#the romance part of them felt very distinctly young and very much ��he was a boy she was a girl” to me

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[barnacles34]

Mr. Rager, Can I Tag Along?

Part I

Synopsis: Mr. Rager finally joins the birds in the skies. Dedicated to the song Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi.

tags: 8k, smut, so much romance, fluff, addiction, recovery, virgin Ryujin

Ryujin x Male OC

CHAPTER I: 

You might hear the birds singing flying around,

You never see them too long on the ground,

You wanna be one of them, yeah.

Cocaine toxicity. Solipsism finally vindicated. He was going to die—truly. That cloudy feeling of mind and body separation, as if the ribbons of heaven had finally let him grasp their reins, swaying him toward some version of forever happiness.

Mmmm.

He thought he’d care about dying right there in the nightclub. The shame of weakness, of collapsing with foam at the corners of his mouth—he’d truly thought he’d care more about it. But now, one worry gone, he was worriless. Life had its charm, but it wasn’t for him; he’d been walking on sticks until the very end. Now, the floor felt so right. His body sank into it, slipping slowly, as if turning to slime and merging back into the earth.

Each second, his grip over his fingers weakened, a constant slackening with every passing moment. His eyelids grew heavy, and the outline of the nightclub around him blurred. He couldn’t control his fingers anymore; he was truly sinking. When would heaven begin? When would this fantasy end? Mind-death, a complete and utter submission to the lifeless realm - he’d never recover.

The faint tingling of powder lingered at the rim of his nostrils. At least, he’d had a good high - a nice ecstasy haze along the fine columbian - before dying. Finally, his eyes closed, nerves shutting down, and he felt free, unchained from his body like a ghost.

"Stay with me!" A voice, deep and feminine.

Hm?

"Don’t close your eyes!" Again, that voice.

What?

Whatever. It was too late anyway.

"How many fingers am I holding up!?" Still images flashed through his fading consciousness, fingers held up just before his face, barely visible, though he couldn’t tell how many anyway.

"What’s your name?" He couldn't place a face on the voice, but it was distinctly feminine - separate from his inner voices.

They were trying so hard. If they’d responded any faster, he might’ve been forced to go back - to life.

Go back…

Did he want to go back?

Hell.

Mr. Rager - that’d be a good name, he thought. If he were reborn, given another chance, that’s who he’d be.

"Mr. Rager!"

What? Could the paramedic hear him?

"Mr. Rager! Come back! Fight back! Don’t go off on an adventure!"

—

Flash. Eyes open. He was alive - he was… alive.

"Mr. Rager. You’re okay; don’t make any sudden movements." A soft, padded palm rubbed his forehead with a gentle, compassionate touch. He looked up. A young woman, petite yet strikingly beautiful, looked back at him.

"What’s your name?" he asked, despite himself. Still a bachelor, after all. "My name is Ryujin." She was dressed in a way he couldn’t quite place, something different from what he expected. "I’m part-time, by the way," she said, noticing his confused look. "That’s why my clothes are different." He rubbed his forehead; it was pounding, but with a distant sort of ache, incongruous with a proper headache. “What the hell happened?” he asked, properly confused. “You went into shock, someone already administered naloxone to your body, thankfully; otherwise, you would’ve-” she abruptly bit her tongue, preventing herself from talking about a potentially sensitive topic that Mr. Rager was subjected to.

“And, by the way, this was my first call ever.” A subtle transition, a conversation starter.

He blinks, trying to relieve the soreness in his eyes, “God, I’m sorry, this is such a fucking shitty situation.” And the way he said it, that emotional self-deprecation.

She might’ve realized something, “Were you trying to commit suicide?” She asked, very bluntly.

“It’s none of your business. Thank you for the hospitality, I’ll be taking my leave now.” When he tried to take the IV fastened to his vein, Ryujin softly, with the firmest grip and tone, said, “You’re going nowhere.”

All Mr. Rager could think of were cuss words, cusses against the world, against destiny to be alive for the foreseeable future. 

A resolve to suicide is the moment the mind, at the cusp of mind-death, truly enters a dead mind. The inescapable rock-bottom, a self-fulfilling prophecy where one feels truly and utterly fastened to the floor - inhibited of all its freedoms, its happiness.

–

Mr. Rager, or better known as Min amongst his peers - not friends. At the hands of his peers, Mr. Rager sustained a traumatic head injury that tormented him with chronic migraines right from the start of it all - the drunk brawl, that he decisively lost in, at just the age of 17. 

See, Mr. Rager had not a single family member except his aunt who embezzled all the funds Rager’s parents left for him. And the last time he tried to talk with his aunt was when he sustained a knife wound on his forearm from her - a deeply tormented individual, she was locked in a home-made cage for most of her adolescence.

And, unfortunately, there’s not a single time where his life is measurably better than the year before - only getting worse until the overdose.

–

Ryujin didn’t inquire further, she was hoping somewhat that her presence might help Mr. Rager. She sat next to Mr. Rager, her hand still on the side of the hospital bed, feeling its soft fabric. Mr. Rager, still irritated, asked, “Why are you still here?”

“Cause I want to be here.” A joking undertone, perfectly acted out. In truth, Ryujin pitied him so much, her first patient, a successful businessman who tried to kill himself at the age of 29 - now that’s fucking rare, usually the cases accelerate at the age  of 50 or so.

“Why’d you take this job?” 

She replied, “Artistic inspiration.”

“Hm, fantastic idea by the way.” He was sincere about it.

“Thanks.”

“Do you have enough material now?”

“Oh. Plenty. Plenty enough.” She giggled.

“What if I don’t consent to my likeness being represented in your art - medium, whatever?”

“Mr. Rager, don’t you worry, I’ll refurbish it so much that it'll be closer to the likeness of… let’s say… me.”

“Quit the teasing,” he stated, straight to the point.

“I don’t want to.” She replied back, he was one of the few people where teasing seemed to genuinely improve their immediate well-being, and for someone like Mr. Rager - it’s huge. And, he was finally laying, no longer trying to plan an escape, on the flatbed, staring at the ceiling, observing the music player. “By the way, is this music player provided to everyone recovering?” He’s not one to mix words.

“You’re pretty smart.” She replies, a confirmation, fiddling with her torn skirt, presumably from rushing into her para-medic role.

“That’s what I owe you for?”

“Mhm.” Still fiddling, a pouty sort of face formed on her face, it was her favorite skirt.

“How do you want the debt paid?” He inquired, he’s one to never ignore the nascent attachment to his favorite items - thus, he understands: the exorbitant value placed on favoritisms. “I dunno. You’ll still owe me. Big Time.” She stared back, this time, their eyes entwined with a sort of friendliness that is almost, just almost, ethically wrong in hospital circumstances.

“Very well then.” His tired eyes kept pulling on his eyelids. Genuine sleep had seemed to completely take over his body, and yeah, that’s all the meds he’s under: naloxone, antibiotics, withdrawal medicine, and a lovely dose of morphine. “I feel new.” His voice was dozing as his intra-reflection began. As he nodded off, he felt the faint grasp of her hand, so small, yet filled with so much conviction. He’s tripping balls, but she’ll never tell him - presence was what was required of her.

And that was all the validation he needed: for sleep.

As Mr. Rager finally slept; Ryujin stayed for a bit, or about 4 hours. And, still, she’s sitting beside him - making sure that he sleeps and recovers. Just from the chance encounter of a paramedic call, she felt the compulsion to guard Mr. Rager. Poor girl, if she’d seen a dead body for her first call then she’d vomit a week’s worth onto the ground. 

After another hour, Ryujin finally decided it was time to leave. She wrote a thoughtful letter, of things that needn’t be said - obviously. But she also left a partition, finagling a creative way to demand what she’s owed. After, she let her boss know that she quit on the spot, that she’d also come back to the same room - a reservation of some sort. She left, leaving the stale, minty air of the hospital with a melancholy that wouldn’t be fixed until she saw him again. Because, when she was writing the note, she wished she asked more questions - Mr. Rager just seemed to lead on the conversation to a charming degree, that other circumstances were of lesser importance. 

Ryujin, outside, breathing in the fresh air of the summer, caught the last bus of the route. This route, passing by the road that she was taken on inside the paramedic van, also led to her apartment. Unfortunately, it’s an old, decrepit apartment where only the rudest sort of parties happen. Half the time, the floor above is vibrating thump, thump, thump from the heavy jumps, or the lower floor blasts some of the most needlessly, eardrum-breaking music.

At least she has solitude. Finally free from the dictates of those she didn’t get along with, finally separated from her friends who’d get too boring if she hung along for too long. Now, her family is charming - easy to get along with; now, her friends are always interesting - fascinating to be around. Distance is a marinating technique, or whatever.

Ryujin, the charming shut-in, finally arrived at her place, and began on her art piece. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to list that’s positive about her obsession with art. It’s the time where she vents her frustrations of being a failed trainee - rather, a placement that was restricted from becoming an idol; wallows in the misery of the color tone she loves the most: dark; and, to top it off, she gets bored of visual arts when she tries to make money off of it. Some dastardly sign from the man above, “Your hobby will stay a hobby.”

All that displeasure would be the paint upon the canvas: checkmate, mental turmoil turns to art, she thought. Swipe and swipe, the dirty colored watercolor painting had nearly no form worth thinking - almost entirely brown from the intermixing of the wet, damp color. Then the second layer, an apparition of segmentation, a deeper color, colors that entice and bite back. Then the specificity of the lines, things left unspecified were on purpose. But, this recurring thought, this pounding idea, that she left a man that fell in the depths of the void alone - really began digging into her soul. This thought unto Ad Nauseam brought her nausea that really can’t be eliminated with the will of her conscience. “I should’ve stayed, I should’ve stayed” - the recurrent thoughts that never seemed to leave her. With a sad howl, she fell to the side, crying deep, ruining all her pretty into the sheets - a room so small that her chair was the bed.

–

“I’m still alive”, Mr. Rager repeated this to himself over and over after waking up - not sure whether to feel some sort of rendered triumph. For a moment, he was truly tip-toed in the void, almost encased into the endless hope, of unrendered reality and a horrible sadness; now, he’s alive, breathing, with a full control of his body.

Nothing had caught his attention, the environment, whether there were people around him or not, only life as he knew it - coursing through his veins. The feeble thumps of his chest - his heart, still persevering.

–

Several days of this sort of morning locomotion went on, it was also the time that Ryujin came over. Poor girl brought over new confectionaries - mostly of her favorites; brought lunch boxes she herself fully funded; found ways to amuse herself and Mr. Rager during the listless hours.

“What’s the interest rate of this debt? Surely, a person like me, fastened to the bed with belts (a pure exaggeration), wouldn’t be extorted with dubious rates?”

“Mr. Rager, you’ll have to declare bankruptcy by the end of it, seriously. You owe me. Big time.” She joked back, of course, she didn’t really expect much. By her own goodwill, Ryujin was looking after Mr. Rager, an exchange of her goodwill would almost sour all her community service - again, a flash of her trait, a blithely weak trait in modern society, a subtle revulsion to being paid for her services.

Mr. Rager, however, was the opposite. Rogue-man, Rager man, Mr. Rager, a name that fits him so closely, from the early onset of consciousness, an unruly rebelliousness coursing through his veins at all times, with flourish - with the crimonest red. He’s done it all, disowning his billionaire politician parents, who still relish the thought of meeting Mr. Rager one day; losing all his wealth, gaining it back the next; then, enjoying it all on a single roulette wheel, then forgiving the casino when they couldn’t pay his winnings; and then dying for a few seconds, under the angelic influence of the so-called hellish “nose candy”. But for his closure, his preference—he’s pastless, futureless.

That’s the dilemma, Ryujin hadn’t learned a single thing about Mr. Rager that was worth pulling a strand on. Contradictory statements only confounded her further, and a reply to her joke - of bankruptcy and debt - he’d say, “I’d have to find it buried somewhere.” And she’d think, “What? What the hell? What’s buried? What’s ‘it’ ?”

Often the thought was interrupted, never fully leaving its conception—Mr. Rager wanted to keep it that way. Ryujin, often on her phone, never leaving her eyes off Mr. Rager, spent her delicate hours in the breezy, spacious hospital room.

Mr. Rager, of course alarmed, would ask - every day - “why do you visit so often?”

Then, Ryujin, really not knowing an answer, would default to a bland answer of so and so - real political talk. This procession, of nothing happening, stretching on for days was repetitive. It also made them happy. She’d put on her makeup, with her artsy hands - quick and fast. The rapidity with which she approached this situation, so contrary to all the aspects of her life - seemingly, Mr. Rager had brought vitality to Ryujin.

And in comes the day of withdrawal, the hospital withdrawal - where Ryujin and Mr. Rager resided comfortably. The door clicked softly as the nurse entered; simultaneously, Ryujin and Mr. Rager’s hairs stood up - what are they alarmed for? It was not, the nurse, no, absolutely not, the nurse was jovial, happy, thinking that she was delivering happy news.

She didn’t know that both of them found their only sources of joy inside this hospital. The nurse thought that she was relieving them of a most ludicrous bill, by ending it as soon as possible - as this hospital in particular, charges in hours, yeah, real dystopian shit. And so, it was a surprise when both the people had an almost disdainful stare towards her - it’s just my imagination, the nurse thought.

–

“Are you sure? You know overdraft schedules cost significantly more?” The nurse asked, confused, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, I just want to stay here for one more day.” Mr. Rager replied.

“But, but - do you have any ailment? That’ll bring down the price.” 

“None at all, I just want to stay here for another day more.”

Rich people are nuts, the nurse, still, complied, letting him stay, leaving him for another day.

–

As the day progressed, Ryujin came back, again, in the evening. “Your schedule, how do you do that?” Mr. Rager was genuinely impressed with how Ryujin utilized her time, imagine his surprise when she just says, “I just skipped some stuff.”

“Alright, well, thanks for coming.” And that got Ryujin thinking, was this his first time thanking me? Which, in fact, did make her day. And, she wouldn’t dare challenge this once in a lifetime behavior - that’d be a quick way for that behavior to be stashed away, forever. Again, as soon as she entered, the atmosphere changed. 

It’s about damn time they understand the euphoric peacefulness they rouse for each other. And, today was one of the moments where Mr. Rager gives a slight glimpse of his life - the confounding ones that really led to nowhere. “I think my aversion to alcohol comes from the fact that I had kids with this chick, married this chick, bought a mansion for us to live in - and, only too late, realized that it was really the alcohol that talked.”

Ryujin’s heart sank, “what? You have kids?”

“Not anymore, don’t have custody over them anymore.” He was so unbothered, utterly unbothered.

“I’m sorry for asking, just curious—what happened to them?”

He chuckled, “No more personal questions after this, alright?”

She nodded, her beady eyes on full alert. The pillow that she borrowed from the hospital bed, on her lap. She was intently listening from the comfortable armchair. 

“I let her take the kids, she didn’t ask for alimony or anything like that—just that, on the condition that I don’t contact them ever again.” He stared at the ceiling, sorting some of it out, not sure if it was some traumatic experience. Nevertheless, he continued, “she found me unbearable after a while, and I found her unbearable as well. I was never there too: too busy with money. She probably didn’t chase after alimony because she already had a sweetheart - with money - to get back to.” With so much ease, as if he’d been through too many lifetimes - too many he can remember.

“Oh,” that’s it, that’s all the reaction she can give.

“Oh, what’s with that reaction?” He chuckled.

“I-I’msorryIdon’treallyknow-” she paused, “Hey! You’re being so annoying today.”

“Sometimes, a flipped script - like teaser gets teased - leads to masterpieces.”

“Any examples?”

“Nah, I just made it up.”

From then on, the conversations continued; the deep introspective pauses continued, listlessly; and both began to feel the drowsy effect of the combination of warm light and black-out curtains.

And a tired Mr. Rager loves beauty. 

“Ryujin.”

“Hm?” She looked back, staring at him with her doe eyes.

“You’re like marijuana.” One can say he has a way with words.

“What?” Her brows stitched in confusion.

“You’re fucking amazing to have around. But, I swore to never, nev-” He fell into a deep sleep, so contrary to his habits: he’s never fallen asleep with his own mind’s permission.

Her doe-like eyes opened farther open. Her heart began beating listlessly, skipping beats. I’ve got to leave, before I-. Yet she magneted closer to the bed, where Mr. Rager slept so peacefully. Did I do that? He’s always complaining about sleeping, yet- yet he slept so easily. She was making up all sorts of situations, scenarios, theories - none of them healthy for the mind.

And, before she knew it, under the bright moonlight radiating into the room, gentle shadows across his face, she leaned closer, letting her soft lips touch the peak of his cheekbone, causing shivers across her spine, and she thought fuck, fuck, I’m really doing it - and when that wasn’t enough - then his forehead, feeling the warmth radiating from his forehead on her lips. But no more, that’d be too much, too much.

Under her own shame, her bright flush cheeks, her dilated pupils, twin pools of dark moons: she quickly left the room, carrying all her stuff such that it’d be guaranteed to fall in the middle of the hallway, a real mess she made of herself.

CHAPTER II: 

Keep movin' forward, keep movin' forward

I'm so-I'm so reborn, I'm movin' forward

Along the way home, the realization washed over her like a molotov flame - its gentle but fiery shimmer covering the entirety of her body. And the way her heart pumped, any performative act she could do to stop it was useless - ultimately doing nothing, nada, zilch. The sound of his roaring laughter from her jokes, the curve of his smile, the messy stubble, god, she was really losing it inside the bus. Her every thought, motion, every constriction of her body - pulse and all - was consumed by him. Her legs rubbed together desperately, and the slightest, faintest moan left her quivering lips as she let her imagination go wild. 

And the fact that… that an elderly lady was behind her, judging her provocative movements, just nudged her on further - full on deviant shit.

As soon as she’d be home, she’d have a towel under her.

–

Fortunately, past the hospital departure, they wanted to see each other again - platonically. However, it’s been days, and though that may seem quite short, they’ve never been separated for more than 12 hours. 

And these days, these listlessly long days, let Ryujin know of her sympathetic entanglement, and, seemingly intensifying it. Ryujin, with her sore body, stared at Mr. Rager’s phone number on her phone - the curves of the numbers kept reminding her of everything she thought about days before (the curves of the numbers some dubious correlation with Mr. Rager). She’s about to do it again, two fingers, knuckle-deep, into her folds until she’s a drooling mess on the bed. She was already a mess to begin with, a crook in her neck, half her bed unmade, sleep-deprived.

That isn’t to say that Mr. Rager wasn’t just as affected. He never succumbed to the pleasure of the hand, but the dreams, the wistful dreams. Imagining her close smile against him, moaning soft and goading phrases right into his ear - melodiously erotic. Her soft palms against his broad back, pressing deep - trying her best to not scratch up his back. You’re fucking me so good, mm- she’s whimpering, right on your ear, fuck, shivers throughout. Then, halt. It’s the fucking alarm.

Both awake, going through their groggy morning routines to finally meet again. Would it be as magical as it was in the hospital? Would it ever be so calm?

–

The time to meet was approaching quickly. Ryujin got ready, her perfect face, judiciously given with all her perfect talents, was colored with minimal effort, any more and she’d show off her inexperience with makeup - Mr. Rager would’ve lost it all regardless. Because, she was dressed in this tight dress, the type of dress that a girl like her deserves, expensive, ornate, sexy; but, she was a special case, she’d never worn something so ornate and so revealing, and the mirror would reflect a little doe desperately pulling on the hems that revealed her taut thick thighs, the cusp of her petite bosom, and any effort to cover was an ultimately futile effort, this was something she had come to terms with, before leaving her small studio.

And, as if she were in a Wong-Kar Wai movie, she entered the bus: all glammed out in a shitty environment. And the nervous eyes in the bus quickly looked away, intimidated heavily; still, some passengers hoped that they could get a glimpse with the spasm of their pupils to her direction - that’s how good she looked.

She sat down mindfully, crossing her legs - alarmingly aware of the stares. Her face adopted a natural blush - a face too beautiful to hide. Her eyes, set beneath her delicately arched eyebrows, stared at the reflection of herself from the wide glass. She’d never be able to understand her own beauty, too often enveloped in imposter syndrome, and the only person, Mr. Rager, would be the one, who could tell her the beauty of her cascading black hair; her large eyes, accentuated by a deep-set gaze; the beauty with which she carried herself, awkward, yet enigmatically, always, the most beautiful person in the room.

Mr. Rager, gaunt from the opioids, still looked herculean, a fitful combination that fit any clothing piece. With an androgynous face that was covered with sharp eyebrows, dark under eyes, high cheek-bones, and a sort of asymmetrical face that was almost better than the conventional symmetry: in summary, he was someone you couldn’t miss. This inherited comeliness comes with its risks, from the ease of life to the women, things that Mr. Rager succumbed to in violent fashion. Other than that, his preparation was pretty rapid, hopping into his entirely dark-tinted - for obvious reasons - car and set off into the gentle night.

Ryujin landed at the closest bus point to the meeting point. Her dress was unsuited for the weather, and her body began going frigid under a chilly summer day. That’s until a black car, a mercedes s-class, stopped ahead of her. It was nothing to be worried about, she’d just pass by it, acting as if she didn’t see it. However, the figure that exited the car was all too familiar: Mr. Rager.

“Ryujin.” Mr. Rager took a look, scanning her body - making it all too obvious with his pupils - instantly realized why he’s been thinking constantly about her - she’s just the most beautiful person.

And Ryujin, the way her knees slightly folded from seeing Mr. Rager, a slight spasm in her joints - she really missed him. And her hands crossed together between her loins, her eyes opened slightly larger.

“Don’t be so nervous.” He chuckled, that chuckle, that deep chuckle - Ryujin could feel the heat in her core. “Come in, you still have a long way to go,” she gladly accepted, entering into the car: feeling the soft seats, the fragrance of the unusual smell of vanilla and sandalwood (in a car?), and the overwhelming luxury around her surroundings.

“Be sure to dial the temperature or dial whatever you need, I’m sure you were pretty cold outside.” Mr. Rager said, aware of how Ryujin is not one to engage in something without permission - only if he knew what she’d done, the moment before she left, that day. However as he talked, all Ryujin could respond with was a chuckle, she was too focused on how the sentence sounded, how his eyes placed on her face, and occasionally, how it landed on her chest. And that was just the pinnacle for her.

He couldn't stop his gaze, this fermentation of a pending calamity was bounding closer and closer, and thrilled both parties to no end - they couldn’t even hide their own temptations behind the screen of a platonic hang out. By the seconds, the passing seconds, they got bolder, he got bolder. He let his eyes wander far down, her creamy white legs, her meticulous maintenance of it all. And Ryujin was wallowing in it all, his sharp gaze made her feel warmer, wetter - enticing her to dial down the temperature, a contrast from when she was so cold outside.

Still, they’d say nothing, despite it all. The silent hum of the tire scraping against the asphalt was all the credence, the distraction, they were allowed. The rest was this endorphin-filled, endorphin-crazed environment where both of them knew that they were pushing too quickly, given the fact that this companionship began from a suicide attempt.

Still, there’s this slip of time, where they could, possibly, love each other. Though, before these exponential entropic forces caused all sorts of calamity, they arrived at the spot. This run-down complex, that hid a quaint restaurant with private rooms, was a source of nostalgia for Mr. Rager. Ryujin followed, climbing the stairs, ascending just behind him, pulling down on her dress, sticking her thighs together as she climbed (a natural precaution). The restaurant was exactly that, quaint. They entered one of the tight-fitting cubicles, where they sat across from each other, a small sitting-table separated their bodies - unfortunately.

“Don’t be too worried about this restaurant, it may be run down, but it’s a great experience.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not worried about that, I frequent far more run down establishments than this.” As the words left her tongue, Ryujin cringed, frequent? What am I? A prostitute? Her eyebrows knitted.

“Relax Ryujin,” he chuckled, “enjoy yourself, I’ll pay for it all.”

“That’s the first step to the debt?” Ryujin grinned, loosening, gaining her natural confidence.

“Perhaps. Come on, go crazy.” There it is, that nice toothy grin, her cheeks ripple into some sort of whiskers - god, he’d do anything for that, again and again. 

The dishes came, oily dishes full of food, and Ryujin’s eyes glazed in excitement. After a brief, too quick, moment of eating, both of them leaned back - absolutely full.

“You got a bird’s stomach for your ambition, Ryujin.”

“And you’re a head taller than me, but you’re leaning as well!”

“Good point.” He chuckled, fighting indigestion through it.

“I don’t even like oily food.”

“Me too.”

This time, a collaborative laugh.

Mr. Rager paid the meager bill, leaving all the food to rot on the table - the plight of abundance.

–

“Anything you want to do today?” Mr. Rager asked, putting on his seatbelt.

“It’s really late, I really wanted to punish your wallet, you played your cards right going out so late..” Ryujin relaxed into the seat, fully comfortable, in-tune.

“Well, if you don’t have any plans. Mind if I go the reservation for us?”

“What reservation?”

“That’d ruin the surprise, Ryujin.” The ambient sound of the tires against the ground in combination with the dark night - the darkest night before morning - was an even more intense atmosphere.

This peaceful atmosphere, intense, yet peaceful, again, just like the hospital visits. This interesting continuation of happiness, so foreign to his life, was something that he could get used to. His forearm pressed against the storage compartment, letting his hand spill over; his other arm was loosely steering, as loose as the gentle dark night. 

As he trailed the road, occasional peeks at Ryujin showed her transition to sleep: drowsy eyelids that infrequently close for periods of time, then, longer periods, then, sleep. 

Who was this angel? This angel that wrought Mr. Rager all manners of hope, of happiness, of reflection. If he hadn’t been so stubborn about his affliction towards personal information, maybe, just maybe he’d understand her more, this girl - so beautifully clad in a flowery dress.

Is this love, this elusive feeling? How could it be so cruel? So cruel as to bring it to me at a time so random, and so heavily…

Again, he forgot his bad habit: speaking his thoughts out loud.

He realized too late, and he could feel her large eyes staring at him, confused. 

Yet, and yet, he felt the gentle warmth of another palm on his forearm - a reassuring grip.

“Min, I love you too.”

CHAPTER III: No Longer Mr. Rager

I want to kiss you on your space below your navalette

The place you keep so neat, so moist like a towelette

Ryujin, her beautifully beady eyes looked at you, as she lifted your forearm, planting little kisses all over it.

“Oh Ryujin.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that, Min.” A statement that left her lips as she continued worshiping his forearm.

Jesus, this woman.

He pulls into the closest parking spot, giving not a single fuck that there were a few cars there - all likely empty, anyway.

And, with all pretenses and courtesy removed, the forearm that was so judiciously worshiped, wrapped around her nape, pulling her into a searing kiss. That deep moan, that accepting moan as his mouth opened against hers. He almost forgot the most essential question - suddenly, slightly pulling away from the kiss.

“How’d you find out about my name, Ryujin?” Min asked.

“A woman doesn’t disclose her secrets, besides, how could my love not have a name?” Cheesy, feisty, what a woman.

“Good point.” Another searing kiss, dynamic, evolving, every step more depravedly romantic than the previous.

He was pretty sure that he’d break something, in the middle compartment, that separated you from total body connection. Again, you pull away, this time, it brought out a desperate whine out of her, her arms that wrapped desperately around you kept pulling you in - like a vortex.

She understood the memo as soon as he exited the car - love connection. This time, with a wider space, still constricted, was the best they could do, and they’d relish this extra space. Min, naturally assumed dominance over Ryujin, her body acclimated against his aggressive pulls and pushes - all for the pleasure of Ryujin, and she didn’t take it lightly, each breath heavy with the densest pleasure. Oh, oh, oh, keep manhandling me. She’d whisper. And he’d obey.

As Ryujin, with her tight dress, splayed against the seats on her back, took initiative to take off Min’s clothes, button-by-button. “Oh I’ll fuck you so good, Ryujin, so fucking good.” He’d repeat, over and over, and Ryujin would get more aroused by each iteration: “Yes, yes! Please.” Occasional soft bites were felt all over his collarbone, his neck, his earlobe. “Possessive little bird, I’m not going anywhere.” He caressed her head, making sure that he’d also mark her, a heavy hickey on her neck.

And Ryujin fucking loves it, she softly caresses him, soft grasps against his back, locking her taut legs around him, begging for continuations. And, Min would obey, in his own rebellious way, tightly grabbing her breasts - hidden behind the dress - then pressing kisses all over her neck, nearly all of them hickeys. 

“Fuck the reservation,” he grunted, it was an expensive reservation, but he doesn’t give a fuck: Ryujin’s right under him, begging for him to ravage her taut body. And she replies, “That’s right, that’s right, mister, master!” The end of her sentence was capitalized by Min’s heavy grasp on her breasts.

“That’s right, little bird.” Low grunts against her ears, his thick shaft, covered, grinded against her body, while his mouth assaulted hers.

And she cums, her head turns up, looking wherever - straining her neck - to release her pleasure. “Ngghhh!!!” A heavy whine, so enthusiastically human, straining against the seats that held her back. “Holy shit! That was so amazin-” enough talking, he’d motion, locking mouths together.

Silent moans, “mmmf..” hummed against his tongue, Ryujin was so turned on, and he’d love to fulfill all her wishes. Each rotation of his hip against hers were accentuated by Ryujin’s deep moan, squeaky moans, the moans that she couldn’t hide by covering her mouth. His hand, fixed onto her breasts, finally ventured below, feeling her lithe abdomen - the slightest abs - then letting his hand rest on her pelvis, just above her pussy. 

He finally released himself from the hypnotizing kiss, staring at her body - mostly still covered by the dress: now, that, won’t do. He pulled on the bottom hem of her dress, revealing her wet core, an embarrassed squeak along with it all. “You’re so fucking hot, Jesus,” he had a taste of what her body looked like, and he just can’t get enough. All precaution thrown out the window, the expensive dress was about to be ruined, and Ryujin - ever resourceful - seemed to allow it. He pulled the upper hem of the dress down, breaking the straps that could’ve been removed easily - this is a statement, I own you - Ryujin seemed to get the memo - all beady and begging.

Her soft breasts, creamy, smooth, with pink nubs spilled out from the tight dress. He pressed both his hands, all over her body, exploring the transitions from her taut skin to the scrunched dress, making sure to remember every facet of it all. “How badly do you want it?” He whispered, wholly focused on her body, subtly noticing her wet core, the outline of her pussy growing clearer by the second. And Ryujin didn’t even have to answer the question, locking her legs around his waist, frantically trying to get her hips on his covered shaft - yeah, she’s fiending for it.

And Min, ever the indulgent, gently moved and hovered his hand over her neck, waiting for that confirmation, that wink, that nod - and, Ryujin, calming down from the intense pleasure, nodded. That first grasp, tight, measuring her tolerance, measuring just the moment when the eyes go back to her eyes - and he seemed to completely pinpoint it, that slight spasm of her body, and her inner thighs are just soaked.

Finally, Min decided it’s time to give her sopping cunt some attention. Peeling the layer to the side, wet with the highest arousal, hid her bright pink core - and it, her core, was begging to be sated, pulsing, glistening, beautifully fragrant.

Firstly, he let a single finger prod, then entered. And Ryujin was already shaking, her eyes went straight to the back of her head, and her neck vascularized - all veiny - from the soft choke. It would’ve been too cruel to give her too much pleasure, so he took his hand off her throat, instead, patting her head - letting her know that she's doing so good, so good. 

In and out, motion of the ocean, slick covering his finger the deeper he went, earning the most virile moans out of her cute mouth. “You like that, huh?” He dug deeper, until his knuckle - a loud moan. She had never felt anything like this, her two fingers could never compare, and she’s a virgin after all, and she’s about to get deflowered in the backseat of a car - and, she loves it. 

In a swift motion, where Min continued his manhandling of Ryujin, he pulled his finger out - in a hook motion to agitate her g-spot, earning a girlish yelp - then, let Ryujin taste her own juices on his finger.

“You’re doing so good.” Min whispered, so overly joyed by Ryujin, how her petite body convulsed in pleasures beyond what he could ever imagine.

“I know.” Ryujin replied, defiant to the end. She knew exactly how this inspired him to be rougher - and she loves it. He gripped her waist, gripping harder, letting her firm abdomen mold against his grip, dug deeper into her cunt, placing his thumb over her engorged clit. One. Two. Three motions around her clit, three motions of his finger into her cunt - before she squirted onto the side window, far more girlish yelps, and desperate panting. This time, Min with his wet hand, spread it all over Ryujin’s face - the essence of her arousal, via his hand, spread on her face, where makeup was placed so thoughtfully, only to be ruined by her own squirt. She’s panting amidst all this, unable to process anymore than her overwhelming second orgasm. 

“You’re a fucking mess, Ryujin, cumming this quickly?”

“You made me this way…” She huffed, “you fucking brute.”

This time, all Min does is press against her pelvis - specifically, the pelvic bone, where just below is her g-spot, and the slight pressure, was absolutely deadly. All the while, he declared, “That’s right, little bird. I’ll press you against the seat, face-down, slam into your ass with all the force I can muster - then, when I’m deep, too deep, cervix-level deep, I’ll release all my cum into your precious little womb.”

“Nghhh~~!” And another squirt, where her legs closed together, toes curled, and her head hung back. While Ryujin was trying to recover, Min placed a quick and wet kiss on her lips, but that'd be the only romanticism that Min allowed her. Quickly, he let her sit up, pulling her by her thin wrists. Then, he pulled down his own pants - letting his shaft free from the restraints of his tight clothing, the painful onset of an early blue balls in its conception, that was only fuel to the fire to fuck Ryujin good, and hard.

“Sit on my lap facing me, Ryujin.” He demanded. And no matter how much Ryujin came, squirted, panted, and yelped - she’d always oblige in Min’s demands. She quickly hooked her other leg over him, in a hovered position rather than sitting. This time, he passed his fingers through her wet hair, letting it pass behind her ear, “safe word is Mimetic,” and he earned a soft nod from Ryujin, and consent to batter her sopping, wet, sticky, engorged pussy.

He slithered a hand around her waist, holding her in place; then, placed his other hand around her neck, just on the nape. He pulled her in for one last kiss. The last bit of eye contact before penetration, and all that could be seen in Ryujin’s eyes - beady and all wet from pleasure - was a fiending desire to be fucked silly.

Slowly, he let her descend, right up until his tip kissed her wet folds. She winced from her sensitivity, just from the touch. And that’s when it flashed in her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she was ready, given the fact that she hadn’t told him about her virginity. Before she could realize her thoughts through speech, she felt the intense heat of something foreign entering - something so thick and large - and it wrought every emergency signal in her brain - all of them, positive. “Oh–OH, fuck…” is all that Ryujin squeaked out before he pushed in deeper, feeling her gentle pussy wrap around his shaft - all wet and moist. A constant sizzling whisper could be heard from Ryujin as he buried his cock deeper, until, halfway in, where she let out a deep moan. “Holy fuck,” she moaned again, deeper. Holy fuck is right, her body was so resistant, tight right at the start to the end, yet, the way it also sucked his shaft into its wet folds - Min was already addicted.

“Ryujin, you’re so tight.” He said as he kept nudging Ryujin to move farther down, waiting for her glistening pussy to completely wrap around his shaft - then, eventually, completely devour her in the backseats of his own car. Yet, as he went through it with her, he began clueing in on the note - Ryujin is very.. Too sensitive. Why Ryujin focused on getting herself down, skewering herself on his length - desperately breathing, her chest dilating in and out. Through it all, as Ryujin tried to, adorably, hide her inexperience, Min pressed a compassionate kiss right into her mouth. 

“I love that. The fact that you’re so horny for a virgin.” He whispered against her mouth, breathing hotly, immeasurably hard.

And Ryujin needn’t respond at all, all she needed to do - well, did - was reach out with her tongue for his mouth, with those prey eyes, begging to be taken, testing her fickle fate - a sign that he needed to kiss her, devour her, again and again until hell freezes over. And finally, during the desperate haze of a reunification of mouths, he finally buried himself straight to the hilt, in her pink, glistening, sopping, beautiful core. And slowly, the wet sounds of sex, so blatantly loud in this claustrophobic environment, reverberated inside the car; the wet sounds of her moans covered this hazy atmosphere, coming from her lips that detached from his mouth, streaks of saliva still connecting them both; and that feeling, this mutual feeling of utter bliss, how her back bent - contorted - into every pump.

They couldn’t stop staring at each other, two perverts, two soulmates who couldn’t go for a second without looking at each other. Even when Min pushed up harder, letting his full length pass through her virginal hole, they still maintained that sensual eye contact - that essential eye contact.

“You fuck me so good, Min.” Ryujin said as her two small breasts jolted from every pump, every contraction of his length leaving her one step closer to ruin - until her eyes went back to that dangerous place, that orgasm line. And the resulting pressure, that heavenly pressure, pressed against his shaft so strongly, that his tight-lipped mouth let out a few growls of pleasure, a sign that he’s close to painting her womb in baby batter. 

Ryujin, ever the caretaker, felt the convulsions, and began pressing desperate kisses over his face - anywhere she could reach, whilst patting him on the back. And Min would never admit he liked it, that he loved it, and he didn’t need to admit it, Ryujin already knew. 

And she knew exactly, that this was the final straw that she needed to break before she was filled with his essence, the catalyst of that final convulsion. Min immediately seized, grabbing Ryujin in a bearhug - one that could’ve bruised her - and pumped hard, that final wet sound of sex, before, rope after rope of release entered deep inside her, splashing against her cervix, filling her womb.

“FUCKKK!!” He growled, he hadn’t felt this good since ever. And the same for Ryujin, who cried a leaky yelp, where her last bits of squirt flowed down the slightest nook from their love connection. They were static for a moment, relishing in the deviant copulation they engaged in, where, almost, the condensation of their lovemaking was visible in the air of the car.

“I love you.” She kissed him again, staring all lovey-dovey, as if her pupils had gone and turned into hearts.

“I love you.” He stared at her, happy, smiling.

“I love you more.” She added, exaggerating her laugh, trying to tease.

“I concede.” He replied.

“Heyyy! You’re supposed to say it back!” “I’m more for physical demonstrations. Wanna see?”

“Uh no. Please. It feels like it's about to fall off.” She was mentioning her pussy, all swollen and gummy to the eye.

“I love it, it’s so beautiful.” He replied, fully serious, digging his mouth into her neck, he was absolutely crazy about her.

“Min, I gotta take a shower, you’re being gross-” that’s when Min pressed a finger onto her - still engorged - clit, and proceeded to say, “I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

“Ngh! Stop! Seriously, it’s about to fall off.” Unfortunately, the collected accumulation of their love juices swiftly dripped down as Ryujin jolted back from him touching her clit.

“Isn’t this gonna stain your car until the end of time?” She stared at the significant puddle of who knows what.

“Let it. A commemoration of our intense copulation.”

Ryujin blushed, quickly grabbing the tissues that Min offered her, and wiping off all that she released, her entire lower half, essentially, was wet. And Min got aroused from watching Ryujin cleaning herself - her little winces when she slightly grazed her cunt only adding fuel to the fire. “Clean my cock.” Min demanded, but when Ryujin grabbed the tissues - ready to oblige - he replied, “with your mouth.”

To be continued...

Ahhh, I love cliffhangers. Enjoy waiting for 10 months! (just kidding!)

Honestly, I wanted to take months with this project, but I just can't seem to stop myself (from writing mid stuff).

[rebelhan]

May I please request a jealous Geralt followed by fluff? 💖

here you go !!

pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

word count: 1.1k+

warnings: jealousy, tooth rotting fluff

masterlist  |  ao3 link

Geralt felt distinctly out of place without his armor. His clothing was certainly appropriate for his begrudging attendance of Queen Calanthe’s banquet, and yet he still felt like he’d fit in better with at least his pauldrons strapped on.

Jaskier had no trouble blending in. Of course, he had slept with half of the guests present, and conversation flowed much smoother with no need for introductions. Geralt studied the bard out of the corner of his eye, keeping a watchful eye out for vengeful spouses. When none seemed to be nearby, he redirected his attention to the other side of the hall.

It was easy to find you, it always was. He’d joked that one of his ears was always listening for the distinct sound of your heartbeat, but it was less of a joke than he’d care to admit.

You didn’t just look like you belonged at the banquet, you looked like you could be the guest of honor. You stood with poise, a natural elegance that most could only hope to emulate. There was a flutter in Geralt’s chest and his lips threatened to tug into a smile just from observing your form. Though the feeling was immediately quashed when he noticed the man speaking to you.

He was handsome enough, but he was overbearing, leaning into you, head first. Geralt could see you leaning away by the arch of your back. The brightly colored silks of his clothing and his garish jewelry, coupled with the fact that he was young, indicated that he was here as one of Pavetta’s suitors. So why he was romancing you would be a complete mystery to the Witcher had you not been stealing breaths the moment you stepped into the banquet hall. Hell, you had knocked his breath out too. He was caught between convincing his brain to do anything but scrape his eyes up and down your body and calculating exactly how you had fit this getup in your tiny rucksack.

There was a tug in Geralt’s gut, one that was wholly new, but easy to place. He knew that logically he had no reason to feel jealous. You were clearly uncomfortable, he could tell from your posture. And your heartbeat was steady, so you couldn’t be enjoying this man’s advances too much. And yet there was a particular smile on your face, a smile that he could easily spot in between the guests mulling about from all the way across the room, no Witcher senses necessary. A smile that, until this exact moment, he had assumed was reserved only for himself.

Geralt felt silly about the way his jaw tightened and his inability to look away from the conversation occurring between the two of you. He considered focusing his senses to listen in, but a pang of guilt stopped him from following through.

It was almost a relief when you turned your head towards him, as if you sensed the anger creeping up his spine. The smile on your face remained unchanged. Geralt’s eyes glinted golden, reflecting every shiny piece of jewelry decorating the noble men and women in attendance. But with the look he was giving you, they may as well have consumed by darkness, those of a Witcher on the hunt. 

You said something to the man beside you and his face morphed into one of disappointment. In seconds more you slowly made your way across the banquet hall. Half the people you passed parted before you, taking the opportunity to gape. The other half, you stepped gracefully around, their conversations breaking abruptly as they noticed you.

Geralt mapped your path through the crowd with his eyes. The smile on your face never faltered

Then suddenly you were seated beside him. The sound of conversation in the hall quieted considerably as the guests took in the sight of you accompanied by the Witcher. And when they resumed their chatter and the volume rose again, you finally spoke to him.

“Are you enjoying the banquet?” you asked Geralt.

“Yes.” It was a lie. He was very much not enjoying sitting by himself, clutching a half empty goblet, darting his eyes back and forth between you and Jaskier. And he certainly wasn’t enjoying your smile directed at someone other than himself.

You hummed in acknowledgement, but you didn’t sound the least bit convinced of the Witcher’s answer.

“Is that why you’re staring at Jaskier like you want to murder him?” you ask. The bard’s back was thankfully turned, or Geralt would’ve been the recipient of a lecture from the smaller man about scaring off potential bed mates.

Geralt forcibly relaxed his gaze before swiveling his head to you. There was that smile again. Looking at it up close, Geralt felt something in his chest somewhere between relief and anger. He leaned into the anger without meaning to.

“You seemed to be enjoying the banquet plenty,” he said. Geralt winced at the malice coming from his own mouth, but you didn’t even waver. Your smile only grew in brightness. He would’ve been unnerved had he not been so enamored.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked. He meant for it to sound harsher, but you always did bring out the softest sides of him.

“You’re jealous,” you teased. The mirth was returning to his eyes, despite your accusation hitting its target perfectly.

He sighed. “Well how am I supposed to react when you smile like that,” he raises his eyebrows, “at someone else?”

You scooted closer to him until your hand could cover his on the table. You looked up at him. At this proximity, his fear inspiring golden eyes could only be described as loving.

“What happened to that ear you always keep on my pulse?” you asked, one eyebrow quirked questioningly.

“What about it?” he challenged, almost indignant.

“Well, what is it telling you now?”

Geralt took in a breath and willed himself to tune out the sounds of the banquet. Slowly the noises around him faded, conversation dimmed to a murmur like he was listening to them from underwater. And through the gentle noises, an unsteady thump made itself known to his ears.

It was faster than it was before, threatening to speed up even further. And your breath was stuttering. A look up at your eyes and your pupils were blown, black eclipsing the color of your irises.

And then he was back in the banquet, surrounded by noblemen and women, all vying for the same prize. And here he was with you. You with the loveliest smile he never felt like he deserved, heartbeat racing just for him, breaths jumping just for him.

Geralt’s lips lifted into a lopsided smirk and you looked almost shy for once. Then in a quiet voice you nearly split his heart in two. “You needn’t worry. My smile is my own, but my heart is yours to keep.”

----

thanks for reading! :]

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Reflecting on Superman and Lois season 1

Now that the season is over, its interesting to look back at a very stop start season. Its very difficult for a show to hold your interest with the type of scheduling problems this show had, and in its very first season. When the show was announced, I wasn't terribly surprised but I was also not overly excited. There has been a lot of Superman and Superman adjacent material that has come out before and after the announcement so I did wonder about what they could do new. In addition, while I certainly liked Tyler in his guest appearances in Supergirl, in Elseworlds, and in Crisis, he did feel like the inferior Superman in Crisis when he was opposite Brandon Routh's Superman who really looked and felt like Superman, even better than he did in Superman Returns. However, once the trailer dropped, I was sold. It was clear that the show was going for something a lot more cinematic and a lot more grounded than the previous Arrowverse shows. I did have some apprehensiveness over the teenage boys angle because teenagers can become very stereotypically irritating in shows and given that a good chunk of time was going to be dedicated to them, it was going to be vital for them not be so.

Having finished the season, I have to say that the execs and the writers have pulled off an excellent first season. I don't think I would call it the best season 1 in the Arrowverse. I still love The Flash season 1 over any other Arrowverse season and while I haven't seen it in a while, I love Arrow season 1 as well. This may come at 2nd or 3rd place based on further reflection. I do think its has some issues when it comes to the villain storyline and with the big action set pieces, but the film's heart is set at the right place and the characters are all very likable and you want to see conversations between the characters. That's when you know that the writers are doing a good job when you almost feel that the show should go back to the character moments.

Firstly, the idea of a matured Superman is what works wonderfully well. There is something wonderful about seeing Clark and Lois as a couple who have known and loved each other for over a decade. Closer to two decades I guess. Characters don't quite look their age tbh. Lois would have to be in her early 40's at least. But I can honestly overlook that. Bitsie and Tyler were already a very likable couple in Elseworlds and the show has just used that natural chemistry to brilliant effect. But the big relief was that Jordan Elsass and Alex Garfin are excellent as Jonathan and Jordan. I was initially a little worried that Jordan could be a little much, but both of them were excellent and one of the highlights of the season was the bond between the two brothers. Jordan and Jonathan have conflicts but they are brothers and they love and support each other unconditionally.

Jonathan could have so easily been the douchey, jealous brother but Elsass is honestly one of the mvp's of the season. You really care for Jonathan, even though he arguably has a slightly less meaty role in the story. I think Bitsie Tulloch is outstanding all season. She has shot up very high among all my favorite Lois Lanes. She's very different from the other versions and that makes her stand out. One of my favorite episodes was episode 8, which deals with Lois dealing with memories of her miscarriage along with almost losing Jonathan. She is excellent in that episode as is Elsass. Tyler is wonderful throughout. He's a strong Superman but his Clark is even more endearing. Little things like him being so psyched for the Harvest Festival, how he plays young Clark in flashbacks as someone distinctly different, him meeting Lois and working with her for the first time, the adorable "my mom made it" moment when Superman first saves a kid etc... He just embodies everything you know and love from the character. Wole Parks is another terrific addition. Initially you think he's an alternate version of Lex Luthor but it was genius idea to have him actually be John Henry Irons. There was something innately likable about him even when he was fighting Superman and we thought he was Lex. I loved how they handled the dynamic of being Lois' husband in another world and having a daughter. It makes for an interesting dynamic but it never gets into problematic territory because he is mature enough to know that this Lois isn't his Lois, but they also show his difficulty in dealing with that. I liked the bond he seemed to be forming with Jonathan. And I liked how he came along to be an ally with Superman.

The Cushings are ok. They play an important part in the season with Sarah Cushing being Jordan's love interest and Kyle being a big part of the how the villain story begins, with Lana also being a major character in the story. All three actors are excellent but Kyle does have the stereotypical doucheyness which was a little annoying for the first 10 episodes, however he does redeem himself in the final arc. I hope Lana gets to be a bit more active in the show because she does feel like a bit passive as a character. However, I did find that Sarah and Jordan romance actually pretty cute. Both actors did a nice job making them feel like awkward teenagers, dancing around their feelings for each other. Sam Lane is another character who starts out pretty unlikable but I warmed up to him by the end.

Where I think the show doesn't really work at full strength is the superheroic aspect of the show. The character drama in the show is great. I think it works gangbusters. The superhero plot of it all is a little meh. While Adam Rayner is perfectly fine as Edge/Tal-Rho, as a character he's just not that interesting. There is an interesting perspective there that he's sort of a mirror image to Clark where he got mistreated by people when he landed on Earth and that is how his worldview shaped that way, and he longed for family, but there isn't enough done on a character level with him. As a result, the last third of the season was a little iffy. The whole, build Krypton on Earth felt like a variation of Zod's plot in Man of Steel. The method is different but the eventual outcome is the same. I also don't know why all Kryptonians, apart from Lara, are homicidal maniacs, when they are said to be a peaceful race. The arc also becomes repetitive because there are like three climaxes. And I feel the finale was the weakest climax of the lot. Episode 10 or 12 would have served as better finales with a little tweaking. If I remember correctly, the original order was for 13 episodes and it got extended to 15, so this might be an explanation to why it feels this way. The action is fairly by the numbers. While it looks like there is clearly more money on display here than say for Supergirl or The Flash, the action scenes aren't particularly exciting or inventive.

While I am not super high on the finale, I am mostly happy with how things wrapped up. I think they should have had Tal-Rho die tragically because I really don't think he's interesting enough to be brought back again. The arrival of Natalie Irons will surely be a source of some emotionally charged scenes. i hope there is some character bonding between the her and the brothers. Jonathan seemed pretty interested in meeting her when he saw videos of her. I do wonder how the show will continue to incorporate Smallville as a setting. Season 1 obviously had a very specific plot based reason to be in Smallville, given Edge's plot was based in Smallville. But I can't imagine every big bad will have Smallville based plot. But the characters are all settled in Smallville, with the Cushings and Lois buy half the Gazette and running it with Christy. So that's going to be an interesting balancing act that they have to do. I hope they can bring in some traditional superheroics as well because Superman rogues gallery is rich enough. Out of the episodes, I think 6-8 were my favorites, and the flashbacks in episode 11 were incredibly charming. While the season is not flawless I don't think it completely nailed the superheroic heights that it was aiming for, it was a really entertaining season of tv. An 8/10 for me.

[heavyarethecrowns]

Forget Wills and Kate - it's Harry who's found love - May 2007

Gazing into the flames of a campfire on the banks of Botswana's Okavango River, a scruffily dressed young man took a sip of his beer and let out a prolonged sigh.

Minutes later, he was pouring his heart out to the three strangers sitting beside him.

"Apparently, he had fallen in love with some girl in Cape Town who was the daughter of a rich businessman in Zimbabwe.

"He seemed really serious about her, saying he couldn't understand how he had fallen head-over-heels only four days after meeting her," one of those fellow travellers later recalled.

The love-sick youth was, of course, Prince Harry, then on holiday in Africa during his gap year. And the girl who made such an impact was Chelsy Davy.

Three years on, almost to the day, Harry is preparing to wave goodbye to his girlfriend and march off to war.

Much has happened to the young prince in the intervening period: officer training at Sandhurst; periodic brawls with the paparazzi; and his father's marriage to the woman Harry once blamed for causing his late mother so much anguish.

But, to the surprise of many observers, one of the few constants in Harry's life has turned out to be the coltish, snub-nosed girl he met in Cape Town.

Indeed, some of his friends believe that an engagement is almost certainly on the cards, though probably not for a few years yet.

Of course, feelings can change. A tour of duty in Iraq, fighting for his country, may accelerate the progression from pampered prince to more mature man of the world: he may want to close the book on his youth, open a new chapter, find a different kind of soulmate.

But maybe not. Even 12 months ago, few could have predicted that Harry's long- distance relationship with the coquettish daughter of a Zimbabwean wheeler-dealer and former Coca-Cola model would outlast William's romance with the eminently proper Kate Middleton.

The truth of the matter, however, is that Harry has always seen himself and Chelsy as better suited and more capable of going the distance.

"And now," said a well-placed source this week, "he's been proved right."

The 22-year- old prince has become increasingly irritated by what he saw as the "hype" surrounding William and Kate's relationship.

A friend of Harry's says: "Harry doesn't want to be subjected to the level of interest people have been taking in William and Kate.

"It's his idea of hell. But he also feels very frustrated at the way people are so dismissive of him and Chelsy.

"They are always portrayed as a pair of poor little rich kids who will burn themselves out sooner rather than later.

"In Harry's mind, there is nothing ridiculous whatsoever in the idea that one day, in the not-too-distant future, Princess Chelsy could be standing on the balcony at Buckingham Palace - even though she would probably be hiding a cigarette and a bottle of Malibu behind her back."

Despite the stream of paparazzi photographs that reveal a fondness for partying and a distinctly beach-chick style, the 21-year-old Zimbabwean has been an "A" student at school and university.

Harry would not want to change anything about her.

While others - including his own father, according to Harry - find themselves transfixed by Chelsy's more obvious charms - the prince has always believed that his girlfriend has some sterling qualities that Kate probably lacked.

"Harry has always been quietly very proud of the fact that Chelsy - or Chedda, as he affectionately calls her - loves him for who he is.

"In fact, she sees the fact that he's royal as more of a hindrance than a help," says a confidante.

"As the hugely popular daughter of a multi-millionaire businessman with homes in at least three different countries, she doesn't really need to take advantage of Harry's birthright."

One source close to the prince suggests that he actually sided with members of William's circle who felt that Kate Middleton had started to take advantage of the relationship.

"Harry had sympathy with those of William's friends who felt Kate had begun to rather enjoy her fame by association a little too much - unlike his own girlfriend, who he thinks is a 'real class act'," the source explains.

'When she first met William, Kate had few friends of her own - but over the years, she carefully assimilated herself into his circle.

"There was a feeling among some of William's friends that Kate had become a little too self-aware - she even had the cheek to bag herself a cut-price Audi, thanks to her royal links - while publicly insisting that she wanted to be treated as an ordinary girl."

Although Chelsy and Kate were photographed together on several occasions, most notably at the Beaufort Polo Club last summer, Harry's girlfriend apparently didn't particularly take to Kate.

"It wasn't that she disliked her - it's just that they had nothing in common. One only has to look at them to see it," says the source.

"Chelsy is a lot sweeter than she looks, but she is still a very outgoing girl who likes a beer and a fag.

Thanks to her rather indulged upbringing, she is incredibly sociable and self-confident - qualities that don't come naturally to Kate."

Others more sympathetic to Miss Middleton's cause, suggest the reality is that Chelsy has been just as keen to turn a royal relationship to her advantage.

She may protest about the attention, but she has not raised objections about her new status as international cover girl.

Last year, the society magazine, Tatler, even bracketed her with the Duchess of Cornwall as one of the most powerful blondes in Britain.

Her brother Shaun, meanwhile, has taken to styling himself as one of Harry's official bodyguards, and has been known to chase after photographers when they try to take the prince's picture.

Yet, in Harry's besotted eyes, Chelsy and her family can do no wrong.

Courtiers who have expressed concern about the Davys' controversial business links to Zimbabwean despot Robert Mugabe, have been told that she is a "non-negotiable" part of his life.

And he is undoubtedly entranced by the relative normality of his girlfriend's close-knit family.

Which is perhaps hardly surprising. By the age of 13, Harry had weathered not only his parents' separation but had also been forced to cope with the tragic - and endlessly raked-over -death of his mother.

Since then, his upbringing has been marked by a lack of parental discipline, thanks to his loving but laissez-faire father.

Even those with reservations about Chelsy concede that she has had a positive effect on the headstrong, devil-may-care young prince.

"It's far from a coincidence that when Harry does slip up - the times when he falls out of nightclubs drunk and brawls with photographers in the streets - Chelsy isn't around," says one who knows them both well.

"Believe it or not, he has matured in recent years - in large part thanks to Chelsy, whom he is incredibly protective of - and really does try to keep his head down.

"They are so besotted with each other - like a couple of lovebirds, really - that when they are together, nothing else really matters.

"Their body language is so different from that of Kate and William, who always used to look more like brother and sister.

"The trouble is that when Chelsy isn't around, Harry is easily led astray."

On their recent jaunt to the Caribbean, the couple barely left their luxury condo in the exclusive Glitter Bay resort in Barbados, preferring to lie, holding hands, by the pool.

And at last Friday's raucous Blues and Royals party to celebrate Harry's deployment to Iraq, it was William who stayed out clubbing until 4am with a bevy of beautiful girls.

Harry and Chelsy quietly sipped cocktails in a private booth before slipping off discreetly at 1am.

Lately, friends have noticed that the relationship seems to be deepening - although that is not to say there haven't been some pretty intense spats.

Unlike William, who was accused of leaving Kate to flounder under the weight of expectation while he forged on with his own life, Harry has been actively encouraging Chelsy to make solid plans for their future.

Bristol University has flatly denied rumours she plans to do a postgraduate degree there in the autumn, but friends say she is definitely planning to spend more time in England, where she has many friends from her days as a boarder at Stowe, a co-educational public school in Buckinghamshire.

She has even cancelled her plans to return to Africa over the summer and will instead wait for Harry to return from Iraq on leave.

"Chelsy hates the weather here, but is desperate to be nearer to her darling Haz. She is willing to make sacrifices if it takes their relationship a step forward," says a friend.

And Harry has already asked Chelsy to attend the memorial concert in July that he and William are organising to mark the tenth anniversary of their mother's death, though they are still discussing whether she should attend the formal church service later that month.

A Clarence House source says: "The problem is that every senior member of the Royal Family will be there, and Harry knows that taking her is tantamount to making a public statement on the future of their relationship.

"He doesn't think that it's fair on her to open the floodgates just yet."

In the immediate future, he knows that he needs to concentrate on leading his men in Iraq.

The highly charged public debate over his deployment to the Gulf has radically increased the pressure on him to make a success of his career - and he wants to show that the Army's confidence in him has not been misplaced.

"After what happened to my mother, I'm not afraid to die - but I am frightened for those around me," he recently confided to one close friend.

Although he did once petulantly threaten to quit if he were not sent to Iraq with his troops, his attitude has changed in the last few months.

"He knows that the situation is bigger than him now, and he'll take whatever he is told to do on the chin," says a royal aide.

Indeed, those who know him well say he is haunted by the fear that one of his men could be captured or even killed because of him.

"That's something he just couldn't bear, and he knows he would be held to account for the rest of his life.

"The men in his troop have tried to reassure him - joking that they will all wear ginger wigs to confuse the enemy, which is typical of Army gallows humour - but he is wracked with guilt," says another friend.

Iraq, however, is also Harry's big opportunity to strike out from under his elder brother's shadow.

For the first time in his life, the spare to William's heir will be taking centre stage.

"Harry loves his brother very much, but he is acutely aware of the way in which he is overshadowed by William.

"He is determined to go to war and make his family proud," says a friend.

But unlike William, he will have a long-term sweetheart to sweep into his arms when he returns.

[sevenincubistolemyheart]

Lightened Shadows Chapter 2

AU: Final Fantasy 4

Tag list: @xsunnyhoseokx @otomehideout-indecentconfessions @file-missing​ @risefallrise​

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: Pretty descriptive fantasy violence this time around(boss fights will hopefully always be this well written; I’m real proud with how the scene came out so I hope you like it). 

Pairing: Ever-evolving :)

Genre:  Drama, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 6.2k+

The air was cool from the little you could feel thanks to your armor but you knew it’d heat up quickly thanks to the sun. Thankfully, it hadn’t risen too much given how early it was. 

“Shall we stop in town first?”

Yoongi stopped you as you turned in the direction towards where the cave you needed to go through waited with a gentle hand on your arm, your armor clanking at the contact.

“Hm? Didn’t you say you already got provisions just this past nightfall?”

He smirked sheepishly and shrugged.

“I may have forgotten in the midst of the men celebrating my victory in our spat. Apologies. Shall we?”

You nodded, barely holding back a sigh. 

‘As if I don’t feel bad enough. Now I have to go get supplies and probably scar a few children in the process with my intimidating appearance. Spectacular.’ 

You entered the quaint little village just diagonal to the castle gates and looked around, trying to go through the brief list of what you needed in your mind. 

‘It should be a short expedition; 2 days at most, 3 if we stop to pitch a tent after delivering the ring to get their explanation once you entered the village.’

 You were sure you wouldn’t be welcome there for long. The town of Mist was known for little else than their reclusive nature and had never been particularly fond of those that hailed from Baron, so perhaps best you purchase one just in case they wouldn’t let you stay at the inn as you feared.

Yoongi led the way to the item shop and offered you a wave as he ran off somewhere; probably to attend to some last-minute errand he’s forgotten about. 

“How can I help you today, my Lady?” 

It was a quick transaction; you luckily had plenty of gil to spare thanks to the 500 gil provisions the King’s guard had insisted you take, along with 5 Potions and a Phoenix Down should the worst come to befall one of you in battle. You bought one more Phoenix Down for good measure in addition to that Tent and exited looking around to see Yoongi’s distinctly teal armor. He’d always hated that ugly green the other Dragoons were forced to wear, so he’d had Jin help him create his own armor once he'd been promoted to Captain.

Having experience building airships was surprisingly helpful in creating armor that could withstand some damn mighty blows apparently. 

You exited the shop looking around for Yoongi carelessly as you walked through the town, trying to not draw any attention to yourself; only to look down in surprise at a sudden banging from your armor being hit repeatedly. A small boy was there, angrily pounding on your armor with tears streaming down his face. 

“You took my Daddy away!! I hate you!”

A wince graced your face behind your mask and for once you lowered it, kneeling to the boys’ height and gently restraining his hands firmly in your own. You had no choice but to take many people to the guards if they happened to be foolish enough to run into you. It had been one of the ways you’d rose in rank so quickly; catching criminals. But...it never made it any easier to see the carnage left in the wake of your actions. 

“...I’m sorry. I know there is naught I can say to soothe your pain, but all I can do is apologize. I had a duty to fulfill, and I did as was necessary.” 

The child sniffled, but the hatred once in his eyes had died down to a mere simmer. 

“You don’t seem so mean. Please miss...I just want my Daddy back. Mommy said he’s served all his time; can’t you get him for me? I promise I’ll work doubly hard to ensure we’re never poor enough to have to steal again!”

He seemed so proud, puffing his chest out, and as you released his hands he placed them on his hips in a show of how strong he could and would be. 

A glance upwards saw his Mother suddenly rushing towards you both and the woman was on the floor on her knees, hands, and head both level to the ground at your feet. 

“Please Lady Captain! Forgive my boy! He means no harm!” 

Your heart clenched as you stood and the boy seemed distressed, seemingly coming to the conclusion that you were leaving as he grabbed onto your arm. 

“Miss, please! His name is Raisoro. Even if it's not today please at least look for him when next you return to the castle!”

You noticed Yoongi waiting as the crowd parted and knew you'd have to make this quick. He'd never been good with this kind of situation. 

You nodded resolutely, meeting the boy’s eyes.

"I swear it on my role as a Dark Knight…"

You met the mother's eyes too as your gaze softened behind your visor and you helped her to her feet. 

"And as someone who also loves another. I will check and return for you once I next visit the castle. I have a mission to do before that so it may take some time but-"

"Thank you Lady Captain! You're so gracious!" 

The mother was barely holding herself together at your words and you squeezed her hand briefly before you pulled away after a ruffle of the boy's hair and made your way to Yoongi who was looking on in solemn understanding. 

"...Dare I ask?"

"The boy's father has been in prison past his sentence, caught stealing food for his family. I promised I'd check once we got back."

Yoongi glanced at you from his place beside you as a chuckle escaped him. 

You felt your cheeks heat and huffed defensively. 

"What's so funny!?"

He shrugged with a fond smile as he shook his head. 

"Still too kind for your own good is all. Could have been a lie, an attempt to steal money, or a ploy to stir up rebellion in the town against the King starting with you by using a young boy but you responded so genuinely that even if that's what it was it backfired miserably."

He snickered a bit more, a rare sound to be sure for most but you enjoyed it nonetheless even as you blushed.

"It's my job as Lady Captain. I may serve the Red Wings but the townspeople are my concern too. I guess it probably seems silly since you're of the Dragoon branch, only responsible for protecting the castle and monster patrol.” 

His laughter died but you caught the amused smirk at his lips.

“All the better for me. People can be complicated whereas fiends are useful for little more than target practice and exercises to bring my jumps to larger heights.” 

You shoved him playfully with a roll of your eyes.

“Alright hotshot; that’s enough bragging. Did you do your little errand? I want to check in with Hoseok’s Mom while we’re here. You know how worried he can get about her when he gets stuck at the castle healing overnight.”

Yoongi seemed to hesitate at that but reluctantly nodded and let you lead him to the small house towards the center of the village where Hoseok’s mom had received her own home after Hoseok had received his white cape as proof he was a Baron White Mage. You knocked on the door and after a moment it swung open to reveal Hoseok’s mother. You smiled kindly, mouth guard already lowered out of respect even as she glared at you disapprovingly. 

“What do you two want!?” 

“I just wanted to check in on you. Hoseok wanted to ensure you were eating enough and healthy.” 

She huffed irritably and leaned against the doorjamb as Yoongi shifted uncomfortably beside you, causing her gaze to briefly shift to him before going back to you. 

“I’m doing just fine; no thanks to you. His Majesty’s recent behavior troubles me. I heard you and your boy there have been doing some just terrible things, under his orders or no. All I want is Hoseok to be safe from such gory acts and that’s your job as his lover.” The glare she gave Yoongi did not go unnoticed by you and you noted the way his whole body tensed and his mouth went in a firm straight line. “And that goes for any kind of hurt. Have I made myself clear?”

You maintained your amicable smile even as it felt like you’d just been speared through the heart. Your voice was unbearably soft as you responded, cursing the way it wavered. 

“O-Of course madam. I will protect him till my very last breath if I must. I would happily absolve any pain he has experienced or will in the future if I was only able, so he wouldn’t have to shoulder an ounce of suffering.”

She nodded and raised her chin in superior pride at your answer before she nodded curtly. 

“Good. Ensure your feelings forever remain so stalwart; as do your ideals or the world may lose one Dark Knight.”

With that, the door slammed shut, and the sting of her obvious distrust bordering on rejection cut deep as you all but stumbled away with Yoongi hot on your heels as you made your way through the little alcove at the back of the village to the river where you knew no-one would be. 

You were barely maintaining the lid on your emotions but at the sight of your glassy gaze, Yoongi couldn’t withhold his ire and hissed through gritted teeth as he clenched his fists.

“Who does she think she is talking down to you like that!? Hoseok and you have been together for how many years now? 3?” 

He snarled as he whirled to grip your shoulders unintentionally being a bit rough, not that it made a difference thanks to the armor guarding your shoulders, careful to avoid the spikes. 

“She even dared to imply you of all people would be unfaithful. After everything you’ve been through with Hoseok and me, it just-” 

He inhaled sharply to try and gather himself and his eyes rushed to yours at your watery giggle. 

“Is something humorous?”

He certainly didn’t find any amusement in this.

You smiled weakly. 

“I just find this all morbidly ironic. I told Hoseok just last night how cowardly I was and it seems even his mother agrees.” 

Yoongi wrenched himself away from you with a hiss, eyes narrowing. 

“You? A coward? That is comical.”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. I obeyed His Majesty’s orders without a second thought. I harmed innocent people-”

“Except they’re not innocent. You seem to be forgetting that. His Majesty explicitly said they knew too much of the Crystal and its secrets-”

“And what gives him the right to decide that!? It’s not our culture or our way of life!! We’ve been focused on technological advancement rather than the power of the crystals for decades...why now does His Majesty seem so intent on them!?”

You covered your mouth in horror at the treasonous words that escaped your lips, and Yoongi had gone eerily still as well before he quickly looked around for any potential eavesdroppers. 

Seeing none, he lowered his voice and frowned seriously at you once again placing his hand on your shoulder. You could see the weight of your words had made their mark from the grim look in his eyes. So it troubled him too. You always knew he was a good actor but his emotionlessness towards this subject, in particular, had admittedly made you feel isolated in your beliefs. Sure, you’d heard the rumors, but they hadn’t been raised by His Majesty as you had. Their opinion simply didn’t hold the same weight as Yoongi or Hoseok’s would. In any case, Yoongi’s low drawl of your name made your eyes lock onto his. 

“They were deceitful and thankfully His Royal Highness caught it in time before they began a rampage against the whole Blue Planet. Let us be grateful for that and move on. Yes?”

Hesitance shown in your eyes but you swallowed back the bitter taste of betrayal on your tongue and nodded. No time to wallow in any case; you had Hoseok to get home to. 

“Enough talk. Let us depart for Mist."

Yoongi finally seemed appeased and he watched as you raised your mouthguard once again though he didn’t comment on it as you both exited the little alcove at the back of the town, only for Yoongi to bump right into a familiar girl. 

“June! How’re things?”

You easily put on a mask of ease, though at the younger girl’s giddy grin you found it wasn’t difficult. 

“Oh, it’s been just peachy! You know Jin...always working! But he came home last night so to reward him I’m baking him his favorite pumpkin pie for when he finally wakes up.”

“He still hasn’t awoken? It’s only a little past dawn but I’ve seen him working well past this just last week…” 

Yoongi mused and you saw the twist of a smirk on his lips when you shot him a knowing glare. 

June huffed at that, shaking her head in disappointment. 

“I’m gonna wring that old man's neck one of these days, mark my words! He works too hard...we’re not that hurting for gil.”

Her last phrase was little more than a mumble but your hand was already reaching for your gil pouch before you could even consciously think. As if anticipating your movements though, Yoongi took a step forward, hand already outstretched with a small pouch, filled to the brim and neatly tied off. 

At June’s wide-eyed hesitance, Yoongi cut her off as she opened her mouth, no doubt to refuse. 

“You’d best take it before a pickpocket does. I’ll remain standing like this until the gil is taken.”

His voice was a low rumble, despite his words as he clearly wanted her to have it, not some thief, and all three of you knew even should he keep his word like you knew he would, he’d merely reclaim his gil and find some other way to give it to the family, perhaps by smuggling it into Jin’s biweekly wages.

June finally took the pouch, and you felt a little misty-eyed as you watched her throw her arms around Yoongi, taking the Dragoon Captain by surprise and making him stumble and fumble to return her gesture of affection with an awkward pat on her back. 

“Y-Yes yes of course, now just release me, will you? People are staring.”

He grumbled, and you were sure without his mask he’d be red as a beet by now. 

Yoongi grew serious, however, and gently caught June’s hand as she went to run off after thanking him profusely. 

“I want you to be sure you go right on home and hide that somewhere nice and secure. Only take what you need and then return to the markets. I don’t want you being targeted for fraternizing with the likes of us. And…” He hesitated but finally handed her something else you couldn’t see as he stepped into her space as he abruptly tugged her into a proper hug. 

“Take that as well. Use it only if you must.” 

He mumbled something else by her ear and then just as quickly pulled away. June looked flustered as well, a little nervous and as Yoongi rejoined you, you side-eyed him with a hint of mirth in your gaze. You were positive he could feel it and eventually after a minute of walking towards the exit he hissed only once you’d both been alone for several minutes.

“What?”

You offered a simple hum. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m just recalling a certain Dragoon mocking me not an hour ago for being too kind. Yet here you are, giving away money I know you’d been saving up for that new lance you wanted. You even gave her a weapon by the looks of it.”

Your voice quieted for that last part as you drew closer to him to whisper and he merely sighed in resignation at that. 

“Of course you noticed. Always so knowing, aren’t you? June deserves to eat. Did you not also happen to notice the flatness of her gil pouch? You know how much they’ve been inflating prices.”

You blinked at that in surprise.

“The item shop charged me the same rate as always. I had no idea…”

Yoongi snorted at that, cool and sarcastic. 

“Of course they would. You’re the King’s guard dog, they know better than to draw your, or my ire. But the townspeople? They are not so lucky. There is a reason people like that family who pleaded with you have had to turn to stealing and they are but one of many.”

“And here I thought I was knowledgeable on the way our people were treated...how do you know all this?” 

Yoongi shrugged. 

“My men have families here; unlike the Red Wings who’re typically born into the military, the Dragoons have always been expected to be enlisters. The practice may have died some with the passage of time but it is still a thing of the present and I asked a few of them to report to me. I pay them a little extra on the side and they know I’m not a turncoat despite being close to His Majesty. You’re the first one I’ve told, actually and I know well enough you’re as good for your silence as I.”

This new information made dread sit heavy in the pit of your stomach. First a degradation of the King’s morality, and now even Baron’s shopkeepers were turning against civilians? You froze for a moment and swallowed nervously. Your King. He was your king still. The just and firm but kind man who’d raised you into the woman you had become. Deep breaths. All would be forgiven and explained when you returned. You were sure of it. Yoongi had said so and he was always right. You just had to have faith. You and Yoongi reached the gate and you looked to him as you ensured your armor was tightened and your sword scabbard ready to give you access to your sword at a moment's notice. 

He too had done his checks and nodded at you, mouth now in a stern frown as he readied himself with grim determination for the journey ahead. 

After a shared nod at one another, you both stepped out into the overworld and began making your way to the Cave of Mist. 

The monsters had been gradually growing more and more feral as the years had gone on. Now they were violently beyond reason, willing to strike at a moment’s notice; including those who didn’t pose a threat. You remembered a simpler time where more docile monsters had been used to train even children, including yourself, Yoongi, and Hoseok. Now, it was a risk of death every time trade happened. Perhaps it was a good thing tensions were so high between the nations nowadays.

In any case, Yoongi and yourself were trained to fight and take out even the most intelligent of monsters thanks to being taught the ways of the sword and lance respectively by your King. Yoongi also had his father for a time to fall back on before he perished. Most monsters seemed to catch onto this and kept their distance from you both, but those either too foolish or too hungry to care still attacked. You remained unscathed, your armor keeping you safe from a particularly volatile Sword rat, the purple beast expelling it’s sharp spines your way. Even bringing up your shield, a few broke through your defenses and you couldn’t help your wince as they made contact with a harsh reverberation as they hit your chest and legs.

Yoongi took a risk and threw his spear at the beast and thankfully it cried out in pain before finally going limp.  He retrieved his weapon and shot a smirk your way, and claimed you’d owe him a drink once you returned to Baron.

That was the only incident you had come across until you reached the cave itself. Since most monsters knew better than to start a fight with you both, you hoped those dwelling within the Cave of Mist would have the same ideas. 

Oh, how wrong you were. 

The larvae and eyewing moths inhabiting the cave were particularly irritating. The moths liked to blind you and the larvae loved to use slow, only prolonging their inevitable deaths. Blind was always a pain to deal with; you both being melee attackers and all. Sure, spell casters and mages were affected as well, but oftentimes they could locate the monsters or other teammates thanks to locking onto their energy if they were fast enough. No such luck here. 

Still, you managed to take them out. However, something strange had occurred, twice now which was not to your liking.

 A voice had called out to you, ghostly and ominous, ordering you both to return whence you came. It had no discernable gender, but the lilt underneath the words made you guess it may have been female. 

Could this be the Eidolon you’d been sent to slay? 

Despite the constant feeling of being watched, the journey through the cave was not a difficult one and you sensed no malice from the entity. Not until you reached the cave’s exit in any case. 

“You are not welcome beyond this point, swine of Baron. Return to your castle and leave this place in peace.”

You frowned at that, ring sitting heavily in its own dedicated pouch at your hip and the image of Hoseok’s worried face in your mind. 

“We can’t do that. Please, I beg you allow us refuge. We have a mission we must see through!”’

“As do I. I take it you mean to refuse my plea then?”

The voice had gained an aggressive but defeated edge and Yoongi stepped forward, all cocky indifference. 

“We have given you your answer.”

“...Very well. Then you leave me with no choice. Forgive me.”

With that, the mist that had not aided your journey in the least began coalescing and you both drew your weapons in preparation. 

A pink scaled dragon had appeared in front of you, and you and Yoongi could both sense the difference in power compared to the weak monsters thus far. You’d used up what little Eye Drops you’d had in stock, and now only had 2 Potions after healing at the slightest injury earlier, thinking you’d had plenty. Luckily you still had both Phoenix Downs should one of you fall unconscious before the other. 

You shared a look with Yoongi and he nodded in understanding, before hopping up and continuing to move from rock to rock, trying to get as much height as possible to come down all the harder on your enemy. Not one to be left out, you turned your attention to the battle, knowing full well you were the only remaining target, and steeled yourself, letting dark energy surround you as you carefully fed just enough of yourself into your attacks to power them up while not causing too much physical damage to yourself. 

It still made you wince and caused an off sensation within your soul whenever you chose to use Darkness but the King always said the payoff would be worth it if the enemy went down. 

Said enemy roared in frustration and swung a large claw at you which you barely managed to dodge before slashing, watching as darkness coated the wound you’d left, seeping in and making it hurt all the more. Your eyes widened in surprise as before you could hop back the creature snarled and jumped, shoving you to the ground with its claws and holding you there as its face lowered towards your vulnerable frame. 

Yoongi couldn’t have chosen a better time to come, slamming down onto the back of the beast, spearing the Eidolon with as much force as he could muster. You watched as blood gushed, ignoring the confusion that hit you at seeing the substance to instead take its momentary preoccupation with Yoongi as it tried to bite him off of its back to get ahold of your sword and stabbing its foot to make it release you. 

It let out a wail of pain, and you knew you were close. Yoongi deftly hopped off and dragged you out from under the creature, tossing you a Potion before he unleashed a flurry of passionate slashes to keep the monster engaged and focused on him. You quickly slammed your mouth guard down and chugged the bitter liquid with a gag and a grimace, feeling the physical aching and the toll on your soul both fade as you regained full lucidity. 

You shook off your daze and felt the power of Darkness fade as fast as it had arrived. Better not to use it twice in one battle and from the way the beast had slowed it seemed the battle was finally coming to an end.

Yoongi was holding his own quite well; he’d always been the more nimble out of the two of you what with having to find the perfect openings to Jump and all and he’d already managed to push the creature back some so you could recover in peace. 

“Shall we finish this?”

He asked gruffly, panting. 

You nodded, but as you went to strike now that it was cornered it suddenly...dissipated into mist? 

Well, that just wasn’t fair. 

“You will pay for that…”

The ominous threat was made good on and you gasped as a snow-like substance slowly fell around you and Yoongi. You fell to your knees at the freezing cold that enveloped you. Damn. This was why you loathed magic attacks. No matter what armor you wore it mattered not. 

You saw Yoongi go down out of the corner of your eye and lunged with a cry of pure, unadulterated fear as the monster came into existence once again and made as if to strike him. 

Claws raked across your back and again, your armor or no, you felt the impact and the pain shortly after, even with the adrenaline coursing through you. You were both going to die entirely if you didn’t do something now. 

You tossed a Phoenix Down over Yoongi, knowing it’d take a moment for the bird of resurrections feathers to revitalize his life force once again, and stood defensively in front of him. A snarl turned your face to something ugly and you hissed at the monster. 

“You want him? Then you’ve got to get through me first!!”

Your cry clearly met its mark as the creature roared in ire at being provoked and you neatly dodge rolled to avoid being hit as it attempted to catch you in its claws, scrambling for your item pouch. You shoved the last Potion’s contents down your throat before you let the power of Darkness surround you one final time, ready to sacrifice whatever was necessary of yourself to ensure Yoongi survived. He wouldn’t have much HP left - that Phoenix Down would only get him conscious and all it would take was one good hit for him to go down permanently. Just as you narrowed your eyes in concentration and went to swing downwards, Yoongi let out an abrupt shout and finished his final Jump; using the last remnants of his own power to finish the battle once and for all before you had the chance. 

The creature roared, in agony this time, and you watched in cold satisfaction as it collapsed to the cave floor in defeat. 

Without so much as a look at the monster that had nearly killed your closest friend you ran over to Yoongi and forced his arm over your shoulder. 

“What are you-?”

“Don’t pretend you aren't barely hanging onto consciousness right now you idiot. I know how Phoenix Downs work. It may revitalize you but it’s only enough to get you off the floor unless you also have a Potion or more on hand.”

You began trudging to the cave’s exit, squinting into the dusk. 

“We’re making a tent for the night, understand? We’ll go to Mist at first light. You’re in no condition to do anything right now besides recover. I’ll take watch after tending to your wounds and you’ll go right to sleep.”

Yoongi chuckled under his breath until he was forced to cough in pain and you frowned in annoyance at him briefly as fresh air greeted you both. It was a welcome change to the musky cave scent you’d both been stuck with for the past many hours you’d been stuck there. That damn mist had definitely cost you time and from how dark it was outside, you’d been there at least half a day. You'd made good time, if nothing else.  

“What’s so funny?”

“You can be such a parent sometimes. I’m fine. Being knocked out happens in fights sometimes. Besides, I managed to save you, didn’t I? I’d say I recovered just fine.”

He muttered cheekily, his voice gruff from being drawn unwillingly out of his unconscious state earlier. 

You grumbled at that. 

“I had it under control. And anyway...it’s dead. That’s all that matters. The only thing left to do now is to give this ring to Mist and see what they make of it. Surely one of them must know, else his Majesty would not have sent us here.”

You gently set Yoongi down onto a grassy hill you’d found, spotting Mist awaiting you both at the bottom. You were a little winded from carrying his weight; like it or not you were smaller and still weaker than him when it came to straight strength. A quick glance around made you relax a little as you sat down as well, taking off your helmet and letting yourself gulp in the fresh air with relief. It really had felt stuffy in that damn cave. Yoongi meanwhile was stripping himself of his armor, and you nodded down towards where a stream flowed steadily into the town. 

“Don’t be afraid to go wash up a little if you’d like once you feel well enough to stand. We can go at dawn as well if you’d prefer, given we’ll be sleeping outside tonight and all.”

Yoongi leveled a glare towards Mist and grumbled as he ran a hand through his messy locks, brushing away the dirt from the cave clinging to his undershirt and pants. 

“It’d be nice if we could just go rest at the inn but I know that’s an impossible venture. Say…” 

He winced as he examined a few of his wounds, mainly scrapes, and bruises but he had a nice long gash on his arm and head bled a bit as well, most likely from when he’d fallen unconscious. 

You could feel your own body aching but tried not to dwell on it, instead rummaging around your item pouch and grabbing a small loaf of bread you'd stashed away and a handkerchief Hoseok always made you carry. A small fond smile twitched onto your lips at the thought of him and you removed your helmet to see better. 

Yoongi had turned his gaze to you curiously, expecting you to stay in your armor in the case of monsters but you sighed at his inquiring gaze as you stood and merely walked over to the log he was sitting on, kneeling in front of him and beginning to dab at his bloody forehead. 

"Silly Dragoon. When will you learn to stop putting yourself at risk huh?"

You pushed the bread into his hands, with your free one continuing to dab at his wound gently. 

"Eat. It'll help you recover faster."

"But what about-" 

"I'm not the one who got knocked out."

You yelped as he suddenly grabbed your face and tilted your head to meet his steely brown gaze. 

"...You'll eat half or I won't so much as touch it."

You groaned as you smacked his hand away, grumbling at him as you uncorked the only Potion you had left and spilled a little onto the cloth to dab onto the cut on his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips as he let out a hiss of pain and clenched his hand into a fist. 

"You're such a child sometimes. Fine, you big baby. Just eat, will you? Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I should've picked up White Magic as well just to make up for your recklessness."

Yoongi eyed you over the bread as you sat back and sprawled out on the soft grass and nibbled at your half. 

"Don't act like you're the paragon of strategy. I saw how you were going to foolishly put yourself in a critical state to try and take the Eidolon out. Armor off. I know you're injured too and we still have ¾ of this Potion left."

His eyes narrowed with a little playful sadism and you knew he was looking forward to tending to your wounds as well. 

You smiled with a tinge of nervousness and shook your head. 

"No, I'm fine rea-"

"I will come over there and tug it off myself."

"Y-You're too weak to!"

You challenged in disbelief, calling his bluff. 

His eyes sparkled again and a cheeky grin now adorned his lips as he moved to stand, causing you to squeak and scramble away from him as you fumbled with your armor. 

"A-Alright alright! Sheesh!"

His low voice snickered in amusement as you blushed and reluctantly tugged off the heavy armor pieces. They'd been dented something awful in that fight; you’d need to get it fixed at a blacksmith once you got back to Baron. Still, you had to admit having the added weight off of your tired body was a welcome change. 

You were indeed injured as Yoongi and yourself had both noted and you winced at the gash in your side, not having noticed that the Eidolon must’ve managed to graze your side with its claws, fairly deeply. Your black t-shirt was tattered, barely sticking to your body from sweat and a bit from the blood as well. Your head was pounding too, the cool night air alerting you to just how hard you must’ve hit your head as you went down. 

“Come. Shirt off; that looks deep.”

You jumped a bit in surprise at Yoongi’s voice right by your ear, turning to frown at him over your shoulder. 

“I can take care of it myself Yoongi, you should rest.”

He stared you down until you caved with a huff and shucked off the remnants of your shirt. You made a good choice wearing your more flexible undergarments for activity today in anticipation of fighting. Made this all much more bearable, but Yoongi was resolutely focused on your wound in any case even so. You knew he wouldn’t lay down, let alone sleep until he knew you were at least taken care of. It warmed your heart that he cared for you so. 

That warmth faded to a whimper as gentle fingers brushed along the wound assessing the damage. 

“Apologies. Hm...Come. I want to clean this with water first. It’s deeper than it looks. It’s a good thing I brought that extra shirt with me after all.” 

You felt a little woozy truth be told, but you were still trying to keep yourself together. Yoongi had been knocked out after all. He had to be in worse shape than you. You had to be strong for him. 

Yoongi wasn’t buying it though. His gaze locked onto the way you swayed and when he saw you stutter a step as you went to start moving towards the stream nearby, he was quick to grab his shirt and rush to your side where he steadied you with a warm hand on your upper arm. 

“Idiot. How did you not notice you were losing this much blood?”

You laughed weakly, through the dizziness as Yoongi helped to guide you to the water. 

“Adrenaline is a powerful thing, as Hoseok says. I didn’t even feel it until you made me take off my armor.”

Yoongi growled at that, frustrated as he rushed to clean the wound, uncaring as you flinched at the icy water against your skin. 

"Well, we'll have to pray my actions are enough to keep you from meeting an early demise. I know you're strong but even you are Mortal."

The wound now as clean as it could be without magical help, Yoongi reached over for the Potion at his side and poured ¼ of the contents over the wound itself making you yowl in pain. 

He was too focused on his task to pay much attention, however, pouring the other ½ of the bottle onto his shirt which he pressed tightly to your side. He frowned seriously at you. 

"Hold it there, understand? I'll be back in a moment; I have to grab your armor piece. It'll hold the fabric tightly against the wound for the time being."

You meanwhile were trying to cope with the unbearable stinging. The wound had been deep indeed. You could feel the Potions remnants trying to stitch your body together, to slow the bleeding. It was working, however slow, but Ashura above it hurt. 

Yoongi returned after a time and you were surprised to see he was holding another Potion in hand. 

"How-?"

He frowned coldly as he crouched at your side and you registered he was now fully adorned in his teal armor save for his helmet which he'd taken off once he saw you. 

Your suspicion was confirmed when he wordlessly pressed a familiar earring into your hand. 

"You bloody idiot!!!"

Your voice was a poisonous whisper, not wanting to draw any sleeping monsters as you scowled at him and he numbly handed you the Potion. 

"Drink."

You shook your head. 

"I can't believe you went back to loot that Eidolon Yoongi.  What if you'd awoken a monster and-"

Your voice cracked and Yoongi sighed heavily as he saw angry tears make your eyes glassy. You could be so overemotional. You wore facades well around others but he and Hoseok had always been exceptions. You had no need to worry over him. 

"I'm here, alive and well, am I not? My wounds are light enough that a good night's sleep will be enough. But yours are more serious. I’m not risking losing you for the sake of your pride. Now drink or I’ll make you.” 

His voice lowered an octave at his last sentence and you glowered at him one last time before tossing the Potion back, wincing at the disgusting taste, but sighing in relief as your wound knitted itself back together, speeding up your body's cell regeneration a bit. It was no Hi or even X Potion, but it had sped the process up enough to be sure your body would be fully healed by tomorrow, and at least the bleeding had stopped. A touch of your head and you noted the tingling sensation had faded. Hopefully, any injury you had there had ceased to be as well. 

Yoongi had busied himself with attaching just the armor for your side into place so that the Potion soaked fabric would be held against your skin but he turned his gaze to you as he stood and stretched, once again discarding his armor. 

“Well; that’s enough excitement for one night. I’m going to go rest until we have to rise at first light.  Call if any particularly threatening monsters arise.”

You also stood, your own armor halfway back on as you gently called his name. 

“Yoongi!”

He paused, halfway up the hill. His hair was mussed from his rush to loot the Eidolon for your benefit; his long blond ponytail trailing behind him. Long hair has been a part of Dragoon culture for nearly as long as the profession itself had been. It was as characteristic to the culture as the Monks wearing it short, braided, or not at all. Yoongi had mentioned his father had explained that it was a demonstration of the freedom Dragoons symbolized and always fought for. He turned to look at you and his perceptive brown eyes locked onto your own. 

You smiled kindly, gaze sincere. 

“Thank you. I know I can be…” 

You sheepishly rubbed at the back of your neck. 

“A bit difficult sometimes. I appreciate it, and you.”

Yoongi scoffed but you could now clearly see his cheeks turning red in embarrassment before he whirled to finish his journey back towards camp to hide it. You still caught the fondness of his tone though, despite the playful words.

“Always so soft…”

You watched until you could no longer see him and turned back to your armor, finishing putting it on and tugging your darkened helmet over your head once more. Luckily the night was still with the only sounds you could hear being the stream beside you and the chirping of harmless bugs. The twin moons were both full tonight, illuminating the Blue Planet brilliantly. 

Nevertheless, you decided to do a quick perimeter check deciding your newly healed body could use the movement. It was a peaceful night and you heard the faint crackling of torches as you neared the entrance to Mist. You couldn’t help your curiosity as you watched a young girl run to the river, bucket in one hand and a cloth handmade doll in the other haphazardly sewn together. 

She seemed panicked and you faintly heard her voice carry to where you stood just beyond the tree line. 

“Agh I can’t believe I forgot to restock!! Mom’s gonna kill me!!”

She finally managed to get the bucket full but you winced sympathetically as in her rush she tumbled over the bucket and sent water spilling everywhere; soaking her to the bone. Just as you debated emerging to help, an older woman with the same hair and eye color ran out of the town and up to her, a worried frown on her lips. 

“Jenjia just what do you think you’re doing!?”

Her voice was much quieter you noticed thankfully; it would’ve probably been bad if any fiends had been awoken earlier. 

The girl, Jenjia as you now knew her, looked sheepish and beamed nervously up at her mother, clasping her hands behind her back. 

“I’m sorry Mom, I just realized we didn’t have any water to boil! You like to have your tea at night with Daddy and I forgot when playing with Cheryl earlier…” 

She scuffed her worn looking loafers on the ground as her mother shook her head. 

“Well then that’s a day well spent, isn’t it? I’d rather have my daughter home safe and sound than a cup of tea Jia. Your father will feel the same. Leviathan will keep our water flowing clean until tomorrow to refill the stores. Come along now; I’ve already put some beef stew on the stove and I’d rather it didn’t get cold.”

Your heart warmed at the gentle interaction even as a bitter twinge you didn’t want to acknowledge made your chest hurt. You had His Majesty, and that was enough. You never would’ve found Yoongi or Hoseok without him. You turned away as you recalled Yoongi and the girl grabbed her Mother’s hand to be led inside. 

Best you were on your way in any case; it wouldn’t be good if Yoongi woke to find you missing, or if a monster snuck up on your camp.

The rest of the night watch passed uneventfully and Yoongi awoke, as he usually did, at first light. 

You offered him a capful of water from your flask and he drank it gratefully. You’d used up all the food last night; you really should bring more than simple bread next time. Honestly, it had just slipped your mind...this was why Yoongi and Hoseok typically took care of provisions. You always managed to miss something. 

You fiddled absentmindedly with the new earring Yoongi had presented you with last night. It was common practice within Baron to claim trophies from particularly tough monsters and wear them as badges of honor. Typically; you felt pride in a kill and yesterday your mind had been preoccupied with panic and anger but now that it was the next morning you felt no joy, no sense of victory, There had been...no malice or hate that you typically felt from monsters. And it had bled too. It was...odd. 

Still, Yoongi had risked his life to get it for you, and King Odin would surely be pleased with the sight of it upon your return. Best to keep it on for now. 

You jumped as a pair of armored hands abruptly clapped in your face and offered a weak smile to Yoongi as he held out his hand to help you up. 

You grasped it, and he easily pulled you to your feet. 

“How are you feeling?”

You couldn’t help the worry seeping into your tone but Yoongi waved you off. 

“I told you last night I’d be fine and I am. I feel fit as yesterday before we’d even departed. Rest can often be even more healing than a Potion or Cure spell. Now then, shall we go? I’m sure you must be exhausted and the sooner we return home the sooner we can get you some much needed and deserved rest.”

You nodded at that, and after making sure you both had snuffed out the fire and that your weapons and armor were properly set you began your short trek to the gates of Mist. 

It was a tiny village you knew, unlike Damcyan, Fabul, Troia, or Eblan there was no castle, and even Mysidia was more bustling and lively than the few houses dwelling here. It was humble to be sure, but there was a peace and a sense of sincerity here that you doubted you could find anywhere else. 

You fingered the box holding the ring in your pocket, a bit nervous now that you were here. Baron and Mist had never had particularly good relations. You prayed that the King asking for their input would establish a rapport and help you maintain a good relationship. You lowered your face visor, figuring being able to see some part of you that was human behind your demonic looking armor would help put them at ease. 

As Yoongi and you both entered the village you noticed the civilians within already began side-eying you distrustingly and couldn’t help but wonder if word of Mysidia had already spread but quickly reminded yourself that that was impossible. After all; Troia was the only neighboring kingdom and they would’ve had to have taken an airship here just to inform them. A general lack of airships besides Baron aside, Troia was always neutral anyway and pretty much entirely isolated.

Guess tensions with Baron really were high then. 

You suddenly noticed a woman approaching you and recognized her as the mother from last night. Her daughter clutched at her skirt, observing you with curious if shy eyes. You smiled at her while Yoongi offered a respectful nod to the mother. 

“Good day ma’am we were just-”

His words were cut off by your pained yelp as you ripped the now searing box that held the ring out of its pouch. You’d been so preoccupied with calming down the young girl you hadn’t noticed the rising temperature until it was near scorching. 

“The ring!”

The box was rustling wildly of its own accord as it hit the ground, and Yoongi frowned deeply in confusion only to roughly pull you back several feet as he too jumped back. 

The woman too had shoved her daughter behind her and was examining the box before recognition lit her eyes. 

“This is-!”

Boom

The box exploded open and Bomb monsters hidden inside didn’t waste any time as they began setting fire to anything and anyone they could. In seconds the village was burning and the smell of burning flesh was everywhere. You could do little more than watch in horrified shock as smoke already was causing your eyes to burn at the spot the woman had just been. That initial violent opening of the box had scorched the poor woman...and her daughter you noted numbly, where they’d stood. The girl-Jenjia you reminded yourself, she had a name- all that remained of her was her doll, slowly burning away to nothingness in front of your very eyes. Suddenly, an abrupt realization hit you.

The bombs were carefully not targeting Yoongi and yourself.

You shook violently as words escaped your lips in hushed horror, taking in the carnage caused in the wake of your visit. It had to be a mistake, it had to. Yoongi would be truthful with you. You must’ve missed something. This wasn’t happening.

“This is what we were sent to do?”

Yoongi looked around with detached and grim determination.

“He wished this village torched.”

Tears streamed down your face and evaporated just as quickly, whether from the flames and smoke or the horror and disgust coursing through you; who could say? You trembled with rage and clenched your fists so tightly your already dented armor creaked a bit more from the force of it. 

“But why?”

You raised your head to the sky and let out a guttural raw of pure primal agony. 

“Why!?!”

Yoongi remained silent beside you, but you could feel the tenseness coming off of him in waves. This upset him too, you were sure. You numbly looked back down at the ground and it took you a few moments to register a new sound amid the now silent town besides the crackling of the fire and the creaking of buildings as they collapsed in on themselves. Destroyed in mere minutes. 

A young boy sobbing. 

You grimly raised your head and began walking towards the sound hearing Yoongi’s steady footsteps beside you. 

You came across a mint haired boy, hysterically gasping over a woman’s body. Luckily the child was beside the only water source in the town; a small pool which seemed to have kept the Bombs at bay. 

As Yoongi and you approached, he clung all the harder to his mother, not even noticing both of you. You barely managed to make out the words between his heart-wrenching sobs. 

“Mother you can’t die! J-Just because your dragon did!!” 

Yoongi’s eyes suddenly lit with understanding behind his visor and you turned to him in confusion as he nodded to himself. 

“I’ve heard of their lot. Men who can conjure Eidolons...Summoners.”

It suddenly hit you and you mumbled to yourself as it all seemed to come together. 

“Then the dragon we slew...was...his mothers?”

The boy gasped at the sound of your voice and turned to glare fearfully at you and Yoongi making you wince as you met his gaze behind your visor in reluctant admission of your guilt. He stood in an attempt to appear more intimidating even despite the tremor in his voice showing how petrified he was just underneath the facade.

“You...You’re the ones who killed her dragon!?”

You swallowed the bitter taste on your tongue as you pleaded with the boy. Moon above, he couldn’t be more than 10. 

“Forgive us. We’d no idea this would happen to your mother.”

It sounded exactly what it was. Weak and pathetic. There would be no forgiveness. Not for this. Nor for Mysidia. 

You forced your gaze to his deceased Mother and sent up a prayer. As if that would help him now. 

Yoongi looked around and finally spoke up, tone matter of fact. 

“His Majesty sent us to eliminate every last one of these people.”

Your legs finally gave out, unable to take the weight being placed upon you. 

“No…”

Yoongi frowned as he looked down at you, assessing your condition before he began to move towards the boy with grim determination. 

“Foul work to be sure. But we’ll need to kill the boy as well.”

At that you lunged, just before he reached him, hopping to your feet and pushing against his chest plate in horrified desperation. 

“Yoongi!!”

Up close as you were, you could feel his breath on your skin, could hear the hateful sense of begrudging duty in his tone.

“It’s him or us ____!” 

You pushed him with all your might, making him take a step back even with the weakness coursing through your shaky body.

“He’s a child!”

You turned to look down at the still sobbing boy who was too preoccupied with trying to wipe his tears to pay attention to you both. 

“You’d betray your King?”

Yoongi’s voice now held a note of finality,

You turned to fully face him, clenching your hand into a fist and drawing it close to your chest.

“Betray him? Any King who’d wish for this is no King of mine!!” 

You snarled, harshly swinging your arm out in a subconscious show of disgusted frustration. 

Yoongi smirked at you suddenly and you found yourself startled as he scoffed in humor. 

“Hmph. I thought you might say that.”

Your eyes searched for him just behind your visor as you grew hopeful. 

“Then…?”

He looked off into the distance for a moment and then turned to you with sharp determination. 

“I owe his Majesty much but not so much I’d soil the Dragoon’s name in his.”

He planted his spear down with finality.

Your eyes widened and you stepped closer to him in excitement.

“Then you’re with me?”

He made sure to meet your gaze and wordlessly nodded twice in support before he turned, this time towards the destruction, and walked past the boy as he spoke, looking out at it. 

“Baron’s army is the mightiest in the world. Our flight means nothing if we remain alone; we must treat with other nations, share what we’ve seen…”

He hesitated and then turned to look at you once more. 

“And Hoseok, he must share our flight.”

Your tone softened in affection for him and you nodded, stepping closer.

“And he will. Thank you.”

He turned away for a moment and mumbled to himself. 

“...I’m not doing this for you.”

You didn’t hear him and tilted your head. 

“Huh?”

Yoongi ignored you however and turned to nod towards the boy.

“Quickly, we mustn’t linger here! What of the boy?”

You didn’t even hesitate. 

“We take him with us.”

After hesitating a moment you approached him where he was still crouched protectively over his mother’s body as Yoongi watched uneasily but stayed where he was. 

“Come, it’s not safe here! Take my hand.” 

You asked gently, holding out your hand to the boy. 

He hopped away from you with a glower. 

“No!!” 

Yoongi growled low in his throat at that.

“We’ve no time; use force if you must!”

He joined you as he ran over and Jimin cowered away in fear disguised as anger. 

“Stay away!”

You held out your hand as Yoongi and you both froze. 

“Wait!” 

The child began running in earnest and Yoongi and you both followed, hot on his heels when he suddenly curled in on himself with a choked sob.

“Leave me alone!” 

He suddenly screeched as blinding white light surged up from beneath his feet and you could feel the magical energy emanating from him. Yoongi had faltered but you kept running, refusing to be responsible for the death of another child. If he harmed you so be it...you deserved it anyway.

“I HATE YOU!!!”

You felt the earth shake violently and you glanced up to see a massive Titan made of pure earth. The Eidolon raised its hands, your eyes widened and you lunged curling your arms around the boy as you crushed him protectively against your chest as hard as you could just as he fell unconscious from exertion. You felt the Titan’s hands come down onto the Blue Planet’s surface hard and your body flew into the air. 

If you were to die then so be it, but let this child survive at least. 

He need not share the payment for your sins.

You slammed against the ground hard several times, but curled your body inward all the more around his tiny body in spite of the pain, praying your armor would be enough to absorb the impact as you finally, mercifully joined the child in unconsciousness.

A/N:  Welp, I hope those that actually read this series enjoy it; I’ve only gotten one rambly review on AO3 that inspired be to keep posting this so thank them if you enjoy this series and I’m not talking to myself. Anyway! Onto fun notes about this chapter! :) 

I find Yoongi’s characterization and his relationship to Reader to be one of the most fun parts to explore thus far for me this chapter as well as how they fight together in a serious battle. I also delved into status effects some as well as the various uses of Potions! Expect more explained uses of items and such as the series goes on! Yoongi’s look hair wise in Daechwita perfectly fits both the OG character Yoongi is based off of(Kain Highwind). Luckily it hit me as I was going through mvs, trying to decide if there was anything that matched Kain’s lucious locks and there it was! 

Also yay!! Official intro for Jimin! I know he’s never had mint hair before but I just had to include the nod to the OG game after doing Yoongi’s so...please bare with me. These are the ones I felt most fit what I was imagining. 

Hope you all enjoy and please leave feedback it’s a huge motivator for me! Much love hope ya’ll are enjoying the influx of content from me lately! <3

[flovey-dovey]

I want to say something about Klaus

I’ve been waiting a very long time to see this movie, and when I finally could I loved it to pieces. But the ending broke my heart- in more ways than one.

There will be no “tldr” here because my feelings about this film are too strong to let me minimalize what I have to say about it (but I might have to make a part 2 since this is pretty big). If you don’t agree with me, that’s fine, it’s okay, I don’t blame you. I won’t tell you you’re wrong, because in your own life you’re as obligated as ever to have an opinion of your own, correct or not. One other thing I want to say before I start rambling is that this will be messy. Also I do not- nor have ever- claimed to be a critic, and this is not a review. This is just a single person on the internet expressing their opinion, and for the love of all that is holy let’s keep it at that.

Foreword over, on to my pure thoughts. Oh, and spoiler alert for those who haven’t seen the movie yet. No matter what I think about it it’s definitely worth a watch, and going into this without seeing it will probably confuse some folks. Maybe.

Okay, since my main qualm is with the characters, let’s start with Alva. I like her. She’s not the generic “tough girl who don’t need no man” I was fully prepared to have shoved down my throat. She has some genuinely good moments on her own as well as funny and pleasant interactions with both Jesper and the children of the town and is a fine character. She is jaded and determined, though not to the point of that being her entire personality, and I loved watching her find happiness as the teacher she wanted to be. She is a victim of circumstance that eventually has her environment changed and finds herself changed with it for the better. Her design and personality were very pleasing (to me) to see as well.

However...

Why did she have to be the love interest? Just- why? What warranted her eventually desiring a relationship of any description when she was shown to be more devoted to her position as a teacher- and as a single woman- throughout 90% of the film? This is especially frustrating since it turns almost every scene with her into one that involves Jesper in some way rather than build her as a character outside of this perspective. It takes away from Alva “the character” and instead focuses more on her as Alva “the love interest”. In media stuffed to the rafters in heteronormative relationships, and from those that I’ve seen, as afraid as I was to see it happen I was also prepared to have this aspect of the movie gracelessly thrown into my face. So, as might be expected, I actually groaned out loud when I saw it come to pass. I’m not mad, just... actually that’s a lie I am rather irritated by it, but also just... sad. Very, very sad. Disappointed, you might say. She and Jesper don’t have a lot of interactions showing that this was the obvious outcome. The best I can think that people would draw this conclusion would be a) she’s a woman and he’s a guy and they looked at each other that one time, and b) when he was trying to be charming to wriggle out of her wrath. Also, same scene, I don’t buy that it’s further implied by the boat-guy (I forget his name and can’t find it on IMDB) teasing Jesper over “young love” after she leaves in a huff. He’s not a reliable look into any feelings Jesper might feel towards her since all he’s done up to that point is tease him. It’s not enough, it just isn’t. Not to me.

In regards to her feelings for Jesper, the most I see from her is gratitude. The scene when she’s showing Jesper what he unintentionally did for the town is just that, and as she’s looking at the townsfolk Jesper looks... distressed. This is because he is conflicted about what to do at this point in the story, not necessarily because of any feelings for Alva, but it doesn’t even look like he’s thinking of her- romantically- at all. They don’t share any additional conversation, either; not a single flirtatious joke or anything that would lead me to believe they were bonding. I feel horribly conditioned to see her as the love interest and nothing more because that’s all I’ve ever seen done with a man and woman who only share a single line of dialogue before some narrator is telling me “of course” they got together in the end. Oftentimes, that line of dialogue is in an unpleasant or downright aggressive scenario, and that’s not romance. Seeing it happen over and over and over and over in almost every piece of media I subject myself to makes me want to take a blowtorch to my brain. I’m literally at my wit’s end. If it was more built-up and actually there, then fine, I take it back, but the thing is I hardly saw anything at all in terms of either Jesper or Alva or both of them thinking about each other, wanting to be together as more than just friends, throughout the entire hour and a half of the movie. The most scenes I can say they shared (not counting the ending because I’ll get to that in a bit) are four, with each one being little more than a minute long, two of them being more on the aggressive side, the third being when Alva shows Jesper the new Smeerenburg. Pleasant and humorous, yes, but not inherently romantic (neither of them share more than a glance and Jesper looks pretty preoccupied internally). The fourth is of Alva helping Margu translate what she wants from Klaus for Jesper. When Margu hugs Jesper and he and Alva exchange silent looks, the expression on Alva’s face, to me, says something like “you’re not half bad” and a note of good humor for how he handles children. Just so we’re clear I’m not against her finding happiness with Jesper. I just want it to be warranted. Not narrated.

Oh, but their love for each other is obvious and clearly meant to be from the start, is it? Okay then, show me when Alva says or does something and makes Jesper laugh, or vice-versa. Show me when she thought of him OUTSIDE of simply showing him what he did for everyone and how their hands touched, their gazes met and shy or flirtatious smiles spread across their faces as they drew slightly closer, and how she felt something more than gratitude and impressment for him. Show me when Jesper wanted to do something for her OUTSIDE being the means to a letter-related end. Show me the parts when they pined for each other and how happy seeing the other’s smile made them and how they were happy for each other’s progress and encouraged each other. Show me the parts of the movie where Jesper visited as often as he could manage to squeeze into his busy schedule just to chat. Show me kisses, hand-holding, lingering looks and happy little half-smiles cast from across a crowded courtyard. Maybe they do share something more than friendship, but no matter what I can’t get over how little there was between them to give me the impression it was going to lead to romance. It’s not even subtext, in my opinion.

Do you remember when Jesper’s father came back and it all came out in a part known as “the liar revealed” (a trope I quite hate for the oftentimes needless forced drama it creates, but whatever, for now I’ll let it slide) that he had ulterior motives which, at that point, he no longer had? Alva was the FIRST to turn her back on him in spite of their “lovey-dovey” merry-go-round painting MOMENTS earlier. She didn’t even want to hear out Jesper, who was clearly upset, and jumped straight to accusing him without showing that she was just as upset by the revelation that he could’ve been using her and playing with her feelings. How romantic. Meanwhile, the last one to return inside was Klaus, who was far more saddened and disappointed, leaving slower and leaving Jesper looking the worst, like he was heartbroken by his words- an echo of his own- most of all.

In fact...

Speaking of Klaus, I’d say Jesper is far more attracted to him than to Alva. This movie, while nearly devoid of interactions serving to build romantic chemistry between Jesper and Alva (which it absolutely should’ve if they had the ending be what it was), is littered with moments, wordless and otherwise, between Klaus and Jesper. So let’s go over them. I mean, if you’ve left by now then like I said at the start, I don’t mind. But if it’s alright I’d like to talk about them anyway, because holy holly I love them.

The scenes in question are clearly shown to develop their friendship and only get more romantic from there, and I could run out of breath trying to ramble them off all at once and what it meant to me to see them portrayed in such a beautiful way- artistically as well as in terms of the story.

Fairly early on, we learn that the wind is kind of its own “character”, guiding both Jesper and Klaus to ultimately meet each other as well as bringing them together more than once afterwards, and later on with what we learn about him it’s heavily implied to be the spirit of Klaus’ dearly departed wife. I’d like to think she was trying to tell Klaus to move on and find new love in Jesper and for Jesper to find purpose by Klaus’ side. The instances involving the wind are scattered throughout the film, so this is going to be a bit out of order.

To start, Jesper, while trying to get Klaus to donate his toys to the children of Smeerenburg, doesn’t notice the wind swirling around behind him like it was telling Klaus to follow him even if at the time Jesper’s intentions were selfish. Because he changes. They change each other, and their dynamic progresses so much more naturally, directly and clearly than Jesper and Alva’s.

There’s another scene when it leads Klaus to his workshop, where he opens the door to see a silhouette distinctly meant to parallel his wife- the one he loved- and revealed when he pulls back the cloth to be Jesper- his potential new love.

It’s one of the most explicit scenes enforcing my idea that Klaus’ wife was trying to get him to love again. Anyway, Jesper then excitedly starts going on about his gift and trying to get his mojo back before making an unintentionally big mistake by revealing a painful reminder of Klaus’ wife. A mistake he deeply regrets, mind. Not too long later, Jesper tries working on his own to make Margu’s wish for a boat/sleigh come true. While he works, the shot fades to see Klaus back at his workshop. He sees the picture Jesper drew of them and sighs, giving in and going to see him at the post office [also not to mention the drawing fades with the family shelf thing Klaus made so that’s pretty neat; took me a year to edit this in but hey better late than never]. My favorite scene is Klaus showing up to work on Margu’s present, giving Jesper a tool as well and interrupting Jesper to wordlessly point at the task at hand as if to say “If we work, we work together”. And that spoke to me. More than anything else in the movie and more than I’ve heard from any movie I’ve seen that I can remember. Also, Jesper’s soft, shy, willing smile put the biggest grin on my face. It was the last nail in the sled that made me convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were forming a romantic bond from this moment forward.

Part 2 because this is long:

https://flovey-dovey.tumblr.com/post/189133807093/part-2-of-my-thoughts-on-klaus

[damnzawa]

A THOUSAND MILES — TOSHINORI YAGI

Whoop whoop, Dad Might in the house! Also this is my first request so I hope I didn't disappoint lmao. Requested by @velkhanaisbae !!

Warning(s): Angst(?), Plus Ultra Fluff i think, also no romance in this, just family love

—

6:50 pm.

He was late.

You sighed as you stared at your watch, waiting for someone you've been wanting to see ever since you've landed in Japan. He promised he'd be there, he even promised he wouldn't be late, but you knew better. You knew, he couldn't even keep his promises to you for even one second but what could you do? You knew his job was far more important than you. You knew, so all you had to do was understand.

Missed your birthday? Understandable, it was just you being one year closer to death anyways. No biggie.

Missed your graduation? It's ok, he saved tons of lives during that time. The graduation ceremony was boring anyway.

Missed the entirety of your whole life? Well, that was something you couldn't live with.

And that is why, you moved to Japan. You hoped that moving to Japan will hopefully erase some of the distance between you and your father. You hoped that moving to Japan will help you learn about each other and bond, you know? Like what fathers and their child typically do. You even hoped he'd come to the surfing spot you've been wanting to go to for ages.

Sighing once again, you hoped he felt the same way.

"Y/n!" A voice called out to you. Quickly recognizing the voice you've been waiting to hear, you turned your head towards the direction where it came from.

And lo and behold, you finally saw the face of your dad.

The (former) number one hero of Japan, and the symbol of peace; Toshinori Yagi, known by everyone as All Might. The fearless hero, the hero everyone-well not everyone-aspired to be.

Smiling, you quickly dragged your luggage as you spotted him in the crowd. He looked thinner than he used to be and that worried you a lot. Was he not taking care of himself? Does he not eat regularly? Oh gosh, you're definitely taking care of him, no doubt. Even if he doesn't want you to.

"Dad!" You exclaimed, tackling him into a hug out of excitement. He stumbled for a bit before quickly regaining his balance and hugging you back. His warmth was very inviting, his hug was as warm as home. In conclusion, the best hug you've gotten. The hug you've been wanting in your whole life.

"I'm sorry I was late, kiddo. Had to take care of some things at U.A." Oh right, he was a teacher now too.

"Don't worry Dad. I don't mind." You flashed him a smile. "So, a teacher huh? You might need a 'Teaching for Dummies 101' book or something. Knowing you Dad, you suck at teaching." You teased him making him scratch the back of his head in embarrassment.

"Wait, don't tell me-"

"I actually got one." He confessed making you burst out laughing. He seriously got one? If that ain't cute, you don't know what is.

"It's ok, dad." You were about to say something when your stomach grumbled making you blush in embarassment.

Now it was your father's turn to chuckle. "Alright kiddo. I know a diner not far away from here." Nodding your head, you let your father drag away your luggage as you two talked throughout the entire way.

—

A few days passed since you landed in Japan, you've been living in your Dad's apartment and let's just say it isn't what you expected.

What you expected was he actually lived in the apartment, but no, apparently kids at U.A. got attacked a lot of times teachers — and students — need to live in dorms for protection and security. You ended up being alone for 5 days.

Thankfully though, weekend is here! Which means, your dad was going home.

Gosh, you've been wanting to take him to the surfing spot for days, and now you finally have the chance!

You packed up everything you guys needed, and a picnic too. You made all the food he said he loved and a few of his favorite desserts too. You hoped he'll like what you planned for the two of you. You also hoped that he'll enjoy and relax for once.

You texted him, asking what time he will come back home as you patiently waited for him. Deciding to watch some silly show to pass the time.

By the time you reached the 3rd episode, you realized that it was nearing noon now and you've completely forgotten about the day you planned with your dad. Immediately grabbing your phone, you smiled when you noticed your dad replied. But the smile quickly faded when you saw his message.

From: Dad Might

To: Y/n

I'm afraid I won't come home today, Kiddo. I'm busy training Young Midoriya this weekend. I hope you'll do fine by yourself! I love you.

You understood, you really do. Hearing how that boy — his successor — broke a lot of bones just by inheriting your Dad's quirk was scary. You didn't even know bones were supposed to repeatedly break like that.

But... deep inside you heart broke.

Deep inside you envied Midoriya and his breaking bome curse. You envied the students at U.A. for having to see your Dad 24/7.

Deep inside, you knew you just had to understand.

Guess, you just had to go there by yourself.

From: Y/n

To: Dad Might

It's ok, Dad! Kick butt out today! Well, preferably not Midoriya's. Love you too.

—

The surfing spot was amazing. The waves were perfect, as well as it's temperature. The place was not crowded too! Just the way you like it. The only problem was... the corals and rocks you seemingly just scrape into everytime which causes a lot of cuts — hopefully not all of them are deep — and bruises. You try your best to keep them from your Dad, not wanting to worry him but with all the bandages, you knew it was hard to keep this a secret.

Little did you know, your father was much more observant than you know. Of course he was. He's a fucking pro-hero. Well retired. But still, he's a hero.

It almost killed him seeing you come home with numerous bandages on different parts of your body. At first, he brushed it off as you being clumsy because he distinctly remember you were such a klutz when you were young. But when the bandages grew in number, he knew something was wrong.

Millions of bad thoughts filled his mind quickly, who has the audacity to do that to his child? To his loved one?

"Y/n, are you ok?" Your father asked while you were preparing dinner. You turned to him, confused as to why he was asking that.

"I'm a-ok, Dad." You sent him a comforting smile before returning your attention to making dinner. "What made you ask?"

"The bandages." Your father simply said, making you freeze. Damn, you knew he would know sooner than later. "Why didn't you tell me, kiddo?"

"I-It's not a big deal, to be honest Dad." You faced him as you replied and you can clearly see the worry in his eyes. "Really. You don't have to worry about me, Dad. I'm an adult now."

"I have to worry about you. You're my kid." He sighed. "Who is it? Who did this to you?"

Wait, what?

Did your Dad think you were being abused?

"No! Dad! It's not like that, I promise!" You replied, waving your arms making an X with them.

"No, Y/n. You can trust me. Who is it?"

"Dad! I promise, it's not like that! I..." You took a deep breath. "I have been going to this surfing spot not far from here every weekend and it's perfect! The only problem is uh... I get cut on corals and rocks and whatnot everytime I surf. It's just me being clumsy, I guess?" You explained then placed your hand on top of his in a comforting manner. "Really, Dad. That's all there is. I'm not being hurt by someone. Plus, if they do, I can protect myself and I guess I have an awesome Dad that can kick their butts too."

"Still, why didn't you tell me Kiddo? I could've help bandaging those or went with you."

"I... you were just so busy all the time I couldn't find the chance to ask you and..." Oh gosh, you could feel the waterworks coming. "...and you just look tired all the time and I don't wanna burden you. Plus, I feel... I feel... like there's a distance between us. I don't know if it's because we've been apart for so long or we just don't click or I don't know but I just feel like you're a thousand miles away from me and I hate that." You started to ugly cry now making your father stand up from his seat and stand infront of you.

"I just... it's just me being silly, I guess. Don't mind me, Dad." You tried to laugh it off and wipe the tears on your face. But everytime you do, new set of tears just cascade down, sobs coming out of your mouth.

"No, no. Kiddo. It's not you being silly... it's me being a bad dad." Your eyes widened at his response but before you could even protest he started talking again. "I never knew you felt those things. I never asked and I never even tried to. I've been a bad dad to you so far. I chose my work over my family and I've been absent in your life. You're not a burden, you never were. You're the greatest thing that ever happened to me and i'm grateful the heavens gave something like you to me. Even though I'm not around often, nor say it often, I love you, Kiddo. Don't you ever forget that." This just made you cry even more. You hugged him tight, never wanting to let go as you realized the distance was erased now. He was no longer a thousand miles away from you, no, he no longer was. Instead, he was standing next to you with that big smile of his.

"I am here, Kiddo. I am here now."

You guys stayed like that for a while, only breaking apart when you realized you both burned your dinner.

"Wanna order pizza instead?"

"You know me so well, Dad."

—

"I can see why you like it here, it's so peaceful and beautiful." Your dad commented as you both reached your destination.

"It is." You replied, making him smile. "Now let's go Dad! Let's hit the waves!" You quickly got your board and ran towards the water making your father chuckle.

"Don't worry, Kiddo. I'm right here beside you."

Oh boy, let's just say your Dad earned more cuts and bruises than you. Who knew someone as mighty as him suck at surfing?

[oneweekoneband]

Some Context

I keep referring to BTMI! songs’ critiques of the “punk scene,” and I realize that I should give some context on what that meant at that particular moment in time. My account is going to be a little muddled because I didn’t actually live through most of what I’m about to recount (well, OK, I lived through it, but I was too young to understand it until I became a teenager at the very end of the era), so I apologize if this comes across as inauthentic or second-hand – the best I can say is that even if I wasn’t “there,” I felt the ripples and aftershocks of the tensions within the punk scene throughout my teenage years and beyond.

I don’t want to sound like I’m idealizing the past too much, so I’ll say that if my study of the genre’s history reflects any kind of reality, we can safely say that punk rock, for all its rebellious posturing, has always had a commercial aspect to it. Hell, everyone knows the story of how Malcolm McLaren assembled the Sex Pistols as a kind of “anti-boy band” specifically to make money. But it wasn’t until the 90s that punk became a business institution. And this turn of events revolves largely around the rise of a “sub-genre” of punk that has now become the first thing most young listeners think of when they hear the word: pop-punk.

The biggest pop-punk bands of the 90s (Green Day and Blink-182 being the most notable examples) enjoyed a steady rise to mainstream popularity from the time of their origins until many reached the kind of “superstar status” previously reserved for what were known in the 70s and 80s as “arena rock” bands. This was largely unprecedented, and it fundamentally changed how punk as a genre was approached from a musical and political standpoint. By the mid-2000s, punk became an opportunity to make big money, upping the stakes for anyone trying to get a piece of the pop-punk pie.

At the same time, pop-punk began a fragmentation into increasingly stratified subgenres that attempted to alter what some saw as a disappointingly formulaic approach to counter-culture. Thus we got emo*, metalcore, and, of course, ska-punk. The irony of this genre stratification was that the subgenres proved to be just as restrictive and formulaic as pop-punk, if not more so: metalcore bands must have tuned-down guitars and screamed vocals, ska-punk bands must have a horn section, downbeats on the 2 and 4, and sections that alternate between ska and hardcore, etc. And with these subgenre divisions came further divisions of punk fans into cliques that frequently fought amongst each other for the spotlight, each claiming to be the true successor to the iconoclasm of the original punk movement. On top of all this, some punks with noisier/avant-garde leanings that could smell the stagnation coming found solace in rejecting any kind of commitment to pretty much anything, adopting a cheap irony to shield themselves from the self-parody they might otherwise be accused of. But instead of opening up new creative avenues, this stance tended to lead only to a callousness that encouraged making fun of almost anyone who claimed to take what they were doing seriously, creating a race to the bottom for who could appear to care the least.

This is the scene I imagine Jeff grew up  through; I merely grew up in the midst of it. This was already the state of punk rock by the time I started listening to it in the late-2000s. Naturally, Jeff had a lot to say about it. His music and lyrics in BTMI! frequently challenged the apparent incoherence of playing punk rock in the 21st century. Perhaps the fact that he started from a position in it considered (by the mid-2000s, although Propagandhi had already released “Ska Sucks” in 1993) to already be deserving of mockery, that of the much-derided ska-punk scene, is part of what gave him the vantage point he had. BTMI! started with songs in a genre already considered to be obsolete, and Jeff sounded like he was fully aware of this from the start; he sings and plays with irony, but it’s a different kind of irony than that of the callous hipster types that had started to dominate the scene at that time. BTMI!’s sense of irony feels like it’s laughing both at and with itself, like a person who knows exactly how ridiculous they look in doing something but goes ahead and does it anyway. And there’s a freedom in this, the freedom that comes from both self-awareness and shaking off the chains of shame simultaneously.

Granted, BTMI! didn’t just play ska-punk – over time, their sound grew more and more diverse as they branched off into different experiments and new arrangements. This was another challenge to the punk scene of the time: a refusal to be pigeonholed and restricted to a single genre. Jeff mentions in some of his notes how much he was inspired by music that falls pretty distinctly outside of the realm of punk, like Neutral Milk Hotel and the Beach Boys, and his own music reflects those influences. BTMI! was more than a ska-punk band, and, against the limited measure of what a punk band could be at that time, more than a punk band as well.

In addition to its ironic malaise, BTMI!’s lyrics also tackled the punk scene’s in-fighting problem and general hostility to anyone perceived to be coming from outside of the culture. Jeff decried gatekeeping and violence at shows, pushing instead for a community based on kindness, positivity, and recognition of what members of the scene have in common. Punk rock is still angry and political in his vision – during the Bush years, how could it not be? – but that anger is also therapeutic, helping to lift up those who come to punk seeking some kind of release from mainstream capitalist drudgery. And even those that don’t care about punk deserved respect; Jeff was a big proponent of not being cruel to the “boring nice people” who weren’t a part of the scene.

One final note for context that doesn’t inform BTMI!’s music as much as my own understanding of it: by the late 2000s, another development occurred within punk, once again to its detriment. The worst aspects of the emo and metalcore movements came together into something that would become known as “the scene,” populated by “scene kids.” Though rejected by most “traditional” punks, this quickly became the most popular subculture of its time, and is likely how the majority of kids in the last couple generations ended up learning about punk as a culture and musical form for the first time. BTMI! didn’t necessarily explicitly address this development (though there are hints of some recognition of it in their lyrics), but their music did stand out in stark contrast to most of the “scene” music of that time. This is partly what attracted me to them so much: they were a punk band that had nothing to do with “the scene,” independent thinkers with a musical vision of their own, willing to mock anything (including themselves) but still seriously committed to what they did because they knew that was what they wanted.

*Yes, I know that the roots of emo reach further back, but I’m talking about when it began to solidify into what we recognize to be “emo” today – let’s face it, Rites Of Spring is a far cry from My Chemical Romance, or even, I don’t know, Cap’n Jazz.

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I have the week off of work! Expect some updates in the next few days!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter VI - The World’s First Ever Monster Truck Front Flip

She’d managed to rid all the tension from her shoulders after a steaming hot shower with a lovely lavender-scented shampoo and was now strewn out across her bed with the book she’d been reading from the library. She didn’t have much planned for the day, simply wanting to refrain from causing any more distress between the others and herself. But when someone came knocking at her door, she didn’t feel like she had a choice but to open it. She was met with the eyes of intrigue himself.

“Will you accompany me for the day?” Alex merely asked. “Where will we be going?” she questioned in turn.

“You wanted to know all about my hotel. So, I’ll show you what I can, writer. Meet me in the service room behind the lobby when you’re dressed.” Looking down at her figure clad only in a soft white robe, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She saw the corner of his lips quirk up, before he sauntered back down the hallway towards the elevator. Cheeky bastard.

Having decided on wearing a long skirt with a pristine white blouse to maintain some form of professionality, she grabbed her notebook and pen and made her way towards their one-sided agreed upon meeting point. When Nick was greeted by her ‘good morning’ and with the sight of Alex holding the door to the back room open for her, he gave them a look of complete bewilderment, which Alex simply deemed to ignore. She shrugged and held her notebook a bit closer to her chest before stepping through the doorway.

The room wasn’t very large. In fact, most of the space was occupied by a large desk, filing cabinets and most prominently; television screens. They showed different camera angles to hallways and other communal areas, such as the library and dining hall. It was clearly live, because she could see Matt taking Mardy out for a walk in the gardens and Nick behind the counter, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the door they’d gone through. Alex took a seat at the table that held all the electronics and cables and motioned for her to do the same.

Hesitantly lowering herself on the chair next to him, he seemed to be waiting patiently until she’d opened her notebook on a blank page and her pen had revealed its ink when she scribbled down the date on the top right corner. She looked up at him and saw a look in his eyes she could only describe to be the hesitancy of a man who was desperately trying to place his trust in a stranger for the first time in years. She felt it was her turn to take the initiative. “When did the hotel first open its doors?” she decided to start with.

The simple question seemed to bring him back to focus, as he cleared his throat. “About twelve years ago, I’d say it was.” “That’s quit a while. I’m guessing you were rather young to be opening a hotel,” she noted, silently scribbling her pen across the paper in the meantime. She didn’t dare look away from him. He nodded and grumbled a chuckle. “Young, and very inexperienced. Even though I’d had everything planned out from the start, it turned out to be a lot different in practice than what I’d expected it in my head to be.”

“In what way?” He thought about it for a moment. “I guess I had to learn that I couldn’t do everything beforehand and that I had to make more direct decisions on the spot. Although, I was very lucky to have Miles and Matthew at my sides. They were with me every step of the way.”

She smiled softly. “Matt told me about your school years with him and Miles.” “He did? Yeah, we go way back. Bit ridiculous to think I made him promise to come work for me if I ever opened a hotel. Poor lad never stood a chance choosing a different career path. Miles, however, he’d always expected to become my business partner.”

“So, it hadn’t really been Miles’ initial ambition to become mayor?” Alex shook his head, “No. He’d always had a knack for politics and as you well know he’s socially very capable. But if it hadn’t been for his position today, I think this hotel would’ve remained a pipe dream.”

She hummed, letting her eyes wander over the wide array of television screens. “This is your office?” she wondered. “Of sorts,” he replied, “Though Nick often finishes his paperwork in here. It’s where everything is filed.”

“Doesn’t the noise ever bother you?” The slight static hum appeared to be constant and she felt like it derived the room of its peace. “It would most certainly drive me insane.”

“Ah, the exotic sound of data storage. Nothing like it, first thing in the morning,” he quipped with satire. “No, I think I’ve gotten used to it over the years. I don’t really hear it anymore.”

“Have you always had cameras around the hotel?”

“No. We didn’t think it was necessary for a long time, but certain events proved otherwise.”

“Events you’d rather not talk about right now.”

“You’re really getting the hang of this, writer.”

 He took her to see the library next, and their walk was silent until they were once again behind closed doors. “I didn’t mean to be secretive, but I did borrow a book from here,” she admitted, shuffling to one of the plush seats near the fireplace. “I know,” he replied, making her look at him in surprise. “I’ve read every single one of these books. They’re all classics, because I’d never let a bad piece of literature enter this room without my permission. You just happened to take one of my favourites, which I can only commend you for.”

She knew the plot of the book from memory and couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk spread across her face. “You like cheesy romance novels?” she teased. “Laugh at me all you want, writer,” he replied, “But it was you who specifically chose that book to borrow out of all of the ones in here, which means I’m not the only one guilty of fancying a good love story.” “Alright,” she admitted, “What other genres do you prefer when you’re not swooning over Mister Darcy?”

He snickered at her banter. “I take interest in science fiction.” “Intriguing. I suppose great minds do have a wild imagination.” “Was that a compliment I heard?” he inquired. “Don’t get cheeky now, mister Turner. We’re both still testing boundaries here.”

He told her all about the becoming of his grand book collection; of how he’d initiated his fondness of reading through his mother’s literature shelves until he’d gone through them all and started sticking his nose in bookshops and libraries. “When the hotel gained more popularity, some regular guests seemed to pick up on my hobby and I’ve only ever received books as thankful parting gifts from that point on. I’m rather relieved, because I was getting sick of flowers and champagne bottles from people with horrid taste.”

“You really do sound like a ritzy hotel owner now.” “I’d rather be ritzy than be in the rubble.” She raised her brows at him with a silent inquiry at his remark. “Don’t say it,” he muttered.

It was when they winded down a staircase she hadn’t seen before did she unravel her notebook again. During the beginning of their conversation she’d only written down the facts and dates, until she’d decided her memory would suffice for the rest of their conversation. Up until he’d taken her to the lower level of the hotel, which managed to fascinate her to a great extent. “What is this place?”

She knew what it was on first glance but wanted him to elaborate on it. “It used to be a bathhouse,” he told her, “but the previous owners were never able to maintain it. It’s a long-term project of mine to restore it.”

It looked very worn indeed, but the vines that protruded the walls and the moss overgrowing the smooth pillars reminded her distinctly of the Romantic art in the paintings she’d seen across the halls of the hotel. There was a large pool in the middle, and though the green substance that most likely used to be clear water obtained a lot of algae’s, it was alleviated by the gorgeous flowers floating atop their lily pads.

The grimy pastel-coloured tiles in blues and pinks were illuminated by the soft light appearing through the ceiling window in the back of the room, which had a few cracks here and there. She walked around one of the separating walls and found an array of bathtubs lined up to the side, decorated with rusty showerheads and crooked room dividers.

“It’s gorgeous. I’m glad you haven’t decided to tear it all down,” she breathed in awe. He hummed, “I have thought about it. But I’m legally not allowed to since it’s been deemed a piece of ‘cultural heritage’ by the mayor himself.” She snickered, “So, Miles didn’t want it to be torn down.” “Let’s just say it was a mutual understanding.”

She gave him a look and took a step around the next corner, but then no longer felt the ground beneath her foot. She could start to feel gravity pull her down until a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back, causing her ankle to scrape against what she now recognized to be a large crater she was meant to have fallen in. Alex pulled her flush against his chest and she let out a deep breath of relief, her heart a pounding mess against her ribcage. “I understand your curiosity is getting the better of you now that I’m answering most of your questions, but it wouldn’t hurt you to be a bit more careful.” His breath tickled her ear and his husky voice was like a musical echo throughout the room. “Thank you, mister Turner. I think I’ll be alright now.”

He slowly let her arm slide out of his hand. “Were you hurt?” “Just scraped my ankle. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head. “Let’s get it sorted. Can’t have you limping around my hotel. It would ruin my reputation.” “To who? All of the other guests?” “I will push you back into that pit if I have to, writer.”

She was still able to walk well enough, but they decided against taking the stairs this time and took the service elevator instead, which lead them straight to the kitchens. He’d rummaged through a few cupboards before finding the first aid kit. She sat upon the counter and lifted her skirt a tad to inspect the damage.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut it off, miss.” She smacked his arm and he let out a bark of laughter. It was deep and vibrant, and it gave her more joy to hear it for the first time than she’d expected.

Yet, as he cleaned the wound and wrapped her ankle with a soft bandage, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of grief towards the evident wall he hid his emotions behind. It added to the long train of thoughts she was already dealing with right now, and she couldn’t say she was particularly pleased with it.

A silence washed over them as he finished his work and it gave her the opportunity to really look at him. Not just his appearance, but taking in everything he was.

“What will you do if you can’t save this hotel?”

He took long enough to form an answer that she’d almost thought he’d gotten upset with her again. Instead, he replied in a quiet voice that deeply saddened her to the core.

“I really don’t know.”

[chipsandcoffee]

Whouffaldi Fanfic

“You Sound Like a Song”

Post-Hell-Bent, fix-it of sorts, memory loss, confessions, angst, romance, eternal love, s10 spoilers, canon compliant (well technically at least), cameo appearance by Bill Potts

Also on AO3 at this link.

______________

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. But that was all he knew.

The list of things the Doctor didn't know about Clara was so much longer and went so much deeper, prodding away at him from a restless corner of his mind. What was she like? What had they meant to each other? Why would he have wiped the memory of her from his mind? And the one question that troubled him most: what had happened to her?

He ruminated on these questions yet again as he slumped in a leather armchair in his office at St. Luke's University, absent-mindedly strumming his guitar. He often felt a sense of melancholy on these solitary nights. Nothing was sad until it was over, he thought. Then everything was.

He had spent a long time trying to look for Clara (being stuck on Earth for a number of years hadn’t stopped him, for he was based where she was most likely to be). Of course he didn't know who he was looking for (hadn't someone told him that once?), but he believed he would know her if he met her again, and she would surely know him. But it had never happened. And he’d never heard a word from her.

He'd eventually reached the most logical and painful conclusion: she was dead. She'd likely been dead all along, even before he’d erased her from his memory (he could tell he’d used a neural block, could feel the sensation of a hole in his mind where something ought to be). Maybe that was why he'd taken the drastic step of eliminating those memories in the first place: her death had simply been too painful for him to bear.

He obviously had no idea how Clara had died, but he had the painful feeling that it had somehow been his fault. Hers was probably another life cut tragically short because of him, just like too many other people he’d been close to.

Indeed, he’d experienced more than his fair share of loss over his long life, and the last few decades had certainly been no exception. River had gone to her inevitable death shortly before he’d arrived in Bristol (at least by his timeline). He’d also very nearly presided over the execution of Missy before rescuing his oldest friend and bringing her to St. Luke’s. But for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, the very idea of Clara being dead made his hearts ache in a way nothing else did. Perhaps more than anything else ever had.

It was strange grieving for someone he didn’t remember. His grief after losing River had made sense to him, and he’d been able to move on from it (even if Nardole, devoted to River as always, continued to assume that any sign of sorrow from the Doctor was connected to his late wife). But he had a vague, shapeless sense of loss deep in his bones that he knew, he just knew, was the grief he was still carrying for Clara. He obsessed over the unknown and unknowable details of her life, their life, and her presumed death. 

His grief frequently bubbled up to the surface when he played his guitar. In fact, as he sat there in the shadows of his office, he realized that he'd once again started playing a variation of a song from long ago that he knew was called “Clara.” Bill was always curious about that tune, but he'd never told her its true title. How would he begin to explain the story behind it when he didn’t understand it himself? 

The Doctor suddenly recalled with regret that he’d been rather curt with Bill earlier that day when she'd teased him that that particular song was the only one he knew how to play. He thought maybe he should say something to her by way of apology when he saw her again. He also knew he was rubbish at such conversations, so he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fished out the stack of dog-eared index cards that he relied on for such occasions. He'd had them for many years, each card a neatly-written sentence that he could use in tricky social situations (which for him was most social situations). One of his companions had probably made them for him at some point, but he couldn't remember who. He liked to imagine they came from Clara, that he still had something tangible left of her that he carried with him. He wondered if she would have liked that.

The Doctor put his guitar aside, ran his hand down his face, and started pacing around his office. All this brooding wasn't doing him any good. He needed a distraction. He paused, fingers drumming on his desk, as his eyes fell on his TARDIS parked in the corner following his last outing with Bill. He'd been thinking recently that the timeship’s interface stabilizer could use an upgrade; that would keep him busy for a while. But he’d need to get his hands on a few parts first. He considered his options. 

His favourite place to get spare parts for the TARDIS was at a marketplace on the planet Haligonia. Of course Nardole would give him grief if he found out that the Doctor had travelled off world, but Nardole was currently occupied with tinkering with the locks on the vault deep under St. Luke’s and likely would be for a while. The Doctor could be gone and back before Nardole knew he’d left. He rubbed his hands together, his decision made. He pushed open the TARDIS doors.

A few minutes later, the Doctor was strolling through the bustling marketplace on 48th-century Haligonia. The planet was a human colony, but the well-known market attracted shoppers of a variety of species from all over the galaxy. It was a warm, sunny day, and the breeze carried smells of local street foods as he made his way past vendors selling everything from the latest tech gadgets to exotic jewellery to flowers of every possible colour.

Soon enough he spotted the parts dealer’s stall. As he approached it he noticed there was a rather spirited conversation going on between the tall, burly dealer and a petite young woman. The customer was dark-haired and wore a black leather jacket with a well-worn satchel slung over her shoulder. Her clear voice stood out over the din of the market, and as the Doctor walked up behind her, he could hear her haggling over the price of something.

“Come on, this would've cost less when it was new than what you’re asking for it now.”

The dealer folded his arms. “Yeah, well life’s not fair, lady. And if you can find it new somewhere else, feel free to buy it there.”

“Fine,” she said nonchalantly, “I will then.” The woman spun around and began striding off, nearly walking into the Doctor.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing up at him. She did a double take and suddenly froze, staring at him, her strikingly large eyes becoming impossibly larger. She stood stock still for a long moment. “Doctor,” she breathed.

He peered down at her, knitting his eyebrows and squinting slightly. “Have we met?”

“Yeah, yeah we've met,” she said faintly, sounding dazed. She continued to stare at him, and now her eyes were starting to look distinctly watery.

The Doctor became increasingly concerned that this stranger might inexplicably burst into tears right in front of him, a prospect that he found rather frightening. He reached into his pocket for his social cue cards in a desperate attempt to find something to say that might diffuse whatever was happening.

He found one of his frequently-used cards, and recited, “I apologize for not recognizing you. I am a time traveller and I sometimes meet people out of order.”

The woman tore her eyes away from the Doctor's face to look at what he was holding. However, much to the Doctor's horror the card had only made things worse, as she had clasped her hand over her mouth and a tear trickled down her face.

“I, um,” he spluttered, his arms flailing.

The woman suddenly seemed to snap out of her emotional state and darted her eyes around the marketplace, as though searching for an escape route. “I'm um, I'm so sorry,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to smile. “Have a good day.” And with that she turned and strode away without a backwards glance.

The Doctor felt somewhat relieved that this problematic encounter appeared to have resolved itself. But he also felt responsible for upsetting this person, and he found himself chasing after her through the crowd of shoppers.

“You there,” he said, starting to catch up to her. “Are you okay?”

He thought she must not have heard him, because she kept on walking. But then she came to a sudden halt, and the Doctor had to stop himself from running into her from behind. After a moment’s hesitation, she turned around, her face somehow conveying trepidation and relief at the same time. The Doctor was baffled how she managed to do that. 

The woman heaved a long sigh. “I am so sick of hiding from you.” The Doctor frowned as she stepped towards him, the crowd swirling around them. “The reason I recognize you but you don't recognize me isn't because of time travel. It's because you’ve forgotten me.” She paused for a second and wiped away a tear. “You, um, you chose to forget me.”

The Doctor felt as though his hearts had stopped and that all the blood had drained from his face. His mouth fell slightly open. Some distant part of his brain thought he must look like he'd seen a ghost. To him he had.

“Clara,” he whispered. It wasn't a question. He knew somehow, he was certain who she was.

“Yeah,” she whispered in return, gazing into his eyes.

“You're not dead,” he blurted out, immediately realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

“Yeah,” she frowned. “Why? Have you remembered--”

“I haven't remembered anything. I'd just… guessed. That-- that you were dead.”

Clara looked into the Doctor’s eyes and he immediately felt like she could see into his soul, into every lonely, hopeless night he’d spent grieving for her. Her face grew concerned.

“Oh, Doctor.” She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, and the Doctor surprised himself by not flinching under her touch. “I think we should talk.”

______________

A few minutes later, the Doctor found himself incredibly, miraculously sitting with Clara at a small table in the corner of a quiet cafe on a back street near the marketplace, a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of each of them. They sat in silence at first as they stole glances at one another and tried to figure out how to navigate this strange situation.

“I like your coat,” Clara started, nodding at the blue-lined black velvet jacket he'd favoured of late.

“Oh, um, thanks.” He felt himself blushing. He wasn't used to people saying that sort of thing to him. Another moment passed and he asked, “How did you travel here?”

“In my TARDIS,” she answered easily, as though that were something that humans did all the time.

“What?” He was flabbergasted. “You have a TARDIS? How?”

Clara sighed. “Oh, this is going to be a very long story, Doctor.”

Several cups of tea later, Clara had told the Doctor the story of their final days together: the raven on Trap Street, the Doctor pulling Clara from her time stream on Gallifrey (which partly explained the vague memories he’d had of being trapped for a very long time in his confession dial), and her escape in a stolen TARDIS (oddly with the immortal woman Ashildr).

Once Clara had finished her story, the Doctor sat in stunned silence, attempting to make sense of it all, of the extreme lengths he'd gone to for Clara. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he’d actually plucked this woman from her time stream right before her death. And here she sat, still time-looped. Still, in essence, alive.

“You know how to fly a TARDIS?” It probably wasn’t the most important question, but it’s the one that popped out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” she laughed, her eyes twinkling, and the Doctor thought her laugh was perhaps the loveliest thing he’d ever heard. “I picked up a thing or two in the years we travelled together.”

The Doctor was impressed. “So how long has it been for you since you last saw me?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure anymore. A while back I stopped keeping track of how long it’d been. It was--” She paused, lowering her eyes, a hint of pain crossing her face. She cleared her throat, met his eye again and continued, “I figured that was for the best. But I guess it must be close to a hundred years now.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly. "I think it's almost exactly the same for me."

The corners of Clara's mouth quirked up. "Yeah, that's just the way things seem to go with us. We've always been… connected, somehow.”

“What have you been doing all that time?”

“Oh you know, flying about a bit, watching the odd star being born, saving the odd planet.”

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh at Clara's jokingly casual tone, and he marvelled to himself at this amazing woman. But there was an important issue that Clara hadn’t yet explained.

“So why don’t I remember you, Clara? Based on the type of amnesia that I experienced, I’m guessing that I used a neural block of some sort?”

Clara’s face turned serious and she glanced down.

“Um, yeah, you did.” She gave a puzzled frown. “It's weird though, I saw you shortly after the neural block, and you seemed to remember a bit more than you do now. At least some of what had happened on Gallifrey.”

“Ah, well it's not uncommon in the early stages following a neural block to be left with some disjointed shards of memories. Over time, if the brain can't process those fragments, they're forgotten. It's sort of like forgetting a dream shortly after awakening.”

“Right, okay.”

The Doctor searched her face. “Clara, why did I use a neural block to forget you?” 

Clara looked upwards as if searching for inspiration on how to respond to the Doctor’s question, tears threatening in her eyes again. She took a deep breath.

“It wasn't meant to be you, not at first.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, um, you were going to use the neural block on me. You thought I'd be safer from the Time Lords if I didn't remember you.”

The Doctor frowned in confusion. “So what happened?”

Clara lowered her eyes. “I used your sonic sunglasses to reverse the polarity on the neural blocker when you weren't looking.”

“You what?”

“I didn't want it to go off on you, I just didn't want you to use it on me.” She began to raise her voice while a tear spilled down her face. “I didn't want you to use it at all, I told you what I'd done!”

Her voice broke and she paused, catching her breath and wiping her face. The Doctor felt a rush of sympathy and heartache for her. He realized that as difficult as it had been for him to live with his missing memories, Clara had suffered too, in a different way: she'd had to carry around the weight of everything they'd been through, while he had been blissfully ignorant.

Clara continued, speaking more quickly as she got through the rest of her story. “So. You didn't know at that point what would happen when the button on the blocker was pressed. That's when you suggested that we both press the button together, knowing that one of us would forget the other, but not knowing which one. Better than flipping a coin, you said.” Clara dropped her gaze and her voice fell to nearly a whisper. “And I guess you kind of lost the coin toss.”

The Doctor watched Clara for a moment, her head bowed. Then he found himself leaning forward and placing his hand on hers. Clara looked up at him, surprised at the contact.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For everything, I guess. For forgetting you. For trying to make you forget me. I'm sorry that you feel bad about what happened with my memories, because it wasn't your fault, Clara. We knew the risks and we pressed that button together.” 

She squeezed his hand, a hint of relief on her face.

“You didn't say why I thought one of us needed to forget the other,” the Doctor continued. “But I think I'm starting to understand. Everything I did, the confession dial, the extraction chamber, my plan to hide you away and make you forget me.” The Doctor felt his hearts stirring as he now wrapped Clara's hand in both of his. “I think I would have torn the sky apart for you, Clara Oswald. And I think I knew that.”

A sad smile crossed Clara's face. “And I would have done the same for you.”

The Doctor and Clara gazed silently at each other, her small hand wrapped in his two, lost in the universe that was each other's eyes. 

After a while Clara swallowed, leaned forward, and spoke in a quiet voice. “Doctor, there's one more thing I still haven't told you. When you and I were on Gallifrey, we sat together in the Cloisters, and I told you something important, something I'd never told you before.” Clara took her free hand and laid it on top of his, her eyes round and sparkling. “I told you that I loved you. That I'd always loved you and I always would, and that I wished I'd told you a long time ago. That maybe if I had, things would have turned out differently.”

The Doctor had been surprised by many things Clara had told him that day, but somehow her declaration of love wasn't one of them. He’d known it, felt it, from the moment he'd met her in the market outside.

“And how did I respond?” he whispered, scarcely breathing.

Clara gave another sad smile and shook her head. “You didn't. That was the moment you got the service hatch open and, well, we had to keep running.”

“Ah,” was all he could think of to say.

“Yeah. We’ve had a lot of bad timing, you and me.”

As if to emphasize the point, the cafe owner at that moment walked by their table and turned off the “open” sign in the window, pointedly clearing his throat as he did so.The Doctor glanced around and realized that he and Clara had been alone in the cafe for quite some time.

“I think we’re being kicked out,” Clara whispered loudly, her eyes twinkling.

“Looks like it,” the Doctor replied with a crooked grin.

Outside, the Haligonian night had fallen, and the streets were nearly empty. The planet's two champagne-coloured moons shone overhead, and the air felt damp and cool after the warmth of the day. The Doctor and Clara wandered together through the town for a while, swapping tales of adventures and wild escapes, their bursts of laughter ringing through the stillness of the evening. The streets and laneways they walked eventually gave way to a green, park-like area on the edge of town where the scent of blossoming trees drifted through the night air. The Doctor wished they could keep walking forever, but as his TARDIS came into view in the moonlight, he was reminded that their magical day had to come to an end.

They walked together across the dewy grass and stopped near his blue box, standing in an uncertain silence, the only sound a nocturnal bird calling in the distance. Clara finally spoke. “So what happens now? Me and you, what do we do now?” The hint of tears glistening in her eyes told the Doctor that she probably already knew the answer.

“Oh, Clara. I don't even need my memories to know that there’s nothing in this universe I’d like more than to travel with you again. But I said today that I would have torn the sky apart for you all those years ago, and I know in my hearts I still would. And that you’d still do the same for me.” 

He took a step closer to her. “Everything you’ve told me, everything I can see and feel now tells me that we were amazing together. But also that we were dangerous. And I don't think there’s any way to stop that from happening again, because of who we are, and because of--” He paused and took a deep breath. “And because of how we feel about each other.”

Clara looked down and nodded, a tear falling to the ground. “Yeah,” she whispered.

The Doctor tenderly placed his hand on Clara’s cheek, and she looked up at him. Clara had told him so much that day. Now there was something he felt he had to tell her, something that was burning within him. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by again, not this time.

“Clara, I never got the chance to respond to you in the Cloisters, and I know a lot of time has passed since then and I’ve forgotten so much. But I know, I’m certain of one thing. I loved you, Clara Oswald. I loved you-- I love you with both my hearts. And I always will.”

Clara smiled up at him, even as another tear rolled down her cheek. The Doctor wiped away the tear with his thumb, feeling dizzy with the emotions swirling inside him. He found himself slowly leaning towards her, feeling a pull as irresistible and inevitable as gravity, as Clara ran her hand up his arm. Their lips met in a soft, heartfelt kiss. To the Doctor it felt surprisingly natural, right, perfect. It felt like the long-awaited conclusion to a conversation begun 100 years ago.

The Doctor stepped back and took Clara's hand as he stood there smiling softly at her, warmth and contentment infusing his body. She smiled back at him, all dimples and shiny eyes.

“I’m really glad I got to see you, Doctor.”

“I’m really glad I got to see you too, Clara Oswald.”

But his smile faltered as the reality of his situation sunk in. Clara frowned.

“What’s wrong, Doctor?”

He released her hand and sighed. “My neural block, Clara. I don’t know what'll happen when I leave tonight. Seeing you today, talking to you, learning all about you, about us. I don’t want to forget any of it, not again. But my brain has blocked my memories of you for a very long time, and I'm afraid it'll do it again.”

Clara’s face was filled with concern. “There must be something we can do.”

He shook his head and half-shrugged his shoulders.

Clara’s eyes lit up. “Hang on, I have an idea.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and opened her satchel. After some rummaging around, she pulled out a small cardboard box and opened it. “I carry these around with me. They still come in handy for all kinds of things.”

______________

Bill started packing up her things as the day’s tutorial with the Doctor wrapped up.

The Doctor was sitting behind his massive desk, continuing to flip through the book they'd been discussing. “And don’t forget that your research paper on laser-cooled ions is due tomorrow.”

Bill rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

“Good.” The Doctor tried to look stern, but he had a feeling he wasn’t quite pulling it off. Tossing aside the book, he stood and picked up his guitar from the chair where he'd left it, wandering around his office as he played the song that he now knew was named for the woman he loved.

Bill paused as she walked towards the door. “Don't think I've heard that version before. It's, I dunno, cheerier.”

The Doctor smiled to himself. “Good night, Bill.”

“‘Night, Doctor. See ya tomorrow.”

Now alone, the Doctor played for a while longer before setting his guitar down. He relaxed into his favourite armchair and reflected on how different things were for him since his trip to Haligonia a few weeks earlier. He could still remember much of his wondrous encounter with Clara, though some of the details were growing hazy, almost as though the whole thing had been a dream. Sometimes he thought maybe it had been a dream. But whenever that unsettling feeling arose, he would do as he did now. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small stack of index cards. Some were old and dog-eared, but some were new. All of them had the same neat handwriting, and now he knew whose handwriting it was.

He picked out the new cards. The one on top read, “Clara is alive and doing well. She wants you to be happy.” He gave a contented sigh. The next two were his favourites.

“Clara loves you. She always has and always will.” 

“You told Clara that you love her, and she will always cherish that.”

He smiled even as his eyes felt wet with tears (perhaps he was malfunctioning). He gazed at the cards for a long time, his fingers running lightly over the words.

He knew her name was Clara. He knew they’d travelled together. He knew she was still out there, exploring the universe. He knew they'd loved each other deeply and truly, and they always would.

He also knew that nothing was sad until it was over. And he and Clara would never be over. Not in his hearts, not ever.

______________

Thank you for reading! This is my first fic and any feedback would be very welcome and appreciated!

[etastra]

💬💗 for all of them or whoever you want to answer it with~

@wcvensouls // sex & romance hcs !!

💬 when did my muse go on their first date? // 💗 has my muse ever been in love? 

under a cut b/c i’m answering All

JIWON 💬: his first ever date was in middle school !! it was with his first love, and they went on a bike ride after school to the local convenience store, where they bought all the snacks they could both want and shared it together on the sidewalk a couple of blocks down. 💗: yes !! his first love, though maybe an innocent love, is one he stands by even now, years later.

YOUNGSOO 💬: sometime in high school !! specifically, towards the end when he was beginning to come into himself more and was less of a wallflower, silent type and more of the proud, boastful person he is today ! it wasn’t a very enjoyable date, in his opinion, as he’s pretty sure it was only a thing out of pity but oh well. 💗: he doesn’t think so !! youngsoo’s idea of love is intertwined heavily with the idea that love = sex and, because he’s asexual, he’s never felt that he’s been in love. and there hasn’t been very many Notable people in his past to maybe double think and wonder if he was in love.

JUNSEO 💬: junseo doesn’t really remember it but according to his parents, he went on a cute date with a neighbor girl in elementary school !! he vaguely remembers both his parents and her parents cooing over them together, and both families going on an outing to the park, and he thinks that was the date but ? to be determined. 💗: yes. he currently is !! very happily in love, even if it took a while to get there, and was a bumpy, uncertain road for too long. but he’s happy, and in love !

AOYUN 💬: aoyun didn’t start dating until college, and he distinctly remembers his first date !! it was actually with a girl a GE, and they went to the movies before spending all night talking in the park near campus together. he still occasionally talks to her, as they share similar fields of interest ! 💗: love is... a finicky concept for him !! mostly because he is more cosmic than he is human, and it’s simply difficult for him to sift through what is natural awe and adoration for humans, and what is genuine affection. but he thinks he’s as close to love as the universe can be in love with something human.

HOJIN 💬: bold of you to assume hojin knows what is considered a date and isn’t !! no but seriously, hojin has asked out plenty of people, and has been asked out by plenty of people, from as young as middle school, and he’s never been able to tell when it was romantic and when it was platonic ! even if he was the one asking the person out, it’s all a hot mess of emotions, really. 💗: once again, bold of you to assume hojin knows how to distinguish his emotions !! the concept of love is super amorphous and indistinct, and the various types of love are near interchangeable for him. maybe he has been, maybe he is, maybe he hasn’t, maybe he isn’t, whom knows ? certainly not him !

KYUNGMIN 💬: his first ever date is actually with his respective partner in their respective versions of his main verse !! kyungmin has never been very... romantic, and has never taken initiative to ask someone out, nor has someone really shown a lot of interest in him. it’s only very recently that he’s started dating. 💗: yes, he currently is !! again, with his respective partner in their respective version of his main verse, but he is very much in love !

HOSUNG 💬: similar to kyungmin, hosung has never dated before his partner !! he was a very asocial kid, alienated by his peers because of differences in wealth status and simply because he used to think he was above them all. it’s only until he met his partner that dates were a thing. 💗: yes !! he is very much in love with his partner, even if he grumbles and bemoans. they even have a cat together, which is big, and domestic, and proof

DAEHO 💬: sometime in high school !! he was a fairly likeable, and somewhat popular, kid in middle and high school, as he was very happy go lucky, very much a sunshiney kinda guy ( before reality hit and he became what he is now ). it was a cliche dinner date, split between them, and it ended pretty quickly because she liked his laughter and smile, and he just liked her face. 💗: that is..... highly debatable !! daeho doesn’t think he’s gotten past more than the honeymoon phase of a new relationship, or the first date butterflies. but proof that he is in love is gift giving, and becoming softer at the edges where he’s made himself sharp.

MINJUN 💬: sometime around when he started busking, so around 16/17 !! someone from the crowd asked him out immediately after his performance, and he was so flustered and shocked that he said yes without thinking twice. it wasn’t a bad date, but he felt it ended badly when he apologized a million times over and told his date he said yes out of surprise/shock 💗: he doesn’t know what love is, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t been before ?? at least he hasn’t been with someone for very long to think of love as an option, or the next step !

CHUNYU 💬: his first ever date, unofficial though it may be, was to his parents’ first charity gala they hosted together after chunyu was old enough to run around by himself without getting into trouble !! his date, though, was a friend of his parents’ son, who was five years older and hid half the time. they only were stuck together because of their parents, and chunyu hated every last minute of it. 💗: he has been in love before, and has had his heart broken by that love !! he’s only ever been in love once, and will only ever be in love once as, though he broke up with his partner, life has a funny way of saying they belong together - or at least that’s his opinion.

KWANGSU 💬: he’s been on plenty of study dates, starting the first year of high school !! kwangsu wouldn’t count those as official, romantic dates, as all they ever did was study together. but that’s the earliest memory of a date he can remember ! 💗: he hasn’t !! too busy in school, too busy with anxiety, simply too busy to fall in love, unfortunately. but, lowest of keys, love has always been such a beautiful concept to him, and he wants to experience love ! especially young love, as he fears sometimes that he’s throwing his life away by studying, studying, studying !

HYUNJUN 💬: first ever date was to an arcade with the cutest girl in his high school math class !! in retrospect, it was a terrible location choice, as hyunjun may or may not have spent a lot of time focused on playing than on having fun with her. but he must’ve done something right along the way, since she kissed him goodbye and they dated for a year. 💗: he doesn’t think he has !! love is... perhaps not finicky, like to aoyun, nor amorphous like hojin, but it’s not something he actively thinks about and seeks out and expects in any new relationship ? but when he does fall in love, it’ll slowly creep up on him, and he’ll wake up one day, breathe in slow, and say ‘wow’ because, wow, he’s in love, isn’t he ?

INSU 💬: does.... does his first client count ?? because his first client did take him out to a fancy restaurant to try and butter him up, which didn’t really work but whatever, a free meal and money ? he’ll take any day. 💗: HAH !! insu doesn’t think he’s capable of love, plain and simple, and he knows he’s always kept people at a distance, thanks in part to parents and thanks in part to being... odd, in his words. he doesn’t think he’ll ever fall in love, too.

[alwaysmychoices]

“Brunch”

Synopsis: After her time with Dr. Ramsey, Charlie goes home to find her best friends, and the only thing sweeter than brunch is wholesome, supportive friendship.

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Choices Story: Open Heart

Rating: General

Words: 3833

Part 5 of “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey” 

part 1: drunk texts - part 2: a day with dr. ramsey - part 3: unspoken - part 4: in the morning light - part 5: brunch - part 6: the library -  part 7: the cure - part 8: the celebration - part 9: goodbye

Commenting, liking, and reblogging mean the world to writers, so thank you so much for engaging with my content

Charlotte Greene was wearing Ethan’s shirt. She smelled conspicuously like the warm, intoxicating cologne he wore every day. She was marred with his mark. She smiled the smile she reserved for only him. She was distinctly his.

And when she walked into her apartment, everyone knew it.

Charlie didn’t even close the front door behind her before her friends noticed the obvious change in her. She was a very different woman from the one they’d seen before her weekend with Dr. Ramsey. The woman they saw on Friday night was on the heels of devastation and in search of a distraction as her life seemingly fell apart, and they resisted the urge to shield their eyes as she sank lower and lower into despair.

When she disappeared on Friday night, they’d been terrified for her wellbeing and were only marginally comforted by her “I’m fine” text on Saturday morning – though much of that comfort dissipated when she refused to explain her absence over the course of the weekend. At one point, Jackie suggested they go on a manhunt through Boston and force her to face her problems, but Sienna and Elijah insisted on a gentler approach.

And now, she was home (perfectly safe and unharmed – Sienna was already visually examining her for any signs of injury or disease), and she had a lot of questions to answer.

Charlie jumped when she looked over to her dining room, finding all of her friends crowded around their dining room with an overwhelming amount of food and mimosas nearly falling off the limited space. And they were staring at her. Every. Single. One.

Swallowing, Charlie let out a weak wave and put her keys on the hook in an attempt to seem casual, “Oh, hey, guys.”

“Hey, guys?” Jackie was the first to pounce, hands already on her hips as she incredulously repeated the greeting, “Where the fuck have you been, Charlie?”

“With a friend,” Charlie shrugged as if the meaningless gesture could ever shake Jackie’s questions off. They’d been friends long enough for her to know better.

“You’re certainly dressed like you were with a ‘friend,’” Bryce snorted, his eyes lit up with mischief and amusement as he helped himself to the alcohol. He’d been on Jackie’s side during the discussion of a manhunt. In the last year, he’d adopted Charlie as a little sister, and the idea of something happening to her had stayed with him through most of the weekend. But now, there was something he hadn’t anticipated – that she would lie to him. He’d seen enough girls leave his apartment on a Sunday morning to know what to expect, and under the smile on his face, he was hurt she wouldn’t tell him.

“I had to borrow some clothes,” Charlie crossed her arms across the t-shirt, hiding the cartoon turkey she’d obsessed over a few hours earlier, “I don’t know what you’re implying, Bryce.”

Bryce cocked an eyebrow as if silently daring her to admit what he already knew. Despite his hurt and concern for his dear friend, there was a part of him that was enjoying himself. Firstly, it wasn’t often that he got to tease someone else for their sexual exploits, and now that he knew she was fine, he intended to enjoy putting her on the spot.

Jackie opened her mouth, ready to tell her friend just how worried they were and how irresponsible she’d been, but sensing a fight, Sienna stepped in.

“You weren’t answering your texts on Friday night, Charlie, and we were so worried,” Sienna’s voice was so soft that, for a moment, Charlie dropped her guard and suddenly felt guilty for having it up in the first place, “And then you were hardly answering us on Saturday and didn’t come home. We love you, Charlie, and we didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Guilt began to fill Charlie’s limps, turning them to lead as her face flushed with shame. In all of her self-pity and risky behavior, she hadn’t really thought about how her friends would feel. She could see them now, face twisted with concern as she evaded their questions.

Add being a shit friend to the list of bad things I’ve done this year, Charlie thought to herself.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Charlie admitted, “I just needed space after Landry-“

“You mean the lying piece of shit we no longer acknowledge,” Jackie corrected.

“No, the snake who shall not be named,” Elijah chimed in.

“Ah, the fucker we kill on sight,” Bryce added in for good measure.

“The one who looks like burnt ramen noodles?” Kyra was happy to chime in as she raised her mimosa in a toast to the tirade of insults.

Charlie nodded, trying to hide the laugh building in her throat through the motion, “That’s the one.”

“Charlie, we would have been there for you,” Sienna stepped towards her friend, squeezing a hand as she added, “I hate to think of you dealing with that on your own.”

The weekend flashed through Charlie’s mind – waking up in Ethan’s apartment, going to the river to see Naveen, fighting with Ethan, and waking up in his bed…

And without even a flash of hesitation, she said, “I wasn’t alone.”

“Does that mean she got laid?” Kyra’s whisper was aimed at Bryce but reached the whole room, earning Charlie’s glare as Bryce nodded his answer.

“100% got laid,” Bryce confirmed in the same stage whisper.

“Guys,” Charlie tried to stop them, but it was no use.

“Charlotte Greene, don’t be ashamed of sex. It’s perfectly natural, and an open conversation encourages a healthy dialogue that is the key to successful relationships,” Bryce leaned on his elbows, his wicked smirk reminding her of the last time he talked to her about her sex life.

“Yeah, we openly communicated when you had sex with Bryce!” Elijah pointed to Bryce, who shamelessly shrugged.

“We did?” Charlie asked, amazed by how extensively her friends had discussed her sex life. She was close to them, of course, and frequently filled them in on the details of her life – but she’d never really wondered how much they talked about it when she was away.

When she had sex with Bryce at their housewarming party, the group dynamic was still young and potentially fragile. Charlie still remembered when they all sat down to breakfast, nursing hangovers and awkwardly staring at Bryce with the silent question of “what the fuck is he doing here?” Terrified to keep secrets from her new friends but dreading any awkwardness, Charlie prepared precisely what she was going to say to her friends, but to her amazement, there was no need for an organized speech. If anything, the new drama to the group dynamic made them better friends.

A few weeks later, the steamy affair came to a natural end. Their strong friendship didn’t equate to a strong romance, and ultimately, the sex wasn’t worth risking their friendship over. Bryce loved Charlie, and she loved him, too – but a few weeks together taught them that platonic love can be just as powerful.

Maybe it could have worked if they’d tried. Maybe it was poised to be a grand love story, but there was always a blue-eyed ghost with a grip on Charlie’s heart that destroyed the relationship before it could start. Every time they got drunk and wallowed in their regrets, Bryce and Charlie didn’t think of each other.

It was arguably the least dramatic thing to happen during their intern year.

The night that they had their official “talk” to end things, they’d been huddled on his living room floor, sharing takeout and flipping through Netflix options. After they dissolved their relationship, they fought over the last eggroll and settled on Jurassic Park. It was as if their friendship had somehow come out unscathed.

And the group dynamic magically did the same. If anything, there was a new joke to throw around.

“You had sex with Bryce?” Kyra chimed in, “When the hell did that happen?”

“A few months ago, keep up,” Bryce shook his head as if disappointed that she hadn’t studied their drama before attending brunch.

“So, are we waging bets on who she had sex with? Because my money’s on Rafael,” Kyra suggested, to which Bryce scoffed.

“We all know it’s Dr. Ramsey.”

“My bet’s Aurora. They fight too much not to have some repressed sexual energy going on,” Jackie suggested.

“We’re not taking bets on who I had sex with!” Charlie stopped them before clumsily adding, “Not that I even had sex with anyone.”

“Charlie, you’d really lie to my face at brunch?” Bryce shook his head with an obvious distaste for the offense, pouring himself a mimosa, “Absolutely disgusting.”

Charlie lifted the glass from his grasp, bringing it to her lips as Bryce’s jaw dropped in pure shock. Several things were sacred to Bryce – himself (obviously), his crocs, and his brunch. And to be honest, Charlie felt a sense of victory as she drank his mimosa. It served him right for gossiping about her night.

“How about we have brunch without talking about sex?” Charlie suggested as she took a seat at the table with her friends, and Sienna raised her glass in concurrence as she sat next to Charlie.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Sienna echoed.

“Boooo,” Kyra pouted as she started to fill her plate with her favorite brunch foods, and still muttering about the new conversation rules, their friends followed suit.

After a few awkward moments of fumbling around for a new topic, the group found one. Elijah and Jackie were debating the merits of Sci-Fi movies – pro and anti, respectively – while Bryce took it upon himself to fill Kyra in with the juicy gossip she’d missed. Everyone was dancing around the elephant in the room – Charlie’s ethics trial. The closest that anyone got was when Bryce explained Landry’s betrayal to Kyra, but other than a few jabs thrown in from various friends, it passed by without too much debate.

Something about their silence felt wrong to Charlie. How could they not talk about it? How could Charlie walk into a career-shattering, life-altering hearing without even talking about it with her friends?

There were so many secrets and untouched topics within their group, and it all centered on Charlie. Their entire friendship with Landry was severed because he betrayed her, and once he declared his intention to move out, they were also left to shoulder the higher rent or take on the burden of finding a new roommate. Even if they weren’t on trial, they were implicated in a scandal that would likely destroy Charlie’s career because she’d been hellbent on giving her patient the options she deserved. And now she was lying to them about where she’d been and who she was with.

Facing the destruction of her life goals and years of hard work was hard enough that Charlie felt a knot in her stomach at the idea of minting the bubble they’d built around her. Several times, Charlie thought about bringing it up herself, and she almost brought the words to her lips. But every time, she fell short. As much as she wanted to live in the real world and openly face the truth with her friends, she couldn’t face it. She needed the cushion of an idyllic, safe brunch. The real world could come later…

“We’re really happy that you’re here,” Sienna looped her arm through Charlie’s as Charlie took a bite of Sienna’s famous cinnamon rolls, and Charlie leaned into her friend’s touch. As she did, Sienna was close enough to whisper, “I know the truth, by the way.”

The words were so soft that they almost faded into the chatter and clinking of glasses, but despite their impermanence, they were powerful enough to turn Charlie’s blood to ice. Swallowing, Charlie mirrored Sienna’s soft voice as she repeated, “The truth?”

“About your weekend,” Sienna was practically beaming as she spread jam across her toast, looking up to explain, “Dr. Ramsey found all the concerned messages I left on your phone on Friday night. He didn’t want me to worry about your safety, so he called to make sure that I knew that you were alright and spending the night at his apartment.”

“Ethan called you to let you know I was alright?” Charlie felt like a broken record as she repeated her friend’s words once more, but she craved the confirmation. Her sweet, wonderful Ethan…

“You call him Ethan now,” Sienna noted with a sly smile. She looked as if she’d stumbled upon an epic romance, her gaze full of hopeful excrement and adoring warmth, and it was infectious enough to touch all the hopes Charlie purposefully neglected. Her relationship with Ethan was still so fragile that Charlie feared weighing it down with expectations, but as her chest inflated with affection, she couldn’t help herself.

And right then, more than ever before, she wanted to tell the truth. She wanted to shed the lies she’d inherited at Edenbrook and share her swelling heart with the people she loved the most. But even when Ethan wasn’t Dr. Ramsey anymore, she sensed an unspoken barrier between the world they’d made in his bedroom and the one she now inhabited with her friends.

“He doesn’t work for Edenbrook anymore,’ Charlie’s pathetic deflection didn’t fool Sienna, and she knew it, “I don’t have to call him Dr. Ramsey.”

Sienna nodded her head to play along, but the joyous glint in her eyes gave her away as she imparted advice on her friend, “You know, I’ve always found titles overrated. What does it matter if you’re an intern and he’s an attending? It’s just a job, and times like this remind us that we’re all just people every day,” Sienna motioned towards the friends crowding their dining room in support of Charlie, “Look at us. A year ago, we didn’t even know each other. We were just residents who happened to be assigned to the same hospital, and now, I love you all like you’re my family.”

Sienna hadn’t realized that the room had grown silent to listen to the end of her speech. All other conversation fell to the side, and all eyes lingered on Sienna. It was only when she finished that she noted the warm smiles from her friends.

“That. Was. Beautiful.” Bryce looked like seeing such purity was a sucker punch to the gut, his eyes brimming with tears of affection, and he stood from his seat to pull her into a surprise hug.

“Oh!” Sienna gasped, patting him on his back as Bryce tightened his grip in his signature bear hug.

“Fuck it. We love you, too, Sienna,” Jackie dropped her croissant and joined Bryce in the hug.

“It’s a group hug!” Bryce’s voice was full of excitement as Jackie piled on to their hug.

“This is literally the purest thing I’ve ever seen,” Kyra snapped a photo with her phone before joining the hug.

Charlie watched as Bryce welcomed everyone into the fold, earning giggles and jokes as her best friends joined together. Charlie couldn’t stop the happy laughter that escaped her throat, not that she even wanted to. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest at the sight of loving friendship, and she didn’t hesitate as she added, “I love you all so much.”

“Stop it, you guys, I’m gonna cry!” Sienna called out, now buried in her friend’s affection.

“What are you talking about? I’m already crying!” Elijah called out, earning laughter from the room.

Charlie was enveloped in her friend’s embrace, reserving no personal space to contain her thoughts, and she couldn’t escape the emotions she’d buried since Mrs. Martinez’s death. She’d spent so long trying to be strong that she’d neglected the network of people who loved her more than anything.

And abandoning her reserves and embracing their trust, Charlie began, “No matter what happens tomorrow, you guys have given me an incredible intern year, and I’ll always love all of you. And-“ Charlie choked back a sob, “I’m so sorry that I let you down and involved you in such a stupid, dangerous decision. I just wanted to give Mrs. Martinez the care she deserved, and I didn’t exercise enough caution-“

“Oh, fuck off with that nonsense,” Jackie interrupted her, pulling out of the hug just enough to put her hands on Charlie’s shoulders, “You never made us do anything. We were perfectly aware of the decision we were making, and I think I speak for everyone when I say we’d do it again.”

“Of course, I would, Charlie!” Sienna interjected.

“I would, too,” Bryce confirmed, his hand now on hers as he squeezed her hand with the same brotherly affection she could always count on him for.

“You did the right thing, Charlie. You always have,” Kyra reinforced, “You taught me to keep fighting, and you’re crazy if you think I’ll let you give up now.”

“We love you, Charlie. Sienna was right – we’re a family,” Elijah’s smile warmed Charlie’s heart, and as she looked around the room, she found it echoed in the faces of her best friends.

“I don’t deserve you guys,” Charlie shook her head as if still trying to process why this amazing group of people had decided to stand with her.

“Are you kidding?” Jackie shook her head as if disappointed with Charlie being so naïve, “You’re the glue that brought this ragtag family together in the first place. You’re the reason we’re here, and you deserve every bit of our support. Stop letting this ethics hearing make you doubt yourself. You’re a fucking badass, Charlie, and it’s time to start acting like one.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Charlie laughed through her tears as she unsuccessfully tried to wipe them away. The difference in her was immediately visible. Their support built her up a way nothing else could, and the sight weighed Jackie down as she thought about the strain between them for the last few months.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t always supported you. I should have. Friends first – competition second.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie squeezed her friend’s hand, “I’m sorry, too. You’re one of my best friends, and I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Jackie was amazed by how readily Charlie forgave her and was struck with how undeserving she felt, and as if sensing her thoughts, Sienna enveloped her in a hug.

“We love you, too, Jackie.”

“Even if you scare us,” Bryce conceded.

“Is anyone going to talk about how Jackie put competition second? That’s a breakthrough!” Elijah couldn’t contain his surprise to everyone’s amusement.

“Are all your brunches this supportive? Because, if so, I’m coming to every single one from now on,” Kyra wiped at her eyes, trying not to show that she was just about to cry with the rest of them.

“You’re always invited,” Charlie insisted, holding out her hand for Kyra, but to her surprise, she was enveloped in a bear hug instead.

Bryce took a step back, wiping at his eyes as he announced, “This shit’s too cute. I need champagne for this. This is the best brunch I’ve ever been to, and we all know I don’t say that lightly.”

“Come on, let’s go find you some champagne,” Sienna started to lead a blubbering Bryce to the kitchen to find the perfect – and only – bottle of sparkling wine left in their fridge to toast their brunch to.

And it was right then that Charlie suddenly knew she had to tell them.

“Guys,” Charlie called out before she could stop herself. Everyone had already started to move back to their seats, wiping at their eyes and murmuring about how sappy they felt, but they all stopped to look at her, unsure what else she could have to say.

You can do this, Charlie thought to herself.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie pulled off the Band-Aid, “I had sex with Dr. Ramsey.”

“WHAT?” Elijah choked on his coffee.

“I fucking knew it!” Bryce air pumped his fist in victory, looking as if he regretted not taking bets, “Charlotte Greene, I am so proud of you. Why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier? We would have celebrated!”

“Yeah, Charlie, why didn’t you tell us?” Sienna’s question was genuine, even if she’d known the answer all along.

“I don’t know,” Charlie admitted, shaking her head as she tried to work through the jumbled thoughts, “I was scared. I’m so scared, you guys,” her voice cracked, “I just don’t want to put too much pressure on it, and I didn’t want you to think that I’d been fucking my boss for a better ranking. I promise, it just happened. I drunk texted him on Friday, and he picked me up. And then he invited me to see Dr. Banjeri, and then I spent the night and we…” Charlie trailed off, surprised by the incoherent story flowing from her mouth.

“Charlie, we’d never think that about you,” Sienna stepped forward, pulling Charlie into another tight hug.

“Even I’m the first to admit that you worked your ass off,” Jackie admitted, “You should have told us. We would have made fun of you for hours!” Jackie’s smirk mad Charlie laugh despite herself.

“Can we go back to the fact you drunk texted him? Does he even know how to text?” Elijah asked, his eyebrow raised, “Wait, does this mean we’re friends with him? Holy shit, I should invite him to my movie marathons.”

“No, no, we’re… I don’t know what I’m with him, let alone you guys. We had sex once – well, twice, but –“

“Twice? That’s my girl,” Bryce interjected, earning a glare from Charlie.

“I could be Dr. Ramsey’s new best friends. Guys, what if he likes science fiction movies?” Elijah was now going off on his own tangent, and it was best to let him fall down the rabbit holes on his own.

“Okay, guys, pause on everything. We need champagne for this!” Bryce insisted, practically sprinting to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle.

The room had practically dissolved in chaos. Elijah was discussing movies and planning marathons and toying with the idea of Dr. Ramsey joining him. Kyra and Bryce were so overwhelmed with pride that they couldn’t focus on much else, disagreeing on how to best toast to their friend (“no, we should celebrate how brave and unapologetic her life is!” “no, we’re definitely toasting the sex, Kyra.”). Jackie was now overwhelmed with how many opportunities she now had to tease Charlie, and Sienna watched over all like a proud mother hen.

Even if it was overwhelming and even a bit frightening, Charlie loved it. She loved them.

And there was a thought in the back of her mind – just a whisper, really – that left a foreign thought to invade every corner. Maybe – just maybe – those three words belonged to Ethan all along.

 I have mixed feelings on this chapter if I’m being honest. I didn’t expect to write a whole chapter without Ethan in a series dedicated to Ethan x MC, but as I started writing, the brunch took on a life of its own. Once I finished writing, I felt like I was cheating their friendship to delete it, but it was not part of the plan of the series. I didn’t even think Charlie would tell her friends yet, but after such an emotional outpour, how could she not trust them? Plus, @fanficnewbie‘s adaption inspired me to focus more on their friendship here. I really hope you enjoyed it, and if you’re wondering where tf Ethan is, don’t worry. He’ll be back very soon...

Part 6 coming soon.

PS. @fanficnewbie published a series that is an adaption of this story. It diverges after “In the Morning Light,” so you should give it a read!

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[sassyhazelowl]

Title: Life is What You Bake It Rating: PG - a few swear words, comedic violence Pairing: Lyon x Erza Secondary Pairings: Lucy x Levy, Gray x Lisanna A/N: A challenge piece. 10k in 10 days. Random pairing, random genre, random AU setting. Bakery AU. @dragonshost @impracticaldemon

Link to Full Story in Google Docs - Comments welcome and appreciated :)

Chapter 10

"Before you go, we have to talk."

Lyon paused in packing the Subaru he'd traded his Roadster in for at the beginning of the summer. Toby, who had been tagging at his heels, also turned to look, ear flopping over comically. While the gangly puppy had become beloved of all in the Heartfilia residence, he'd taken a particular liking to Lyon. Rarely were the two apart, Toby being his second shadow.

"Certainly."

Erza hadn't been expecting such a gracious answer and she lingered nervously to watch him pack the rest of the car. The man had been snappy and short with everyone all week, and Erza hadn't escaped his sharp tongue. Although Gray took the brunt of it; the two had a spectacular fight and weren’t on speaking terms.

Truly, the only one who remained unscathed was Wendy, his teenage student he'd been training to take over his job.

With her, Lyon was all proud smiles and shoulder pats. Erza felt like she was looking at what kind of father he'd be, and she often had to look away, lest she be betrayed by parts that weren’t her brain.

Jellal was gone but she still hadn't sorted out her feelings for Lyon since their talk. And there were feelings, lots of feelings. But the main one was the panicked feeling, like she was running out of time. And now… time was up.

"Have you..." she swallowed, losing her courage by the minute. Facing down a bear raiding a dumpster? No problem, she was fearless. But anything with feelings? She felt lost. Fumbling. Anxious and confused. "Seen the video?"

Lyon shut the trunk, bending down to ruffle the young dog's ears without answering for a long moment. Toby leaned his whole body into the caress, tongue lulling and massive paw dangling in the air. He was going to be a monster of a dog.

"I forgot to."

Forgot? How… that was not something you’d forget.

"But you knew about it. Them. The Youtube channel."

Lyon's gaze was guilty as he looked up to meet her eyes, "I was too distracted to watch, but I spoke with a fan about it at the bakery. Gray puts the tutorial videos up but he never had permission to put up our lessons. I apologize."

This suddenly got a lot harder. She'd been expecting he'd seen and knew what was on the videos. It wasn't exactly something she could put in front of him and surprise him with, the way Jellal had her.

"I will remind him to take those down."

So he hadn’t forgot; not really. He already knew and had no plans to watch them. Well, of course, he was there. He probably wasn’t as oblivious to his feelings as she was.

"Actually," she cut in, holding up the mail she'd been sitting on. After seeing the video, the bakery's success started making more sense. And so did the letters. "I think the reason Fairy Tail is doing so well is because of Youtube. These are fan letters. They are addressed to the bakery..."

"Let me guess, they are addressed to the very cute couple at the bakery?" he added wryly, little humor behind his smile. "People do love that sort of thing."

Did he have to make this so difficult? She was trying to have a serious conversation here, and already he was deflecting with snide words.

"Strange accusations from a romantic," she said firmly, daring him to contradict her. He didn't. Gray had a loose tongue when drunk, and Erza didn't remember much from that night, but she did distinctly remember those words. It seemed funny, since Gray wouldn't know romance if it bit him on the butt.

"There is a lot of hate and distrust and greed in this world. Trust me, I know; I am an attorney. Appreciating love and beauty is a natural response, I believe."

She hadn't expected that. While she appreciated nature and liked other people, she rarely took the time to think about it, let alone appreciate it. She expected him to follow it up with a flirt, but he was watching her quietly.

"True."

"Erza, I..." he stumbled a bit over his words then and she held her breath, "Appreciate your kindness and generosity. And Magnolia for being my second home. Thank you. And... good-bye."

He leaned forward, placing a very chaste but very emotional kiss on her forehead.

Oh no. No. No. No. It was a slow moving horror movie without the monster or music watching him stride to the car, get in and roll down the road.

While she was frozen, the car pulled away down the driveway. She felt like she was losing him forever, and she was not going to do another Jellal because she was afraid of rejection. But she couldn't seem to call out or move.

Toby, on the other hand, sprung into action.

"Toby, no!”

The puppy tore down the road, loping along side the car, sorely put out he was on the outside instead of the inside. As Lyon slowed down, he launched himself through the open window, pulling his body in and landed in the man's lap.

By the time she'd caught up, the two spilled out the door in a tangle of limbs and yelps.

"Someone does not want you to go," she commented, hiding a laugh at his predicament. He grunted as the dog paw hit his gut, and Erza reached down to help him up. He hesitated, their fingers brushing, before committing. She heaved him up with ease, pushing off Toby and pulling him in.

Face to face, he looked hopeful but his tone held flirty bravado, "Is that someone you?"

"It might be."

"It would be awfully rude of me to disappoint a lady."

She moved to shove him but instead her fingers curled into his collar, tugging him close so their noses brushed and pants mingled. Just like when they first met, he met her gaze too long, too openly, but this time she met it back.

"Stay.” It came out a whisper, “Please?"

He gravitated forward so their lips touched softly, smirking, "Well, if you say it so nicely, I have no choice. May I?”

Borrowing one of his favorite phrases, she grinning into the beginning of the kiss, “Certainly.”

[emotionalsupportaudino]

I feel like I’m going to be gutted every time I say this, but it weighs on me so heavily:

Miyazaki missed the mark with Howl’s Moving Castle.

I read exactly one (1) Diana Wynne Jones book as a child. This book traumatized me a bit, and I do not know why. It was not Howl’s Moving Castle. It was The Merlin Conspiracy, but that’s not important. What is important is that I waited until I was 25 to read Howl’s Moving Castle, and it was the worst mistake I ever made.

I loved everything about this book. Sophie Hatter felt very real and true to me as a girl from... not great circumstances. And the book’s focus on her relationship with herself and her power of speaking life and meaning into things. The book focuses heavily on female relationships and focuses on having a positive relationship between women! (It’s the Witch of the Waste’s jealousy that brings Sophie to Howl and is her undoing, after all.) (It’s Martha’s causing distrust between Fanny and Sophie that brings misfortune on Sophie, too.)

The constant reminder of Sophie just accepting her “place in life” as the eldest of three is very reminiscent of people’s understanding of class. You’re born into a class and it feels very much like you’re doomed to be that thing forever. I grew up in a very poor area, and the amount of people who just accepted it was their lot to be poor is intense.

And, of course, my favorite thing about the book is how Sophie talks to herself and how it forms her. We say so many things to ourselves. We believe so much about ourselves. And what we say to ourselves makes us who we are. Outside of talking to my girlfriend and extreme sarcasm, I have stopped calling myself stupid. I’m not 100% yet, but I feel much more confident. And that makes me feel better about myself. (I’m getting there. But my girlfriend is still a morosexual because I do some real dumb shit.) (Saying I’m doing dumb shit and saying I’m a dumbass are different okay? Babysteps.)

Howl is almost secondary. I mean don’t get me wrong I fucking LOVE that he’s just some Welsh dipshit who decided he wanted to be in an isekai anime and bungled the shit out of it all. Michael is great, Calcifer is wonderful and a little shit and I adore him.

But Miyazaki stripped every actual theme from the book to write fanfic.

I get why he was so anti-war. I do. But it feels very disingenuous to take a book so distinctly about women and how women think and feel and make it about some masculine bullshit about “war bad.” It feels disingenuous to make Howl so much more powerful in the movie, ESPECIALLY after stripping Sophie’s magic subplot away (yeah Sophie is a really powerful witch, if you haven’t read the book. That’s, in part, why the Witch of the Waste cursed her). Don’t make the movie a war romance when romance was back burner the whole damn book.

If you want to write that story, feel free. But don’t rob little girls of a story they need desperately to hear. Don’t rob young women of it. This isn’t yours to take away, dude.

I have this deep unease when it comes to Ghibli. It feels like every movie I watch by them isn’t about a girl. It’s about a girl’s relationship to a dude (or a dude’s point of view on a girl). Everyone keeps telling me Ghibli is so feminist. I don’t fucking see it. I just see a studio that likes to draw girls but can’t seem to fathom them being important or having stories outside of their relationship to men.

Miyazaki did my girl Sophie dirty and I will never forgive him for it.

[scftuan]

Get Oh (Part 1)

Genre: romance/thriller

Rating: M

Characters: Sehun x reader feat. Chanyeol

——————————

There were many things you prided yourself on.

Your academic achievements, your musical accomplishments, your ability to be liked by every teacher on campus (though you swore you weren’t a teachers pet).

Yet there was one thing that you were having to reconsider as being something to be proud of (mainly because you were lacking in it greatly at the moment).

And that thing was: patience.

For somehow you had slept through your alarm and wound up barely making it to your morning lecture, which meant the only seats left were the ones in the back and there was only one person who made a habit of sitting in the very back.

Oh Sehun.

Tall, broad-shouldered, nice ass, a handsome face with a stern brow over a pair of dark brown eyes that were always somehow partially shrouded by his messy black hair-it was blonde a week ago, the jackass would be bald before he graduated college-and a mouth that would make even a straight man melt.

And you hated him.

Why?

Because currently he was in the back of the class, completely at ease as his latest catch of the week draped herself across him, whispering what must be the most disgustingly pathetic sexual promises and emphasizing it by touching everything she could and not-so-subtly trying to suck a hickey into his neck.

You ground your teeth as you tried to ignore their antics and focus on the lecture, but it was becoming increasingly hard as the giggles and soft sighs of imaginary pleasure continued behind you. By the end of the lecture, you had managed to write a handful of notes and leave with at least the beginning and ending statements intact in your mind.

As you gathered your things to leave, you rolled your eyes at the continued chit-chat between Sehun and his…girl. She seemed to be pouting about not having sex with him immediately but he assured her he’d give her a call. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the two of them. ‘Of course he won’t, the jackass.’ You thought as you tucked away the last of your things and prepared to make your exit.

Unfortunately, you were met by firm resistance in the form of the aforementioned jackass.

For whatever reason, Sehun had parked himself right in your way, his signature smirk turning the corners of his mouth up slightly.

With a slight sigh, you looked up at him and asked with the most deadpanned tone you could manage: “What do you want Sehun?”

In mock hurt, Sehun placed a hand over his heart and gasped at you, “Why Y/n, you wound me so, I thought we were closer than that.”

You laughed, shooting him a unamused look as you replied: “I think all of those bleaches and dyes are going to your head Sehun, in what universe have we ever been close?”

He grinned at that, his perfectly white teeth practically blinding (seriously, who was his family dentist?). “For the record, I only ever choose colors that allow me to never have to bleach my hair. But anyway, I wanted to ask you how you enjoyed the show in the background?”

You glared at him, pulling the straps of your book bag up as you prepared to make your escape. “Oh you mean the soft porn that was going on in the middle of a lecture concerning only the highest of philosophies known to man?” You took a step closer, ignoring the obvious height difference and the fact Sehun smelled like mint and something distinctly woodsy, “Honestly Sehun, we all know that if it wasn’t for the money your daddy pays this school every year, you’d have been kicked out before your first month of freshman year.”

Not waiting to see his reaction, you pushed past and headed for the exit, a small part of you feeling almost as bad for the jab as the other part felt victorious.

——————————

In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you hated Sehun so much, at first you assumed it was just a general dislike for his fuckboy ways. But when he’d slept with your roommate and left her absolutely broken, you’d sworn to hate him with every ounce of your being.

Oh Sehun was the epitome of everything you despised. Loose with his morals, thought with his dick more than his brain, unnecessarily privileged (his dad practically owned half the school), and lacking a basic conscience and academic desire-you weren’t even sure what his major was.

With a sigh, you leaned back on your apartment’s couch, tipping the contents of the beer your roommate had smuggled in into your mouth, the harsh burn of the alcohol welcoming with all the shit you had going on.

Though you never let it show, your academics were beginning to crush you, leaving you drained and unable to find joy in almost everything, even your music, the thing you’d dreamed of since childhood, felt unreachable and far too luxurious to imagine.

“For fucks sake Y/n, I can practically hear your depressing thoughts from the hallway.”

You smiled slightly, looking over to see that your roommate Suzy had finally arrived, takeout in one hand, random movie from the local redbox in the other.

“I hope you brought as much chow mein as you could afford because I am ready to drown all of my problems in as much greasy and unauthentic Chinese food as I can.” You shot her a grin, and though her eye roll was probably meant to be ‘tired of your antics’, it came off as more of ‘let me support you with food and beer.’

As you and Suzy began to spread out the takeout and the extra bottles of beer, the conversation quickly picked up and wound up revolving around the subject of your day and just how suckish it was.

“So tell me,” Suzy began, tilting her head inquisitively at you as she twirled her chopsticks around, “why exactly did Sehun cause you so much trouble today?”

You rolled your eyes and stuffed another bunch of noodles into your mouth in order to buy enough time to think of a proper answer. Once you had gracefully swallowed and taken a long sip of your beer (okay maybe it was more like downing the rest of the bottle in one go), you finally replied. “In all honesty I don’t quite know myself, I just know that he’s an overly privileged jackass who treats women like dirt and they all still fall down on their knees for him.”

Suzy laughed, “Oh Y/n, if you only knew what he could be like in bed…”

You practically choked on your piece of chicken, the memory of Suzy having once slept with the asshole (and promptly had her heart broken) suddenly coming back to you. “B-but he broke your heart?”

Your friend shrugged and continued to dig into her food, “You have to remember that was almost a year ago and I’m an overly sensitive type who gets attached for the amount of time it takes to have an orgasm and then promptly forgets all about it.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly realized she was right. Suzy had no qualms about her sexuality and enjoyed the occasional hookup. You’d only just met her when she’d had the fling with Sehun and so seeing her with a ‘broken heart’ had made your dislike for the young man secure-not knowing that Suzy would easily move on within three days.

Once the takeout (and the beer) had been demolished and Suzy had discovered a comfortable sleeping position on the nearest couch, you managed to stumble your half drunk self into a shower and then promptly into your bed. That night, your dreams were filled with brokenhearted cries and the flash of a charming smile before a mouth was pressed against your own.

Morning came much too soon for your taste; the sun streaming in through the curtains making your eyes squint and your head throb. You discovered your body was slightly sweaty and uncomfortable from your dream last night (images of being kissed by someone you swore you knew still flashed across your mind). “I’ve really gotta stop drinking.” You mumbled, a large yawn assaulting you as you stretched your arms above your head. You hadn’t even managed to pull on a more decent pair of pants (what? Last night you were drunk and tired, panties seemed like the best option) before Suzy was bursting into your room, eyes flashing with excitement as she bounded towards you.

“You would never believe it!” she half squealed, “We’ve just been invited to what is going to be the largest-second only to the end of the school year bash-of the semester!”

Translation: Suzy had been invited and she was dragging you along with her.

You scrunched your nose up at the thought and finished properly buttoning your jeans. “Thanks, but no thanks.” You replied, grabbing the nearest brush to drag through your hair before tying it into a rather realistic looking ponytale. “You know that’s just not my thing, I prefer to get drunk in the safety of my own apartment.”

But Suzy gave you a look that told you you would indeed be going if she had to drag you out by your book bag.

And all you could do was sigh.

—————————

The party proved to be as much of a bore as you dreaded. College kids swayed together with the overly loud music, red solo cups overly full with booze grasped in the hands that weren’t trying to grope each other.

You frowned at your colleagues and continued sipping at the bottle of soda you’d brought with you (someone had to be the designated driver). Suzy had disappeared into the crowd and abandoned you to observe the scene in a lowly corner of the room. You sighed as your eyes scanned the room, distain at the obvious grotesqueness of the way most of the others acted, and curiosity at any scene that looked slightly interesting. As you continued your menial task, your eyes happened to land on none other than Oh Sehun himself.

As usual, some random girl was draped on him, his arm holding her possessively by the waist. Yet he seemed…distracted. His eyes darted this way and that and he kept shifting from side to side, he even ignored whatever the girl was trying to whisper to him as she pressed herself against him. You hadn’t realized you’d practically been staring until his gaze landed on you. For a moment, you thought he’d throw one of his stupid winks and smirk at you, instead, he shot you a frown and subtly shook his head.

But now you were fully intrigued.

For the rest of the evening you kept an eye on Sehun, the young man drifting from place to place, the girl following him about, yet he remained uninterested and distracted.

You stared down at the now empty bottle in your hand, your eyes flicking between it and Sehun, who had managed to somehow magically detach himself from his girl and who was now standing closer to the end of the room. His look continued to grow more intense as the night wore on; he couldn’t stay in one place, always walking this way and that, as if he were waiting for something.

Out of pure boredom, you looked away for a moment (you didn’t think Sehun would go far), but by the time you’d looked back to his original position, the tall young man was gone.

You frowned, wondering where he could have disappeared to. Setting your bottle down, you prepared to go after him when it occurred to you just how odd you were acting. Go after Sehun? What were you, one of his admirers/stalkers? With a groan, you stepped back, deciding that you had obsessed over Oh Sehun quite enough for one night.

Yet even as the event wore on, you couldn’t shake the oddness of Sehun’s behavior.

——————————

The next couple of days passed in a blur. Ever since the party (which had proven to be just boring as you originally thought), you hadn’t been able to take your mind off of Sehun, and with the way he’d been acting in class lately, it became even harder.

For some reason, Sehun hadn’t seemed like himself. To anyone else, he looked like just as much of an ass as he always had, a girl always on his arm; yet his eyes betrayed that something else was going on. For some odd reason, you’d find random excuses to glance back at where the boy sat in his usual spot in the back. He always looked calm enough, his aura one of boredom with whatever the professor in front of him was babbling on about, but his eyes held a dark determination you’d never seen before.

Finally, after hardly a week of this behavior, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You were going to confront Sehun head on and get whatever this curiosity was out of your system.

It was late on Friday when you found yourself in the library, the place practically empty save for you, a librarian, and none other than Oh Sehun. You glanced up from your studies to see the aforementioned wandering farther into the rows of books, his brows furrowed in concentration as he looked over their titles.

You barely heard the librarian give her ten minute warning till closing time, instead choosing to quietly move from your seat to follow Sehun as he kept walking.

This was crazy, there was no way you were stalking Sehun (okay you wouldn’t call it stalking, just keeping an eye on him until you got up the nerve to let him know how his behavior had been bothering you). You only noticed the dimming of the lights and just how deep into the recesses of the library you had walked when Sehun suddenly spun around, his dark eyes catching you and pinning you into place.

You waited for him to send you a smirk (maybe a laugh if he was in a good mood), followed by some flirty comment on how you just couldn’t stay away. But instead his eyes were like steel, his expression clearly not amused.

You just barely registered the click of a lock and the final dimming of the lights, leaving you and Sehun shrouded in the evening shadows, the fading sun doing little to give you much illumination.

As you opened your mouth to speak, the sudden sound of a door being opened reached your ears, followed by a few harsh whispers.

You didn’t move, choosing to continue staring at Sehun as the whispers cut off.

Why your breathing was so heavy you had no idea, but you did know that it was too much for the extreme silence in the room.

Sehun stared back at you, his breathing just as heavy but much more silent. You barely had time to register the flash of annoyance in his dark eyes before he was grabbing your hand and pulling you harshly into the closest hiding place.

You tried to protest but were cut off by his large hand over your mouth, though the proximity of your bodies in such a small space was enough to leave you speechless anyway.

“If you make a single noise,” he hissed, “I will personally kill you myself.”