is near. And so we face, the final curtain. My fans, I'll say it clear. I'll finish this tale, of course I am certain. I've wrote this sequel, I improved the source with my own flair. But after all of this, the climax is getting there. WKUHH ERBV, ZLWK GLVFRUG XQZDQWHG WZR ROG IULHQGV, ZLWK SDVWV IRUHYHU KDXQWHG RQH PDQ, DQ DQVZHU PDGH KLP GDXQWHG GHVWLQB OHIW WR EH DQVZHUHG, DQG WKHB'UH JRQQD EH HAKDXVWHG

--

In the style of an old black and white film, an assembly of giant irons stood perfectly single file before the setting sun. Gwen quietly watched before turning away and picked a bottle up off the ground. She then discovered a dejected worker sitting in front of a campfire with his hardhat the only splash of color. Gwen examined the sight before her when she also discovered the outline of a skeleton beneath her feet, where she placed the bottle in the center of its chest. Just then the girl dropped to her side in pain, discovering a small disk stuck in her foot that she gave to the skeleton to serve as an eye. As a nearby engine roared, steam from a structure decorated with irons covered the monochrome land like a sandstorm, sweeping her up along the way. When Gwen opened her eyes, she laid in a colorful body of water with her beanie in hand. Then the world suddenly turned greyscale as she excitedly ran along the shoreline while the Medical Mechanica factory continued to stand upright.

-- Ian whistled a familiar tune while tuning up a large computer monitor nestled within Ford's study. "Ride on shooting star. Yabba dabba doo, somethi-ing." he quietly sang while making a few final touches and dismounted from his maintenance creeper. "Okay, main screen turn on?" "Yeah, main screen turn on." Dipper answered turning to a certain someone tied up and fast asleep in a chair. "Rise and shine old friend." he announced placing a freshly cooked chicken leg under Haruko's nose, and the delicious scent wafting into it finally woke her up. "W-what happened?" she asked slowly beginning to wake up. "Last thing I remember was working on something before there was this napkin that covered me and-hey!" "There's no escaping this Raharu. You will give us the answers on your past that we've been searching for!" Ford declared dramatically stepping out of the shadows. "And perhaps some clues on what you're planning this time. Kanda?" "Will do." Tsukata replied hooking the Vespa Woman up to the machine with a helmet resembling a strainer and the monitor finally activated. "This was originally built to defend minds from the dream demon known as Bill Cipher, but now it's been rebuilt to simply read them and view the memories within." "This could be it everyone, our biggest breakthrough!" Dipper cackled joyously as it began booting up. "You okay there Dipper? You've slowly grown more unhinged." Ian asked nervously placing a hand on the older man's shoulder before he was slapped away. "I'm not going unhinged, I'm just excited to finally see through her lies once and for all!" Dipper continued lighting up a fifth cigarette. "So much so that I've literally cut my smokes in half!" "Yeah, he's officially snapped." Kanda commented taking a puff of his own cigarette and sitting down next to Haruko. "Oy, a bunch of losers the lot of you." Haruhara japed with a grin. "You've all become conspiracy theorists who'd resort to kidnapping an expecting mother just to prove a point. And since when did you take up smoking?" "Since I failed to quit." the agent muttered. "And I've been doing it to help me calm down." Dipper added taking a break from his mini-celebration. "Augh, my back." Haruko groaned struggling to reach for her back. "Must be the ropes getting a bit too tight, or you're just getting old." Kanda commented. "Naw, can't really age." the woman responded. "I've been 19 for what feels like ages now." "How many years exactly?" Ford asked writing in a new journal. "Hell if I know, probably ever since I met you-know-who." Haruko answered. "The summer I turned seventeen, was when I took up smoking for the first time." Kanda explained. "Sort of the same with me, only I took up smoking to deal with becoming a father." Dipper replied just as Project Mentem started acting up. "Oh my God, it's finally time!" "Can't believe it took one conversation for it to get started." Ian remarked pounding at the machine. "Well, let's get cracking." After a few moments of static, a full image revealed itself as a slightly younger looking Haruko dressed in drab work-clothes with a familiar iron in the background. "Wait a minute, is that-" Dipper exclaimed while his eyes widened. "Yep. Haruha Raharu, ex-factory worker." Raharu groaned in resignation over her past. "And it was back when Medical Mechanica had control over my planet too." As the younger Vespa Woman continued trudging about her day, Ford lost interest. "Let's just skip to the interesting stuff." the scientist declared fast-fowarding through the memory until it stopped at Haruha rocking out on some equipment as a makeshift drumkit. "Now that's the little devil we know!" "Hey, keep it down in there Haruha!" a strict, snarly voice cried out to her barging into the room. He was a tall, robust figure with a thick mustache, very long nose and a comically large cigar in his mouth. "Ah, good ol' Heinzenberg. A real J. Jonah he was, really miss when he would scream like crazy at everyone." Haruko reminisced on her former boss. "Either stop those abominable sounds or I'll do it for you!" Heinzenberg screamed pulling out a laser blaster and firing, but his rebellious employee swiftly escaped. "Try and catch me brushface!" "Wow, seems like everyone hated your guts." Dipper remarked as the fight between Haruha & Heinzenberg tore the workplace apart, to the ire of everybody else. When the dust settled, the area was in shambles and Heinzenberg was completely furious. "HAAAAAAA-RUUUUUUU-HAAAAAARAAAAA! YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUU'REEEEEEE FIIIIIIIIIREEEEEEDDDDD!" "Was he really that loud?" Ford asked as the Haruha on the screen was dragged away by security robots. "Yep, to the point where one had to add extra letters to whatever he was screaming." Haruko cackled before her smirk turned into a frown as Kanda fast-fowarded to the biker's home life, where she was being harshly scolded by a man presumed to be her father. "Do you realize what you've done Haruha?!" "Abusive parent, correct?" Ian interviewed their captive. "Oh you better believe it. The old man was a completely irredeemable piece of shit who loved drinking more than his own family." Raharu declared morosely, turning away from that ugly part of her past. "And as for my mom, pretty sure she got killed by him in a drunken rage. But who knows, I barely knew her." "Your slacking off and playing that infernal music nearly got us all in trouble!" Mr. Raharu drunkenly shouted after smacking his daughter across the face. "Either behave like every other girl on this godforsaken planet or never show your face around me again!" Just then, the cruddy former apartment home of Haruha started rumbling and a loud voice bellowed "SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT! I WANT TO SEE WHAT YOU GOT!" The ceiling began falling to pieces little by little, all capped off with a steel girder losing its support and falling right over Haruko's father. "WHAT THE FU-" was all he could scream before the girder reduced him to a puddle of red. "The Cromulons!" Ford exclaimed fast-fowarding to Haruko on stage before the giant planet-sized heads gazing down on her. "PLANET WASPRUS, SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!" the Cromulon boomed. "So what, do they go around screaming at planets?" Kanda asked. "And what do they want to be shown?" "The Cromulons are a race of giant floating heads who force the inhabitants of planets to perform in their own musical contest show." Haruko answered. "My planet frowned upon any form of creativity, but I just loved sticking it to the man." "Aw shitballs you guys, we gotta run!" the belches of a middle aged man sounded as he and his two companions, a stonefaced bird person and a catlike creature, ran for the hills to a hijacked cargo ship. "Hey, the old gang!" Haruko chirped excitedly. "Wait, the what?" Ian asked staring at the screen. "Those my boy, were the Flesh Curtains." Ford stated putting a hand on the eldest Ramirez's shoulder. "A band consisting of Rick Sanchez, an old frenemy of mine; and his two weird comrades Birdperson and Squanchy." "And it's not just them. Look." Birdperson announced pointing upward to a giant red phoenix that warped itself over Wasprus. "IT SEEMS WE HAVE A SPECIAL GUEST DISQUALIFIER!" the Cromulon boomed. "LEGENDARY PIRATE KING ATOMSK, SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT!" While Rick and his posse urged the younger Haruko to not give in, she was utterly mesmerized by Atomsk's might as she slowly stepped towards him. "Don't do it babe, that's Atomsk! His power will seriously screw with your head!" Rick warned, but Haruha didn't listen and reached out to the giant bird while her hair turned into its trademark pink. A large chain wrapped around the Pirate King's neck attached to the girl's wrist and she pulled it with all her might, eventually breaking it in two. Just as Atomsk screeched, Raharu was dragged away by Birdperson and raced to the cargo ship, escaping the doomed Wasprus in the nick of time when it completely exploded. "Welp, there goes that gig." Rick groaned in defeat taking a chug out of a flask. "How's our extra cargo doing?" "Still out squanch from Atomsk." the cat-person stated checking for a pulse just as their passenger came to. "Oh geez, what happened?" Haruha moaned rubbing her head when she took notice of the old man, the bird and the cat surrounding her. "Where am I, and who are all of you?!" "Well I can assure you miss, I am not a man in a suit that will teach you the alphabet." Birdperson answered. "You may call me Birdperson. These two are my bandmates Squanchy and Rick." "Okay, we played the name game. But where's my planet?!" Raharu shouted grabbing the two animal-like creatures by their collarbones. "Well funny story babe, might wanna squanch around and see what happened." Squanchy suggested trying to break free and the future Vespa Woman took his suggestion, gazing out the back window to find what was left of her home planet. "My home's all gone." Haruha muttered shedding a few tears, but those tears were soon replaced with a celebratory manic grin. "I'M FREE!" "Whoa now, aren't you the least bit torn up about everyone you ever loved there now pretty much dead?" Squanchy stated. "I don't care, cause no one felt that about me either!" the Flesh Curtains' passenger whooped. "No more shitty dad, no more boring job, and no more stifling of creativity!" "Hell yeah, now you're speaking my language!" Rick replied merrily. "Hey, didn't get your name lass. What do they call you?" he asked putting a microphone to the girl's mouth. "I'm Haruha Raharu." she introduced herself. "Hm, doesn't roll off the tongue as much." the drunken traveler commented. "You ever tried picking up a name like the ones in the comics like Peter Parker, Reed Richards, Billy Batson or Fred Flintstone?" "I don't believe that last one came from a comic." Birdperson tried to correct his bandmate until he was shushed. "I got a great one! How about Haruko Haruhara?" Sanchez announced pretending to knight the girl with what would become her famous Rickenbacker bass. "I like it, really does sound like those old comics!" the newly renamed Vespa Woman exclaimed. "So where to?" "Wherever the hell we want to!" Squanchy answered pointing onward before the fond memory paused itself. "Ah, the old gang. We were kinda like the Fab Four back then. Rick was Paul, Birdperson was Lennon, Squanchy was Ringo and yours truly was George." Haruko thought back to happier times with a smile. "The four of us were unstoppable! Traveling the multiverse, playing gigs, sticking it to the man, making crossovers and just having fun regardless!" Haruko managed to sneak her foot out of one of her boots to fiddle with Project Mentem and fast-forwarded through many events during her travels with Rick. In particular were running from an angry mob of robots resembling ones & zeros in a city within a computer, holding a concert for tons of excited colorful fans with gemstones on their bodies, playing with a golden snail that had a phone attached to its shell which led to an entire island being destroyed, defacing a money bin and all other sorts of mischief. "But then everything went horribly wrong when we planned what I call 'The Mechanica Mission'." she stated sadly stopping at the four nomads looking over current plans. "-ere's what we're gonna do. Haruko will infiltrate the Brotherhood and rise through their ranks so she can allow us to find Atomsk." Rick explained. "Afterwards, Squanchy will break into the Medical Mechanica factory where our contact has stated he's being held in while Birdperson & I form a distraction." "So even being a first-class space patrol officer was part of your scheme as well?!" Ford exclaimed. "To be honest, I don't know what I expected." "Don't wanna delve too much into it but in a nutshell, everything went to shit." Haruko regaled forwarding faster to a standoff between her and Rick in front of a Medical Mechanica factory with armies of insectoid aliens & Medical Machines on either side, their bandmates hovering nearby on another hijacked ship and Atomsk appearing out of a giant wormhole. "So all this time, we were just being used so that you can have sex with Atomsk?!" Rick screamed as he felt betrayed by his partner. "Pretty sure his pecker is way too big to fit in your hive! And I'm really going to regret those puns!" "But wasn't there ever a time in your life where you sought after ultimate power?!" the Vespa Woman responded sadistically. "Bitch, I've been possessed by those types before! But did I use those to turn on those I legitimately care for!" the alcoholic nihilist shouted preparing to attack with his guitar. "It's no use Rick, get back here before the portal reaches maximum instability!" Birdperson cautioned his bandmate. "I'll be back in a bit you guys, gotta settle the score first." Sanchez snarled mounting what would become Haruko's Vespa scooter and charging at her with battle cry and bass. Raharu would do the same and then, the video faded to snow leaving the four men utterly flabbergasted. "So it all makes sense now." Kanda declared shutting it off. "Or at least, as much sense as a person like Haruko can make it." "Other dimensions? Wait til the others hear about this!" Ian added excitedly. "Maybe I could pitch this to whatever big Hollywood director hasn't had their reputation ruined." "At least we finally got our answers Dipper." Ford said to his greatnephew, but he received no answer. "Dipper?" Dipper on the other hand stared emptily at the blank screen contemplating over everything they just watched. Her home planet, that crazy man, the multiverse, Medical Mechanica, Atomsk. In the time he knew Haruko, her past was a total enigma with the exception of how she was a space cop gone rogue, but even that was all a sham. He began lightly snickering while clutching his head. "Ha." he flatly laughed. "Ha ha ha. Ffnk, ahoo. Ahoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo." Dipper's sanity began tumbling down even faster before his chuckling turned into full-blown insane cackling. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Dipper, stop laughing and answer me!" Stanford demanded his now completely insane apprentice. "IT WAS ALL A LIE! IT WAS ALL A LIE!" Dipper screamed merrily continuing his mad chortling and smashing the screen. "YOU ARE TEARING ME APART LISA!" "Uh, has anyone seen Haruko?" Ian asked pointing out the empty stool spinning in a circle. "It seems Dipper's little episode here has given her an opportunity to flee." Ford observed on the verge of coming to a shocking conclusion. "But where could she be off t-Oh no." Just as fast as he made his realization, Ford bolted out of his study and went up the elevator to follow the lying motorist. "Where's he off to?" Kanda asked Ian. "Stan is holding a little wake for Jinyu," the eldest Ramirez son answered. "And I don't want to know what Haruko will be up to."

--

A small drum accompanied a confused rabbi singing for Julia Jinyu in front of the equally unaware attendees who are staring at Stanley and wondering among themselves why they're attending a funeral for someone who was basically unknown to them. "We have no idea who the deceased is, but I can promise she will rest in peace. May He take good care of this woman, and continue to watch over us all." the rabbi chanted before clearing his throat, switching his Jewish dialect for a growling Midwestern accent. "All right Pines, pay up!" he shouted holding out his hand and expecting cash. "Haven't got all day, have a wedding in Alabama to preside over." "Who's the lucky underage victim and their offender?" Stan asked fishing a wad of thousands out of his wheelchair. "Don't want to get anyone here mad, but it's a juicy one!" the rabbi replied with a smug grin. After snatching his bills from the old man's hand, he wordlessly allowed the audience to give their condolences before leaving. First came Senator Gideon Gleeful. Although he and Stanley made amends, there was still a friendly contempt between the two. "So how's that conspiracy against President Kitaki going?" the con-artist asked his old enemy. "Moving along quite nicely Pines. Already got the Fundshausers on my side." Gideon replied turning to Grenda & Marius with a wink and a grin. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm probably going to being voting for you." Stan admitted. "The less we need of that old hag trying to ban the possibility of intergalactic travel, the better!" Next came Masurao. "Hey I know you! You're that guy from Little Asia!" the great-uncle exclaimed. "I am sorry for your loss sir, but I'm on borrowed time." Masurao apologized before scurrying outside. "What's his deal?" "So the damn thing stood up? And it's also getting foggy." Masurao stated spying on the upright iron from below with Eyepatch. "It'll go away when the sun reaches its peak." Eyepatch responded. "Did we really need to make a pitstop at the Shack on our way there?" "Even if it doesn't have a fraction of the power it once had." his partner remarked gazing upon Canti's head while Aiko spied on the two men without their knowledge. "Don't worry, just forget about it." Eyepatch assured him before they departed in a pickup truck carrying the Medical Machine's remains while the funeral continued on as normal. Eventually the two made it to an orbit elevator area in Portland where a doglike man waited for them. "Hey champ, you training hard for tomorrow?!" Eyepatch greeted the worker with a fistbump. "Oh you know, just trying to save my money." the other man replied. "Feel free to just head on in, warehouse should be up ahead." "Good on the money sport. It's important to make plans for the future y'know." Eyepatch complimented, which warranted a grumble from Masurao. When the worker tried to pick up Canti's head, it suddenly turned on for a split second. "Hey, watch how you're handling that thing Mutt!" Masurao ordered. "It's like, vintage!" "Yeah, this is pretty heavy. My bad." Mutt quickly apologized. "That thing's a piece of junk anyways champ. Hakuna matata as they always say!" Eyepatch casually stated which earned him an earful from his younger companion. "Are you insane?! Do you have any idea how much that-" "I totes got it sir." Mutt assured them. "You know, I had a hard time throwing away my first cellphone! Sentimental value is sometimes worth the most." "You don't understand at all!" Masurao continued shouting before the other two men laughed. -- Back at Jinyu's funeral in Gravity Falls, Arnold grimly faced the wall while Juan & Jorge tried to apologize. "Please, you gotta forgive us Arnie!" the twins cried bowing to the floor in shame. "We'll do anything to make it up to you! Would you like to come with us to that new amusement park opening up?" "I'd rather go with someone who won't deliberately leave me to die just because of their manliness obsession." Arnold glowered not ever taking his eyes off the wall. "But if we bring girls with us, we'll get a hefty discount! Like 99% I heard! Aiko asked me to come with her!" Juan tried appealing to their sullen friend, but he still received no answer even as Gwen entered the room. "Fine, be a jerkass for pretty much barely any rhyme or reason for all we care!" Suddenly, Haruko abruptly barged into the living room riding on her scooter and wearing Jinyu's shades, interrupting the funeral and enraging Stan. She slammed her hands on the coffin to speak to the audience. "So listen up everybody, cause I have an important announcement to make! Kay?" Haruko declared. "I am, um, gonna get married!" she announced switching into a wedding dress to everyone's bewildered cheering. "And everyone is invited! Yes I mean everyone!" "I congratulate you on your marriage madame, but this is a place of mourning. Please save your speech til after the wake." one of Gideon's bodyguards with long hair stated. "Do we have visual on crazy pregnant biker that just interrupted a funeral?" "Noted. Prepare for detainment." his black jerry-curled partner replied swapping the burger he was eating for a cattle prod. "Oh wait wait wait, you can't inflict violence on an expecting mother & housewife like that!" Haruko exclaimed turning into a homemaker with a creepy baby doll on her back. "Now let me tell you all the tale of how my husband and I, fell. In. Love." "So my hubby and I met at an amusement park in Portland, and I was there during sunset." the so-called mother narrated through children's crayon drawings. "Clumsy ol' me was about to get hit by a roller coaster when HE swept in to save me like I was a damsel in distress! It was MY HUBBY!" The final drawing depicted Haruko kissing a humanoid red bird which struck a chord in Gwen, as if she had seen him before. "So remember everyone, amusement parks are a paradise!" the Vespa Woman preached. "Forget this sobstory, let's go have so-" "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-RUUUUUUUUU-KOOOOOOOOOOO!" Stan screamed as loud as his nearly eight decade old lungs could cut his former friend off. "Oh hey, didn't see you there Stanley! Thought this was your funeral." Haruko remarked finally realizing who the funeral was for. "Oh, for Jinyu? You guys barely even chatted!" "Don't play coy with me Haruko! You know I'm being serious since I'm not calling you Raharu!" Stan screamed while Soos & Mabel tried to hold him back. "This will be the chapter where I'll get payback for what you've done to my family all those years ago!" "Okay I just started caring, what?" a plaid-shirted man with some grey in his brown hair & goatee asked. "The rest of you get on outta here! This is between me and her!" Stan commanded and the funeral attendees ran outside just as the coffin was opened by Sammy Determined, a tanned, geeky young man with large glasses and a beauty mark on his chin. "I've been stuck in this coffin pretending to be a dead body for like half an hour. Can I go home now?" "You're excused Sam." Stan politely accepted and Sammy raced out the door within half the blink of an eye. "Anyway, I challenge you to a little standoff sweetheart! You and me, Gravity Falls pool, be there or be half of a square!" The grunkle was just about to leave when he made a mechanical arm appear to grab Arnold. "And you're coming with me Arnold, since you're just as much of a victim here." "Help me." Arnold whimpered as he was taken outside just as Ford and Tsukata burst into the living room. "Oh lord, I'm too late!" he shouted racing around the area for any sign of his brother. "I knew this would happen, I just knew." he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose when Gwen spoke up. "What would happen Greatkle Ford?" "I just knew Raharu would purposefully cut off this funeral to get Stanley's goat." Stanford answered. "Though I'm pretty sure she's lying about being pregnant." "Hey, have you seen Dipper anywhere? Haven't seen him since you kidnapped Haruko." Mabel asked for her brother while the Vespa Woman flipped him off behind her. "We just did some digging through her mind and what we found just...broke him." Kanda answered mournfully. "Who do you think is still available right now?" "Mom and Tyrone are. They're having a mother-son day in watching bad movies." Gwen answered. "Well what are you waiting for dudette? Call 'em!" Soos urged the girl. "Hey Gwennie, wouldn't you rather go to the amusement park instead? You're the one that I wanted to go." Haruko tried to make her change her mind. "I'm not going miss." Gwen quietly said picking up her phone. "GWEN-NIE!" -- "Ha ha ha ha, now I look like an even bigger idiot!" Tyrone & Wendy monotonously cackled in unison in response to the horrible costume worn by the leading man of "Invasion of The Bear-Eating Man Family" while Tyrone knitted a new sweater for Stan. "Wow, Joel Nelson clearly had no idea what made good costuming!" he laughed. "Still slightly better than the outfit he made Michelle Hodgson wear." Wendy replied. "Or lack thereof." Just then, the phone rang. "I got it!" Tyrone shouted racing to the phone, but his mother was also focused on answering which resulted in a play-fight that her son quickly won. "Pines cabin, Tyrone speaking!" Tyrone said. "Ty, thank goodness I can reach you." Gwen sighed in relief. "Listen, has Dad come home recently?" "He's holed himself up in our room a couple minutes ago after getting a can of Willy-Nilly's Coffee beans and a knife." Wendy answered. "I'm getting really worried for him. Tyrone honey, can you go up to check on your father?" "Will do Mommy!" Tyrone accepted with a salute and merrily made his way upstairs, but his cheerfulness quickly turned into dread the further he got. When he opened the door to his parents' room, there Dipper was emptily gazing at an old Petra the Pterodactyl video while munching on raw coffee beans and squeezing a Petra plush and his son's beloved stuffed pig Waddles II in his arms. "I'm asking you for a survey Nilly, do you like Willy-Nilly's Coffee?" Dipper asked through Petra to Waddles II. "No, no I don't." Waddles II replied before Petra suddenly held a knife in its tiny three-fingered hand. "Well survey says everyone does. Because anyone who doesn't gets shanked." Petra revealed about to stab the pig before Tyrone performed a diving save on his pig. "NOOOO!" "T-T-Tyrone? What are you doing?!" Dipper shouted even more neurotically than usual. "No, I wanna know what are you doing! You tried to stab Waddles daddy!" Tyrone cried hugging his father worriedly. "I'm so sorry sport, I've just been going through some things lately." the older male responded hugging him back. "Just some...revelations making me go cuckoo for cocoa." "Like what?" his son asked. "Well for example, Raharu actually came from another dimension where she met this scientist who behaved an awful lot like Stan." Mason explained. "They went on adventures across the multiverse together, playing music and causing borderline madness. Eventually they formed a plan to steal the Pirate King Atomsk from Medical Mechanica but that went south and then everything after that was just white noise." "Wow, that sounds even cooler than what you did with her Dad!" Tyrone exclaimed in awe. "Cool, kinda. Healthy, no way in Hell." Dipper concluded putting a hand on his youngest's shoulder. "We gotta find and stop her at once. Where's your sister and cousin?" "Arnold got taken by Greatkle Stan to participate in his little feud with Haruko and I'm not sure what's up with Gwen, but I really hope everything will turn out okay!" Arnold declared with optimism, blissfully unaware of the oncoming chaos while a faint knock on the door was heard. -- "I won't let you involve my family in your schemes anymore!" Stan shouted to Haruko from the other side of the empty swimming pool. "And I don't want to be involved here!" Arnold cried begging to be let go. "Please Stan, Pacifica will kick your ass hard when she hears about this!" "Oh? You think I'm the bad guy for getting your family all tangled up in my schemes, pyon?" Haruko playfully mocked standing on the other side with her red jacket over a blue one-piece. "For a wannabe white knight, you sure are quite the hypocrite." "Arnie, bass." Stanley commanded his great-great nephew as he pushed a button on the armrest of his wheelchair that transformed it into a miniature exoskeleton to help him walk properly. "Wait, since when could you do that?!" Arnold exclaimed in shock while unveiling a certain Jazzmaster for his great-great uncle to use. "There are tons of things about my wheels that you never knew about, and some you'll never know about." Stan stated taking the guitar and slinging it over his shoulder with both hands. "Well what're you waiting for? Come at me!" "Okay. Let's do this." Haruko chummily declared just as her former friend angrily charged, but she quickly blocked the bass with just her feet. "I know you're super old, but you really got no talent nya." she groaned in disappointment. The wasp continued blocking all of Stan's attempts to land a hit and when it seemed like he was finally about to score one, instead came being kicked into the pool shed. "You learned how to fight with your back, right? Cause it seems like time has made you forget!" Stan was just about ready to surrender until he spotted Arnold nervously sitting on a deck chair and got an idea. "Tag me out kid! Tag me out!" he called for the boy while reaching out his hand. "Wait, you're serious? You want me to fight her?" Arnold said curiously. "Well, this could be a chance for me to be manly without a certain duo threatening my life." The pair high-fived and Arnold picked up the Jazzmaster to use. "I'm the boss, I'm the boss, I'm the boss, I'm the boss!" he quietly chanted to himself while charging forward and preparing a mighty swing, but Haruko then swiftly dodged it. "Whatever you wanna do blondie, you gotta do it with strength!" she announced sticking a perfect landing. Arnold however remained resolute and began muttering "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!" "This is where Stan wanted to fight Raharu!" Ford explained to Gwen & Tyrone while the three arrived at the pool but instead of seeing the other grunkle fight her, it was instead Arnold taking off his sweatervest and trying to swing again. "Use your hips, arms relaxed, chin tucked in." Haruha instructed her opponent after yet another nimble avoidance, but Arnold simply didn't listen and escaped from her grasp. "You're no good m'boy, no good at all!" "JUST STAY AWAY FROM MY FAMILY!" Arnold howled rigorously trying one last time to smack her, but was knocked down with a small tap and a declaration of "Oint." "Stan, do you have any idea what in God's name you're doing to Arnold?!" Ford hissed from the other side of the chain fence to his brother. "Don't go accusing me, the kid's just as much a victim as the rest of us!" Stan replied with a holler. "Okay, maybe I am partially to blame." "Go get'er cuz, show her what we've taught you!" Tyrone cheered for his cousin before he suddenly realized that he cheered a bit too late. "Oh right, you're down for the count. Sorry!" "If strength was measured by the hits one took, then you wouldn't be considered such a loser." Haruko said to Arnold while her bracelet began tingling once again. "To be honest, I thought you'd be better given your heritage. That's why you were taught all those things, to increase your manliness I heard. But I guess all those were for nothing because you know just about as much." As Gwen watched, something in her began trembling and her hat glowed faintly. "That's where you're wrong Raharu. You don't know anything either." Arnold argued bravely to her confusion. "The truth is, I'm completely unsatisfied!" This angered Haruko before she decided to remove her jacket right on top of the boy, which finally made Gwen go berserk. The force given off by her beanie blasted the door away and rapidly sucked Arnold inside her head. "Wait, what's going on!?" "He was right. Pacifica's gonna put all of us in the morgue." Stan regarded fearfully realizing his huge mistake when the absorption concluded leaving everyone shocked. All that was left was a bizarre black cutout with Arnold's Northwest ring on the finger. "Uh, my bad! Things will probably get worse than usual this time around." Haruko sheepishly apologized before mounting on her Vespa and preparing to take off. "I'll be waiting. She zoomed off leaving the four Pines and what was left of Arnold at the pool. "Hey, get back here you bitchy bassist! We still haven't settled our score yet!" Stan cursed angrily shaking his fists at the clouds. Gwen in comparison was utterly heartbroken by what she did to her cousin. "Oh I am so sorry about what happened to Arnold little lady." Ford said trying to comfort her. "You know, this reminds me of my Backupsmore days. Our school just won a cross-country event and we decided to celebrate by tearing everything apart. You should've seen the pool! They flipped the bitch!" "Where were you during that time?" Tyrone asked. "My roommate and I didn't want to take any part in the riot for safety reasons, so we went out for Italian." his genius great-grunkle answered. "I only wanted to lighten the mood after what happened just now, but I'm not sure how it'll work." -- Across town, business was booming at the amusement park with dozens of excited visitors of all ages stampeding through the entrance, most of them being couples. The Ramirez children were among these couples most notably Leia & Ezra, leaving Ian to watch over Juan, Jorge and Abby. "Does anyone have an idea on where Imelda is?" Ian asked his younger siblings while taking a bite out of some confectionery treats from the food stands. "She said that she got a part-time job here but hasn't come back." "While I'm just as concerned for Mel, all I want to know is WHERE IS AIKO?!" Juan cried out furiously typing on his phone. Elsewhere in the park, Tonkichi quietly observed two men fighting for the love of a girl and accidentally getting caught in each other before a red force took over their heads. "Excuse me sir, how much longer will this test ride go on?" Imelda asked Tonkichi. "Oh not too much longer." the theme park owner assured the seven-year-old. "All you gotta do is just stay right there my girl." As for Masurao, he was currently examining the park's webpage with Eyepatch. "Wait, hold on. Not that one." his senior citizen superior stated. "What? I thought it was Mr. Dodo." Masurao replied. "Don't you forget that we're dealing with super top secret stuff here, so that means we must activate the hidden communication mode." Eyepatch advised the younger male. "Go to the shopping section and push the little kiwi strap." "Which one?" Masurao exclaimed trying to find that strap. "The fluffy one right down there." On Eyepatch's commands, Masurao clicked on the image of a kiwi that led the two to a dining menu page. "Are you sure? The link went to a menu." he muttered in confusion. "Now just push She's So Chicky Wings." When he clicked on the menu item, it then guided to an article on one of the rides. "The Icarus Fall is the world's third-fastest falling ride?" "Wait wait wait, go back up!" Eyepatch shouted. "That's gotta be it, the falling one!" he added excitedly. "Uh, they're all falling." Masurao responded not knowing what his boss just said. "The one with the little emu!" "But which one?" "The one with the fluffy wings!" "You have to be more specific!" "THERE!" With a smack of his cane, Eyepatch made Masurao tap the emu which made Tonkichi appear on a video screen in his dodo costume. "Hello there, it's Mr. Dodo!" he merrily greeted them. "It's me." Masurao stoically greeted. "Don't be so sorry. Sometimes a kid will come calling me." the receiver grimly replied when another child greeted him. "Hi Mr. Dodo!" "Hey kid!" Tonkichi waved his wing at the passing child before returning to his teammates. "And any updates from Kanda?" "Nothing yet, though he has promised." Masurao answered. "But we did see the recently installed viking ship. We'll also have to deal with Immigration matters, but I don't want to rush you too much." "And what of the flower pot? Is it complete yet?" Tonkichi continued asking. "Uh sure. It can be activated at any time." Masurao muttered nervously. "The plant is online, alright!" Eyepatch declared, but their partner was too busy trying to greet a pair of girls who didn't want to be near him. "Can you please focus on your real job and see the data I sent you?" the younger redhead groaned incredulously. "This is a real job too!" Tonkichi argued. "Don't you know that this park helps fun-" "Do you think we can make do without that pot?" Eyepatch asked his colleague as the latter closed the video on Tonkichi and Aiko overheard their conversation. "I doubt it." Masurao groaned in defeat. "If you can't activate the flower pot, any backup plans we come up with will be useless!" "Shut up, I know that!" Aiko's father exclaimed while his daughter went upstairs to look for money she made off her dating service in a jack-o-lantern situated in her closet. "Aiko." Masurao called for his daughter while she frantically closed the closet door. "What is it?" the girl asked and her dad just looked down for a moment. -- "So which one of us do you think Pacifica will kill first?" Stan asked while Tyrone helped put his wheelchair back together, Gwen examined the balloon that was once her cousin and Ford collected some leftover pool water that he put into a beaker. "Personally, I'm betting on you poindexter since you started all this by bringing Gwen here." "I started this?!" Ford shouted angrily. "You're the one who's fostered this animosity with Raharu for literally twenty years ever since she first left us!" Still fuming, the scientist examined the beaker he had just used along with four others containing radioactive waste, soy sauce, machine oil and a strand of pink hair. "And what are you up to?" Stan asked gazing at the beakers. "Just been experimenting on some substances to make a superhuman formula. Just got some pool water from here, soy sauce from Little Asia, radioactive sludge from Scuttlebutt Island, machine oil and some of Raharu's hair." "How is that going to do anything of substance you nerd?" Stanley hissed. "Well, other than probably give you a killer stomachache." "It's still highly experimental brother, so maybe there is a chance of a killer stomachache." Stanford agreed before the two great-grunkles gazed at Gwen holding the balloon in her arms. "S-so thirsty." a familiar voice croaked through Arnold's ring. "W-water." "Great Caesar's ghost, he's alive!" Tyrone exclaimed while his big sister took the balloon to the pool showers. "Hey, put on a smile sis! Arnold's still out there!" he tried to cheer her up when the showers seemingly activated on command. "I don't want to remember what happened this morning." Gwen monologued reminiscing to earlier that day in manga form. -- "Oh good morning Gwennie!" Wendy greeted her daughter coming down the stairs. "Check it out, Jinyu left us so many clean & unbroken plates." Gwen however wasn't interested. "Something the matter my little pecan pie?" her mother asked. "I'm just back to my normal self, that's all." "No, you seem eerily different." Wendy said concernedly just as her daughter stepped outside and she realized something. "I've...changed?" Gwen stuttered going back inside to find her mom packing some small boxes. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Just...have fun at the Shack little dude. And tell Stan I send my condolences." Wendy said trying to dodge the question. "And also tell Arnold his aunt says hey!" "Seriously mom, why are you packing? Are we going to move?!" Gwen shouted suddenly getting angry. "I thought Dad wanted to stay here to catalogue all the weird crap going on here and hang with Aunt Mabel!" Wendy frowned to herself over her daughter's feelings before turning back to her. "I think it's time we try something different. Y'know, I always wanted to live in Portland." That was when Gwen's beanie beeping began to coincide with her bursting into tears. -- Returning to the present, the shower stopped and the balloon began to inflate in Gwen's arms. "Hey, is this about losing Jinyu, Greatkle Stan getting mad at Haruko, or losing Arnold?" Tyrone tried to console the older girl. "I'm here for you if you wanna shoulder to cry on." The balloon reached its maximum size and drifted to the ceiling above the kids. Taking a poolstick, Gwen grabbed it and took it outside where it was properly able to ascend. And then, as her beanie began blinking once again, she made a miniature crater beneath her feet which horrified her present family. "Find, the others, now." Ford muttered. -- "Hi, I'm Mr. Dodo!" Tonkichi greeted the happy couples in his mascot costume, but none were paying attention. "Looks like everyone's having a great time, am I right? Hey! Boys and girls!" he exclaimed while a group of employees armed with firearms assembled behind him. "You're all just little brats who still don't have all your hair down there! Sorry, but you're all pretty much useless!" The employees then aimed their weapons at the unknowing parkgoers on command. "FIRE!" Tonkichi ordered. "Sorry, wrong voice." he realized clearing his throat and switching to a deeper voice. "FIRE!" The weapons launched a series of red beams that tagged everyone and making the same red force appear in their heads. "THIS IS WHY I DON'T TRUST THEME PARKS!" Ezra screamed in pain as he and Leia became victims as well. "If I don't make it out of here alive, I want you to know Leia that I really do love you, and I'm basically a tsundere!" "Ha, called it!" Leia chuckled before she went back to screaming and gazed terrified at her brother. "Ian, get the kids away and we'll all catch up later! You four are the only single ones here!" she shouted to Ian. "Right! Juan, Jorge, Abby, come with me!" "But where do we find them? Where do we find Mommy and Daddy?!" Abby cried as Jorge took her arm. "Not sure, but they're probably just as lost as all the other couples here are!" Juan exclaimed racing off. The energy collected from the visitors soon filled up all the big rides at the park and caused them to lift themselves out of their supports. "They started already?!" Masurao shouted watching the chaos from afar. "I have to warn the Pines." Tsukata declared gazing through his binoculars. The attractions gathered around the big castle at the center, including the viking ship that Imelda was trapped on, and formed into a giant robot. "Captain, I don't think we'll make it!" one of the employees shouted. "We've got to do it! No matter the cost, we'll show them all!" Tonkichi declared bravely as the castle bot faced the upright Medical Mechanica iron. "They may smooth out our brains, but they'll never smooth out our freedom! START THE ATTAAAAACK!" The castle robot launched everything it got at the giant iron, but nothing worked and the factory in turn blasted a giant laser that instantly burnt the opposing machine to cinders. -- Far above Earth, Arnold's inflated husk drifted out of the atmosphere and towards an Immigration Control Center satellite storing lost items. A mechanical hand snatched the balloon and tossed it down the chute to be scanned & later dumped into the old Gravity Falls junkyard which attracted the attention of a familiar-looking robot dog. "Well I'll be. Aren't you just the cutest little thing?" Older Man McGucket greeted the little mutt. "Hey I know you! You're that spindly johnny who followed the kids around!" The genius hillbilly scooped up some of the trash from the box it was dumped in, including Arnold's remains, and put it in a dog bowl for the canine machine to eat. "Eat up now little feller!" -- Back at the amusement park, Haruko was spectating the whole battle when she felt her stomach return to its normal size. "So they're still doin' it, huh?" she mumbled getting back to her entertainment when she saw a few familiar faces. "For the record, we already knew something was up long before you warned us!" Ford shouted to Kanda when he spotted Haruko. "Raharu! Can't believe I'm saying this, but we got a problem!" Along with the Stans, Tyrone, Dipper, Mabel, Wendy, Ian, Leia, Juan & Jorge, Abby, Ezra, Soos, Melody, a very angry Pacifica preparing to use a broken bottle as a shiv and Kanda was a now cybernetic Gwen glaring furiously at the Vespa Woman. "Lookin' good Gwennie!" Haruko complimented with a wolf whistle and a nosebleed. "You're really killing it!" Gwen didn't reply with her words, but instead with a gold battering ram launching from her robot arm. "Just so we can all reach a compromise, all of you are to blame for this!" Pacifica shouted tranquilly. "Whoa, hold on all y'all!" Haruko exclaimed avoiding the younger girl by jumping on the roller coaster tracks. "Stop it, I didn't do nothing wrong!" "BULL-FUDGING-SHIT RAHARU!" Stan cursed as Gwen followed his former partner preparing to use the other Mustang to help his great-great niece. "All I did was give you all a little nudge, reignited some old passions, helped you with your dreams, s'all!" "Give him back! Give Arnold back!" Gwen screamed continuously attempting to hit her. "Wah-ho! Guess the Pines still have quite a lot of fight in them!" Haruko exclaimed before she found Dipper, Mabel and Pacifica right behind her. "Give me back my son or else." Pacifica hissed arming herself with Jinyu's Jazzmaster. Before anyone of them could fight, Haruhara surfed away further up the coaster rails. "In the end, you're no different from the rest of us!" Gwen snarled leaping away from her family to give pursuit. "It's all because you're in love with that weird bird, right? You're just another girl stupidly in love!" "See, like I kept telling you Raharu! You can't force someone to love you!" Dipper agreed with his daughter. "Oh quit parroting Mason or I'll shove crackers down your throat to shut you up!" Haruko shouted to the Pines father before she noticed her bracelet starting to react to something amiss. "Huh?" "Uh, dudes!" Soos exclaimed gazing up at the reddening sky. "Is the multiverse going all kaput or am I thinking of some other cataclysmic event?" he asked cuing the others to look up as well. "No. Way." Ford & Kanda boomed in shock. Soon everybody important to the story gazed up at the sky and Haruko realized just who it was. "It's Atomsk." -- AT LAST, IT IS DONE! I started kinda late on this chapter, but it was all worth it to finally beat my deadline. What will become of the Pines family and friends? Will Haruko finally control Atomsk? Why does McGucket recognize that oddly familiar dog? Join us next time for the final chapter of Fooly Falls 2: Ride on Shooting Star and be sure to read my other works for more!

[mingimakesmetingly]

Sunflower

Genre: Hoseok x reader, college!au, fluff

Summary: You found yourself thinking about what things could’ve been and you wish you had a chance to live out the ‘what ifs’ only if the option presented itself. You feel as if you are in an endless loop of the same routine. You felt like you were at rock bottom until Hoseok enters your life again at the moment you needed it the most. 

Warnings: just a bunch of love for Hoseok.

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

Part 1.

If you could describe your life in one word, the first word that would come to your mind would be: simple. You woke up every morning exactly 3 minutes before your alarm would go off and you would start your day the same without missing a beat. You turn over to Jimin, brush your hand gently across his cheek, careful not to wake him because he works opposite shifts than you and sleeps during the day. Once you do that, you roll out of bed and make a beeline for the kitchen and you begin by making yourself breakfast and a cup of coffee. Once you have your cup of coffee made, you sit on the couch and scroll through your twitter feed, feeling connected to your friends for a brief moment before you have to pull yourself together to get ready for work. Your job didn’t let you have a social life. You were constantly swamped with editing and filming that you’ve lost touch with some of your closest friends. When they realized how busy you were, they never took the time to reach out to you to see how you were doing. The only constant in your life has been Jimin. He has remained and you were thankful for that. You still felt alone with the opposite schedules but as long as you woke up and he was sleeping next to you, life would be alright. 

You quietly gathered your things and got ready in under 15 minutes. You found a piece of paper and wrote a letter to Jimin hoping that he would have a good day and that you missed him. You count down the days when you two both have the day off together and pray that you two can spend at least some time together. You lock the door and head outside to the real world, feeling a rush of anxiety because you are unsure what the day will bring. You pull out your AirPods and turn on your playlist so you can feel as if your life is lead by a soundtrack generated just by you. Once you make it down the street and to the subway, you spot one single sunflower and it made you stop in your tracks. You wondered if you still had that sunflower patterned sundress that you used to wear almost weekly back in college. It was the one dress that made you feel noticed, the one time that you felt like every pair of eyes were on you when you entered the room. You wondered if the same feeling would present itself if you still had that dress. 

—————

“Y/n, we are going to be late to class if you don’t hurry up. I swear, you take so much time getting ready.” Ellie barged into the bathroom and grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste and started to brush her teeth.

“Ellie, why do you always use my stuff? Your shit is literally right in front of you all the time and what do you do? You go directly to mine.” You finished applying your red lipstick and did one final look over. You just bought a brand new dress for the first day of college. This was your 3rd year and you felt like you were in the college slump. You wanted to feel cute and you wanted people to know that you were cute. Ellie just rolled her eyes at you and gave you a thumbs up as she saw you criticizing yourself in the mirror. 

“Alright, lets go before we are actually late. You’re lucky we have the same schedule or else you would be shit out of luck.” Ellie grabbed your arm and yanked you out of the bathroom before you could change your mind completely. You and Ellie went to the campus coffee shop and that was the first moment when you felt noticed. It kind of felt strange because people were going out of their way to make you feel noticed. Ellie noticed the shift in your confidence and you saw her smiling brightly at you. 

“Stop Ellie, you’re making me feel weird.” You tugged at the bottom of your sunflower patterned sundress. 

“Y/n, you are fine. And not to mention, there is a guy waiting for his coffee down at the end of the bar and I don’t think he has taken his eyes off of you once.” 

You glanced over to the end of the bar and noticed there was a guy waiting there for his coffee but he wasn’t looking at you. You let your stare linger and for a brief moment, your eyes locked with him. He smiled at you and you tried to smile back but quickly looked at the menu. Ellie giggled beside you and walked up to the barista to order her drink, she looked back at you, motioning for you to join her. Once the order was placed, you made your way down to the end of the bar and found yourself relieved that the guy was now gone. You felt yourself relax and get into a small conversation with Ellie about your schedules. You guys didn’t have the same classes but you were both on campus the same time and thankfully on the same days. Just as your names were called out, the guy came out from the back room of the coffee shop and was walking towards you. He was lost in his phone and just as you grabbed your latte, he came into contact with you and next thing you knew, your latte was slipped over the front of your dress. 

“Fuck. I am so sorry!” the guy frantically ran and grabbed a handful of napkins. He ran over to you and handed you the napkins and you started to dab off the front of your dress. You slowly felt your confidence slip when you realized your dress was going to be stained with the espresso. The guy standing in front of you appeared to be in complete shock. He was running his fingers through hair. 

“Hey man, you really couldn’t just watch where you were going for like 2 seconds?” Ellie spat at him and you swore you saw venom making it’s way out of her mouth. You shook your head and threw the napkins into the trash.

“Ellie, it’s fine.” You grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the doors. You made eye contact with the guy again before you walked out of the building. You noticed the color in his face drained as soon as he realized what happened. You also noticed the emotion that displayed across his face was one that he never experienced often. 

“That fucking asshole.” Ellie kept saying as you guys made your way towards campus. You shook your head because this is just your luck. When one thing feels too right, something needs to happen to balance it out. 

[reddieaddict]

You’re Gonna Live Forever In Me (Part 2/4)

Prequel to Richie’s Eulogy

Official Cast

Part 1

A/N: Okay so, in this fic, Richie Is of hispanic and latin descent, speaks spanish fluently, and his full name is Ricardo Alonzo “Richie” Tozier. Why? Because I think the cast needs more cultural diversity and because I wrote this shit so I can do whatever the fuck I want. Haha. I hope you guys enjoy!

Oh and his parents names are Margarita “Maggie” Tozier and Rogelio Alonzo Tozier. OMG this is so extra hahaha.

Sorry if this is shit. I am aware the pacing is weird. I am an amateur writer, so like cut me some mf slack, bruh. 

Summary: It’s senior year and Eddie has began to notice Richie exhibiting strange behavior. He is worried he might be hiding something, but doesn’t know how to confront Richie about it without setting him off and making matters worse.

September 1994 

“EDDIE-BEAR!” Sonia Kaspbrak’s shrill whine pierced through the morning calm. “Can you come down here, please?” It was phrased as a question, but only masochist would take it as anything other than an order.

“Shiiit! What the fuck is she doing up so early?!” Eddie whispered-yelled as he shot up from comfort of his twin-sized bed and the warmth of Richie’s embrace.

“I don’t know, but can you fucking answer her before she decides to barge in here!?” Richie’s words were filled with panic, coordinating with the look he directed at his boyfriend. 

“COMING, MA! BE RIGHT DOWN!” The two teenagers would much rather face Pennywise all over again, than endure the shit storm that would ensue if Eddie’s mother caught Richie in his room. Usually Richie would have snuck out through Eddie’s window before Sonia woke up, but she threw their morning routine completely out of whack. “There is no point in sneaking out now, she’ll definitely see you through the kitchen window. Just stay here, be as quiet as you can, and if you hear her coming up the stairs, hide in the closet! I’ll be right back. . . hopefully.”

Richie nodded in agreement as Eddie made his way out of the bedroom, still far too groggy to be dealing with shit. “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Whatever, just hurry back!”

“Okay, I’ll try!” With that, Eddie closed the door behind him and made his way downstairs. His mind reverted to it’s pessimistic default, racing through the possible reasons why his mother would feel the need to speak to him. It was clear by her tone, this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. With each step he took, he braced himself mentally for what was surely bound to become a full blown argument. Once he finally arrived at the kitchen, where his mother stood leaning against the counter, her narrowed eyes and furrowed brow validated and exacerbated his fears. “Yes, Mommy?”

“Edward, would you care to explain what this is?” A bundle of papers were clenched in Sonia’s chubby claw, as she held it up beside her face. The second Eddie’s deep amber eyes glanced at them, he recognized them as his application for NYU. What perplexed him was how she managed to get ahold of it, being that it was hidden in his desk draw, just last night. Well, he wasn’t really perplexed, as it was pretty apparent that she had rummaged through his room and stumbled across it. He had always suspected she went through his things, but he always tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, THAT was a mistake. Her betrayal upset him none the less, which at this point, was stupid since this was typical behavior for his invasive mother. “You already know what it is, Ma! Why would you go through my things?!” 

“Don’t change the subject! I am your mother and this is MY house; if I feel like inspecting your room then I have every right to do so!” she argued, showing absolutely no remorse for her actions. If anything, she was proud. “What business do you have with this? We agreed you would attend a community college, so you could continue living home. A boy needs his mother, especially a boy as frail as you! New York is too far and too dangerous for such a delicate person, Eddie-Bear.” 

“I didn’t agree to anything!” Eddie’s entire face lit up in neon frustration. “You basically commanded I apply at a community college, and you and I both know its just to keep me firmly under your thumb! I am not weak or fragile, like you’d like me to believe. I don’t want to settle for a community college! I want to live my own life! I need to be my own person, separate from you, Ma!” Eddie was certain that at this point Richie could hear their entire argument from Eddie’s room, but in his current emotional state, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the dynamics of his words. 

“DO NOT speak to me in that tone! You and I are NOT equals and I wont stand for this type of insubordination! This type of behavior is clearly a result of you hanging around those delinquents you call friends. They are filling your head with all these crazy ideas! I KNEW this would happen if you kept associating yourself with those disgusting people, especially that filthy Tozier boy! He’s corrupting you!” Eddie flinched at the mentions of his boyfriend’s name. Sonia’s eyes began to well up with crocodile tears, as she geared up for her performance. “How could you even entertain the idea of leaving me, Eddie?! I have given you everything and this is how you repay me? How can you do this to me? I love you, Eddie-Bear, does that mean nothing to you?!” 

Eddie knew every step and every lyric of this song and dance by heart. His mother had always been a conniving, manipulative woman; and in Eddie’s youth, he might have fallen for her tactics, but now he refused to be so easily controlled. He loved his mother and if her tears were genuine he could have reacted differently, but he was fed up and Sonia dragging Richie into this only fueled the fire within him. “Do you really believe I am so incapable of having my own thoughts and dreams? This has nothing to do with Richie or any of my friends! It ME! Its what I want; and it’s not fair for you to speak of them in that manner! I love you, Ma, but you need to let me be. Whether you like it or not, I am going to apply and potentially attend any university I please, I going to keep hanging out with my friends, and I am going to keep seeing Richie, MY BOYFRIEND! I love him, Ma! Nothing you say and no amount of fake tears is going to change that!” 

“There you go using that word, again! ‘Love!’ Eddie, lets not get into this again. You don’t love him. You can’t. You’re just confused, is all.” Sonia was aware of her son’s sexuality and relationship, but refused to accept, or even acknowledge it. “Eddie-Bear! I love you. MY love for you is real, not like the perverted friendship between you and that disgusting faggot. We can get you the help you need, like we talked about; and maybe when you’re better you can meet a nice girl and forget all about him.” 

Tears began to collect in Eddie’s waterline, threatening to run at any moment, but he willed them to stop. He REFUSED to give his mother the satisfaction of seeing him cry! He was just so exhausted. It was the same argument, again and again. The same shit being thrown at him! Why can’t she just love him as he is? Why does she have to be so cruel? He knew those questions were destined to remain unanswered. He needed to get away before his disappointment and heartache decided to rebel and stream down his crimson cheeks. “Mommy, I-I-I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired. I have to get ready for school. I love you and um. . . I-I-I hope you have a nice day at work.” Crestfallen, his voice came almost a whisper.

“Very well, but don’t think this is over! I am only letting this go because I’m running late for work, but you can expect to continue this conversation once I get home.” Eddie didn’t care anymore, he just wanted this to end. He just wanted to get back to Richie. “Yes, Mommy.” 

Eddie turned to head upstairs, but before he could take his first step his mother decided to add insult to injury. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Eddie-Bear?” She leaned forward, expectantly. Reaching up on his tiptoes, Eddie placed the most abrupt kiss possible onto her cheek. Disgusted with his actions, he ran upstairs, allowing his tears to finally flood down his face, knowing he was safe and out of her sight. 

He stormed into his room, slammed and locked the door, and silently waited until he heard the front door open and shut, a sonic indicator of his mother’s departure. Once he was certain she had left for work, he turned to face Richie, relieved it was finally safe for them to speak and move about his home freely. He expected to be immediately draped in Richie’s consoling embrace, but was surprised to find him sitting at the edge of his bed with an unreadable, stoic expression plastered on his face. 

“I’m sorry you had to listen to that. My mom is just so infuriating!” Eddie mumbled in between sniffles, but got no response from his boyfriend. “Richie, are you okay?” Nothing. Worried, Eddie walked over and kneeled himself in front of Richie’s frozen physique. “Baby, whats wrong? Was it what my mom said?” 

Richie’s gaze remained forward, oblivious to Eddie’s presence. His eyes seemed to be unfocused and glazed over, seeing right through his boyfriend. His rosebud lips were pursed into a thin line, while his face showed subtle but evident signs of tension. It was as though his body was there, but Richie was lost somewhere within it. He seemed trapped in some distant thought, disassociated and unaware of the real world, and not too dissimilar to how the losers had found Beverly in the sewers all those summers ago, only without the milky eyes. Not wanting to think about such a horrible memory any further, he shook off the thought and continued to try reaching Richie. “Rich, this isn’t funny! What’s wrong?! Why won’t you answer me!? Are you mad at me?” With each unanswered question, panic began to further burrow itself into Eddie’s thoughts. Why wasn’t Richie saying anything? What the fuck was going on? “Stop doing this, asshole! I am getting scared! Wake the fuck up!” Still no response, just the same blank expression taunting him. In an act of desperation, he latched on to Richie’s shoulders and proceeded to shake him. His eyes became iridescent as the sunbeams that leaked through the blinds illuminated the tears that formed around them. “Richie, I don’t know what do. I can’t-I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need! Just tell me what to do, baby! Let me in!!” Still, there was nothing. Eddie was bawling uncontrollably, imploring him to come back to him. 

 Taking inspiration from Ben and Bev, he gently, but firmly placed his hands on each side of Richie’s face and willed their lips to collide, hoping a kiss would have the same effect on him as it had on her. Upon impact, Eddie felt him gasp beneath his kiss. He pulled away, only to see Richie’s eyes had widened in shock, his shoulders had risen tensely, and his fist were balled up on his lap, clenching onto the plush fabric of his pajamas. They sat there, exchanging confused looks, each waiting for the other to break the tension. 

“Eddie!” A wide, cheerful smile began to replace the bewildered shock that clothed his face, as he gleefully leaned forward to kiss Eddie once more. “Hey, Eddie Spaghetti! Um. . . We should get ready for school, yeah? If we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna be late and we both know how much you hate being tardy!” He shot up and walked over to the spare drawer Eddie kept for him and began to get dressed, leaving Eddie kneeling in a pool of disorientation. What the hell is going on? 

“NO! I know what you’re doing! Don’t try to play it off like nothing happened! What the fuck was that!?” 

“Uh, I don’t know. I guess I was just tired. It’s not like I got a lot of sleep last night with all the sexy-fun-time we had last night, not that I am complaining, baby boy.” Richie winked smugly, a blatant attempt to deescalate the situation. 

“You-You were catatonic! I kept calling your name, but you wouldn’t answer me! I shook you! It was like you were somewhere else! Like Bev had been. . . “ Eddie lifted himself from the floor and sat himself on the edge of his bed, in the same spot Richie had been moments ago. His cheeks was tear stained and red as a tomato. 

“Eds, seriously it was nothing. Lets not make a thing out of this and just get ready for school, yeah?” Richie was becoming noticeably agitated, wanting to drop the conversation.

“Richie, that was terrifying and you just want to let this go? Has this happened before? Did it have something to do with what my mom sai-” 

“FUCK, EDS! CAN YOU FUCKING LET IT GO!? NOTHING IS WRONG! I AM FUCKING FINE! WHY DO YOU WANNA START SHIT OVER SOMETHING SO FUCKING STUPID?!” Richie’s enraged shouting startled Eddie, leaving him in dumbfounded silence. In that moment, he was especially relieved his mother wasn’t around, as she most certainly would have heard them at this point. He knew there was no point in pressing the topic any further; it would get them nowhere and only make matters worse. When Richie got like this, there was no reasoning with him. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Quietly he began to dress himself, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He would never admit it out lout, but Richie’s actions had hurt him deeply. It wasn’t fair! After being put through something so traumatizing, how could Richie yelled at him like that just for showing concern? Whatever. It had been enough arguing for one morning, and Eddie just wanted silence for a while. 

Guilt began to overwhelm Richie, realizing what he had done was inexcusable. He made his way over to his petite lover and wrapped his gangly arms around his shoulders, pulling him into his chest. “I’m-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Just. . . please believe me when I tell you everything is fine, okay? I promise. You have nothing to worry about. I’m sorry. Are we okay?”

“Mmhmm. Yeah.” Eddie mumbled into Richie’s chest, before pulling away and offered him a weak smile as reassurance, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, of course. Everything’s cool.”

“Awesome! Lets get going, Spaghetti-Head!” A big toothy grin spread across Richie’s face as he took Eddie’s hand and pulled him into the bathroom. Side by side, they brushed their teeth and washed their faces, just as they did every morning. All the while, an uneasy, thick silence hovered around them, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid. 

The rest of the morning, Eddie replayed everything in his head over and over, especially on the drive to school. He would steal glances at Richie as he drove and sang along to the radio at the top of his lungs. He was acting just as he did any other morning. Nothing was different. It was unsettling in it’s normalcy. He played it off so effortlessly and convincingly. It made Eddie wonder, what else could Richie potentially be hiding? It could be anything and he would never have a clue. It was a terrible thought to have and it made him feel guilty for even allowing it to cross his mind. He trusted Richie, he really did. This morning had just left Eddie confused. 

Aware of Eddie’s pensive anxiety, Richie reached across the center console and took Eddie’s dainty hand in his calloused one, weaving their fingers together. With a gentle, warm smile, his eyes caressed his boyfriend’s soft, delicate face. “Hey. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Eddie reciprocated Richie’s smile and gave his hand a playful squeeze, signaling everything was truly alright. It wasn’t thought. Eddie knew better than to allow himself to believe so. Whatever it was that Richie was going through, it was clear this was just the beginning.  

@@bitchardtozier

@bloggingandstruggling

@11stayradstaybad11