#then hoping id get some universal truth about how everything in my life happens because i am a predestined blorbo bleebus

[lindenmori]

maybe its linked to how the mbti thing turned out to be made up by eugenicists, and maybe also the monsther getting into some such pseudo psychological cultlike bullshit and trying to drag me down too, but i am automatically suspicious whenever theres some personality test that puts people into some kind of personality type role boxes. i feel like it immediately stunts further inspection.

and maybe if you, for example, feel the need to fix everyone and shoulder everyones problems, its not because you are some kind of predestined supportive angelic healer type whos meant for helping others, its more likely because you dont have firm boundaries and dont know how to say no, or maybe you had everything blamed on you and think everything is your responsibility, or something else. or if you often push all of your needs aside to plow through to your goal even to your own detriment its not because youre some destined trailblazer hero type. it might just be because you had someones ambitions dumped on you, and your needs were often disregarded and/or you were not treated as worthy unless you did these grand accomplishments, so you learned to disregard your own needs. or something else.

and if i, personally, for example, always daydreamed of different or better worlds, its not because i am some destined inspired visionary type. its because this world has been cruel to me so i have constantly yearned for better.

it might just be very human nature to try to end our confusion (and subsequent thinking, research and discovery) by putting the subject we are looking at in some convenient box, but this also makes us miss out on so much nuance and truth. life is unfortunately not an rpg and no one picked you a class.

[a-dorin]

crush

pairing: college au! maul x female!reader

word count: 2.411k

warnings: smutttttt, teasing, cursing, mentions of death threats, endless teasing, some filthy talk, nsfw, pet names

a/n: hi so this is my first time writing over 1k in months. please be gentle with me, as i'm really proud of this & i can never get enough of college aus. feedback is very much appreciated. request was anon, but i hope you enjoy <3

prompt: "Hi yes if this managed to make it in time for request, can I please request a Maul x Fem reader smut,,, like anything I’m a desperate hoe ahdhdbsbsbzb"

“so,” there’s the crisp crinkle of a page turning, “why’d you choose university of coruscant?”

“the atmosphere.”

“come on,” he scoffs, “are you a tour guide now? what major are you anyways? isn’t it something really nerdy? something along the lines of biochemistry? a minor in genetics or some bullshit like that?”

“i think you’re thinking of some other girl you’ve fucked because that is nowhere along the lines of what i’m studying. you weren’t even in the right college. some partner you are.”

sitting right across from you, was the star recruit of the university of coruscant. a lacrosse player who transferred from mustafar central. he was the reason why the team was expected to qualify for nationals. why they were supposed to even make it to the championship.

over the summer, it was almost as if the entire campus was buzzing about it. after all, it wasn’t often that the university was able to snag such good athletes. well, it was a division one school so of course it was a given that everyone was pretty good in their respective sport.

however, the zabrak sitting right across from you was utterly exceptional.

in almost every way.

all everyone raved about was his looks. which, you had to admit, the zabrak was gorgeous. with rich crimson skin, complemented by inky tattoos, sharp cheekbones, a dashing smile, and eyes that were pools of pure honey, it was difficult to deny the fact that he was attractive.

however, it was not hard to accept the other truth, either. he was quite acquainted with a majority of the women on campus, matching with almost every single one on tinder. that was if you were a part of a sorority or part of a sports team, of course.

what made matters worse was his intelligence. so, when you were paired with him for a project in your astronomy class, you learned fairly quickly that the zabrak was quite the smartass. and not a nice one, either. he seemed to enjoy harassing and berating you with his jokes and punchlines during every encounter.

he was everything you despised in a man. cocky, stubborn, and careless.

so why were you so attracted to him? you had absolutely no idea.

there’s a beat of silence, and the only noise the zabrak emits is a quiet exhale. the sound of his breath as it whistled through his teeth. yet, it’s followed by a quiet huff.

“you wish you could fuck me. you’ve mentioned it before, to that nautolan friend of yours, hmm? kit, right? he’s on the lacrosse team. your name may have come up a few times.”

heat flourishes through your cheeks as you glance upwards, any last remnants of focus completely crumbling away. your breath hitches in your throat at the smug smirk plastered on his lips, incisors poking against his lower lip.

golden eyes scour you, almost analyzing the sheer and utter shock plaguing your features. satisfaction glints within the depths, and you blink, scrambling to formulate some sort of response.

leaning forward, the zabrak tilts his head, so close that the tip of his nose grazed yours. this time, the words are a low rumble, harsh and gravelly.

almost like a growl.

“you told your little friend kit that you wished that i would just take you right here, in the library, and fuck you senseless. i find that interesting though, because you’ve been feeding me this little premonition that you absolutely loathe every aspect of my existence. now, do you actually want that little wish of yours to come true, or are you going to keep putting up the act and we act like this never happened?”

shrinking in your seat, you could almost feel the eyes searing into the both of you. there’s arched brows and low murmurs, a few giggles ringing through the space. swallowing thickly, you pull the collar of your hoodie over the lower half of your face, in a vain attempt to conceal your obvious embarrassment.

of course your fellow peers were staring. in the corner of your eye, you witness a group of girls roll their eyes. from the decals on their laptops, along with the other memorabilia, you pick out they’re chi omega girls, a popular sorority on campus.

you squeeze your eyes shut as you hear them whispering amongst each other. there’s a few points, and you were dead sure the dusty rose twi’lek in the black nike hoodie wanted to end your life right there.

maker, were you so flustered.

and he had you right where he wanted you.

“m-maul,” you stutter, fidgeting in your seat, “pe-people are s-staring.”

“do i look like i give a fuck?”

“i’m pretty sure the chi omega girls over there are going to send me death threats once they find my instagram,” you grumble, burying your head in your hands, “it’s your fault they’re all looking, you know.”

“hey!” the taunting tone in his voice sent your eyes wide open, strands of curses flowing from your tongue as he called over to the group, “i know we may have matched on tinder, but i’m not yours. i’m not territory to lay a claim on. i’m my own zabrak, you know. i can talk to other girls.”

letting out an exasperated sigh, you bury your head into your arms, laying your head on the table.

getting any work done with him was a lost cause.

“you okay? you gonna make it?”

for a moment, you melt under the tenderness in his tone, the way the words just sounded so gentle. he lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up, the heat in your cheeks lingering as your eyes lock with his.

“we could get out of here, you know,” maul murmurs, “i live in an apartment with a few other guys on the lacrosse team. they’re all out, though. we could get some peace and quiet. and i could get you away from those chi clowns. i think they already found your twitter. i don’t like the way they’re looking at you either.”

i don’t like the way they’re looking at you either.

“um, sure. i don’t have anything else tonight. at least, i don’t think. i cleared my schedule so we could get this project done.”

“don’t worry about packing up your stuff. act like you’re on the phone or something and i’ll grab your things. i made this mess so i’ll clean it up,” it takes a moment to register the suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t a suggestion.

he wasn’t going to budge.

clearing your throat, you press your phone to your ear, “hello? oh hey! no, you didn’t catch me at a bad time. i just need to leave the room really quick.”

carefully, you weave your way through the maze of chairs and tables, pushing open the door. moments later, you’re outside, inhaling the brisk january air, grateful for the coolness as it seeps into your skin.

“you okay?”

you nod, probably a little too quickly, “yes.”

maul’s brow furrows, yet he doesn’t press any further, adjusting your book bag, “don’t worry about carrying this. i got it. i feel bad.”

“don’t feel bad i mean, you were just teasing--”

“i do,” he cuts in, “i feel bad because i know how you much you dislike unwanted attention. you always get so flustered when the professor calls on you with no warning. you either stutter just a little bit or you pull the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. i was a little bit of an asshole back there, and i apologize for that. i took care of everything with those chi omega girls too.”

in the darkness, you nearly trip over the sidewalk, “you.. you notice that?”

“i sit right by you and have been for the past two weeks,” he snorts, “i pick up on a thing or two. take a left here.”

all around you, the lights of campus glow softly, illuminating the surroundings with a warm golden glow. the night sky is clear, a few stars glittering over the light pollution of the city. you follow the zabrak, unsure of what to say.

“were.. were you serious about what you said earlier? did kit really say something?”

your knees buckle at the sound of his laughter. how it was so sweet and melodic as it rang out into the night.

“he did say something,” the zabrak raises a hand, pointing to a complex just a few hundred feet ahead of you, “i’m right here. you still up for the offer? i mean, we still have a week and a half but i don’t want to waste your time. you have a lot going on with your classes already. how’s chemistry going?”

“how do you know about chemistry?” you arch a brow, a shudder coursing through you as the breeze rolls through the campus.

“you bitch about it all the time on your instagram story?” the zabrak holds his id next to the door, pulling it open, “regardless of what you may think, i do pay attention to you sweetheart.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” your tone shifts, “i’m not sure what you’re referring to, maul.”

“well,” a hand finds its way to the small of your back, just above the curve of your ass, pushing you gently. realizing that you have to go up the stairs, you begin to trudge upwards, his hand still lingering.

“you have this belief that you’re unattractive because you don’t possess conventional beauty set by the standards of social media and society. i know this because you’ve talked about it on your twitter and your instagram. also, your comment about ‘some other girl i fucked’ really took me aback because i don’t just sleep with anyone. you know that, right? i have standards. and i have goals too, outside from ‘how many bodies i have.’ you also said that to kit, which made me upset. is that what you really think of me?”

in that instant, it was almost as if your heart dropped. you stop at the top of the flight, the clammy sensation coating your hands only growing. wiping your hands on your leggings, you dodge his gaze, clamping your mouth shut.

gods, were you in deep shit now.

fingers grasp your chin, forcing your head to the right. maul takes a step forward, pushing your back against the wall. the concrete sends goosebumps lining your arms, hairs standing on end.

“i asked you a question,” your heart thuds as he leans forward, “is that what you really think of me sweetheart?”

“i-i--” you stammer, heat flourishing to your neck, “t-that’s not i think of you. i was just frustrated because i didn’t know how to process the feelings i had and i’m sorry.”

“feelings?” maul’s lips were practically brushing against yours. and gods, were they so tantalizingly soft, “what kind of feelings?”

“i may have a crush on you.”

“a crush? what is this, fifth grade?” the tease was edged with somewhat you couldn’t quite place your finger on. what was it? lust? want? hunger?

“a crush,” you affirm, “i have a crush on you, maul.”

“you wanna know what i told those chi omega girls?” he inquires, one hand on the wall, the other reaching for your face, cupping your cheek.

“what did you tell those girls?” fuck. were you in deeper shit now.

“i told them we were talking. that you were my girl,” your lashes flutter at his touch, “and you know wanna know what else i told them?”

“what else did you say?” puckering you lips, you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly.

the sound that you hear is nothing like you’ve encountered before.

“i-i,” you feel your lips curve into a smirk as he grits his teeth, “i told them that i was going to fuck you after this. that i was going to completely destroy you.”

“you didn’t---”

his mouth connects with yours for an open-mouthed kiss. it’s electrifying yet blissful, something that would sweep you off your feet yet keep you grounded, keeping you wanting more and more. gods, was it such a craving. to stay in this stairwell, to cherish this moment.

it’s gratifying, enough to make you light-headed with giddiness.

it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.

yet, he pulls away, panting ever so slightly.

“fuck.”

“fuck?”

his jaw clenches, “you have no fucking idea how much i’ve been wanting to do that. ever since i met you. fuck, i need more. i need more of you. ‘taste so good.”

“we could always--”

“finish this in my apartment? yeah, i want to. but i don’t want to force anything on you and i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. i’ve just -- i’ve just been having dreams about you.”

“dreams?” you watch as the zabrak’s eyes squeeze shut, his body shifting away from yours. he’s heading towards the door now, nearly throwing it open.

“dreams about being inside of you. fuck. i need to know how you feel. if you’re as tight as i imagined. and fuck, i need to feel how wet you are too. how wet you get for me. have you ever tasted yourself before?”

you shake your head, “i haven’t.”

maul practically stalks down the hallway, finding his door. sliding the key into the lock, he steps inside, placing your bags on the floor, “would you rather study or would you rather let me express how i feel?”

thumbs loop through the pocket of your hoodie, pulling you close to him. fuck, you could feel him against your body. the stiffness of his cock underneath his sweats. how hot and bothered he was for you, practically aching for some sort of release.

“what do you mean ‘express how you feel’?” carefully, you dip a hand into the waistband, hand wrapping around the outline, squeezing gently.

“oh fuck,” maul throws his head back, moaning ever so slightly, “i-i may have a crush on you too. and i wanted to express how i felt. i-i’m not good with words.”

“why don’t you show me then?” your clit throbs as you feel along his shaft, fingers grazing over the ridges, thumb pressing against his tip.

“bend over the fucking counter then and i’ll fucking show you then, princess. you better not utter a single fucking word about this fucking project because it’s my turn to study you.”

☆☆☆☆☆

taggin' some maul moots: @maulieber @maulfrk @hounding-around @maximumninjavoid @xcertaindarkthingsx @zabrak-show @anakinswhore @arsonistvoyager @bonesaldente @catsnkooks@darthmaulslut

[midnightsconspiracy]

Out Of The Blue

Out of the Blue - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: After experiencing a hard day at work, your boyfriend decides to treat you to some of your favourite things. Although he may or may not have another surprise in store for you

Warnings: Non-Major Character Death

Word Count: 1683

Requested: Yes!

'What about one in which one of them had a horrible day at work and the other found out and decided to prepare a little surprise to make the day better? Just fluffy thing?'

A/N: Keep sending in your requests whilst my inbox is open and drop me a message if you're bored, id love to talk to some of you about Chicago PD, Med or Fire!! :)

Masterlist

Working at Chicago Med was stressful, to say the least. Every day was filled with what felt like hundreds of patients, running around to make sure you were taking care of them to the best of your ability. For the most part being an ED doctor with fulfilling, seeing people come in sick and come out good as new. But other times it was draining, either from being swept off your feet every minute of the day or doing all that you could for a person and it still not being enough. That was what had happened today.

You were content as you entered the ED that morning, having spent the night at your boyfriend’s. Everything about your relationship was absolutely perfect, with everyone around you noticing your positive change of mood since getting together with Hank. Walking towards the nurse's station to log into a computer, Maggie and April came over to greet you, both commenting on the large grin that plastered your face.

“Someones happy,” April teased, watching your cheeks glow, as you looked down in mock embarrassment.

“Couldn’t have anything to do with the Sergeant boyfriend of yours could it?” Maggie lowered her head as well, trying to catch your eyes to find the truth within them. Opening your mouth to reply, you were interrupted by an incoming patient being wheeled on a gurney, the paramedics beside it holding a grim look on their faces.

The patient turned out to be a six-year old girl, she had suffered severe trauma to multiple areas of her body, including broken ribs, a collapsed lung and a mild concussion. You immediately took the case, being the only ED doctor available at the moment, but also specialising in paediatrics alongside Dr Manning. Looking the girl over, you noted each of her injures, seeing it was consistent with a severe car accident, and proceeding to insert a needle into her lung to allow it to re-inflate, before sending her upstairs to the OR for surgery. To an adult, the injuries wouldn’t have been fatal, but for a girl this size, the extent of the trauma didn’t bode well for her chances of survival. Praying for her as she was wheeled up to surgery, you felt a tear come to your eye, hoping that this little girl would actually be able to live her life to the fullest. An hour had passed and you still hadn’t heard any news on the little girl, so instead of dwelling on it, you busied your mind, taking any patients Maggie would give you, from a broken leg to a baby with a fever. But finally, as you were leaving a low-level emergency case, your pager buzzed, signalling you to the PICU, nodding to Maggie on the way up, knowing it would be the girl who had just come out of surgery. Speaking to her surgeon, you waited for her anaesthetic to wear off, knowing it wouldn’t be too long because of the low dosage she was given. It seemed as though she had no family with her, either injured or dead from the car wreck and so you sat by her bed, not wanting her to be alone when she finally woke up.

As she woke, you held her hand, introducing yourself, trying to make her as comfortable as you could. You spoke to her for a long time, completely forgetting about your other duties downstairs, instead, trying to make her laugh, telling stories and attempting to get her to recall the events that had happened earlier that day. Building trust was important to you, knowing she would need someone who she was happy with before all the other doctors and DCFS got involved. But time got cut short as your pager once again demanded you downstairs to deal with another patient. Quickly saying goodbye, you dashed downstairs to deal a man with a GSW to the abdomen. Checking his wound thoroughly, you tended to it before sending him to specialists upstairs. Content with the job you had done, you continued with your work in the ED.

After your shift had finished, you headed upstairs to say a final goodnight to the girl, bringing a small teddy with you that you had purchased in the gift shop, hoping it would keep her company overnight before you returned the next day. But as you walked towards her room something didn’t seem right. The lights were turned off, the bed empty. Maybe she had just been moved to a different room or ward, you thought to yourself, knowing there was probably a good explanation for this. Turning towards the nurse on duty behind the desk, you questioned her on the whereabouts of your new friend.

“Didn’t you hear? She coded and was pronounced dead an hour ago. Sorry Doctor Y/LN, I thought someone would have told you already.” Staring at the women, your mouth dropped open, stumbling backwards a bit to brace yourself on the doorway behind. Tears fell from your eyes, why would the universe allow an innocent young child to be taken so earlier in their life? Moving back downstairs you felt numb, just wanting this tragic day to be over. You texted Hank telling him you were on your way back and that you had the most horrible day, not going into any details on how or why.

Unbeknownst to you, Hank was already preparing your favourite meals, as he knew you were already getting increasingly stressed at work when your text came in. He felt bad for you, knowing the type of tragedies you saw daily, experiencing similar in his line of work, completely aware of the repercussions people felt being surrounded by death constantly. On top of making dinner for you, your text had prompted him to drove to the store in order to go above and beyond to try and boost your mood, buying things he knew would make your day better. Returning home he had about ten minutes before you would be back to try and set everything up, rushing about the house making sure every individual detail was perfect for your return. The table was prepared beautifully, accessorised with fancy silverware and candles, that were flickering slowly, ready and waiting to provide you with a romantic dinner. He had bought you a bouquet of your favourite flowers, already placed in a vase of water so you wouldn’t have to deal with the fuss of it on your arrival, and rose petals scattered along the floor in the direction of the table to add an extra romantic touch. Finally, he had one more surprise for you, hidden away in his back pocket, one that was guaranteed to make you smile.

Pulling into the driveway you exited your car, noting the darkness within the house, uncommon for this time of night and the fact that Hank had said he would be in all evening. Opening the door you called out to him, hoping that he hadn’t been pulled into another case, spending the night in his office once again. But as you took off your coat to place it on the hook you noticed the flowers on the table, to be specific your favourite flowers. You called out to him again, hoping he would appear to explain what was happening. Looking up, he stood in the doorway, a slight smile on his face, as you finally looked round properly noticing the rose petals, candles and your favourite food on the table.

“You did this all for me?” You asked.

“Of course I did sweetheart, I know you’ve had it hard at work recently so I wanted to surprised you with some of your favourite things.” To most peoples surprise, Hank was a true romantic at heart despite the cold exterior he held, just wanting to pamper you and treat you like the queen you were. Whether that be buying you your favourite sweets or complimenting you whenever possible, he did everything in his power to make sure you were happy.

Leading you towards the dinner table, you both sat down, quickly making conversation about everything, except work, that being an unspoken rule between you. Conversation flowed easily, both of you just happy to be in the presence of each other once more. Dinner had been polished off, with Hank fetching the dessert from the fridge after as you uttered the millionth ‘thank you’ to him. You both tucked in, moaning at the flavour that tasted like heaven after the day you had had. Looking up you noticed your boyfriend's demeanour had changed, no longer joyful but instead nervous, staring at his hands in his lap.

“What’s wrong Hank?” You asked, worried you had done something to set off this mood change. Instead of replying he lifted his hands from his lap onto the table along with a velvet box, slowly opening it to reveal a ring.

“Y/N, I know we haven’t been together that long and we haven’t discussed this that much but I’m getting old, and whilst I was thinking about that, I realised you really are it for. I can't even imagine myself with someone else or not spending the rest of my days with you. So Y/N Y/LN will you marry me?” Tears pricked your eyes, never in a million years would you have expected this, but instead of being angry about it, you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more.

“Only if you do it properly and get down on one knee,” you countered, watching as he got off his chair and onto one knee.

“So will you?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed throwing yourself into his arms.

As the evening winded down, you laid in Hank's arms on your shared bed thinking about everything life had given you. You couldn’t have met anyone as perfect as the man beside you. The man you would spend the rest of your life with, bear children with and grow old with. So as you drifted off to sleep, you pictured the little girl, hoping she was in heaven looking down on your life and smiling

[innittowinit]

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary: 

 In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary: 

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept. 

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway. 

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves. 

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway. 

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice. 

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America. 

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes. 

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

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

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out. 

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him. 

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame. 

It would be okay. 

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering. 

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera. 

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat. 

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”  

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing. 

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages. 

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time. 

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them. 

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all. 

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.  

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy. 

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now” 

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.  

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord. 

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called. 

Or the second. 

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them. 

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset. 

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.  

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice. 

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.  

“Listen, Tommy” 

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn’t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down. 

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about. 

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing. 

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms” 

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation. 

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us” 

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it. 

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit. 

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional. 

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

[mccnyoongi]

buttercup ⇢ pt one

⇢ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇢ genre: smut + slight angst

⇢ au: college!au, fwb!au, stoner!yoongi, assholeish!yoongi, fuckboyish!yoongi fwb to lovers trope

⇢ word count: 6k+

⇢ warnings: smut, honestly mostly porn, unprotected sex, recreational use of drugs & alcohol, dirty talk, praise, degradation, ridiculously excessive use of pet names, fingering, dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex, slight dumbification (whoops), hair pulling, creampie??, oral (f receiving), pussy slaping, reader has a thing for Yoongi’s hands because who doesn’t, reader and yoongi are both sarcastic and oblivious, this part is basically pwp.

⇢ synopsis: Min Yoongi wears leather jackets, fucks you like he hates you, spends most of his days on the wrong side of a blunt, and calls you the sweetest names when no one else is around. And you definitely aren’t falling in love with him.

⇢ author’s note: so yes, buttercup is being cut up into two parts thanks to a lot of my life getting uprooted this week!!! ill spare you the details but everything is really chaotic rn so im sorry this isnt exactly what i promised :( thank u for all the insane amont of love ive gotten so far. this is a pretty um... filthy piece of writing skfjsd and it’s definitely not perfect and id love to get better with everything i put out on here but i hope u guys enoy ily xx

If there was a magic lantern hidden somewhere on the campus of this university, you’d find it and your first wish would be to make it so that no one found out about this whole illicit affair you’ve been having with Min Yoongi. The secrecy was fun, sexy like you guys had a whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. Or something. Your second wish would be to make his dick vibrate. 

But then he just had to go and go down on you in a bathroom during a party at the Beta Tau Rho house, not even a month into the fall semester, knowing you wouldn’t be able to be quiet or subtle at all. And he was so smug about it too, the fucker.

You can still feel the embarrassment buzzing under the surface of your cheeks from when you walked out that bathroom door and a dozen frat boys and mutual friends of yours and Yoongi’s were out there, waiting for the two of you to emerge and giving you a round of applause when you did. Yoongi had just laughed and rolled his eyes before leading you to the kitchen to get the pair of you some drinks. He’s always been particularly good at brushing that shit off of his shoulder. You aren’t, but you’re pretty good at pretending.

Maybe you should have ended it all that night. Of course, you didn’t. You figured, hey,  you’re young and in school so fuck making good decisions. Of course, the fact that no other guy has ever been able to dick you down nearly as well as Min Yoongi can is probably a huge contributing factor. 

Sure he might be grumpy, and sarcastic, and he tries way too hard to look cool and nonchalant, but he’s also the first guy to ever make you squirt. And you’re pretty sure that the way he waxes poetic about your pussy would make even Shakespeare swoon. So maybe the pros outweigh the cons, but only just.

“I can’t believe you’ve been getting Yoongi dick for almost three full months and haven’t divulged every single detail and vein to me, you cold, uncaring bitch-” Jimin’s voice is far too loud for the student-run coffee shop the two of you regulared every Sunday; a tradition that Jimin always insisted upon. He loves his traditions almost as much as he loves destroying any personal boundaries between the two of you.

“Keep going Park, see if I ever buy your coffee again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” You can’t say you’re surprised that Jimin is reacting like this. Self-proclaimed ‘disaster bisexual,’ Jimin was one of the very first friends you made back when you were a shy, barely functioning freshman. 

He actually introduced you to all his frat brothers, and a large number of the people you now call your friends. Including Yoongi, whose dick seems to be a reoccurring topic between you and… most people you know. Even if they weren’t at that dumb party, Jungkook made sure that every living being that stepped onto campus was aware of the newly found out fuckbuddies.

“We don’t keep anything from each other, Y/N,” He’s whining over his coffee now, full lips perched in that pretty pout that he regularly uses to his advantage. “I even told you about that time I puked on Namjoon’s dick in our second year!”

“Mmm, and I wish you hadn’t told me, Minnie-” The visual still haunts you, but Jimin has never had any predilections when it came to oversharing, especially not with people who have the misfortune of being his best friends. “‘Sides, I didn’t figure it was important, the whole Yoongi thing-”

“His dick, you mean.”

“Because it’s not like we’re getting married,” You carefully ignore him, a useful habit you’ve picked up three years into being his friend. “Just sex, remember?”

“So fucking what? You told me how you sucked Jeon’s cock in a movie theatre less than twelve hours after it happened-” You take a large gulp of your own iced coffee to busy yourself when the shameful memory is brought up. Not shameful because of the promiscuity of the act, no you’re an adult, thank you very much, but rather because of the boy you performed them on. Jeon Jungkook is now more of an annoying younger brother to you than anything. Not to mention he’s got a giant mouth that couldn’t keep a secret even if it killed him.

“Jesus you could’ve picked any other example-” You groan out as Jimin smirked, receiving the exact reaction from you he wanted. You think you’d have learned by now. “I’m sorry, okay? You big baby.”

“Hey, you’re on thin ice,” He points an accusatory finger at you and you have to fight the urge to smack it out of your face. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

You sigh- Jimin can really be exhausting when you’re only half a medium coffee in. “And how do you expect me to do that, Park.”

“Dick details, fucking obviously,” He says it like you’re a moron for even asking. And maybe you are. “Well details in general, I guess. You know, the basics; length, girth, does he make you call him daddy, is he good- I mean he must be un-fucking-real if you’ve been bouncing on it for three goddamn months, you whore.”

“I’m not giving you measurements, Jimin, I’ve yet to take a tape measure to it- and stop assuming everyone has a daddy kink just ‘cause you do.”

“Okay, vanilla bitch. You’re lucky I already know he’s got a monster cock from that time he streaked at that post-mid-term party next year.”

“Then why’d you even ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth. It was a test and you failed.”

“I may be a college student but you’re gonna have to threaten me with a little more than a failing grade to spook me,” You roll your eyes playfully- there’s no real threat in his words, there never is.

“You’re right, I’m sure you’d much rather be punished by Yoongi, huh?”

                    ..............................................................................

Watching Yoongi roll a joint, his long, slender and experienced fingers moving quickly and deftly, has always had this near hypnotizing-like effect on you. His apartment smells like weed, the scent never surprising and would almost be overwhelming if you weren’t so used to it by now. The sight alone is almost enough to make you wet. But you’re stronger than that- except for when you’re not. 

Sexy hands aside, but unfortunately not on you, you’re thankful for his cannabis-related expertise because a) you can’t roll one yourself to save your life and b) despite normally reserving your consumption habits for parties, you feel like you deserve a fat one after the week you’ve had. What with, you know, the stress of having every student on campus knowing about yours and Yoongi’s torrid affair, thanks to fucking Jeon Jungkook. Brat. Plus incessant goading from both Jimin and your roommate, Irene- equally angry as Jimin about your worst kept secret- has only made you sink further into your insecure and paranoid thoughts.

The weed would help, you’d told yourself when your phone pinged with that much anticipated what’re u up 2? late night text from the raven-haired devil himself. Yep, it was the weed, the comforting blanket of getting high. And had nothing to do with the boy that was offering them. Not even his fat cock or magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. 

“Alright, dove,” He says from his spot on his worn-out single-dorm couch- the names don’t tend to surprise you the way they used to. You kinda figured that the affection-starved Yoongi had just you know… gotten comfortable with the girl he had been fucking for the last couple of months. No big deal. Sure they made your heart swell and your panties dampen, but then it could be looked at as a positive. 

He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, where he’s uncomfortably hunched over the table as he works and notices how you’re looking rather spaced out- not entirely rare for you. He’s used to the hundred-mile stare you tend to adopt when deep in thought, though it’s considerably less common for a sober you.

“Dove?” Nothing. “Y/N?” It’s the use of your actual name from his lips that finally grabs your attention.  You finally turn your head to look at him, the glaze of deep thought finally leaving your eyes. An eyebrow quirks to let him know you’ve heard him, but his gaze remains piercing and unwavering on yours. “You need to stop worrying so much, dove.”

“That’s what the weed is for, Yoongs.”

“The weed? You’re just here so I can smoke you out then, huh? No ulterior motives, hm?” His tone is as dry and sarcastic as ever, qualities he had quickly become known for around campus. He shurgs “Fine. Just here to sesh. C’mere then.”

You scoot closer to his side of the couch, not even thinking twice before listening to him. His tongue is tantalizing as he licks the rolling paper, even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He’s almost always tantalizing to you.

“Don’t be grumpy. You invited me over,” Your words are softer than you meant, but your proximity to him makes you feel stilted. He was right, you really needed a smoke, more on edge than ever.

“Well, technically,” He starts, unlit, perfectly rolled joint now perched between his lips. He grabs at your legs before continued so that you were resting sideways on the black couch, legs strewn over legs, thighs touching thighs. “I invited the best pussy on campus over.” You crinkle your nose at his bluntness.

“Yoongi-” You scold indignantly and pinch at a well-toned bicep. “Don’t be an asshole, you asshole.” He grins despite the insult like he’d expected it. Or he’s revelling in it.

“You know I’m just fucking around, angel,” His arm tucks around your waist comfortably, pulling you even closer. “Tryna chill you out. I can tell when you’re all strung out. I know how you,” He pokes you in the middle of the forehead, still grinning, as you pout from being called strung out. “Tick.” 

He really does, doesn't he? The thought is mildly terrifying, and you think that Yoongi might be too smart or his own good sometimes. When he’s not smoking himself into another dimension, that is.

He leans back into his seat, uncurling from around you to finally light up. A few sparks later and the room is fogging up with overly pungent smoke- the cheap smell makes you think that he probably bought it off of Hobi, too lazy to go any further off-campus than his own block of apartments to one of the nice but relatively affordable dispensaries. You crinkle your nose at the scent, grateful he’s too distracted to notice since he’d probably just tease you for liking the fancy shit more. At least you trust Hobi, and he lives only two buildings down from Yoongi. Truly an age of convenience.

A few passes, tokes, whatevers later, and you’re feeling substantially... floaty. You’ve completely relaxed, choosing to lie down rather than put the effort into sitting up, though your legs are still thrown across your equally high counterpart’s. What’s left of the roach is left to burn in one of many strategically placed ashtrays around the apartment, this one being on the living room table.

Yoongi has barely moved in the past while, head resting lazily on the back of the couch, black hair messy and his neck- which is somehow handsome to you- stretched out, and hands resting against your bare knees. You’ve barely paid him any mind, the silence nothing but comforting and easy. 

Which is why you can’t help but jolt just a little in surprise when those hands, the hypnotizing ones you’re so obsessed with suddenly start creeping up your legs, halfway up your thighs, carefully kneading the supple flesh he finds there. He chuckles at your reaction, finally picking his up his head to watch you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Bet you’re extra sensitive right now, huh petal?” He doesn’t have to bet because he knows it’s true, knows how needy you get when you’ve smoked. And he loves it- it’s why he never makes you pay for any of the times he smokes you out.

“Fuck off,” You whine at his light-hearted teasing, but Yoongi just giggles- he fucking giggles- in response, hands still travelling the expanse of your thighs. 

“Be nice,” His words are still jovial, but there’s a gruffness behind them that sends a shiver down your spine, despite the relative stuffiness of his living room.

“I am nice, you’re just a dick,” You pout- childish, but you can’t quite come up with anything more clever at the moment. The jab may be weaker than your usual quips, but Yoongi seems to have decided it’s enough to warrant a punishment of sorts, as he sends a quick slap onto your thigh. It’s certainly not the harshest hit you’ve received from him, it’s more playful than anything, but it’s enough to make you whine, not even noticing when your own hands jump down to grab at him and your now sore flesh.

His eyes take on a new sort of darkness, beyond the dilated pupils from the high he’s in the middle of as he grabs at your wrists, any assault you had planned halting in its tracks. His large hands that you’ve drooled over- figuratively and literally- many a time are big enough that he only needs one of them to hold both of yours steady. He uses his grip on you to yank you back up to a sitting position, where your noses almost touch and you can feel his breath fan across your lips.

“I told you, I know how you tick,” He lets his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, the act distracts you and makes you mimic it with your own tongue and lips. The smirk he gives you is all at once wicked and panty dampening. “Which means I know you like it when I’m mean. I know you like when I treat you like this, like my little slut,” The word makes you draw in a breath as your face reddens in humiliation and tension. “And- and I know you’re probably soaking through your panties right now, all over my couch. Making a fucking mess.”

It infuriates you to no end how right he is as your breaths come out shaky and uneven as you feel your pussy flutter around nothing beneath your shorts and panties. 

“Aren’t you?” His tone doesn’t leave room for playfulness anymore, and you’re nodding dumbly before you can give it a second thought. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t give you any time to bask in the praise before he’s leaning in to capture your lips in a searing and sloppy kiss. He’s domineering even in the way he kisses you, teeth biting and tongue sweeping into your own mouth as he revels in the small sounds that escape you. His hands leave your wrists, freeing them so you can grip onto raven locks with a newly freed hand as his own wrap around your waist. 

Every sense is filled with him, and it is all at once comforting and exhilarating.

He tugs and roughly manhandles you so that you’re properly astride his denim-covered thighs, your lips never untangling in the process. When your lips finally do come apart, it’s with a lewd sound and a gasp from your mouth. He’s still smirking.

“Gonna fuck you so good petal,” Yoongi has always been so blunt and unforgiving, whether in bed or out and it had been one of the things that first attracted you to him, besides his obvious good looks. 

Before the two of you had even gotten together, when you were friends who didn’t fuck on the regular, you had even mustered up the courage to touch yourself to the thought of him speaking to you like this- your own fingers circling your clit and delving into yourself without abandon. You had only been able to imagine up a fraction of his sexual prowess. 

Like the time only a few weeks ago you admitted to him in a foggy haze, high than you think you’d ever been. how you’d brought yourself to climax with images and soundbites of him flitting through your head. He’d immediately made you put on a show for him- recreating those nights, but this time with him sitting feet away from you and ignoring your pleas for him to touch you.

Right now, however, the only things keeping you grounded in reality is the feeling of the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you, though nowhere near where you truly ache to be touched, and one of his hands brutishly tangled in your hair, pulling harshly so he can have easy access to your neck. Plush lips start soft, kissing and licking at the skin there, before his teeth join in, biting and sucking like he loves the taste of you (because he does).

“Y-yoongi-” You’re trying to keep the whimpers at bay, like maybe if you stop yourself from seeming so turned on so fast it’ll get him to fuck you faster. “C’mon, just fuck me already.”

“So demanding for such a needy bitch,” He has you squirming on his lap and you don’t know why you thought you had any power over him left. “Have you forgotten your place? Can’t think of anything else but getting fucked, huh?”

You nod in agreement, but find out he must want a verbal response when you’re met with a sharp spank to your ass that has you squealing and bucking into his lap. “Yeah, yeah Yoongi ‘m sorry, just need it.”

“I know, baby, I know, you can’t even help it when you get all messy like this, I know,” You can’t decide whether his words are sweet or patronizing when he coos at you like that, but either way he’s got you another pair of panties.

“Need you to fix it, Yoongs,” All pride is out the window when he’s got you like this, and you love pleading with him to give you what you want almost as much as likes making you beg.

“I will,” He gives you one more harsh bite to the junction of your neck and your shoulder that you know will blossom into a bruise just in time for your 10 AM class tomorrow and you hiss at the mingling of pain and pleasure. “Now fucking get up,” He pats lightly at your thigh twice at the order.

You’re in no position to disobey, and you know from experience that not listening to him will end up with a sore ass and no release in sight. You stand up on shaky, doe-like legs and he grins at the sight of you. He stands up with you, his lean form and strong stance making him look taller than he really is. Then his long fingers are pulling at what little clothing you have, stripping you of both your tank top and your shorts and your bra isn’t far behind. Soon you’re clad only in your panties while he’s still fully clothed in black form-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Thankfully he leaves his cliche, but devastatingly sexy leather jacket at the door.

He doesn’t make any move to undress at all and you hope to god he will eventually- you love seeing his honey-coloured skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he fucks you into oblivion. But for now, he stays fully clothed and he roughly pulls you by your upper arm until he can bend you over the arm of the couch, panty-covered ass high and perfectly on display for him.

“God, you’re fucking dripping,” He taunts, fingers running over your pussy through the thin cotton, making you whine into the rough cushion your face is resting on. “All this from almost nothing, huh? You’re such a fucking slut for me, shit.” He sounds genuinely amazed by you and when you uncomfortably crane your neck back to get a good look at him you let out a proper moan. He must have stripped his shirt off when you weren’t facing him, because his chest is bare for you to gaze at, or you would gaze at it if you weren’t distracted by the hand that isn’t on you, which is lazily working over his cock, rock hard and aching through his jeans.

He smirks when he notices what’s grabbed your attention, knowing you’re only moments away from quite literally drooling on his pillows. “Is this what you want? Hm?”

“Ye-yeah your cock, Yoongi, need your cock,” Your face burns red and blood burns hot as the crude words leave your mouth.

“And you’ll fucking get it, dove,” The cute name contrasts the second harsh spank he lands on your ass and you moan at the delicious sting. 

You think that he must be about to tear your panties off and sink into you, but that would be too predictable and Yoongi loves to keep you on your toes. Instead, he disappears from your line of sight, a dull thump coming from the hardwood as he drops to his knees, feline gaze now level with your cunt. 

“Yoongi-” You’re whining again, and you even have to hold yourself back from stomping your foot childishly because, god, you just need him to do something.

And then he finally does- he licks a thick stripe, right from your clit to your entrance, still over your panties, and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, twice, three, four times until your hips are bucking and you’re whining because you need more, you need him to actually touch you and not be a giant fucking tease for once in his life.

“Be fucking patient,” He hisses out, but at least he’s finally rolling your underwear down your legs to toss them somewhere across the room. “Or I swear to god, I’ll hold you down just like this so you can’t even squirm while I get myself off all over your messy cunt,” His hand is running up and down your bare pussy as he speaks, spreading the wetness around, to your clit and your thighs and your ass and then back again. “And then I’ll send you home without touching you or cleaning you up, so you’ll have to take the subway home covered in my come and fucking trembling. So be fucking good.” At the last word, he lands a mean slap against your gushing cunt and you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Shit-fuck- Yoongi, please, just-” You stutter through your words, needing to get them out, though you don’t know why. “I’ll be good, okay? ‘M your good girl, I am, promise, I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. But you have to assume he’s happy with your desperate response when he finally delves into your pussy like a man starved, tongue licking into you, the muscle sending spasms up and down your legs. You have to muffle your moans by biting into a pillow, not needing another altercation with his neighbours, but you want nothing more than to yell his name as loud as you can until your voice goes hoarse when he shakes his head from side to side, tongue still buried inside of you and one of his hands now roughly circling your clit. 

It’s too much, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s when he switches positions between his hand and mouth that you think you might explode; his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue circling and playing with it and two fingers fucking into you, preparing you for the impressive girth of his own cock.

Your teeth let go of the strong grip it has so you can warn him of your impending orgasm. “Yoongi- gonna come-” You manage to choke out between barely quieted moans.

You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond if he was still suckling on your clit, but you still whine and wiggle your hips as he pulls away, earning you yet another spank to your rear, where you can only assume a nice handprint is forming. “Yeah? Want you to come all over my face, like a good messy whore- gotta come for me before I can fuck you like you need.” 

When his mouth finds your swollen clit again, you can’t help it as your orgasm barrels through you almost violently, every muscle tensing and fingers grasping at whatever they can find, neighbour’s delicate sensibilities forgotten as you moan out Yoongi’s name. He licks you through it, fingers no longer pistoning into you. When the last of the tremors have faded he finally pulls away, using his clean hand to wipe your mess off of his chin, though it hardly cleans him. 

“Good fucking girl,” The roughness with which he was grinding his still covered bulge into your now sopping wet center would be impossible to ignore even if your head weren’t a million miles away. But for now, everything is Yoongi, every single scent is filled with him and you think that that might be making your head even fuzzier than the drugs coursing through your system, but you’re too far gone to be sure. Or to even care.

Because all you can think about is his mouth-watering hands kneading at the slightly pinkened skin of your ass, his mouth-watering cock rutting against you and his mouth-watering, well, mouth pressing wet kisses and occasional bites up and down your spine. “Yoongi,” You meant to speak with at least a little more conviction, but his name comes out as little more than a mumble.

“Hm,” He hums against your skin and even those slight vibrations reverberate straight to your heart, which starts beating faster at the thought of what’s to come. “What, is my babygirl still needy?” 

The use of the word my in front of the affectionate name makes your heart jump, but you don’t even have time to scold yourself for thinking with your post-orgasmic pussy before he continues talking with that sinful mouth of him. “Such a greedy, desperate girl, won’t be happy ‘til you’re stuffed full of my fat cock,” His words have you whining and grinding back against him, where you don’t have to look to know you’re leaving a stain on his favourite jeans.  If you’re unlucky- or lucky depending on your mood- he’ll make you clean it up with your tongue as further delicious torture. 

But smoking makes Yoongi needy too, no matter how much he teases you for the effect it has on you, and he can’t wait much longer, not with his cock so hard he was a razor blades’ edge from losing his mind. He needs to be inside you as much as you need him.

Which is why you don’t doubt him for a second when he’s murmuring things about how he’s ‘gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you stupid,’ and you can only respond with even quieter whispers of ‘I knows’ and ‘pleases’ as he strips himself oh the rest of his clothes, hissing from oversensitivity as his cock makes contact with the air. It’s wonderfully overwhelming and he’s not even fucking you yet.

You can’t even explain how grateful you are when Yoongi turns you around because you love just seeing his cock. You’ve never been one to describe guys’ dicks as pretty before- except that TA you managed to fuck before Jimin sunk his claws into him, Kim Seokjin, because, well, you’re not blind. But Yoongi’s dick is gorgeous. It’s not the biggest thing you’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t have to be, not when it’s girthy enough to make you salivate with a curve that points to the heavens. Gorgeous.

He’s pulling you on top of him so he can sit back down and you’re back to straddling him, and you don’t complain because you know he’s tired both from the pot and crouching on his haunches for access to your center not two minutes ago. Plus he loves when you ride him, breasts bouncing in his face, wetness making a mess out of his lap and full access of your entire body for both his hands and lips.

“Need you to bounce on my fat cock before I fucking explode, baby,” And you’d have to be some sort of a madwoman to deny him.

“Need it too, Yoongs,” You don’t know why you feel the need to remind how desperate you are for him, surely he can feel it, your swollen pussy resting only centimetres above his throbbing length. “Can’t think of anything else.”

“I know,” He’s rubbing the angry red tip against your sopping folds, tinges of overstimulation making you jolt. Or you would jolt if his hands weren’t heavy on your waist, keeping you steady so you couldn’t a) get away from his cock or b) properly sink down onto it. “So pathetic and perfect for me like this, all cock drunk and fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet, huh?”

You nod frantically, and you can’t even find the energy to be embarrassed when a hand comes up to pet your hair with a condescending ‘awe’ as he pouts at you. You bat his hand away with a whine and furrowed eyebrows, but all that gets you is his hand tangled in your hair, yanking sharply in retaliation. “Careful, slut, or you won’t be coming for the next week-”

“Please, Yoongi-” You don’t let him finish, knowing from experience to always take his threats seriously. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay just please-”

You cut yourself off with a high pitched, tea kettle-like squeak as he uses his hands on you as leverage to have you sink down onto his cock in one fell swoop. “Shit, god, you’re always so fucking tight around me, fuck me.”

I am, is what you wish you were coherent enough to snark back with, but you’re sure no one would blame you if they could feel what you feel right now. And what you’re feeling right now is how well Yoongi feels inside of you, like no cock you’ve ever had. Every ridge and vein on his cock fills you up to the fucking brim, no room left for a pinky or a thought that has to do with anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

And then he starts with those devilish moments of his hip, fucking into you shallowly and slowly to start and it’s all Yoongi’s dick. 

“Fucking bounce on it, dove. Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you need it,” He speaks through gritted teeth, each word a struggle as he tries not to fuck into you without thought. And it’s with the satisfaction you get knowing he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him that you find the strength to do as he says.

With quivering thighs, you push up and off of his cock, the two of you sharing a harmonious groan at the feeling, foreheads pressed against each other, skin sweaty. And this all just in the calm before the storm. 

It’s not long before the both of you are moving frantically, mere seconds, really. It’s intense and all-encompassing, as you grind and roll your hips, cock deeper than you knew to be possible, and his bucking his own hips into you roughly, no doubt as deeply in some sort of euphoria as you are. His hands are everywhere and so are his lips. He sucks marks into your tits and gropes your ass, controlling your movements to the best of his abilities.

All of that, plus your clit grinding against his pelvic bone every other second and your head just might be in another universe. 

Yoongi’s words are swirling around in your head, though you’re not properly taking any of it in- his velvety voice goes on about how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’re a good girl and it’s all another instrument in your downfall. You’ve never been much for heights but being with Yoongi feels like something akin to what you assume bungee jumping is like, and you’re just about at that point where your cord runs out of length and your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

“Tell me you’re fucking close, baby, c’mon,” This is as close to pleading as you can ever get Yoongi but you’re still swimming in pride. He brings a hand off of your ass to cup your cheek, brushing away your now mussed hair and a single stray tear and you drink in the look in his eyes, dark red-rimmed and needing. “Gonna fill you up with my come, just like I know you like, my perfect little cumslut, fuck, just need you to come first, yeah? All over my fucking cock.”

And with a particularly hard grasp at your ass, bringing you to grind your clit against him again, you’re gone. It’s considerably less intense than the previous one, as many second orgasms are, but your head is still spinning and you think you might have drooled a little, but you don’t mind and you know Yoongi doesn’t. Your attempts to stifle your moans are unsuccessful as the name of the man attached to your favourite cock falls from your lips like a mantra.

And where your orgasm is, Yoongi is rarely far behind- he loves seeing you fall apart around him, because of him and you always clench so fucking hard around him in the peak of your pleasure how could he fucking not. He’s grunting, moaning, damn near growling as he spurts his own release as deep into you as he possibly can, coating every inch of your delectable pussy, vague mumbles of how he’s filling you up, just like you’re meant to be that you can just barely hear.

Shakey breaths hit each of your faces as you come down, now still and worn out. Your chests move up and down and you don’t know when you’ve buried your face into the crook of his neck, but the warmth and smell are more comforting than any hit you’ve ever taken off of one of his blunts.

“Shit, buttercup,” He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and where you’ve tucked yourself He runs a hand through his sweaty black locks, the other hand locked around your waist. “I don’t know how we’re gonna move without making this couch fucking disgusting.” Mood killer.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but I do. Especially if Joon or Hobi someone finds it and makes a big fucking deal out of it, like no other guy in his twenties has some come stained furniture.”

You pull back from the spot you wish he’d just let you fall asleep in so he can see your pout. He can’t find the sight of you… adorable? Your hair matted, bruises, courtesy of yours truly littering your tits and chest, a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow and bottom lip jutted out exactly enough to be overexaggerated and so fucking adorable. 

At that moment he’s glad that about three weeks ago the two of you had started to break the unspoken no sleeping over after sex rule because he just wants to clean you up and feel you curl yourself around him like you like to.

You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and that it doesn't matter, because this was certainly time well spent. You wonder how much sleep you’ve given up in lieu of Yoongi’s pretty dick. Of course, it does matter... because you have a 9 am class tomorrow morning that you can’t miss, but that’s for future you to worry about. For now, it’s time to try to get up without defiling this Ikea couch (you failed miserably and giggled about it while Yoongi groaned in mock pain), burn out just one more joint, steal some clothes for bed and some snacks from his fridge, and pass the fuck out on his bed, which you think is way better than yours, but that has nothing to do with the boy in it or his comforting warmth and smell.

                     ..............................................................................

Past you is a dumb bitch. Also maybe current you. Point being, you hate you, because you’re sore and stiff and ten minutes late to your dumb 9 am class and it’s all Yoongi’s fucking fault. You texted him this much, calling him a ‘little bitch boy’ for not even waking you up to make you a cup of coffee with his fancy instant coffee machine before you left. He hasn’t responded yet because holy fuck does that guy sleep like a rock. A really cute, cuddly, sex-god rock.

But, as usual, Jimin came in clutch, handing you off a coffee as your paths crossed on campus, each of you heading to your respective classes. He gave you a one-armed-too-tight hug and a comment on how you have that very glamourous ‘I got fucked by Min Fucking Yoongi last night and you didn’t so I’m better than you look.’ You tried to take it as a compliment as you thanked him for the coffee. He gave you a cute kiss to your forehead that reminded you you could never even be annoyed at him for too long.

And now you’re in class. Headache from not getting enough sleep getting worse by the second while you tried not to think about what judgements people must be passing on you, with your sunglasses inside and hickeys you didn’t have time to cover up.

When your phone pings you assume it’s Jimin, with something slutty or sarcastic or both. But it’s not. It’s Yoongi- well, it’s what you have Yoongi’s number saved under, aka the drooling emoji three times over… You’re surprised he’s awake, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have shit to do until the afternoon. 

You have a fleeting thought that it could be a dick pic- yeah it’s a little early for that kind of dumb fuckboy behaviour, and you’d previously thought that too, but Kim Taehyung proved you wrong last year. 

Yoongi isn’t a dick pic kind of guy anyway. No, he’s the guy that sends pictures of his hand around your throat that one night you let him take artsy photos of you two fucking on his film camera. The kind of guy that sends you audios of him jerking off and moaning your name that you listen to through your earphones in between classes because he knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. He’s the guy that drives you crazy because you can never quite predict what he’s gonna do next.

[9:23 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: you could have woken me you know dummy

[9:24 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: subways are gross in the morning

[9:25 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: i could have u know, driven u…

[9:26 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: cant really say no to u buttercup.

You don’t know why you’re heart’s beating so fast so you reprimand yourself for thinking with your pussy. Min motherfucking Yoongi is gonna be the death of you.

[divinaes-bookofsecrets]

Private. Hello there I would like a spirit guide reading please -Rochelle (RS) ♉️

Hello 👋hi 👋 (🌺Rs)Rochelle are you a 🐂 ♉?

Really ... if I guessed you correctly you are Taurus in your natal birth chart (I am an aspiring astrologist and zlso do in-depth Astrology Reports based off of your natal birth charting so please do nog hesitate to ask for That next !

Your SpiritGuide is Cressida

💎🦋Galactic-Arctic Fox🦋💎

She is a mystical interterrestrial being from a galaxy through another realm not too far away but just out of reach !

Cressida has been with you since 2018 and should remain by your side as a companion, spiritual guardian 🙏 ✨ and your synchronicity lessons for the rest of your life.

Why is Cressida with me and trying to help or heal my situation and past situations or for future situations anyways? Well.. heres an in depth description of what this particular animal spirit totem means ..

Whats Cressida doing? How can I place her in my life and recognize her?

🦋Whether the White Arctic Fox appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that you are to keep going, amid the test of your nature and character. Some powerful forces are working on your behalf to sort things out in a favorable outcome or way soon. Whatever you may be going through will soon pass. These tests and trials have made you stronger, and giving in is for the weak. You should realize how far you have come. You will be arriving to a place of rest and completeness soon. 🦋The Arctic Fox is a sign to trust yourself, above trusting anything or one outside of you. At least for the purpose of clarity. IN other words, it is time to pause, breathe, and receive insights from your oversoul or higher self. As a seeker of truth, you cannot allow someone or something else to dilute what you sense. Take time out to refuel so that you can come from a place of neutrality.🦋 You will need to be stubborn in a forthcoming opportunity and trust your instincts. Even if you collaborate with others, or cooperate with them, you must keep your eyes open as no one can look out for you the way that you can for yourself. In other words, watch your own back. Don’t give that responsibility entirely to others.🦋 The Arctic Fox teaches us that, we are only beings and we are all doing things to survive. Your trust is only owed to a higher source. You can cooperate with others, but the key is to look out for yourself always. Don’t just expect others to put you first. 🦋Always follow up, and if possible do things yourself when it comes to projects that require your creativity. The White Arctic Fox is a message that you want others to be better than what they are showing you. In other words, you are looking at the aspect of how a person can be and not what or who they truly are. If you are a part of a group of people who are being intentionally deceptive, it is best to clear up your acts now rather than later. 🦋The Arctic White Fox is about seeing beyond what we are shown, and hearing beyond what we are told. Your psychic senses will be heightened at this time.💎 Pay attention to what is being revealed. 🧿

⚠️This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may come into contact with someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. ⚠️

🦋What does She look like? 🥀

Her fur is multidimensional and is actually the softest known material other than silk in this universe and all other universes including hidden realms..

Since she is a Galactic Arctic Fox you'll expect to see that she looks rather like a regular Arctic White Fox from our home planet Earth🌍But has different highlights and dimensions to her skin and her fur body. She has *fur tattoos* which are blue-- they represent the Element Water(do you have a lot of water 💧in your natal birth charting , I suspect you do 😉 )Her fur tattoos are like a war paint that was branded onto her when she became fully mature and with the seasons her other markings show up - each season - has a different shade of white to blue hue or even teal like transference that takes place , its quite magickal to see.

What is Cressida's personality like?

🦋Cressida has a strong, but warm and gentle but also courageous and brave personality and soul as a Galzctic Arctic Fox 💙 ❤ 💖 She conducts herself with a sense if integrity in every situation(no matter what!) 🦋Integrity is a personal trait that has strong moral principles and core values and then conducting your life with those as your guide.🦋 She has a lot of compassion for all of humanity but especially you (Rs) ♉ This character traits example feels deep sympathy and pity for the suffering and misfortune of others, and you have a desire to do something to alleviate their suffering..She sees that you may be suffering maybe and has messages for you just about to come up .. old on we need to finish her character profile (bio)

🦋Cressida is an honest Galactic fox just as much of them are but there are more certainly the few bunches who are so mischievous that they are notdared to be messed with (worse than the worst fae)

🦋She has strong reliability. This SpiritGuidr's character quality can be consistently depended upon to follow through on your/her commitments, actions, and decisions. She does what she says you she will do.🥀🌍(88% of the time)

😷She hopes you wear a mask because she is very worried and concerned about your welfare during this coronairus. Please don't fall asleep 😴 🙏 😫 😪 😩 😭yet 😴you'll miss her message for you... im going to stop talking zbout her personality there id so much lol.

What is my SpiritGuide messages?

Cressida has a numerology message she has been sending you many other synchronicity but she asks that you pay attention next for the number # 536 if you haven't seen it by now already...

WHATS IT MEAN ANYWAYS?

Number 536 is a blend of the energies and attributes of number 5 and number 3, and the vibrations of number 6. Number 5 resonates with major life changes, making important choices and decisions, promotion and advancements, adaptability and versatility, personal freedom and individuality, life lessons learned through experience and resourcefulness. Number 3 offers assistance and encouragement, communication and enthusiasm, growth, expansion and the principles of increase, broad-minded thinking, self-expression, talent and skills. Number 3 also resonates with the energies of the Ascended Masters. Number 6 relates to love of home, family and domesticity, honesty and integrity, responsibility, compassion and empathy, finding solutions, grace and gratitude, the ability to compromise, emotional depth, provision and providing and the material aspects of life.

Angel Number 536 brings a message from your angels to maintain a positive attitude in regards to your monetary and financial circumstances as changes are taking place that will ensure that your material and monetary needs are met. Your positive affirmations, prayers and optimistic outlook have manifested opportunities to attract prosperity and abundance into your life. Trust that your Spirit Guide(s) especially Cressida.. will surround, support and guide you through these important changes.

Number 536 is a message to trust that the changes you may be going through are happening for your highest good. These changes may involve your career choices, your place of residence and/or an important relationship. Your angels support you through these changes and offer guidance and assistance to make transitions easier. Trust that these changes will have positive effects on your life and will ensure a continued supply of abundance to meet your daily wants and needs.

Number 536 encourages you to move forward with positive plans and ideas as they will prove to be most beneficial in all ways for yourself and your loved ones. 

Spiritual Messages...

Cressida wants you to be inspired, creative and most of all live out your destiny!!

🙏 Please take this advice seriously! You need to think about:

Surrounding yourself with people who reflect the character traits you want to embrace.

🦋They will inspire and motivate you to build these traits in yourself.

🦋Try to avoid people who have a weak character and make bad decisions.

🦋When you live your life being true to yourself and honest with others you manifest positive energies and desired results and outcomes. Speak your truths with gentleness and love and accept others with grace and understanding.

Monthly Message from your Spirit Guide ✨ 💛 ❤ 💖

A creak you hear in the dark could be the settling of an old house, or it could be a burglar creeping on the stairs. Loud voices you hear coming in through the windows could be your neighbors arguing, or it could be those same neighbors sharing good news. The lamp going out on your nightstand could be a sign that electricity has shut down, or it could mean you need a new bulb. There is often more than one way to interpret something, and usually there's nothing to worry about. Remember that today, Taurus, if you are tempted to follow worrisome thoughts. It's more likely there's nothing to worry about.

🦋🌍🦋

This is a great week(jan 11th to jan 17th) for you to finally finish one or two of those big projects you put on hold a while back. You may have thought you would never be able to get to them, but if you actually put this into your schedule and get started, you should see that it will all fall into place, and you'll get everything else done that needs to be done. This is also an ideal time to complete important conversations that were left dangling, maybe because there was no answer at the time, or because someone was being elusive about responding. You should find it easier now to get answers and receive honest reactions. Crossing all of these things off your long list will give you a great sense of satisfaction. You may even find that because of this efficiency, you will be inspired by a new idea that allows you to tap into a talent you have not used lately, and that would be a great idea. You have been very assertive in trying to attract an investor, team member, or partner for some project you want to take on. However, you are advised now to take a wait-and-see approach and be patient. What you need will materialize if you kick back a bit and let it come to you.

Thank you for meeting your Spirit Guide!! If you have any questions, concerns, or additional specific questions to ask your Spirit Guide you can always Astral travel and speak to her directly but; if you prefer that I take another independent in depth dive into your world I will 🌍🦋 🌎 I will answer up to 2 questions per ask Thanks for allowing this experience to take place, please 🙏

🦋Like && Share this post 📫 ✨

Much Love😍 ❤ Divinae

[clementineesotsm]

THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH EP 4, My Appreciation and How It Made Me Feel

Little cool detail about the series was the glitch in the matrix or here it refer as deja vu (as what Nari says later in eps 14/15). It happens when someone crossed the portal, the two world colided, makes Eun Seob could feel the heat of Jo Yeong’s coffee even when they came from a different universe

The beginning of this eps also is my favorite scenes, where JTE keep thinking of Gon because now he is gone, and her trying to figure out whether he is telling the truth or not, somehow its like a lie, somehow its kind of true, she kind of believe it but kind of think it did not makes any sense. Then she flashback to the moment they spend in bamboo forest. Eventhough the conversation they share here was just normal chit chat like when you wants to know more about the person you have interest with, it shows me development in both feelings. Gon ask JTE why she wants to become a police then she says “not everyone can be brave, so i decided to be” Gon thinks she is cool, probably because she knows exactly why she choose the life she is. While watching this i also facinated and thinks that this girl is, cool. Then JTE ask Gon what kind of a King he is, he said “he is a rower, a mathematician, well grown orphan, the owner of four tiger swords, a king who has never been asked such question and try his best not to panic” because as he said he is born to be what he is, not having option to choose other thing. I dont know why but this scene and their conversation made me shed a tear. Especially the last part of Gon’s answer. It was like both shares honesty, its very raw. Loved it.

Back to present, King is back to the palace. What i like about this scene is when PM says that she cannot do math and that her answer was always 0 or minus 1, and that her answer was always wrong. I interpret it as she was wrong again this time and cannot prove the King is running away. That is why she said the result is always wrong (thank god Gon come home in time). Another think i hate from her is she crossed the line many times and being fake. Here we can see her fake laugh and also crossing the lines by saying that King was indebted to her. I love how Gon clapback to her 👏🏼 and damn Gon facial expression was great, kudos to the actor for acting it good.

We got some subtle clue that Gon’s was actually doing “bad” in military 🤓 and that he has some sort of trauma because of the strangled on the neck he received back in 1994. A glimpse of KSJ. I love this kind of detail. Something that i dont think was important is the scene where both detective helping to catch the thief. I mean i get it, they probably wants to show the normal life of the detective, but they can just stick to Lee Sang Do’s case. I hope that we can just cut that scene and change it into something that could made progress to the story? 😬 just my 2 cents.

Anyhow, back to PM Koo. After she get rid of that rude congressman, she dare to come to Prince Buyeong and offer him a position. For me Prince Buyeong was portraying a royal character very well. I can feel that He is classy, well mannered and educated. He says he stay loyal to the King. But here i got an impression that probably many people other than PM trying to shaken his loyalty to the King all the time. Because he has many reason to hate the King to be honest. And upon watching it, i am also afraid he will someday will become a foe. After this intense conversation with PM the scene moves to conversation with King. Which i love a lot because it is added the tension to the viewers of how much burden that Prince Buyeong need to bear on his shoulders.

I felt such a bittersweet feeling of this conversation, they started with a joke about marriage but then Gon seriously asking whether his uncle never once hating him for separating him from his family. I assume because of the treason, the royal family made many restrictions to prevent possibilities of another treason happen. And Gon saying it with a really guilty voice, which made me feel his sadness. He is just a victim but he is forever feeling guilty for everything. Poor boy. But apparently he is asking his uncle to be honest and not to hide anything about this:

Seeing the conversation between Gon snd uncle makes me realize that Gon is having insecurity problem. Because of the trauma that we saw earlier, it affected his character. Not only a ptsd but i bet he always feels scared and cant sleep well everynight. What cruel life, also his love life, coming from a different universe. I seriously cried watching them longing for each other in the library, damn you Gon, JTE and Maze ! Preach to the genius behind the idea to make this scene. Plus we could see JTE finally try to find out about the parallel universe. Its indicates that she wanted to try to understand him and actually cant get Gon out of her mind. Distance really do make the heart grow fonder.

You know, i love KSJ much right? This episode shows a sad life he is living. His mom cannot stop gambling, he is a police. This eps shows us him coming to this gambling place where his mom got a lot of money and catch the ajjosi who owns the place. I love this line of him “mom please look carefully. Taking money from a jerk like this makes me a joke, i cant work as a detective anymore and have to quit” then he let the police also take his mom to prison and he cried downstair. Damn i love him. Great characterc great acting. Made my heart hurt. And also now we finally got to see KSJ mom doppelgänger.

Then we get to see why JTE need to issued a new id card. Destiny is playing or shall i say the flute 🤓 Then the wicked evil uncle finally realize time stopped was the effect of his nephew crossing the portal. I should have said it earlier but the cinematography and the music everytime Lee Rim shows up was great and probably my favorite in the series. And this bad guy who plays Lee Rim was born to play it. He is so good and act his character well. Same as what i describe Prince Buyeong. Damn i love royal villain.

To be continue..

[revasserium]

Can I have 34 with Sugawara? thank you

hq!!reqs temporarily: closed ; all other reqs: open

send me a number a character and i’ll write you a drabble ;

34. insomnia: the owner’s instructions suga ; 1,659 words 

a/n: suga, the type of stay up at night bc of an existential crisis. 

the truth is – everything ends. it’s one of those fundamental, incontestable truths, a silver thread in the very fabric of reality, a cornerstone fact upon which the world was built, precarious and everlasting: everything ends. everything. and maybe it’s pointless to let the encroaching shadow of existential dread keep him up at night, but sugawara koushi is just that kind of person. he lies awake thinking about the probable heat death of the universe, and the fact that try as he might, nothing he does, nothing truly, really, actually means anything. 

he flips onto his side, sighs, tugs his phone from beneath his pillow and flicks open the screen. the time glares at him – a jarring 4:33am. he groans and buries his face in his pillow. 

shit. 

and he has morning practice tomorrow. 

double shit. 

he peers at this phone again. 4:34am. 

he opens up his messages and scrolls through his history with you, grinning at all the stupid memes you send each other. his eyes pause on your last message to him – night, love you. sleep tight. 

he’d responded in kind, except exclusively with emojis that perhaps trailed into the questionable territory of being suggestive. but i mean. eggplants are perfectly innocent vegetables, aren’t they? 

his fingers hover over the keys. 

why the fuck not. she’s probably asleep anyway. 

can’t sleep. miss you. wish u were here. 

he hits send, and almost closes out the app when the signature three dots appear at the bottom of his scene and he freezes. why the hell are you awake? 

it seems that you shared his sentiments rather exactly, as your message appears with a little bloop. 

why the hell are you awake? 

he crinkles his nose, fingers already flying. 

said i couldn’t sleep. :( u never read my texts properly. 

a moment later, his phone buzzes and he sees your caller id flare up over his screen. he grins, tapping the green answer button. 

“i do too read your messages.” 

he laughs, the sound just a tad strange in the echo of darkness. 

“fine, fine, yeah you do. i was just teasing.” 

“when are you not.” 

“fair.” 

quiet. the moonlight bleeds slivers between his curtains, the light slicing his room into bits – he raises a hand, staring at his bisected palm with a light frown. 

“are you thinking about the end of the world again?” 

your voice startles him, even across the line, he can hear the way you must be raising your eyebrows, that teasing smile he loves so much twisting your lips. you sound exasperated. and rightly so. he’s exasperated with himself too. 

“may…be?” 

“hm. figured.” 

he lets his hand fall back onto the bed, rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. 

“what do you think happens after we all die?” 

he hears you shift in your bed as well, and a moment later, you sigh.

“the universe world keeps on spinning. nothing much changes.” 

“right, but like… isn’t it weird to think that all this has existed before us, and it’ll continue to exist after? like. what are we, even?” 

you laugh, the sound making his stomach flutter. 

“cosmic fallout.” 

“wow,” suga rolls his eyes before remembering you can’t see him. though he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. you’ve known each other for way too long. longer than he cares to try and remember. maybe that’s what it’s like to not worry – to trust something enough not to question it. to not have to question it. 

“that’s not depressing at all.” 

you hum, “well. it is. but it’s not like anything we can do will change that. so why lose sleep over it? it’s got no sway on how your life will be.” 

“right, but it’s just… strange – isn’t it? like. how did we even end up here? with like… phones and computers and internet and – and relationships.” 

you’re laughing again, and he closes his eyes. one of these days, he thinks he’ll tape it, the way you laugh, and maybe loop it so it can be the backing track to his entire existence. maybe that’ll give it some meaning, at least – 

he wishes you were there. so he curls up onto his side again and cradles the phone to his ear. 

“i miss you.” 

“i know. i miss you too.” 

“you should come over.” 

“koushi. it’s 4am.” 

“almost 5.” 

“has anyone told you you’re terrible at convincing people to do things?” 

and this time, he laughs, lets the sound shake through him like the first ray of daylight on a rising sun – warm and sharp and hopeful. 

“once or twice.” 

another silence. suga thinks he can almost hear the sound of the world turning, it’s so quiet. and then, your voice cuts through the invariable darkness. 

“by accident.” 

“huh?” he blinks, unsure of if the line cut off. 

“that’s how we all ended up here, a massive, cosmic series of accidents. everything happened just so, all the stars that have ever lived or died – they all did it in just the way they had to for us to somehow end up here, and be able to hold hands and stay up late at night worrying about death and the end of all time.” 

“one hell of an accident,” suga mumbles, crinkling his nose. a wave of tiredness washes over him. he wants to tell you to keep on talking. maybe he’ll record that too, just you talking about something, anything, everything. maybe that’s the cure to insomnia – just you and your voice, lulling him to sleep every night. 

he wonders if that’s weird, and decides that well, he’s your boyfriend, he can be a little bit weird with this kinda stuff. 

“still, pretty amazing right? all that happened so you could accidentally confess to me during homeroom.” 

suga squawks. 

“will you cease and desist? god – you’re just as bad as daichi and noya! they made fun of me for months – months! can you believe it? my own fucking teammates.” 

your laughter washes over him, soothing his fraying nerves even as he huffs and tries to be angry with you. but it’s impossible – it’s been impossible for a long while now, and he wonders why he still tries. 

maybe it’s because he’s so in love. 

“but – whatever happens after we’re all gone,” you say, your voice soft and steady and full of a tenderness so striking it makes his chest squeeze, “at least we had this while we were here, right? at least by some strange conspiracy of the universe, we met each other. and – and fell in love. and… it doesn’t really matter if it doesn’t last forever. cause i’ll remember it happened. and you will too.” 

you take a breath that sounds like the meeting of truth and tragedy, or perhaps the two finding out that they were always one and the same. 

suga holds his own breath, forgets for a moment that he even has lungs. 

“and… i think that’s enough. for me.” 

he lets the breath go, his body curling into itself as he lets his eyes fall shut, his heartbeat thrumming to the sound of your breaths. 

“wow,” he says again. though, it carries none of its former irony. 

and, after a beat. 

“you’re a sap.” 

and this time, you’re the one sighing. 

“i’m hanging up.” 

“wait! not yet – c’mon, you know i didn’t mean it.” he’s laughing again. he does that a lot with you. 

“fine, but only until you fall asleep.” 

he smiles, a pleasant warmth already spreading through his limbs, making heavy his eyelids. 

“i’m already getting sleepy.” 

“good.” 

quiet, once more. the moonlight falling across his room seems to spell out eternity, and it’s moments like this when suga wonders what it’d be like to live forever. not in the sense that he wants to live for a million years, but that he’d like to live in this moment for long than – well, this moment lasts. 

he wants to stretch out the seconds like taffy between his fingers, relish in the sound of your voice, your laughter, in the smell of your hair after you’ve just washed it, the way you kiss him, on the lips, on the cheek, over his eyelids till they see in nothing but daydreams. 

“hey,” he says, whispers into the phone like a secret. 

“hm?” your voice answers back. 

“i think i love you.” 

you pause, and for a moment, just a moment, he thinks he can taste that unattainable forever. he wants to live inside that moment. for as long as he can. 

“i think i love you too.” 

and, even though they’re words you often say to each other, repeated so many times they might lose their meaning – there’s something about the time – the hours caught between morning and night, something about the foreverness of those precious few moments, that makes those words – that specific sequence of letters and sounds, mean so much more than they usually do. 

suga realizes that this is also truth – a kind that he’s always neglected to think about. the truth of beginnings, and middles, and the eternities that live passed the endings. 

because there are certain forevers that live outside the realm of time and space, forevers that are contained within their own special fragments of realities – his and yours, for instance. 

and just for now, for this one moment – love is not an ever-ending thing. 

and the truth is, no matter how dark and dreary the eventual end of the world might be, at least he had this. at least he met you. and at least, he’s known the taste of falling in love. and that’s something. 

isn’t it? 

– 

taglist: @thewaterlily @dorkyama @undertheseabass @miyulovestowrite  @writing-in-monotone @lceiji @vventure @writeiolite

(pls let me know if you’d like to be added to the list! or if you’d like to be removed! u__u) 

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Alt-pop newcomer LVRA (pronounced loo-rah, real name Rachel Lu) has shared her first new track of 2021, ‘DEAD’. Following up on 2020’s debut EP LVCID, she explains: “There’s a unique power you gain when you stop caring about what people think of you. It’s an ongoing battle, though, and ‘DEAD’ is about the conflict between the fantasy of not caring and how you feel in reality. The video captures that, with a version of myself who has her shit together and another that is fighting to survive.The use of red represents fear in the human condition, but in Chinese culture it also symbolises happiness. One rarely comes without the other.” The track – a cultural mix that matches LVRA’s heritage with bleeding edge ultra HD pop – is the first taster of a second EP, which is set to follow later this summer. You can check out an Oscar McNab (Lacuna Common, Oscar Lang). directed video above. [via Dork]

Los Angeles artist Wallice follows debut single 'Punching Bag' with new coming of age anthem, '23'. Wallice finds herself caught between two places on fresh cut, '23'. “Too old to be a runaway”, but also too young to consider herself as grown up, the 22-year old yearns for a past that still has not happened yet. Working with producer David Marinelli since her return to California, Wallice has crafted a sound that is unique without taking itself too seriously. An angst-driven remonstration at the powerlessness of her age, '23' is also the clearest stamp of her musical identity to date. The expression of this purgatory is a cathartic garage-rock headbanger complemented beautifully by Wallice’s playful lyrics. “I just can't wait to be / all grown up and 23,” she admits in the song’s irresistible chorus. “Tell me what is wrong with me / I miss my Ohio fake ID”. In artfully portraying the limbo state of the age, Wallice describes the events in her life that have led to her own disaffection. “It’s hard not to compare your own professional success to that of your similarly aged peers. I dropped out of university in New York after studying Jazz Voice for a year, and my dad was VERY disappointed, to say the least, so it was hard not to feel like a loser in that sense. “The specific age 23 doesn’t have any milestones associated with it, but it’s more the idea of just looking forward to the future,” Wallice continues on the meaning of the track. "Much like how people ‘reset’ every new year, it’s comparable to be ‘older and wiser’ with each birthday, but instead of constantly looking to the future, it is important to be happy with where you are”. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Coach Party have shared their new single 'Everybody Hates Me'. The Isle of Wight group are gearing up to release their incoming EP, with After Party pitting their potent indie pop influences against bittersweet lyricism. Out shortly, the EP is teased by new thumper 'Everybody Hates Me', with Coach Party adding a neat gloss to their guitar pop sound. Out now, 'Everybody Hates Me' comes equipped with a neat video steered by Daniel Broadley. Vocalist Jess Eastwood comments: “‘Everybody Hates Me’ isn’t a metaphor for anything; it’s literally about those times when you convince yourself that everyone, including your best friends don’t actually like you, and your self-confidence is so low that you don’t even blame them. Disguise that sentiment in an up-beat singalong, and there you have the third single from our new record. The video is a direct extension of the song. It swings between the insecurities of feeling like you’re not good enough amongst your friends, and the sense of unity you get from those same people when you finally wake up from your rut. Everyone feels that way from time to time, but you gotta remember that sometimes your irrational self is going to take over. And when it does, try to remember that you’re awesome, and your friends really are your friends.” [via Clash]

Pussy Riot have gone hyperpop on their latest song 'Toxic'. The Dorian Electra collaboration features glitched out production by Dylan Brady of 100 gecs and tackles a relationship gone bad. Written, directed, and edited by Pussy Riot’s Nadya Tolokonnikova, the music video features jarring, bloody imagery matching Brady’s production. “Care about yourself, cherish your mental health, and stay away from relationships that poison you!” Tolokonnikova writes in the YouTube description. “Amen.” In the song’s lyrics, Tolokonnikova tells off an ex. “You are my daily poison so annoying,” she sings. “You’re even more toxic than my employer.” The hook continues the theme. “This combo is deadly — ’cause we used to be friendly,” Electra laments. “And now my heart is a weapon / You made me… toxic.” [via Consequence of Sound]

Baby Queen has dropped a brand new track, ‘These Drugs’. Bella Latham’s second new track of the year – following up on the anthemic ‘Raw Thoughts’ – she explains in an Instagram post: “This is a story I really needed to tell you and I didn’t know how to for a long time. When I first wrote this song, I honestly didn’t think I was going to be allowed to release it or that releasing it would be a particularly good idea. It just felt really important and that’s all I’ve ever wanted music to be; so I knew I had to share it with you.I was in a very bad place at the time… very depressed and convinced I wasn’t a good person and didn’t deserve good things. Life is different now. I’m happy. I’ve learnt that the antidote to my misery is gratitude and caring about myself even when I don’t want to, until it becomes a habit. It’s natural to look for escapism but there’s more freedom in working to build a life you like… and by that I literally just mean learning to love yourself. You, with all your scars and all your regrets, are home to an actual life! You’ve been through so much and you’ve come out the other side stronger because of it – it’s remarkable really. You’ve got to invite the sad parts of yourself in to have a tea party with you. Don’t ignore them and cover them up. If you don’t look at them, they’ll make themselves seen! You are so worthy of love and I hope that if you don’t see that yet, you will learn to in time. Anyways guys,” she finishes, “this is all very intense. I love you very much and I hope you can understand and relate in some way.” [via Dork]

Greentea Peng has shared her new single 'Nah It Ain’t The Same'. The UK neo-soul voice is an outstanding talent, someone who pushes herself further into that hip-hop / jazz nexus with each release. Produced by Earbuds, new single 'Nah It Ain't The Same' is out now, one that reflects the chemistry she has with her live band The Seng Seng Family. Dipping into drum 'n' bass, her vocals have a calming, beatific feel, with 'Nah It Ain't The Same' tugging at matters personal. She comments: “Deliberations of a (hu) MAN, subject to the pendulum's swing, I give you ‘Nah It Aint The Same’ off my album MAN MADE. An expression and exploration of my utter confusion and inner conflicts amidst shifting paradigms.” Greentea Peng stars in the new video, with Machine Operated sculpting the video. [via Clash]

renforshort has debuted a brand new single, ‘virtual reality’. The first taster of a forthcoming second EP, the track sees her “connect” with Kellen Pomeranz (Pom Pom), Jesse Fink and Beabadoobee collaborator Pete Robertson. “’virtual reality’ is a song that tackles many topics. But at its core, it really is about anxiety, routine, boredom, isolation, loneliness, and fear,” she explains. “I think a lot of people have a very unhealthy relationship with technology because it’s never really been restricted enough to consider mental health and overall health, and that has fucked so many people up, now more than ever. Ever since I was young, social media has played a major role in my mental wellbeing, and I became so accustomed to it, it became a part of my routine and it came before everything else. The moment I wake up, almost instinctively, I check my phone. Depending on what I see in the morning, basically determines how I’m gonna feel for the rest of the day. I hate it. But I can’t stop. And what’s most ironic about this all is you’re likely going to read this on social media or listen to the song on some sort of electronic device…” [via Dork]

Flock of Dimes has shared the second single from her forthcoming album Head of Roses, out April 2 via Sub Pop. Following recent single, 'Two', 'Price of Blue' is another standout from Wasner’s second solo LP, an album that showcases her ability to embrace new levels of vulnerability, honesty and openness, combined with the self-assuredness that comes with a decade-plus career as a songwriter, producer, multi-instrumentalist and prolific collaborator. It comes accompanied by an unearthly new video filmed in black and white, co-directed by Wasner with Graham Tolbert. Wasner says: “This song is about trying, and failing, to connect. It’s about the ways in which, despite our best efforts, we misunderstand each other, and become so attached to stories that we’re unable to see the truth that’s right in front of us. And it’s about the invisible mark that another person can leave on your body, heart and mind long after their absence. It can be difficult to make sense of the memory of your experience when the reality on the surface is always shifting—when the story you’re telling, or the story you’ve been told, unravels, leaving you with a handful of pieces and no idea how they used to fit together.”

Berlin-based indie-soul five-piece, People Club, announce their new EP Take Me Home, which is due May 7 and the band are sharing the title-track and new video. The title track 'Take Me Home' is a song about the realisation of mortality in old age and the cynicism that often plights the elderly after losing their loved ones and being left alone with their regrets. It is accompanied by a music video shot by long standing collaborator, Felix Spitta. Speaking of the process the band say, “Once again we worked with our very talented friend, Felix Spitta, who also shot the video for our last single Francine.  We basically spent a day fooling around at his house with a smoke machine and an old tape TV camera with a red filter.  The result is hazy and disorientating, just like this year has been so far.”

Introducing MARY., the dreamy alter-ego of musician and songwriter Stef T. The self-produced debut track, ‘Day to Day’, interlaces elements of electro-pop and R&B with a voice that enchants, along with an official video filmed, edited and directed by David Risdon and Charlie Rose Creative. Reading like a page in a diary, ‘Day to Day’ offers a candid and emotionally raw glance at being overlooked as a woman in a man’s world. She is put together, glamorous and poised on the outside, but on the inside she is simmering like a pot ready to boil over, fed-up and on the brink of snapping. Speaking of the track, Stef T explains, “’Day to Day’ is a reflection on what it is to be a woman in a role where you are always unseen; constantly giving yet never receiving. As woman, we are often undervalued for our day to day work in all aspects - as mothers, in relationships, in our careers; having to push extra hard to get the basic recognition and thanks that we are entitled to. This song is a commentary of a large part of my life where I settled, sacrificed and worked, only to be used and taken for granted. It is about learning to survive a toxic relationship, discover your own individual worth again and reclaim the power that you gave away to someone else. Producing this song myself is the only thing that made sense in context with the intention of MARY. as a project. She is an entirely self made, independent woman, who does it all and doesn't need a man to confirm that she's doing a good job. This is something I have personally struggled with, so I created the MARY. persona to feel more empowered in my storytelling as an artist, in an industry without a large visible number of female-identifying producers.”

Los Angeles based dream pop trio Tashaki Miyaki have just released a single and video of the title song from their forthcoming second album, Castaway, which will be released on April 23 via Metropolis Records. Singer, drummer and producer Paige Stark states that the song “is about the challenges of romantic love and how we are all bad at it in one way or another. The idea of a castaway in all this is that no one understands the relationship except the people in it, so you really are stuck on an island alone together there. Maybe you make it back to the mainland, or maybe you stay on the island.” Stark also shot the Sofia Coppola-inspired video on film, adding: "I wanted to tap into all the feelings that can come up in love relationships: anger, sadness, loneliness, vulnerability, stillness, joy, romance, longing. The actress in it has a beautifully expressive face and I've known her for a long time. I knew we would be able to create those moments together. I wanted it to feel like the camera was her lover, capturing her in various private moments, moods and feelings.”

With her Vanilla Shell EP celebrating its one-year anniversary last month, Danish-Chilean composer Molina is back with another abbreviated record in the form of the new single 'Cold,' featuring vocalist Jonas Bjerre, arriving with a pair of B-sides. The brief collection of songs continues her simultaneous journey inward toward the roots of Chilean music and outward into her own unique vision of the future. The project lands with a video for the A-side, which dreams up bizarre fantasy iconography in the tradition of Grimes and Björk to complement her subdued take on these artists’ out-there recordings. Blending ambiguous electronic sounds with the familiar drone of cello and Bjerre’s backing vocals, the track’s distinct persona may have more in common with the experimental soundscapes of artists like Jenny Hval or Julia Holter. [via Flood]

Maisie Peters has debuted her brand new single, ‘John Hughes Movie’. Described as the first single from her soon to be announced debut album, it’s a song about unrequited love, inspired by the legendary film producer and his classic coming-of-age teen comedies like The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. The track comes alongside a video co-written by Maisie and director Louis Bhose (Loyle Carner, Arlo Parks, Lewis Capaldi). Maisie explains: “I wrote ‘John Hughes Movie’ when I was 17 about a house party that I had gone to. It’s a really honest depiction of being a hopeless, melodramatic teenager, being awkward and drunk and getting your heart broken by people you don’t even remember anymore. John Hughes films encapsulate that foolish romantic energy of high school and everything that I, a small town English wannabe Molly Ringwald wanted to be, but was not.” [via Dork]

Chloe x Halle have shared the music video for their song 'Ungodly Hour.' The video was debuted on Wedneday night's episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and shows the Bailey sisters going underwater for a sci-fi-style visual filled with choreography and elaborate adventures at the bottom of the ocean. Watch the Alfred Marroquín-directed video above. [via The FADER]

South London's Josie Man has returned with sentimental new single 'Cuts & Bruise', marking her first release of 2021. 'Cuts & Bruises' follows October 2020's 'Grow' single, and is accompanied by a Andrea Mae-directed video that shows couples enjoying tender moments, including Josie Man and her boyfriend. [via Line Of Best Fit]

Jessie Ware has shared a new short film for her song 'Remember Where You Are'. Her album What's Your Pleasure? arrived last year, a disco-fuelled missile that presented some much-needed good vibes amid lockdown. The songwriter returns to the record for her song 'Remember Where You Are', a soulful and uplifting slice of UK songwriting. There's now a full video for the song and it's steered by BAFTA winning director Dominic Savage. Starring British actress Gemma Arterton, it opens on Valentine's Day and finds the star wandering through deserted London streets. A glimpse of hope and renewal, it taps into the growing feeling that this time, lockdown might be coming to a permanent end. "It was a real pleasure to collaborate with Jessie and Gemma on this short film that is inspired by Jessie Ware’s beautiful music. It was also inspired by the real feeling that was felt when we filmed in the deserted streets of eerily strange lockdown London on a Saturday night/Sunday morning,” Dominic said. “The feelings and emotions in the film are a true reflection of what that felt like, and what this time invokes. Sadness, nostalgia, pain and defiance. But when we climbed Primrose Hill and the sun started to rise above the city, there was real hope and joy for a future that will surely be ours. Listening to Jessie’s music. There is no doubt of that." Jessie adds... "This song has always meant a lot to me and I was determined for other people to hear it and for it to be single. I am so touched by how many people have embraced this song, particularly when it's one of your favourite actresses and an acclaimed film director. Working with Gemma, Dominic and their team has been an absolute joy. To have them realise my song with a beautiful ode to London and the longing for human touch and interaction couldn't be more of a compliment. It's a truly cherished piece of work." [via Clash]

Jaguar Jonze has shared her new single and video 'CURLED IN' ahead of the release of her second EP ANTIHERO on April 16, both via Nettwerk Records. 'CURLED IN' presents all her best qualities at its outset. From the track’s rip-roaring, slicing guitar to her perfectly forceful, omnipresent vocals, 'CURLED IN' is a pure cathartic release. "Tear me apart, just tear me apart," she all but demands: "I've never seen wrong be done right." She's fulfilling her simplest needs, and it's freeing. "It's a bit of a twist for me to be a masochist." As a survivor of abuse, these words' unafraid power is all too apparent and an engaging statement to hear expressed.

Following the release of eclectic and impressive debut singles 'ASOS,' 'Right Time,' and 'Papercut,' rising left-of-center pop singer and songwriter Dava returns with a fresh and bold new single 'New Ceilings' available now via Sony Music's Disruptor Records. The moody anti-pop record was co-written by Dava and Mike Adubato (Del Water Gap, Grace VanderWaal) who also produced the track, and is the latest off the Los Angeles-based musician's forthcoming debut EP, Sticky, due out later this year. On the inspiration behind her new single, Dava shares, "This song was written about survival and staying true to yourself. I was having a hard time financially after moving to LA and my phone was shut off while on my way to this session. I was upset with myself for prioritizing music when I really needed the money from driving Uber to stay afloat." She continues, "The day I wrote 'New Ceilings' I was angry and I wanted a song that felt empowering and validated all the work I had put in up to that point. I ended up choosing different songs for my project but when I revisited this one year later, I felt it needed to be heard because of how authentically it embodies my struggle."

London-based Fifi Rong, a multi-talented avant-pop songstress, has shared the video for her stunning single, ‘Another Me’. Directed by Rok Pat, the video for ‘Another Me’ is stylistically simplistic, as Fifi Rong uses her own body as a medium of art, painting herself and inviting the simple imagery of waterside reeds and plants. A tranquil mysticism embraces the single as Fifi Rong acts as a gentle siren, luring the unsuspecting in yet known the inevitable outcome of the relationship. Speaking of the concept behind the single and video, Fifi Rong tells us: “In any doomed romance, timing is always mysteriously wrong. This is my first full CGI music video and it visually portrays the elusive nature of the character surrounding the key message: 'you won't find another me'. The undertone of the song displays a sense of pride and confidence in the character’s melancholy. Dressed in nothing but petals, I wanted my character to symbolise purity, nature, truthfulness, vulnerability and the divine feminine form. Acting as a rotating statue, I wanted to mark the passing of time and seasons as if a unique and lonely piece of art on display.”

[nikkzwrites]

(They Long to Be) Close to You | Dark Fix-It Fic Series Part 2 | Chapter 4

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so…. yeah. This is part two of the series! You can start the full series here!

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence.

Word Count:  7.9k

[First Chapter] [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

“From then on, I knew that nothing changes,” the man explained to his son as their carriage went through the Winden woods, “That all things remain. The spinning wheel turns, round and round, in a circle. One fate tied to the next. A thread, red like blood, that connects all our deeds.” The man closed the book and explained to his son, “Ariadae. That was your mother’s favorite play. She surely would have liked to come with us tonight, in the company of such a distinguished young man.” He opened up his watch to see an engraving, “For Charlotte” inside.

His blind son spoke, “Why do we die?”

“The dead are never truly dead,” his father explained, “Maybe they’re not here, now. But everything that once lived, lives on forever. In the eternity of time.”

The old man sat remembering this memory of his father when his carriage stopped. He panicked as he heard his coachmen start to speak to someone. He hid his money away as he held close his mother’s favorite play. As the footsteps approached he asked, “Who is there? Who are you?”

“He who has eyes to see,” The Unknown spoke, “and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret, because if his lips are silent,he chatters with his fingertips. Betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.”

“I…” The old man spoke, “I don’t understand.”

The middle part of the Unknown nodded, “Oh, but you do. You’re going into town to draft a telegram. Because you want to tell the world about us. Are you not?”

The man started to panic, “You’re one of them. A traveler. All those years.” As the man rambled, the Unknown started to take out his wire, “they said my father was insane. But now they are here. The travelers from the future. The world must know that they exist.”

The Unknown shook his head, “What we know… is a drop. What we don’t know is an ocean.” He slowly leaned forward to eand the man’s life.

Eve spoke to Jonas, “The mistake in all of our thinking is that we each believe ourselves to be an independent entity. One self… besides countless other selves.” When Jonas turned to her, she continued, “While, in reality, we’re all just fractions of an infinite whole.”

“What is this place,” Jonas asked Eve, “A copy of my world?”

Eve strolled over to him and asked, “Do you remember what you said to me? Under the bridge? The light. The forest. You. Me.”

“A glitch in the matrix,” Jonas responded. He stared to glare at her and asked, “Why am I here?”

Eve studied him then looked up at the painting, “You and I. Adam and Eve. That’s what we are. A glitch in the matrix. You want to know why you’re here? To save them. Your world and mine.”

“Last night, Kilian Obendorf, Bartosz Tiedemann, Annalise Dahlheim also known as Annalise Kahnwald, and Franziska Doppler, along with Magnus and Martha Nielsen, found an as-yet-unidentified boy’s body on the Doppler property by the forest road. His clothes and the Walkman are from the 1980s,” Ulrich explained with tears in his eyes, “We also found… an ID card on the body.” His eyes shifted to look at the evidence box. Ulrich started to sob and Charlotte walked over to him to give him a hug.

Charlotte turned to Woller and asked, “Woller, may you continue?” She turned to Ulrich and whispered, “Can I talk to you for a second?” Ulrich looked up and followed the woman into the file room. She turned to the defeated man and said, “You don’t have to do this. Woller can do the briefings. I can go to forensics. Go home.”

“I’ve spent 33 years looking for my brother,” Ulrich spoke up against the woman, “Those are his belongings. Those are Mads’ belongings.” He took a deep breath and said, “Someone… Someone kept them all. And then put them on the boy in the bunker. Thirty-three years later.”

Charlotte’s brow furrowed. She asked, “You think it was the same killer? That it’s all connected. Mads, Erik, the boy in the bunker?”

Ulrich looked at her and asked, “Do you know why I joined the police? When my brother disappeared… they made pretty much every mistake you could imagine. The detective was a drunken moron. And me? I swore I’d do it all differently. That I’d do everything right. That was 33 years ago. And what do I do? My marriage is ruined and now I’m cheating on the woman I cheated on my wife with.” Ulrich sighed as Charlotte touched his face, “I can’t do this anymore.” He allowed her to remove her hand and he walked out of the office.

Jonas looked up to see Bartosz strutting in with Martha slowly approaching behind him. Jonas stormed to Bartosz and demanded, “Where were you?” His eyes turned towards Martha and turned back to Bartosz to ask, “What did she tell you?”

“We’ve been stuck here for weeks,” Bartosz responded to the man, “The fucking device is empty. You have no idea how any of this works. All you did was lie! You knew what would happen, and you told us NOTHING!”

Jonas growled, “Don’t you realize she’s just using you?” He motioned towards the girl and spoke, “That isn’t Martha. She’s dead.” His heart ached at his memories, “No one returns from the dead.”

Magnus spoke up and said, “Whoever she is… she may be our only chance to get out of here.”

Bartosz grit his teeth then asked Jonas, “Why don’t you tell us the truth?” When Jonas didn’t say anything, Bartosz stepped closer and growled, “Tell them who really killed Annalise and Martha.”

Jonas’s eyes flinted to Martha then down after hearing Bartosz. He sidestepped and started his way out of the warehouse. Bartosz growled and waited for a moment before going and chasing him outside.

“Bartosz! Wait,” Magnus called as he and Franziska chased after him.

The rain fell as Jonas walked outside. He silently thanked the God forsaken town for complying with his emotions before he heard Bartosz screaming behind him.

“Tell them,” Bartosz demanded. He growled as he pushed the man over, “Tell them who Adam really is!” The two rolled around fighting just as they did 34 years ago before Magnus and Franziska pulled them apart. Magnus held Bartosz back as he screamed at everyone, “I told you all along! Jonas is to blame for everything!” He fought Magnus off and stood away from everyone as he cried, “It’s him. He’s Adam!” When Magnus looked at him in disbelief, Bartosz screamed through his tears once more, “He’s Adam! Adam wasn’t even the one who killed Annalise! It was just him proper! He killed both of them!” He stormed away from the group after asking Jonas, “Couldn’t have both so killed them both? Huh?”

Jonas and Magnus tried to catch their breaths and exchanged a look.

Eve, at the same time in another universe, told Jonas, “In all of that, didn’t you ever wonder, why you can’t let go of them, of her? You knew, you know it’s impossible. Yet still, you can’t let it go.” When Jonas turned to her with tear filled eyes, she continued, “An invisible bond that binds you for eternity. Adam tried to sever it. But that’s impossible.” She took out a silver tree of life necklace and showed it to him, “You gave this to me.”

Jonas took out his Annalise’s necklace and rubbed his dirt covered fingers over it, cleaning the blood off of it.

“You and I,” Eve continued, “Black and white. Light and shadow. We are bound together for eternity in this eternally repeating deja vu.”

Jonas whispered, “What is all this? What do you want?” His voice started to get louder, “Why don’t you just tell me why I’m actually here?”

“You’ve seen what you’ll do,” Eve tried to reason with him, “What Adam will do. If you want to save your Annalise, you have to choose the side of light. And you have to make me what I am today.”

Jonas slowly approached her, “I have to? I don’t have to do anything anymore. I’m sick to death of always having to do things!”

“Then ask yourself,” Eve responded, “what you want.” Watching his face change she asked, “Do you want her to live?”

Annalise awoke, yet she was still face to face with Mads. She screamed and started to cry again. She kicked the small enclosure entrapping her with the dead boy. She heard a very familiar voice call her name. Then Mads slowly turned to Mikkel then to her father. After that, Annalise found herself listening to her father’s voice message and words flowed out of her mouth without consent, “I just called to let you know I had my first kiss today.” Her tears choked her as her voice continued against her will, “I wish you could have met him Dad. His name is Adam and he reminds me so much of you and mom. You would love him just as much as I’ve fallen for him.” As she looked out the window, her vision faded to black. Her throat feeling like it was being filled with water again. When Annalise tried to scream, she found herself in something like a mirror of Martha’s room. Annalise turned and saw a blond boy there laying next to her, fast asleep. He seemed so familiar. Her hand shakely reached out and his name spilled from her lips without knowing, “Jonas?” 

Right when the boy was about to turn, Annalise shot up in her bed in Ulrich’s house. Her breath shaking from terror and crying. She turned towards her phone to see Bartosz had tried to call her. There was a text there saying, ‘If you need to talk, let me know.’

Hannah burst into the room, “Annalise!” She quickly waddled to the girl and held her closely as the teenager started to scream, “Shhhh… It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” Hannah kissed the girl’s head as she rocked with her, “I’m here.” As she rocked the girl, her eyes started to trace the electrical burn scars on the teenager, yet she said nothing.

Martha stared up at the ceiling in her room. After finding the body last night, it was the last straw and Katharina forced her to come back home to be with her family instead of staying the night with Annalise. When Ulrich was finally able to come home that night, he drove his daughter back to his ex-wife. She sighed remembering that argument and the one before it where Hannah, her, and her mother argued about where Martha should be with as Annalise stood there just zoning out repeatedly and mumbling to herself some physics equations. Katharina had only conceded from seeing Annalise and knowing that the girl probably needed someone. So she made the condition that once Ulrich was back home, he was to bring Martha back. She heard the doorbell ring and sighed as she got out of bed. When she answered the door, there in front of her was Ulrich. “Dad,” she asked in disbelief.

“Can I come inside,” he asked his daughter.

Martha sighed and begrudgingly allowed the man inside. They stood in front of the staircase.

Ulrich asked, “Is Magnus here too?”

Martha studied her father trying to get a read on him, “I think he’s still sleeping.”

Ulrich nodded and told the girl, “You have to tell me the truth. What really happened in the bunker?” When his daughter looked at him again in disbelief, he continued, “What did you see?”

“I did tell the truth,” Martha said, “we went in and the bunker was empty. There was nobody there! Then there was a light. And then this...this body fell down. Annalise fainted at the sight of it.”

“Had you taken anything,” Ulrich asked accusingly.

“What,” Martha questioned him.

As Magnus walked down the stairs, Ulrich asked again, “Did that Kilian kid give you anything?” Magnus just finished walking down the stairs when Ulrich turned to him and asked, “Come on, what did you take?”

“What is this shit,” Magnus sneered at this father, “Are you playing worried father now? Why don’t you ask your precious new daughter?” Martha looked at her brother and shook her head, yet he continued, “You usually don’t give a shit about us!”

Martha crossed her arms and shrugged, “It’s just as we told you. There was this noise...It came from the caves...or the ground,...or… I don’t know. We went to the bunker. At first there was nothing there, then...he...he was just lying there.”

Ulrich turned away and stared out into the dining room calculating what was going on.

“Is that all,” Magnus growled at his father. When his father turned to look at him again, Magnus replied, “Mom will be back any moment. You’d better go. But it was nice of you to drop by to see how we’re doing.” When Ulrich reached up to caress him, Magnus took a step back.

Hannah walked through the halls of the police station with a tray of brownies. When she was greeted by Woller and Charlotte, she asked, “Is Ulrich here? I’ve been trying to reach him all morning. Annalise is having nightmares and just woke up finally.”

Charlotte shook her head and said, “I thought he went home.”

Hannah studied the woman for a second. Her mind started to wonder. “You look so different,” commented the woman, “Did you get a haircut?”

Charlotte shook her head, “No.”

Hannah looked her up and down. She laughed, then hugged the woman. She took her smell in deeply. She pulled away and waited a moment before saying, “It’s nice to see you. I’ll just put this in his office.”

Charlotte turned and watched her go.

Hannah closed the door behind her and walked to place the container on his desk. She looked up as she realized who it was that Ulrich was cheating on her with. She left as the pictures of his children, Annalise with Martha, and herself with him burned their place on his desk.

Annalise sat there staring at the wall. Her brain running six different directions just trying to figure everything out. She ran her fingers through her hair as she screamed. She yelled and closed her eyes. Everything that happened kept running in her head. Her dreams danced in her head. She felt empty. There was a pulling inside of her. She ran out to the woods and screamed again. It felt as if someone was tugging at a string within her. Plucking at it, like a chord of a guitar.

“Can we talk,” Martha asked her brother as she walked in.

Magnus rolled his eyes, “Get lost.” He assumed she was going to scold him about what he said about Annalise. 

Martha, instead, walked in and sat next to Magnus, “Last night…in the forest... Did you see anything else?”

“No,” Magnus told her, “Like what?”

Martha turned away from her brother and asked, “Do you sometimes feel like you’re losing your mind? That nothing makes sense anymore?” She sighed and commented, “Maybe… Dad is right.” When Magnus looked at her confused, she said, “Maybe he was already lying there.” She shrugged and said, “And...we…”

Magnus stared at her and stated, “I know what I saw.” Martha and he sat quietly for a minute before she stood up and walked to his window. “Where are you going,” he asked.

“Don’t tell Mom,” Martha replied, “I’ll be back for dinner.” She opened the window and left.

“Everything repeats itself,” Eve told Jonas, “Again and again for all eternity. Because none of us is prepared to let go.” She lifted up a light and walked over to Jonas, “It took me a long time to understand that. That you can’t let go of your past. That you will always choose her, always choose your Annalise.” She nodded and told him, “And just as you can’t let go of your past, I’ve spent my life clinging to mine.” She made a face then told him, “You trusted Adam. But where did that lead you?” She walked to Jonas and said, “You have to show her, Martha, how everything is connected. You don’t have much time left. She has to see her future in order to understand what must be done.” She handed him the lantern and spoke, “She will follow you. She is bound to your fate, just as you are to hers.”

Jonas grabbed it from her and turned away. He looked at Eve and wondered if she knew what he was thinking. He walked out of the office determined to find Annalise before trying to go forward with Eve’s plan.

In Adam’s world, Martha looked down at the necklace in her hand. She quickly hid it after hearing a knock on the door. She pushed herself closer towards the window as she looked to see who was coming in.

Jonas opened the door and closed it behind him. He stood in the middle of the room and said, “You said I was in your world. With you. Why can’t I remember it?”

“I don’t know,” Martha told the man, “That letter… I didn’t write it.” She slowly approached him and said, “You have to believe me.” As he turned away, she spoke again, “Sic Mundus, what is it?”

Jonas sighed, “Old Tannhaus’ father… tried to bring someone back from the dead. His wife. He was convinced that the ability to time-travel would be the world’s salvation. Every mistake could be prevented before it even occurs. But it doesn’t bring salvation. Only Damnation.”

Martha took a deep breath and growled, “They’re all dead. In my world. I can’t help hoping I can change that.” He glared at her as he tried to walk away, but the girl grabbed him, “I know you think you can’t trust me. I want to prove to you that you can.” She brought him out into the woods and unburied her ball to show him the device she used to get there.”

“This is what you used to travel,” He asked.

Martha nodded at him. She undid a dial and took out a small dark ball, “this is the last one I have.” She held it out to him, “It’s the only way I can go back again.”

Jonas sighed as he took it from her.

Eve sat in her office waiting for her son and Mary. The Unknown walked in with all materials he had grabbed for her. 

The Unknown told his birth mother, “You could have told him which path you’re sending him down. How it will end.”

Eve shrugged as she explained, “He will never stop trying to break this cycle. He’ll never understand that we must preserve the knot. That his Annalise must die. So all the others can live.”

She stared at her son as she opened the leather planner, “The beginning and the end.”

Jonas walked out of the cave and through the woods. He heard sobbing and screaming he only knew as Annalise and ran towards it.

Charlotte walked to the bunker and called Ulrich. She asked him to call her back as she approached the door. She opened it up and walked inside. She stared at the chalk outline and started to investigate. When she knelt down, under a bench she found a penny with a red string around it as if like a necklace.

On the other side of town, Helge sat repeating to himself, “Tick tock. Tick tock.” He looked up and started to walk out of the house to try to stop it.

Bartosz exited Mary’s car. He sighed and looked towards the power plant. As his eyes scanned, he noticed a figure stumbling across the street. Normally he wouldn’t think anything of it, but it looked very familiar. The beating of his heart echoed in his ears when he realized just who it was. He jogged across the street and called, “Anna.”

Jonas was just about to interrupt the girl’s drinking when he heard Bartosz’s voice. The boy had been following her for a while, but he didn’t know how to approach her, so instead he just decided to watch her from afar. He slunked back into the shadows right out of sight of the two. His heart raced. He knew what was going to happen.

Annalise took another large drink of her mixed drink a very kind older man had given her. She smiled gently. It reminded her of the drinks she heard about back home. Fruit punch, Red Bull, vodka mixed in the right fashion still only seemed like fruit punch. He had given her a large bottle just with a few bucks and for “looking cute.” She drank as she made her way to the bus stop out of Winden. The burning sensation masking her brain being torn apart at the seams. 

Bartosz easily caught up to the girl and grabbed her arm, “Anna! What are you doing, idiot?!” He kept a firm grip on her. Frustration rose into his chest. Where did she even get what she was drinking? Where was she going? Shouldn’t she be with Martha or nearly anyone else? She never went anywhere alone.

“I’m going home,” she answered simply, “Now please let me go.” She tried to jerk away.

He shook his head, “What are you drinking? Your place is that way.” He gestured with his shoulder towards where she lived with Ulrich and Hannah. He stared at the girl floundering to get away from him. His heart started to ache. More than that. He was angry. Furious even. Filled to the brim with an anger he had never known before.

Annalise started to cry as she tried to tear away from his grip, “Let me go!” She started to yell at him. Tears built up pressure behind her eyes as she remembered back to what had driven her to this point. How she wished for the rain to finally start in this God abandoned town. The wind howled as it shook the trees awake. At least, she reasoned, that was on her side. “Let me go Bartosz,” she repeated screaming at him with the full force she wanted to let out at everyone.

Jonas felt powerless. Here he was watching a mirror of what happened that night. His throat dried up. His heart started to ache. It was being tugged in so many directions. Jonas wanted to interrupt. He wanted to run, yet his feet stayed firmly rooted in the ground. It was as if the Knot wanted him to see this. It was its punishment for him kissing Martha that night. It was punishment for taking Lise for granted.

“No!” Bartosz roared back at her. He pulled her into his arms. His heart raced. He just wanted her to calm down. He knew instantly then that he loved her. All this time was just him lying to himself trying to keep the status quo and hoping things were going to go back to the way they were before his mother died. He wrapped himself around her. Was she always this tiny, he wondered. It was his first time ever fully embracing her. He had to bend down a bit to bury his face into her shoulder and neck. Oh, how it felt nice to finally hold someone, to hold her, in his arms, but he couldn’t dwell on his own happiness. He needed her to be happy. He thirst to see her smiling and laughing again. That happy radiant infectious smile that he loved seeing across her face. 

Annalise beat her fists into the taller boy as the tears fell from her eyes. She continued to scream at him to let her go. The girl struggled as he just held her in an embrace. Her breathing was off. The thumping his chest made as she hit it reminded her how her heart felt when they saw the boy just drop in the bunker like that. She just wanted to go back home but she could never tell him that. Annalise hated every moment of this. She hated every moment of Winden. She just wanted to go back in time to right before they saw that moment and never see that poor dead boy just drop...Before she agreed to help that short haired Martha... Before she was trapped with that dead boy...

Bartosz pulled his face away. There was something he had heard Magnus mention before while Mikkel was throwing a tantrum. He needed to distract her from her emotions so that Annalise could actually TELL him what was going on. He sighed knowing he was going to hate himself later for indulging the part of him that loved her without ever telling her that, but he had to do it. With one hand, he trapped her wrists from continuing to beat into his chest. The other he used to grab the back of her head. Bartosz pressed his lips against hers. 

The girl froze. His lips were so desperate. She could feel his yearning for her to stop and think about what she was doing. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she allowed herself to kiss him back. There was a saltiness to it, yet tender and warm. Soon, she felt her wrists freed from his grip. She just gently rested her hands against the boy’s chest as his now unoccupied hand found a new home at the small of her back. Annalise’s heart fluttered. She felt as if drunk, longing for love, and finally acquired a bit of that feeling of being wanted.

Bartosz pulled her closer. He clinged to her as they slowly deepened their kiss. They both wanted this for such a long time. He sighed happily as her arms slowly started to snake their way off his chest to around his neck to play with his long hair. He let one of his arms slide under her so that he could scoop her up while they were still making out. He lifted her up into his arms and walked over to the bus stop so that the side of it could be used to stabilize the couple. He pressed her back against it as he could feel the both of them getting weak from the lack of breath and their hearts racing quickly.

The hidden boy’s heart shattered as it fell to the cement. He wondered how much of this was like that night and how much wasn’t. Jonas could see how much heat and longing was between the other two teenagers. They were so desperate for the other one to be close to them that the rest of the world didn’t exist. He didn’t exist. He wasn’t supposed to exist.

Bartosz eventually pulled away gently. Annalise reached up and pressed his forehead against hers. Her eyes closed as the last of her tears drained from her. He calmed himself and asked, “Anna, what’s wrong?” He gently brushed her wild hair from her face, unstuck some strands stuck around her eyes from her tears, and put it in a place not easy to get stuck there again.

Her face contorted in agony. The fountain of sorrow slowly turned back on. Something about this moment felt as if something similar had happened before. It felt as if she, him, the moment, it was all supposed to happen. “I,” she started. She took a breath and then confessed, “I am so scared. What does this all mean Bartosz? There is so much going on in the world now and I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m… I don’t know what role we play in this...” She choked on her words and started to cough.

Bartosz cooed at her and held her close once more, “I know. I know. It’s okay.” He swallowed hard and rocked with her. Bartosz gently kissed her head every so often as he just kept her safe within his arms. The boy just repeated that it was okay, that he was there with her, he wasn’t going to leave her, that everything was going to be okay until he could feel her body start to go limp. She must have been exhausted, he figured. He lifted her up and tried to figure out how to manage her with a bike. In the end, he called his father to come pick them up. He took off the jacket his mother had gifted him and put it on the girl as they waited.

Jonas turned finally unstuck from the Knot. He tracked his way back to where he knew he had to be, with this world’s Martha and to try and fix this world so that his could be fixed and he could go back home to his Lise. Be in her arms once more where she clung to him like that. Where she loved him, when she loved him. Not seeing some stranger with her face loving the boy that shared the same face as his best friend back home. 

Martha walked over to Kilian’s trailer and knocked on the door. She stood back for him and spoke, “Hey.”

He responded back, “Hey.”

Martha stood there staring at him.

“What are you doing here,” He asked the girl.

Martha shook her head, “You weren’t at the dorm. I was worried.”

Kilian grabbed her arm and walked with her away from the trailer, “They kicked me out. Your father called. He wanted to know if I slipped you guys something.”

“Did you,” She asked.

“Fuck no,” He gowled, “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head, “But sure, none of you can get it out of your system. I haven’t lived here for two years, but I’m still the trailer park trash everyone points fingers at.” When Martha didn’t respond, he sneered, “I knew it.”

“What did you know,” she asked him.

He shook his head and said, “That you were only with me to rile up your parents. You didn’t give a shit about me or Erik.”

Martha scoffed at him. If she really wanted to do that, she would have just dated Annalise. She turned her head back towards him. She wasn’t really able to fight back though. Maybe she really was and he was just the safe option.

Kilian turned away and told her, “You’d better go.”

Martha fought back her tears as she whispered, “Okay.”

The boy turned and walked away leaving her alone in the park with Jonas there watching.

“About Regina…” Hannah spoke to Aleksader, “I’m sorry. It must be very difficult for you.” She paused, then asked, “How are you? Bartosz?”

Aleksander nodded and told her, “We’re managing.” He turned towards the pictures on his desk and stared at them.

“I…” Hannah spoke, “I hear that Annalise and Bartosz really like each other.”

Aleksander nodded, “My son speaks of her pretty often. Please, tell me why you are here.”

Hannah shifted awkwardly and got to the point, “I’d like to propose a deal.”

“A deal,” he questioned the woman.

Hannah looked down at her purse, “I have something that belongs to you. I’d like to return it.” She carefully pulled out the bag from 1986 and slid it towards him. As his face changed she asked, “Do you recognize it? Don’t worry. The contents are in a safe place.”

 Aleksander asked quivering, “What do you want? Do you want money?”

“I don’t want money,” Hannah told him, “I want you to destroy Charlotte. I want her to lose everything. Everything.”

Charlotte drove to the church meeting her husband who was talking to a man inside. When she walked in, Peter stood up.

“Charlotte,” Peter asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Thank you,” The man told the pastor before leaving.

Charlotte slowly approached the man and said, “I tried to get a hold of you. I went to the bunker. Why aren’t you home with Franziska?”

Peter shrugged, “I…”

Charlotte shrugged it off and asked, “Last night, where was Helge? You said you ate dinner with him. Where was he afterwards?”

“What is this,” Peter asked her.

“In 1987, when you came to Winden, did your father still live in the cabin,” she asked the man.

Peter shook his head, “I don’t understand.”

“Did he or didn’t he,” Charlotte pressed on.

“No,” Peter shook his head, “After the accident he was moved into the nursing home.”

“And the summer before, in 86,” she asked.

Peter nodded, “I think so. Why do you want to know?”

“Did he use the bunker for anything?”

“Charlotte,” Peter approached her, “What do you want from me?”

She pulled the penny from out her jacket and showed it to him, “This is Helge’s. I found it in the bunker.”

Peter huffed and shook his head, “That...That can’t be. He was with us all night.” He answered his phone to hear that Helge had left the nursing home. He turned to her and said, “Helge’s at the police station and he made a confession.”

Annalise started to stir as she felt the atmosphere around her change. She was warm and cuddling something soft. This was very pleasant compared to last night and how horribly she slept then. She hummed happily, slowly waking up. She could hear a man and a very familiar boy’s voice talking.

Aleksander looked at his son in the rear view mirror with the girl snuggled up to him. “So,” he started to ask, “Is this the girl?”

Bartosz’s face flushed, “What do you mean?” He asked nervously. He started to awkwardly chuckle, “I mean, it’s just Annalise, Dad. You two have met before.”

“Have I,” Aleksander teased, “I don’t remember you telling me you liked her this much.” He chuckled, “You know I was around your age when I met your mom right?”

Bartosz thanked God that Annalise was asleep and couldn’t hear his father embarrassing him, or so he thought. Bartosz groaned, “You don’t have to embarrass me in front of her do you?”

Aleksander chuckled, “I thought she was asleep.”

“Still,” Bartosz complained. He looked over to the girl cuddled up to his side once more. A small smile graced his lips as he moved some of the hair from her face again. He couldn’t complain too much. The thought of her being like this with any other person ate him inside. So somewhere deep inside he knew that if they were together forever, that he would be happy.

When Peter and Charlotte reached the station, Peter asked his father, “Dad, why are you saying this? It makes no sense at all.” He turned to Woller and explained, “He didn’t leave the house. I was with him all night. Elisabeth was there too.”

Helge spoke again, “I killed the boy.”

“Dad,” Peter scolded the man, “Cut it out!”

Charlotte spoke up, “His things… The walkman. The clothes. Those are Mads Nielsen’s things, the boy who disappeared in 1986. Do you remember that?”

“I killed him,” Helge repeated.

“Who,” she asked, “Mads?”

Ulrich stormed into the station. He turned towards Helge and asked, “Where did you get his stuff?” The man rushed forward and grabbed onto the man despite Peter’s yells in protest, “What did you do to Mads?” He yelled at the older man, “What did you do to him?!”

“You’re alive,” Helge asked, staring at the man.

“What,” Ulrich asked.

Helge spoke, “It was you.”

“What was me,” Ulrich asked, pulling the man out of the chair as the other officers tried to pull Ulrich away from Helge.

“It was him,” Helge spoke, “It was him.” Helge held up the penny in his own things.

Charlotte looked down and unfolded her napkin to see the penny she had was still in her possession. It was the same coin, yet… two places at the same time.

Martha walked in the woods alone. She was determined to try and get to Annalise to talk to her when she heard a rustle in the bushes. When Jonas revealed himself from the shadows, she asked him, “What is this? Are you following me? Why won’t you tell me how we know each other? How you know Annalise?” 

“Actually,” Jonas spoke, “You and I, we’ve always known each other.” When Martha swallowed, Jonas approached her, “When Magnus knocked your tooth out in kindergarten… I was there. When Mikkel put spiders in your shoes while camping in the yard… On the third grade class trip… when you were so homesick that Katharina had to come get you. You met Annalise and she told you how your father scared her because she didn’t know German really well to cheer you up on your first day back to school.” He whispered, “Where I come from, you and I share a past.”

Martha shook her head, “You’re nuts.” She turned to walk away from him.

“Last night,” Jonas told her, “in the forest. You saw yourself.” He shook his head and said, “I know how completely insane this all sounds. For the longest time, I too thought it was all totally crazy. That I was crazy.”

“Who are you really,” She asked the boy.

“I can show you,” Jonas explained, “How it’s all connected.”

It wasn’t long before they reached the Tiedemann abode. Annalise knew it was wrong to still pretend she was fully asleep, but when Bartosz scooped her up into his arms to carry her, she didn’t want it to stop. She listened as he mumbled to himself.

Bartosz debated on where to put Annalise, “I could put her in the guest bedroom. But that’s halfway across the house and what if she needs me? I am not going to put her on the couch. I know that much. But… My bedroom… would she be weirded out by that? Would-” He felt her move. He nearly dropped her from surprise. He panicked pulling her closer to him once more. He asked the girl, “Annalise?”

Annalise’s smile couldn’t contain itself any longer hearing his verbal debate. She let out a small giggle surprising the boy. She squealed as she felt herself drop for a moment before he grabbed her once again. The girl clung onto him. She turned to face him once more, “Yes?”

“How long have you been awake,” He asked, walking her into his room and gently placing her on his bed.

Annalise smiled and sat up. Still a little buzzed, she asked, “Do you really want to know?” She looked around his room. It was different. His room was full of dark colors and scattered books, diagrams, and hastily scribbled notes. There was an attached bathroom that seemed nice and light though. Yet still it felt like an empty shell. She yawned and turned to him as he helped remove his coat from her. Her voice strained as she looked at him beggingly, “Stay?”

In the other world, Jonas placed the ball into a large bowl. He walked to the control panel and started up the machine. He stared intently at it as the liquid slowly arose up and formed a ball. Sadly it was not enough energy to hold it. 

After it dropped, the group converged on the bowl to investigate. Sensing someone was missing, Franziska looked up and around. After accounting for who was there, she asked, “Where’s Martha?”

The group all looked up to find the girl missing. Jonas, then, knew, she had lied to him.

Martha rushed back to her room and placed a new ball into her sphere and set it to go to her new objective.

The group walked into the bedroom just as she disappeared. Jonas turned to Bartosz and glared at him as if to say, ‘I told you.’ 

In the other world, Bartosz blushed and took a step back. He blinked wondering if he really heard what she had asked. He dropped the coat in his hands. He shook his head and bent down to pick it up. While he wasn’t staring at her, he asked, “Stay?” He slowly looked up to try and gauge her reaction.

Annalise nodded, “Please?” She grabbed one of his hands and pulled him towards the bed.

Breathless, Bartosz struggled out, “Wait. Just…” He held up the coat once more and slid his hand away so that he could go and put up his coat. His heart raced. He tried to calm himself as his back was turned to her. The boy knew his father wouldn’t care so he couldn’t use that as an excuse. He was shaking with nervousness. He really wished his mom was here so that she could help him with this. Annalise’s small voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Bartosz,” Annalise asked. When he turned his head, she blushed and asked, “Can I have some water?”

Bartosz nodded quickly and rushed out of the room closing the door behind him. 

Martha followed Jonas to the cave. Right before she walked into it, she got a text from Annalise and Bartosz. The one from Annalise was her asking if Martha was okay and that Kilian had texted her to tell her what had happened. The text from Bartosz consisted of, ‘Annalise is staying over. Help?’ She shook her head and stared at Jonas.

Jonas looked at her and asked, “Is everything okay?”

Martha nodded, “Yeah.” She hid her heart breaking from the boy and started to follow behind him into the cave.

Helge stared at his hands as he sat in a cell.

Martha and Jonas continued through the caves as Charlotte turned away from Ulrich sitting sadly at his desk staring at the picture of him and Hannah.

Hannah walked into her and Ulrich’s bedroom to see the bed perfectly made up and her husband not there. She turned and walked out the door just as Jonas and Martha approached their door.

Eve looked down in her hand to look at Jonas’s Annalise’s necklace and then looked up at the pictures of Adam and Eve.

Bartosz walked to the kitchen and grabbed her bottled water. On his way back, he saw his dad.

Aleksander could read Bartosz’s hesitation all over his face. He chuckled and sat on one of the bar stools. “Something the matter,” He teased.

Bartosz jumped, “No. No. Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s good.” He blushed and tried to stand up taller to seem more confident. He ran his fingers through his hair, “What would be wrong? Everything is perfect.”

Aleksander chuckled, “Maybe the girl in your room?”

“What,” Bartosz unconvincingly laughed, “Annalise?” He shook his head with a giant uneasy smile, “No. There’s nothing…”

Aleksander laughed, “She woke up, didn’t she?”

“She wants me to stay,” Bartosz admitted, “I mean it’s not like it's the first time with someone, but like...What if she doesn’t just want to sleep? In my bed?”

Aleksander leaned on his elbow with his chin in his hand. He chuckled, “Well, it's just a question of if you’d want to, yeah?”

Bartosz’s face glowed, “It’s not just that simple. She’s… I…”

“So you don’t want to,” Aleksander asked.

Bartosz shook his head, “No! I mean… I’d like to, but she’s drunk…” He looked towards his room.

Aleksander nodded, "Well, have you tried talking to her about this?"

Bartosz blushed, "What? No. I… I mean I guess I can. I should."

Aleksander stood up and patted his son's shoulder, "I'm heading to sleep. Stay safe. Pleasant dreams." He walked back to his bedroom.

In the other world, Martha walked through the halls of the decrypted nuclear power plant on September 20, 2053, she walked into a room to be greeted by a gravely voice, “Did you give it to him?” 

When Martha nodded, Adam turned to tell her, “I was always too gullible.” He turned back to look at the machine and said, “You did the right thing.”

Back in Eve’s World, Bartosz walked back into his bedroom to find Annalise not there. He heard the shower running and sighed in contentment. He blinked as he realized she didn't have a change of clothes. He knocked on the door and called, "do you need some clean clothes?"

The water stopped and he heard walking towards the door. She peeked her head out the door, "I'm sorry. I stole some of your pyjamas." She walked away to go grab it. Bartosz blushed seeing her naked form from the display of mirrors. He turned away with closed eyes. When she came back, she showed him what she stole. They were his soft plaid flannel ones that he loved. Not that he would admit that he loved them to his friends due to them being part of a matching set for his family and normally worn for celebrating holidays. 

"Oh," Bartosz nodded, "okay." He turned away and told her, “You can let me know if you need anything else.”

The girl was very quick to walk out. His pants were extremely baggy on her due to his height over her. She was still buttoning the shirt and seemed to be having a bit of issues. She grumbled at the shirt, “Stupid ass buttons.” Eventually, she got it and smiled up at him, “Thank you.” Her face became a little bit more serious, “You know, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to… I just thought… You know…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” He said hurriedly. His breath caught in his throat trying to explain, “I just didn’t want to make you feel like I’m taking advantage…”

Annalise smiled gently. She closed the distance between them and kissed him gently. She pulled away and shook her head, “You wouldn’t be. I’ve been wanting this.” She pressed her lips against his once more.

Bartosz smiled against the kiss then kissed her back. He wrapped his arms around her once again. He scooped her up once again. The boy walked them to his bed and gently sat down keeping her in his lap for the moment.

Annalise giggled against his lips and pulled them down so that they were laying down staring at each other. She smiled and asked, “Do you think that people are meant to meet?”

Bartosz nodded, “Yeah. I mean statistically it would be impossible for us to meet any other way.” He pulled them towards the head of the bed when he saw her yawn again. He chuckled, “You’re exhausted. Please allow yourself sleep. I will be right here in the morning.”

She yawned and nodded, “Promise?”

“Promise,” he kissed her head and tucked her in before going to get changed and showered himself.

Jonas walked with Martha into her 2052. He stumbled out seeing it so bright and more like a desert.

“What is this place,” Martha asked the boy as they walked through the blistering heat under the blazing sun. They looked around to see the debris of trees before just seeing a sandpit, “Where are we?” She turned to him and asked, “Did you do this? How did you do that?”

Jonas simply told the girl, “She told me to bring you here. That she’d explain it to you.”

“Who,” She asked. They turned to see a lone woman walking towards them. Martha asked, “Who is that?”

The woman stopped in front of them and took off her wraps to reveal herself, “Welcome to the future.”

[makoto-naegi555]

Dragonronpa chapter 16

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144008/chapters/78156926 

And so makoto and siramay where continuing to wait for escape to be at hand growing weary.

Makoto: how much longer

Siramay: wait and hope makoto wait and hope.

Before makoto could think too much he heard the strum of an instrument as he saw siramay playing

[SIRAMAY] Makoto's luck was really out His spirit and his fortune low Alone he sat, alone he thought Of happy times he used to know [HUSKS] Hey dreamer, don't be so upset Hey Makoto, you're not beaten yet [ALL] Go go go Makoto you know what they say Hang on now Makoto you'll make it someday Don't give up Makoto fight till you drop We’ve played the game and you come out on top.

Makoto: what does that mean?

Siramay: well think about it makoto, I come from the multiverse where anything’s possible yah? so if you think about it, it only makes sense there’s a universe where your story is a video game for all to play.

Makoto: really?

Siramay: yes! And you’re the protagonist in fact that’s how I saw you the first time from that screen you where great! Sure some chumps think you’re boring but there wrong!

Makoto: I’m probably not the best protagonist though.

Siramay: nonsense! we’ve all saw you strive and conquer in that game and while this universe will branch away from cannon we still believe in you makoto! We know you can rise and beat the mastermind when no one else could! So there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Then he started chanting

[SIRAMAY, ENSEMBLE] Go ma-ko-to Go ma-ko-to Go ma-ko-to! GO MA-KO-TO!!! Go, go, go Makoto you know what they say Hang on now Makoto you'll make it someday Sha la la Makoto you're doing fine You and your great hopes ahead of your time Go, go, go Makoto you know what they say Hang on now Makoto you'll make it someday Sha la la Makoto you're doing fine You and your great hopes ahead of your time GO MA-KO-TO

Then siramay got up and started dancing all over

Makoto: what are you doing?

Siramay: whats it look like? I’m dancing the despair away! come on makoto dance your despair away to!

[HUSK] GO MA-KO-TO

And with that makoto got up also wiggling around trying to dance the despair away

Siramay: yeah! You go makoto!

[HUSK] GO MA-KO-TO

And so makoto and siramay both joined together in a grand weird dance to fend of despair.

GO MA-KO-TO GO MA-KO-TO GO, GO, GO, GO, GO, GO, GO, GO! Makoto you know what they say Hang on now Makoto you'll make it someday Sha la la Makoto you're doing fine You and your great hopes ahead of your time Go, go, go, go, go, go, go Makoto you know what they say Hang on now Makoto you'll make it someday Sha la la Makoto you're doing fine You and your great hopes ahead of your time

[SIRAMAY] Ahead of your time [MAKOTO] Ahead of my time [SIRAMAY] Ahead of your time [MAKOTO] Ahead of my time [SIRAMAY] Ahead of your time [MAKOTO] Ahead of my time [SIRAMAY] Ahead of your time [BOTH] Ahead of my time [SIRAMAY] Ahead of your time [MAKOTO] Ahead of my time [SIRAMAY] Ahead of your time [ALL] Ahead of your/my

But then suddenly they heard a loud rumble as they all looked up to see something fall from the sky.

Makoto: what was that!?

Siramay: YOUR SALVATION! its kyoko! now breath in for this last line [ALL] TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMME!

After that makoto went to investigate the trash to find out its kyoko! She came to save him and even brought food how sweet… oh I guess that makes my food redundant eh he still needs breakfast a days past anyway, then makoto scarfed it down then they talked kyoko apologized for setting up makoto cause kyoko herself was set up, course makotos a sweety and forgave her as they talk about how the mastermind stole her memory.

Kyoko: That being said, there was a limit to what I could do by myself. Which is why I asked you to help me.

Makoto: But...why me?

Kyoko: Because among everyone, you were least likely to be the mastermind. That was just intuition, but...

Makoto: I-I see... Your intuition was right, though. There's no way an ordinary kid like me could've been the mastermind.

Siramay: now if only you where the mastermind so you could spite her.

Makoto: why!?

Siramay: I like spiting people.

So makoto continued to talk to kyoko and she finally remembered her talent the ultimate detective bum bum buuuuum and the headmasters her father, bum bum buuuuuu, so kyoko investigated a lot said the point of the trial was to kill her.

kyoko: The mastermind is adamant about following the rules, and with that rule in place, they couldn't step in. Since they couldn't kill me themselves, they tried to use the class trial to do it.

The mastermind couldn’t step in because of the rules? That makes it sound like...the mastermind themselves is somehow bound by the school regulations.

Siramay: id use the term “bound” loosely makoto they did try to kill you Afterall, there as bond to the rules as a story genie you know because genies are all like “I shall give you whatever you want” and so you are like “I wish I was hot” so they set you on fire because you said you wanted to be hot so technically they granted your wish but they are trying.

So they went on about how makoto could have died.

Kyoko: I can hear them, you know. The footsteps of the god of death.

Makoto: What...?

Kyoko: I can hear the god of death as he moves. That ability naturally draws me into cases, just like this.

Siramay starts tap dancing.

Kyoko: ???

Siramay: hahaha I should stop kidding around, let her continue to talk.

So basically she talks about the whole fiasco and the other ultimate despair, well the true ultimate despair but they don’t know that.

Kyoko: ...what happened a year ago--the biggest, most awful, most tragic event in human history.

Siramay: no no! its the biggest… most awful most tragic event! IN HUMAN HISTORY!!! jazz hands

Kyoko: They're the root of all the evil that has forced us to go through this. *That* is the Ultimate Despair. And that is our real enemy.

END CHAPTER

And then there where 6

Witch brings us to chapter 6!

he Ultimate Despair... A group of people who caused The Tragedy one year ago... Those same people put together this killing game and began broadcasting it around the world. The most desperately awful group of people ever... *That* is the mastermind's true identity. Our enemy has finally been revealed... But right now...

you gotta get out of the trash! and take a bath boy you smell.

so then they went to the door and began climbing A LADDER not me though because I can do this little thing called flying siramay said floating right next to makoto who was gradually climbing the ladder

CHAPTER 6

And so makoto and kyoko began talking about everything really as they talked about kyokos life story.

Siramay: talk about daddy issues, like man like wow.

Makoto: yeah…

Siramay: so, nearing the end aren’t you?

Makoto: that’s what you say.

Siramay: so I guess we should talk since it could be the last time we do personally talk.

Makoto: huh?

Siramay: yeah after you beat zetsu and get out of here I have to leave on my own path who knows when we could see eachother I think it be a few years.

Makoto: a few years!?

Siramay: yeah being a king of villains is a busy job even with being all powerful and immortal so much work, but that’s ok cause the work keeps me stimulated and fulfilled, and that’s like an important factor in life right?

Makoto: I guess, so what do you wanna talk about

Siramay: well that’s the thing I have so many things I want to say to you, but my memory is bad, so I kept on forgetting to tell you because we just got distracted by something else so uh just let me try to grab them …. So hope and despair ay?

Makoto: is it ok to say despair.

Siramay: we’re in the trash shoot he can’t hear us! …she cant hear us? They cant hear us? Hear us? eh but it’s beside the point you know I just think it’s weird.

Makoto: whats weird

Siramay: your worlds twisted definitions on hope and despair that’s what! like I mean look at your definition of hope its like, to keep moving forward and to face adversity head on right? … honestly, that’s noble and if everyone else liked that definition I guess I’d be ok with it but that’s what you think hope is right?

Makoto: right?

Siramay: so what do you think despair is? You think its bad stuff right? You think its all gross nasty evil like zetsu.

Makoto: well….

Siramay: WELL YOU’RE WRONG! All this bad stuff zetsu does aint despair its depravity though the depression is despair because let me tell you the truth of the matter is makoto hope means: a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. and despair means: the complete loss or absence of hope.

That is all nothing more nothing less, but your universe corrupted those ideals you ruined the balance of hope and despair I mean not you personally but your people! The people

Makoto: what? How? Why?

Siramay: well yes they may have those meanings of hope wanting something to happen and despair being no want, but they also have their other halves as most see hope as good and despair as bad but by their other names you’d see fear as bad and love as good, maybe but hope is fear and despair is love in a way.

Makoto: that makes no sense.

Siramay: yes it does makoto you just need to use your mind and think after all there are many articles about said subject and how hope and fear are just two emotions on the same face… metaphorically not literally after all the Greeks stated it themselves did they not?... did they not? But yes they are two faces of the same emotion it really just depends on the… the whats the term, influences I’d say it depends on what influences your mind whether the desire s that of hope or that of fear. Do you see what I get at?

Makoto: I guess but in a way love is desire but there’s no desire in despair so how they would work.

Siramay: well that’s where your wrong they fit quite well when you think about it after all when you are of true love you stop wanting because you have after all witch is no desire since you have what you desire and now just experience having it but that’s not what I’m talking about this whole topic came from a dream.

Makoto: a dream?

Siramay: yes I was gonna tell you the dream but with all the stuff happening it slipped my mind as so many things do but it was one of my many odd dreams where many things happen with no explanation, water parks, malls strangers who say there my friends and most importantly a testing facility using people as guinne pigs I recall sneaking in and being caught after in witch they sent me in a simulation though I can’t recall what happened in the situation but it was tragedy with a happy ending I recall cause I remember floating with someone I cared about on wood with hope we’d have a better life after the fiasco we just did, whatever it was, you see cause after that the head set was ripped of my head as I saw a mad scientist, both figuratively and literally hahaha he went off on me on a bunch of stuff I wasn’t paying attention to but he said something very important he said to me “you cant have an ending of hope and love those are conflicting ideal!” the rest of the dream went on but that line did make me think when I woke up you know? Hope and love conflicting ideals? How odd a statement cause Afterall if anything hope, and despair are the conflicting ideals unless what he was saying was love is despair? Or would It be despair is love? But thinking about it that actually made a lot of sense but I’m afraid I can’t go on about this tangent, but I will say one thing once you meet the mastermind you’ll understand exactly what I meant when I said love and despair are the same  you can’t have one without the other there like twins or lovers or twin lovers!

Makoto: no

Siramay: ok not the last one but lovers definitely

ah yes hope and despair, fear and love the two angels that balanced the universe before everything went wrong.

Makoto: what?

Siramay: well makoto you know that stuff about you being an angel? Well as I am an ALL-POWERFUL BEING WHO CAN BEND THE FABRIC OF THE UNIVERES and make it a lovely sweater for you to wear I think I found some of your worlds history to back up that clam. you see once upon a time in the beginning of the universe the great creator had two beings, angels some say but I digress their names where nozumo and zetsu.

Makoto: but isn’t that-

Siramay: EXSACTLY I had a reason after all, and they helped create the universe and bring it to balance, and oh how they loved eachother… but zetsu felt unappreciated by the world so he fell to darkness and the balance of hope and despair where corrupted to what they are now as zetsu was banished for his crimes and never got to see nozumo again but they still loved eachother greatly its stated in prophecy that their souls are constantly being reborn till the day they can be reunited again, don’t you see makoto all that talk about you being a angel maybe its not just a comparison of your purity maybe you are the reincarnation of the great angel nozumo!

Makoto: what! No that has to be impossible.

Siramay: well I don’t think so I mean after all I’m a king of villains, but there’s a reason I care about you despite that tittle and its your purity, man heroes have a sense of upright self-righteousness, but they never really hold out and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and a fire in my hands at their hypocrisy! They are filled with sin that I must punish! But you are different, I look at you and you are so genuinely pure you are truly one of the golden ones.

Makoto: golden ones?

Siramay: eh it’s a name I made up but despite your rarity I have met another man like you he was a handsome fellow he was with wonderful black hair his name was soot and his heart shared your purity, sure he is considerably different more rambunctious and lively but I could still feel that same purity in him, all loving, forgiving and willing to care for all even if others won’t, oh how I loved him… sadly it didn’t work out but he was so pure and his universe shared a level of pureness that despite my villainess I respected the lack of corruption in that world and would hate if others corrupted it so I vow to protect his universe for his sake and I feel that same need with you! Just looking into your eyes I have this sense of not wanting to be evil and if everyone was like you I probably wouldn’t, but sadly many people aren’t like you there are many cruel people and suffering people. And I must bring an end to that. But yes you are so pure, kind and compassionate I care about you greatly and I feel a great pain in my soul if something bad where to happen to you, you make me see how the world could be in spite of the way that it is! now makoto I just want to make one thing clear when I say I care about you. If someone ever hurts you or causes you to suffer… I will make sure that person regrets ever being brought into this universe because you don’t deserve to suffer, and I’d hate to see that.

This scared makoto a bit wondering what siramay would do to said person.

Makoto: p-please don’t cause anyone to suffer on my behalf.

Siramay: ah don’t worry buddy as long as they don’t hurt you I won’t hurt them, after all I find all that despair, depravity, suffering whatever to be quite… dull.

Makoto: you do? But aren’t you evil?

Siramay: makoto just cause I’m evil dosent mean I’m a jerk, personally I’m quite honorable with these things… I think, but yes I don’t enjoy the pain and suffering stuff its just delaying the inevitable really and it makes me uncomfortable especially the ones out of my control after all I am an almighty all-powerful being who’s traveled the multiverse so I’ve seen lots of suffering and I can safely say… siramay was trying to force a word out of himself and stayed silent for a bit.

ITS BORING!

Makoto: ah!

This startled makoto who almost fell but siramay summoned another hand to push him back.

Siramay: I MEAN ITS ALL THE SAME MAKOTO, YOU HURT SOMEONE THEY SUFFER THEY GET SAD OR MAD OR BOTH AND IF YOU CONTIUE THE PROCESS THEY WILL DIE ITS ALL THE SAME ITS ALL THE SAME! WHATS THE POINT OF WATCHING SOMEONE SUFFER LIKE THAT its exhausting I already know they will suffer so whats the point like I don’t care what she said about “despair being unpredictable” SHES A BIG FAT LIAR if you can’t get 2 from 1+1 and learn if you cause someone to suffer they will be sad then I think you might be lying about being ultimate smart cause that’s just really stupid if that’s what you enjoy! if anything I do find the hope more interesting sure I know everything will work out in the end, but peoples hopes to have different emotional flavors makoto! Just seeing someone at the lowest of low when all hope seems lost and your like “oh whats gonna happen how they gonna make it out” and you see that determined look in their eye like OOOOOOUUU see that’s the problem with today’s heroes there getting more depressed like look at how depressed and edgy they are if you’re that depressed please lose so the villain can at least get there happy ending I know they won’t waste that! Or worse! The hero starts out optimistic but then because of the story they get depressed I feel betrayed! What happened to the hero that believed the best could happen, you dirty liar you betray my heart?

But your special makoto! You look death in the eyes and still smile in the name of hope makoto can I tell you something about your future.

Makoto: …..what?

Siramay: you go through some sad things that’s a fact but, even though everything you face, even with all that’s happened and how much you’ve grown and changed by the end of everything you are still you you are still makoto naegi the hopeful boy that walked through the gates of hopes peak from the start and the fact you can still stay strong like that…it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Makoto: ….really?

Siramay: yes makoto so though I know you are a humble man don’t forget you’re a great guy.

….you know all this talk reminds me of zetsu… the mastermind zetsu not the fallen angel one.

Makoto: what about them?

Siramay: well like I said I believe their whole reason for loving despair to be a bold face lie especially with all they’ve done in their evil plan I mean look at all the bad stuff that’s happened and I knew would happen just shows despairs predictability! But uh that’s not what I mean you see you saw yourself zetsu left many openings and holes in their plan, and while I as a villain find it foolish I know why they do it they said themselves they want to see if you can win make it a fair battle since there super smart, they could have rigged it to be impossible, but they didn’t.

Makoto: wait so we only got this far because she let us?

Siramay: no! well kinda, but don’t disqualify yourself makoto you not dying was completely unpredicted, along with many other things you did but ask yourself makoto, why would they do that and limit themselves.

Makoto: because you said they wanted it to be fair.

Siramay: well yes but actually no cause the way I see it a rigged game is more despair than a fair one just to think it’s all for nothing, oh the tragedy. But they made it fair cause they wanna see if you can win now think about it what would they gain from you winning? nothing! Sure from what I know about them if you asked they’d spout some dumb stuff about “despair of losing” but… call me a fool but I think shes actually hoping you’ll beat her.

Makoto: what? But why would they want that?

Siramay: they feel despair from this to makoto, if you beat them they won’t have to make anyone suffer anymore. No one was able to beat them but maybe you can.

Makoto: but if they don’t want to do it they why don’t they just stop.

Siramay: do you ask an alcoholic why they don’t stop drinking? Or a smoker to stop smoking? or a drug addict why they don’t stop taking drugs?

Makoto: …

Siramay: exactly There is neither happiness nor misery in the world only the comparison of ones state with another nothing more Without hope despair wouldn’t exist because it's very being is measured by hope sure it's the absence but if it were to not exist at all then who's to say despair exists it's like knowing you’re not evil but if evil didn’t exist I can’t call yah good like hope to what I mean to say is Without night who's to say the light is bright?

Oh but look at the time where at the top welp time to make your grad reveal makoto! Oh and one more thing when you do face off against zetsu ask questions but don’t ask if you want an answer ask questions for what she will answer cause there’s no evidence she will say the truth or even anything that makes sense but if you just stop and think about it they actually do say a lot about her even if it’s not what you were asking.

And so makoto finally reached the surface world in the trash room and then kyoko tell makoto to reveal his presence to monokuma talking on how the mastermind is ensnared and so they planned to go to the gym.

Siramay: ok makoto you gotta be strong and intimidate the mastermind show they you know no fear you have seen the face of death and survived.

Makoto: how am I soused to show that.

Siramay: hmmmm……. OH I KNOOOWWW

And so siramay told makoto his plan as makoto went to the gym.

Makoto: whats up guys? I’m back.

Monokuma: what the- you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die!

Makoto: death is a social construct.

Siramay: OOOHH HE GOT YAH GOOD MONO! AHAHAHAH

And so monokuma and kyoko where debating makotos life and what it meant if he was killed again and accused monokuma of killing mukuro (the truth) and kyoko went on a bluff about hope and despair and peoples viewpoints witch I guess is a way to look at it I supposes as they were prepared for a final showdown and monokuma excepted of course but it was not just for the mystery of mukuros killer no it was also to find out all the mysteries of the school as we knew it!

Kyoko: When we've uncovered every last truth, how will the Ultimate Desberry reveal their own desrose...?

Makoto: do we really have to do that?

Siramay: I’m not giving monokuma the victory of me saying it one more time.

Monokuma: how dare you try and stifle my metaphorical robotic bear erection!

Makoto: I honestly can't believe how this has all turned out...

And then kyoko asked once more on the rules but while they beat around the bush I shall write in ink their statements if the mastermind is to get caught and in turn lose this trial, like every other failed blacked of the past trials they will die and just because they have status of being the big bad does not change their fate if they are to lose cause there a student to and other hidden things said but I won’t say those.

Monokuma: I'm done talking! I got nothin' left to say to you! So get lost, would ya!?

Makoto: Why so mad!?

Kyoko: He seems...emotionally unstable.

Siramay: NO KIDDING!?

And so makoto was free and they left so makoto thanked kyoko then they talked about how monokuma said this was displayed on the airwaves and how that proves he wants to prove something basically kyokos hypnotists on the mastermind but as its different from my own I will omit it and while this is a case of confirmation bias I as the king of villains do not care for this ethical dilemma and so they planned to meet the others, so they went to the dining hall and saw monokuma.

Monokuma: Skrgh@yaGfew, anji&\krakAW;! fzzlbRff#[]

Makoto: You again...

Monokuma: Hrskzzzz_dat.; EgspllER103.2.1.255

Makoto: Is he...broken?

Siramay: HAHAHAH their mad, you should see the look on their face! There all like

Siramay then pulls out a keyboard and starts smashing their face on it.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Hhhahahahahahahahah oh I love it!

Kyoko: I suppose his emotional instability reached its limit.

Siramay: oh sweet innocent naive kyoko, THERE STABILITY IS GONNA GET MUCH WORSE HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH quite the downward spiral.

Monokuma: aG^3. 4sum=(SEN|akt~____ 61!

Then monokuma left

Makoto: Jeez... What the heck?

Course all emotion began to rise with the reuniting of the survivor gang all glad to see makoto alive! though sadly they all backed away cause makoto was stinky from the trash.

Siramay: but you should shower makoto who wants to beat the mastermind all stinky like that.

So they all talked and reunited and then they went to important matters on how it was almost the final showdown to defeat the mastermind once and for all, so it was there job to search and find to discover the  secrets that lay barren or die trying though makoto was hopeful, but kyoko less so because they suspected one of them was the mastermind (though not true), but I digress then monokuma unlocked every room for the gang to investigate and then people started splitting up.

Siramay: don’t worry makoto you got me to help yah solve the mysteries of the school! And I got your back!

And so it was time for the final investigation bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu bu it’s the final investigation!

So makoto had to go explore the locked rooms to learn the new lore so first things first he went to the second floor of the dorm room which looked quite like death,

Siramay: mmmmmmm

Makoto: what?

Siramay: with how destroyed these rooms are and with the fact there are 16 students and only 15 rooms I can’t help but have the awful thought in my head that she and mukuro slept together nooooooooo.

Makoto: oh

 there were also lockers but at the moment makoto was unable to open them then we finally got to the headmasters room where kyoko was in there trying to open a secret passage, but she couldn’t unlock the password then they talk about little info about the ultimate despair.

makoto: do you know anything about the ultimate despair?

Siramay: besides the fact their tragic jerks and I feel their name should be instead the ultimate depravity? no at least not anything useful at the moment.

So makoto was thinking on what the password for the computer could be and brought up kyokos name though kyoko did not believe this possibility when makoto tried it, it worked which intensified kyokos daddy issues, so they went in the secret room and while there where other things that looked interesting we had to look at the present in the center of the room witch kyoko warned him about it and when makoto opened it he saw THE BONEY REMAINS OF KYOKOS FATHER

Siramay: talk about an awkward “meet the parents situation” this is probably the weirdest one I’ve seen… well actually… nah nah not now you’ll understand later.

Needless to say this was all crazy but then he saw the tragic photo which made kyoko emotional.

Kyoko: *is angsty in daddy issues*

Siramay: you know zetsu had daddy issues too.

Makoto: really?

Siramay: yeah every person they ever called daddy died by their hands.

Makoto: I don’t like the way you worded that.

Siramay: I don’t like the way I worded that either.

So makoto continued to look for other things he even found an emergency handbook that could open everything. Then kyoko asked nicely if makoto could leave so she could be alone

So makoto left and kyoko was alone ;) to ponder her feelings for her dad.

[KYOKO] You were a sub-standard dad. But the only one I had I grew up hearing. Your evil scheming down the hall But when I look at this thing It makes me wanna sing. Maybe You're not so bad a dad, after all. At my first ever swim meet You stepped on the other teams' feet. At my recital You clapped louder than you should.

But this piece of plastic in my hand Makes me finally understand. Maybe you're not so bad a dad. Not so bad a dad after all

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Head That Wears The Crown

AU-gust Day Nine: Royalty AU Fandom: Stargate Universe Pairing: Nicholas Rush x Gloria Rush

Rated: G

Summary: After almost twenty years of avoiding Gloria’s heritage, a single phone call turns her and Nick’s world upside down, and they are forced to confront the fact that she is, in fact, a princess.

===

The Head That Wears The Crown

Nick knew that something was up from the moment that Gloria picked up her phone where it was innocently buzzing along the kitchen table. Having looked at the caller ID and gone as white as a ghost, her spoon dropped back down into her cereal bowl, sending milk and muesli across the table.

“Oh God.”

Nick grabbed a couple of sheets of kitchen paper to clean up. “Who is it?”

“My mother.”

Well, that was certainly a turn up for the books, and it certainly explained why Gloria had reacted the way she had. She hadn’t spoken to her mother for almost twenty years. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in her family for almost twenty years. Gloria’s family were never mentioned, the ultimate taboo between them.

“You’d probably better take it,” Nick observed. “She wouldn’t be calling you unless it was important.”

Gloria gave a slow nod, the phone continuing to vibrate in her hand as she made no move to answer it.

“Yes, I probably should.” The phone continued to buzz urgently, and Nick held out a hand.

“Do you want me to take it?”

“No, I don’t think that would help.” Gloria took a deep breath and answered just before it cut out to voicemail. “Good morning, Mother.”

Nick couldn’t hear what Gloria’s mother was saying, but since Gloria managed to go even whiter than she already was, it must have been something dramatic. When she got up from the table and vanished into the living room, closing the door firmly behind her, Nick knew that it was very, very serious. He sat back down at the table, his own breakfast completely forgotten in the knowledge that, likely as not, his entire life was about to get turned upside down.

When Nicholas Rush had first met Gloria Andrews, they’d both been studying at Oxford and had happened upon each other quite by chance at one of the rare social events that Nick had attended. A friendship had begun and turned into a relationship, and the relationship had turned into love and a proposal of marriage.

The proposal had opened a rather large can of worms, because for the previous two years of dating and sleeping together and eventually living together, Gloria had omitted to mention one very important fact, namely that she was heir to the throne of a small principality.

Nick hadn’t believed her at first, because surely if she was royalty then she’d be flanked by several bodyguards all the time and wouldn’t be hanging around in student bars in Oxford, and she certainly wouldn’t be doing something as mundane as playing the violin for a living. And surely she wouldn’t have a surname as commonplace as Andrews.

True, she had never shown any inclination for him to meet her family and he had no idea where she’d lived before going into halls of residence and then living with him. She’d always been rather vague about where she spent her holidays, and it had always been clear that she was in no way short of funds.

But the princess of a nation that he’d only vaguely heard of?

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it, Gloria was telling the truth, and Nick found out that for the last two years he had been falling in love with Princess Gloria Catherine Anna di Marco, daughter of Prince André di Marco from whom she’d adopted her civilian surname.

Being the heir to the throne of a nation, however small that nation may have been, Gloria really wasn’t expected to marry a penniless Scottish astrophysicist, and upon the revelation of her true heritage, Nick had been fully expecting their relationship to come to an end.

He had not been expecting Gloria to go home to her father, argue with him about her life choices until he disinherited her, and then come back and marry him and live a happy and contented life as a music teacher, completely uncaring for the grandiose existence she had left behind.

Now, nearly twenty years later, that grandiose existence had suddenly made an appearance once more, reminding both of them that their lives were not as simple as they had hoped to keep them.

Nick sighed. There had been so many times over the last two decades when he had doubted his worth, knowing that he didn’t deserve someone like Gloria despite all the times she had reassured him that he was the only thing she wanted. She had given up so much to be with him and she had never once used that maliciously against him. She had never once wished for her royal life back or lamented how different things would have been if they had not stuck together. Nick knew that it was unfair to put all of the upheaval that they were about to face on Gloria. She had done her best to avoid it, and she would feel the stress of it just as much as he would.

At length – time had lost all sense of meaning – Gloria returned to the kitchen and sat back down, staring at her phone for a long time before she spoke. When she did, she didn’t meet Nick’s eyes.

“I have to go home,” she said. Her voice was measured but brittle, as if she was only keeping herself together through sheer force of will. “Actually, we both do.” She looked up at him then, and Nick could see that she’d been crying. “My father is dying, and he wants to see me. And you.”

Considering that Nick had never met any of Gloria’s family, much less her father, who was the ruler of a country, he thought that he was justified in feeling some trepidation at the prospect, and he felt guilty as he started mentally running through a thousand and one reasons why he would have to stay here.

He knew that he couldn’t. Even if none of Gloria’s family wanted anything to do with him, which was the stance they’d made clear when she’d first mentioned him to them, he needed to go with Gloria to support her whilst all this was going on. He’d lost his mother when he’d been too young to remember and his relationship with his father was strained at best, but he knew that he wouldn’t want to go through the loss alone.

“Right.”

For a long time, that was the only thing he could say. There were a hundred questions running through his head, most of them along the lines of does this mean you’ll have to run the country now and most of those followed by where does that leave us?

“I suppose I’d better start cancelling my lessons,” Gloria said. It was so practical and mundane that Nick couldn’t help but give a bark of laughter, alarming Gloria.

“I’m sorry. I think I’m still in shock.”

“Yeah.” Gloria sighed, and suddenly she looked very far away at the other end of the table. “Yeah, you and me both.”

X

Objectively, Nick knew that royal families generally had money to burn, but having lived on the breadline for most of his life and only gaining proper financial stability when he got academic tenure, the extent of wealth was difficult for him to comprehend – and he had wrapped his head around some of the most incomprehensible theoretical physics known to man.

Since getting off the plane, he and Gloria hadn’t had to lift a finger. There had been official people to meet them at every step of the way and a car waiting to whisk them away to the official family residence, and then another one waiting to take them to the hospital. Considering all he’d had to do was follow people along corridors and sit in the back of very luxurious cars, Nick was exhausted. All he wanted was to get back to his office and grade a few choice idiotic papers to take his mind off it all.

“Oh, Gloria!”

As they entered the private wing of the hospital where Prince André was receiving treatment, Gloria was bowled over by someone whom Nick recognised from photographs as her mother – twenty years older, of course, but still definitely the same woman. Even though Gloria was far more comfortable with invasions of personal space than Nick was, it was clear that she was rather taken aback by this sudden display of affection from someone she’d had no contact with for so many years. Eventually she relaxed into the hug and let her mother lead her down the corridor towards her father’s room.

Nick hung back, sitting down on one of the plush seats in the waiting area. He caught Gloria’s glance over her shoulder, almost a plea for deliverance, and he wondered what he should do. What could he do? He was the very definition of a fish out of water here, and Gloria herself wasn’t doing much better. People kept coming and asking if they could get him anything; it was the most surreal experience he’d ever had. Some kind soul sourced him some coffee and the caffeine helped him to focus a little, even if all he was focussing on was pretending to be somewhere else entirely.

It felt like an age before Gloria returned, sinking into the chair next to him.

“Gloria?” She looked blank, like she was miles away. “Gloria? Glo?”

She shook herself out of the stupor and turned to him.

“Hi. Sorry, I’m still trying to work out whether that just happened or if this is all just some weird dream.”

“What happened?”

Gloria shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not here, at least. God, I want to go home. Proper home, I mean. Our home. Oxford. Not here.” She pressed her hands over her face, leaning heavily on her knees. “I thought I’d left all this behind,” she mumbled behind her fingers. “I was happy to have left it all behind. This can’t be happening.”

No more was said on the subject until they got back to the house, and even then, Gloria spent a long time just wandering through rooms that had once been familiar. Nick trailed after her, unsure of what she needed. This wasn’t a problem that he could just apply maths to in order to solve.

“This was my bedroom when I was a kid.” She’d stopped in the doorway of a room that was at least the footprint of Nick’s entire childhood home and garden. Everything was covered in dust sheets, no sign of personalisation anywhere. Just as Gloria had made a clean break with her previous life, it seemed that her previous life had made a clean break with her as well.

“He wants to reinstate me,” she said suddenly, apropos of nothing. “He wants me to take the throne when he dies.”

Although Nick had suspected that this would be the case from the moment he’d known the situation, it was still something to hear it from Gloria herself and have it confirmed.

“Is this a situation where you can say no, or do you not really have a choice?”

Gloria shrugged. “I have no idea. The lawyer’s coming tomorrow to sort it all out, I guess I’ll find out then.”

“What happens if you don’t take it?”

“There’s a cousin in New Zealand. It’ll go to him.” Gloria sighed. “I’m so sorry, Nicholas. I don’t know who I was fooling when I thought that I could leave all this behind and it would never trouble us again. I’m an only child and my father’s not going to live forever, of course it would come back to bite me sooner rather than later. There was no way I could run from it forever. I’d just hoped that it would be over, done. He’s always been so stubborn. I thought that his first decision would be final. I never thought that he was one for deathbed regrets and trying to make amends. I suppose none of us know what we’re going to regret at the end until we get there ourselves. I’m so sorry.” She wiped away a fresh fall of tears on the back of her hand. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I know you didn’t sign up for all this.”

Nick didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say, either to comfort Gloria or to try and make sense of his own position in the entire affair. He just put his arms around her, letting her lean in against him, holding her as she cried. He tried to reason that nothing was set in stone yet, that Gloria still had the choice to refuse the crown and everything could go back to the way it was before, that soon enough it would all be the cousin in New Zealand’s problem.

Deep down, though, he knew that it was not going to be as simple as that.

He didn’t think either of them slept that night, both of them caught up in their own thoughts. Nick stared at the ceiling, thinking about everything that he had to lose if Gloria were to take the throne and move their lives over here. The university, his professorship, his positions on all of the research committees he worked on. His office, his tenure, his students… Well, maybe he wouldn’t miss those as much.

Ultimately, though, he knew that the only thing he would really miss if he were to lose it was Gloria. He had started from scratch enough times and he had built himself up from the bare bones before. He could do it again. He could do his research anywhere. But if Gloria wanted to be here, then here was where he would be as well.

“Glo?” He reached across the bed to find her hand, squeezing tightly.

She rolled over, burrowing into his side. “Nick?”

“Whatever happens, whatever you decide, I’m right here with you. I love you. No matter what.”

She kissed him, fumbling and clumsy in the dark, and Nick felt wet on her cheeks.

“Thank you, Nick.”

[sarkerink]

Depression, Anxiety – The Thoughts, see me now!

H.M

Part 1

To sum up in one word to why the things ended the way they did is fear. I have always lived by the acronym, F.E.A.R. False evidence appearing real. I guess in this situation it is proven to be true just sometimes not always so obvious at first.

The fear of losing you as a friend caused me to act in ways I am unable to recognise. Led by the motion of not knowing what life would be like without you I attempted to fix the mistakes that kept repeating.

For me, the last two years of the friendship became so difficult, so intense, twisted with emotional turmoil it is hard at times to recall the good times. Do not misunderstand me I am aware we did have an awesome friendship, but I am led to feel that almost all had a motive.

Your motive was for us to be together one day. Year in, year out, you would consciously and unconsciously act, say, and behave in ways that showed signs of wanting more and I am not saying that was wrong.

For me, I played on the idea because I loved you so much and did not ever want to lose you. something sadly that I’ve had to learn the hard way and for this I’m sorry. I'm sorry I was never direct, clear and honest with you towards this situation. I guess the fear of being that honest with myself meant accepting the truth. The truth of knowing that we could not be friends if I admitted that I never wanted more than just a friendship.

For a large part, you felt stronger emotions than just friendship which you certainly deserved and needed. I hope now in your current relationship you can see what it means to be loved back the right way.

Your decision for us to stop being friends was the upmost important and rewarding steps you could have taken. I take my hat off to you, I commend your actions because it had to happen for both of us. Thank you for being brave at that moment in time. Losing you, and the friendship was one of the hardest times I have experienced to date. Somewhat equally difficult was having to accept how this event was portrayed to the outside, a situation that we both rightfully owned somehow became unwillingly other people’s options and concerns.

Your fear stopped you from being open and honest about how you felt towards me. You never once ever said you loved me nor wanted to spend the rest of your life with me (un-jokingly and in the right context) However I have no right to judge, we both hid behind our fears of being honest at the risk of being hurt for speaking the truth, and with that rationale, I hold no anger towards you or the situation. I hold no anger at all towards anything. I have wanted you to know this for a while now, perhaps it is because I am used to you knowing everything for past 20 years. (The day on the train back in December 2019 I truly believe the smiles that we exchanged and the small act of reaching out truly gave me the feeling that you already knew this and it gave me comfort).

You are by now probably wondering why I have chosen to make contact. Well, to put it simply, acknowledgement. We all require closer at different times of our lives and this is mine. I wish you all the best with your future, we all deserve to love and be loved by someone, and most importantly by ourselves…

I will always hold some of your last words you said to me near and dear to my heart. “if the universe brings us back then it does”. It would be a pleasure to share the most remarkable journey I have been on to get me to where I am today. If the universe brings us back together id hope you like to hear my journey, and visa versa.

I finally had space and time to deal with the darkest parts that I held within. The ones we are so unaware off yet lie deep within our everyday actions.

[foreheadtouch]

i don’t want your memory. (i want you here with me).

Why do you want to learn Russian? With that question I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed.

*3k words of pure angst* 

———

It was an eerily frigid January night—black and silent—like drifting out in the middle of space. People doing everything in their power to escape it. The wind chill burned against my cheeks and the freezing air seemed to shrink my lungs to the size of lemons. Each breath I drew was sharp and labored.

Inside Hobie’s apartment wasn’t much better. My blood felt hot and thick underneath my skin—the heat was turned up slightly too high, so as to make me sweat underneath the itchy sweater that I couldn’t take off, because then of course, I'd be cold again.

The sky was deep and dark and not a single star was visible. I felt that if I stared too long, its vastness would swallow me whole. Only the bright white headlights of whirring cars seeped through the window and bounced across the walls of my bedroom in a series of dizzying flashes.

I sat on my bed with a half empty bottle of vodka, feeling claustrophobic in an empty room.

The heat made me hyperaware of any nagging discomfort that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. Every itch and ache was pulled out of me, like a magnet with scraps of metal.

I tried readjusting the neckline of my wool sweater, but it would not stop scratching and clawing against my skin, almost choking me. Had it somehow gotten tighter during the day? Why couldn’t I breathe?

I was just drunk enough that my movements were sloppy and my fingertips felt slightly numb.

I looked over at my desk, where a brand new copy of Dostoevsky’s The Idiot was resting, the lamp shining directly on it, like an ironic spotlight, and I felt the walls close in on me.

I didn’t want to, but I thought back to the conversation I had that afternoon.

It happened in the campus bookstore. Dozens of hasty university students were furiously barreling through the narrow passageways between shelves filled with books like Guide to Financial Markets, Plato’s The Symposium, Multivariable Calculus Volume 1, Shakespeare’s King Lear.

How was your break? Did you get the classes you wanted? Oh, I’m actually working at this bank. Doing research in this laboratory.

Their obnoxiously eager attitudes and bright eyes bore a sharp contrast to my own. I couldn’t remember the last night I had gone to bed sober. My eyes were sunken and glassy. Plum-colored patches formed under them and had not gone away. My skin had developed a grayish, sickly looking tinge that caused Hobie to insist I take a multivitamin in the morning. And how many days in a row had I worn this sweater?

I moved, begrudgingly, against the grain of the crowd, and slumped through the shelves while people forcefully shoved against my shoulder and scoffed at me under their breath for going the wrong way. But who cared what these crappy trust-fund kids and pompous brainiacs thought of me. I drowned out their complaints and dragged my fingers across the spines of the books, until I had successfully collected all the necessary novels for the upcoming term.

“Wow! That’s a lot of Dostoevsky! Let me guess… Based on your reading list I’d say… Intro to Russian Lit and… maybe Conversational Russian with Professor Khachanov?” the bubbly girl at the checkout asked as she scanned my stack of books. I wasn’t expecting her to actually pay attention to them.

I wondered how many espresso shots went into her morning coffee or if she was this energetic naturally. She seemed like the kind of girl who kept her customer service smile on 24/7. I could not bring myself to muster up enough energy to match her excitement.

“You guessed it.” I replied with a stiff, lifeless smile and apparently, less enthusiasm than she had hoped for, judging by the little twist her mouth did. She began transferring the books into an ugly canvas tote bag with the university logo on it that I knew cost extra money. I didn’t ask for it, but I also didn’t care enough to tell her to stop, so i just watched her silently and adjusted my glasses.

I thought my curt reply would signal that I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but she started up again: “You now, that’s not very common. I see a lot of Slavic Studies and International Relations students take Conversational Russian, but not English majors. You guys usually just take Intro to Russian Lit. Why do you want to learn Russian? Is your family Russian or something?” She stuck her hand out for my student ID card.

Immediately after she stopped speaking, my palms grew sweaty and my pulse thumped throughout my body and I felt its rhythm pound in my ears. My mouth went dry and I felt a lump form in my throat. I was suddenly transported to a cold, metal police interrogation room to confess for a crime I was most definitely guilty of committing. I was handcuffed and trapped. Exposed. The harsh fluorescent lights of the store glared and pierced my brain.

I cleared my throat, which felt like sandpaper, unable to force any words out, so I stood there, like a dumbstruck idiot, blank-faced and silent, for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Finally I managed to stammer, “I uh, I want to be able to read the original translations. At some point, I guess.”

With my head down, avoiding eye contact, I quickly snatched the receipt from the girl, shoved it into the canvas bag, and hurried out the door. God, she probably thinks I’m a psycho. But it didn’t matter. I desperately needed to get away from there. Away from that question.

Now, hours later, in my stuffy bedroom, I sat confronted with my crime, suffocated by the truth. Why had I really signed up for conversational Russian?

———

It was the same reason I found myself buying the cheap brand of vodka that we used to drink together, even though I could afford better stuff now. It tasted like jet fuel and burned my throat, but it was familiar and reminded me of the countless, blurry days we spent in a state of drunken stupor.

It was the same reason that on my way home, I would hesitate and then walk to the gas station around the corner for a pack of Marlboros, even though Hobie had taught me how to hand roll my own cigarettes. “They’re much better this way, Theo. It’s all about the craft. About paying attention.” And it was true, they were better, way better actually, but that didn’t stop me. I didn’t want better, I wanted him.

It was the same reason I took the subway down to Brighton Beach and the Lower East Side on weekends and wandered through the Russian neighborhoods, pretending like I was meant to be there. Because maybe, just maybe I was.

It was the same reason I would lie down with Popchik on my chest and close my eyes, feeling the weight against my lungs as I inhaled and imagined the warmth of him pressed up next to me, boney arm draped over me, holding me.

It was the same reason I curled up in bed at night with my earphones in—the Velvet Underground’s entire discography lulling me to sleep. Except for “I Found a Reason.” I recognized it by the first note and would immediately skip it. I couldn’t listen to it.

The habit we had of maintaining a constant level of drunkenness and snorting whatever we could find up our noses had unfortunately stuck with me. When I removed myself from my own depressing turmoil and looked at my life like a stranger would, I knew it was a problem. Without me realizing, it had spiraled from being a vice to a legitimate addiction.

But I didn’t have a reason to stop.

I tried so hard to forget him. I really did. Every time that feeling started to creep up, to gnaw at me, I would try to press it as far down as it could go. I would crumple it up into a tiny ball and throw it far far away. I would hold it underwater until it hung limp and lifeless.

I had no choice, because if I let it linger, just for one moment, it would consume me entirely.

It was a dull ache that never went away. The sting of tears welling up in my eyes. A lump in my throat. A knot in my stomach. Weak knees, like right before you’re about to faint. Heartache.

Sometimes he would come to me in a dream or in a nauseating, intoxicated hallucination. It was like looking at a reflection of him on water or through a mirror. It was almost real and I could have pretended he was there until, looking at him wasn’t enough and I greedily reached out to touch him. Suddenly, the water around my hand would ripple in expanding orbits and he would vanish.

We existed on two different planes now. I was here, doomed to live in this reality, where at one point, we had faced the disorder of life together, but now he was reduced to a figment of my imagination, a cursed dream, a memory of what once was.

And so that night, I gave in. I surrendered.

While I stared at that book, I let the memories wash over me with a force like a wave, crashing violently against a cliff. The rock I was grabbing onto crumbled beneath my finers and I was ripped away from my pretense of safety and pulled back into the sea—back to Las Vegas. Back to Boris.

———

“Potter. You can’t ask me to read to you and then just… fall asleep.” Boris said, through laughter, as he flicked my head.

My dad and Xandra had gotten into a big fight. It wasn’t their usual bickering about him watching too much football and not paying enough attention to her. Or about her staying out too late after work with friends and forgetting to make him dinner.

I couldn’t quite make sense of the full argument, or even remember why they started yelling. From the broken shouts, I figured out that my dad had lost a lot of money. And he had used some of Xandra’s? Or was about to? I wasn’t sure.

All I knew was that when Boris and I came home that night, there was a dent in the drywall of our living room and they were shouting. Judging by the accumulation of beer bottles on the coffee table, my dad had been drinking. A lot. They hadn’t even noticed us walk in.

We grabbed Popchik, who was a shaking mess in the corner of the kitchen, and we went back to Boris’. His dad was away on “special business.” I knew enough by then not to question it.

“Is great, actually,” Boris said, “when he is gone, he leaves money. 30 bucks this time.” He looked at me with his wide, dark eyes, sparkling with childlike excitement, as if we had just won the lottery.

We got started on our usual routine when we had extra money. Getting fucking blasted and buying cigarettes and a family sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

We were passing a cigarette back and forth in his bedroom, sitting shoulder to shoulder, faces inches apart. Boris was slouched next to me, in silence, but a comfortable silence.

The air was charged with something electric that I couldn’t find a word for. I turned my head and traced his profile with my eyes. I didn’t realize how long I had been staring, but when he slowly turned and looked up at me, softly, my stomach jolted.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” He asked, sitting upright, still maintaining his gaze. I liked how he could read me so well. It was a mark of how close we had gotten, how we moved in and out of each other’s minds with little effort.

“Yeah. I think I’m too wasted” I said, looking away abruptly and taking another drag of the cigarette before passing it to him, our fingers brushing, as he took it from me and brought it up to his lips.

“Stay here, Potter. I have great idea. You’ll love this, promise. Will cheer you up right away.” He got up quickly and handed the cigarette back to me.

“Where the fuck would I go?” I laughed and watched him slip into a room down the hallway.

He came back smiling and holding something behind his back.

“Please don’t tell me that’s more vodka.”

“Is not vodka. Guess again.”

“Boris, I have no fucking clue.”

He rolled his eyes and held out a thick book. The title was in Russian but fortunately, it was one of the words Boris had taught me. Идиот.

I was a little confused. What did this mean. Where was he going with this. I scrunched up my nose and said, “I don’t know enough Russian to read a whole novel.”

He sat down next to me and shoved me a little.

“No, идиот. I read. You listen.”

So I did. I slid down the wall and rested my head in his lap. Boris put one arm over mine, held the book in his other hand, and began to read the opening chapter.

I always appreciated how he was so forthright and unapologetic with his movements. He didn’t hesitate when resting his hand on mine. Or playing with my hair. Or stroking my arm.

He didn’t leave room for me to resist, not that I wanted to, although my first instinct was usually to pull away.

“This book. My favorite.” He started reading: “В конце ноября, в оттепель, часов в девять утра, поезд Петербургско-Варшавской железной дороги на всех парах подходил к Петербургу…”

I couldn’t understand a single word, but I didn’t care. I liked the sound of his voice when he spoke Russian. The way his mouth shaped the letters was firmer and smoother in Russian than in English—it was sultry, almost hypnotic. I closed my eyes and felt the soft vibrations of his voice wash over me.

I also liked the way I felt in his arms. Safe, cared for, loved, even.

———

That was, after all, why I signed up for Conversational Russian. Because of Boris. Because I might not ever see him again, and the thought of that was too unbearable, so I did everything in my power to feel close to him. To stay connected to him in some way. Any way.

Because I was in love with Boris but somehow I had lost him, caught up in the tangled tragedy that was my life.

I didn’t know if it was for good, but how would I ever find him in this great big world? It had been years since I last saw him and months since I last heard from him.

One day, I realized his face was becoming fragmented. I tried to construct and image of what he might look like now, like I was collecting scraps of torn up newspapers and piecing them together with glue.

Dark wavey hair against translucent ivory skin, a sharp contrast like an old film photograph taken in black and white. I could see the blue and purple veins underneath his skin. I could see his ribs poking out. I remembered his striking but soft eyes, always filled with a glimmer of curiosity—an inextinguishable thirst for life and all its excitement. The way they could communicate thousand of phrases in just one glance. His full lips that were often chapped and bleeding. But I miss them. The way the felt against my own that night. And the many nights before.

The image of the fourteen year old Boris I knew would forever be seared into my memory, in the way cattle were branded with molten hot metal. But what was he like now?

Sometimes I would pull out my old phone and read back through our conversations, then close my phone, and hold it over my chest while tried to hold in tears and catch my breath.

Other times I would look up at the moon and wonder where in the world he was. And if he ever looked up at the moon and thought of me.

Did Boris think of me? Did Boris miss me? Was Boris breaking apart and tearing up inside too?

Oh, the countless nights I would type out long messages with no intention of ever sending them. Are you okay? Where are you? I miss you.

I knew what loss felt like. That’s wasn’t unknown to me. I had lost my mother. For good. But the thing about Boris is that I didn’t know if it was for good. And that small chance is what was killing me and eating me away, but it was also the only thing keeping me alive. Because there was still a chance and I wanted to believe in it. I needed to. Things fall apart. But things come together too. But how many times? Had our time come and gone?

Maybe I would go the rest of his life wondering what could have been. That would be a death sentence I was sure of it. Because it was torture not knowing.

How would I ever be able to know peace when there was that small chance—that infinitely small chance we could meet again.

I wanted so badly to get a text one day from an unknown number. Potter. Is me.

I wanted to shout across the world. Here I am. Here I am. I won’t ever stop looking for you. I love you.

So I would continue hoping. I would keep going to Brighton Beach. I would keep searching the ends of the earth, forever.

But as for now, I had to learn how be content with the memory of him.

[admiralty-xfd]

the whole truth

The events of Biogenesis. Mulder learns the truth about Diana.

This is chapter 14, to go back to the beginning click here.

Chapter 14: The Betrayal

THE WATERGATE APARTMENTS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JULY 1999

It’s over.

It was truly all over.

Diana sat alone in her apartment with the copy of Native American Beliefs and Practices that Spender had given her months ago in the hospital. She’d read it cover to cover multiple times, and often turned to it in times of confusion and hopelessness. It seemed she had little to live for anymore and whenever she felt that way her mind always crept back to the work.

The savior this book promised hadn’t turned out to be Gibson Praise. It hadn’t been Cassandra Spender. So who could it be?

Not only did the work feel particularly hopeless at this point, but having any kind of future with Fox felt so, as well. As each day passed Diana knew there was nothing to be done to win him back; short of kidnapping him, brainwashing him and somehow forcing his heart to feel something it didn’t, she was out of options.

She wondered why, if Fox were truly in love with Agent Scully, he hadn’t done anything about it. And why hadn’t Agent Scully? What exactly was holding them back?

She thought about her own past, and how she’d avoided romantic entanglements like the plague until Fox had come along. Even now, she couldn’t explain it; it was just something that had happened. Maybe there really was no explanation for why nothing was happening between Fox and Agent Scully either. If there was a reason, she’d probably never know it.

Alone in her thoughts, her cell phone buzzed from the pocket of her jacket, which was strewn across the arm of her couch. She dug around and looked at the caller ID.

Fox.

“Hello? Fox?” she said, answering after the fourth ring.

A familiar voice answered, but it wasn’t the one she expected. “I’m sorry, he can’t come to the phone right now.”

Diana felt her stomach drop. “...Alex?!” She hadn’t spoken to him since the fertility clinic.

“Your boy isn’t looking so good.” She heard a rustle, then moaning she couldn’t deny was Fox. She could hear him whimpering in the background, in a clear state of distress. “ Scully… Scully…” she could hear him saying. “Fucking Krycek…”

Fucking Krycek was right. What the hell was going on?

“Looks like Mulder wants to be where the action is,” Alex said cryptically. “Although I think you should come get him before somebody else finds him.”

“Alex, what action? What are you talking about? What is going on?” She could hear Fox mumbling “Scully” over and over. She couldn’t decide if she was more hurt or annoyed.

“I’m thinking maybe I called the wrong person,” Alex said, clearly enjoying the hell out of this. “Maybe I should have called Agent Scully instead.”

“No!” she responded immediately. “Tell me where you are.”

“American University, southwest stairwell of the biology building.” The phone clicked off, and she was on her way.

When she arrived she was not prepared for the sight that awaited her. Fox was curled up into the fetal position and grabbing his head, wincing in pain. His cell phone was next to him, crushed beyond repair.

“Scully...” he was moaning, and every time the name escaped his lips it pained her. “I need Scully.”

“Fox, it’s me, it’s Diana,” she said. She bent down and touched his shoulder.

“Scully…”

She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t Scully, she couldn’t be Scully. But she could tell he was in pain and she wanted to help him.

“We should get you to see a doctor,” she suggested. She realized as the words came out how stupid they sounded, considering the only thing he’d asked for since she’d arrived had been, in fact, a doctor. But she couldn’t bring herself to call the woman she knew he was in love with.

“I just need to go home, I have to rest,” he sputtered, and she nodded, knowing that was something she could do. She helped him up slowly and they made their way down the stairs, across the campus and to her car without drawing any unnecessary attention.

When they arrived at his place she dug his keys out of his pocket and helped him inside. It was unusually hot in his apartment and she wondered if perhaps his air conditioner was broken. They made their way into his bedroom.

“What are you feeling? Can you describe it?” she asked him.

“I don’t know, I just… my head,” he said as he stumbled towards his bed. He started to take his shirt off and winced again, so she helped him undress down to his undershirt and he got into bed. “I’m hearing voices.”

This gave her pause. “Voices? What kind of voices?”

“They come and go,” he explained. “It’s hard to describe. I think… I think I feel a bit better now.”

“Just relax, Fox,” Diana said as she pulled the comforter over him. “I’m going to get you some water. Then we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

She searched his kitchen for the glasses, which he’d moved since she last used his kitchen. The tap blasted lukewarm, surely from the blazing hot weather, and as she watched the stream of water swirl around the sink, waiting for it to cool, her mind raced.

Voices. He’s hearing… voices?

She might have thought nothing of it if she hadn’t just been thinking about Gibson Praise and his abilities, and her search for the one person who was going to save humanity. But now her wheels were spinning wildly.

Eventually the water cooled and she filled the glass, taking a dish towel and dampening it. She returned to his bedside and he drank the water, sighing and sinking back into his pillow. “Thank you for helping me get home.”

“Of course,” she said, and held the damp cloth to his brow. He immediately moved his own hand to hold it, pushing hers away. She became aware in the moment he had no intention of letting her touch him in any intimate way and although he was unwell, although she suspected it was over between them in any event, it still stung.

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“I think I just want to sleep,” he said.

“You won’t even tell me how this started?”

He hesitated, and she wondered briefly if he was deciding how much to reveal. Things had been awkward the last time they’d seen each other, but it had been purely personal. She had no reason to suspect he was suspicious of her.

“Scully and I were investigating a case, and I don’t know exactly how, but I’m having some kind of reaction to… an object we found.” He winced again, every word probably causing him pain.

“And this object didn’t affect Agent Scully?” she asked.

“No, she…” he trailed off, again hesitant to reveal more, but seemed to change his mind. “I think it’s only happening to me. I was exposed to something years ago, something… alien.”

Ten years ago she might have been a bit more skeptical of this revelation. But she knew this was all quite real, and that by the very nature of Fox’s work, exposure was entirely possible.

Just then his phone rang. Fox turned over and made no effort to get it so she answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes… I’m looking for Fox Mulder…? ” It was, of course, Agent Scully. She sounded confused and slightly irked, and Diana still found her behavior amusing in spite of everything.

“Hold on, please.” She held out the phone, and only because she wanted to annoy the other woman, she added, “...Fox?”

He took the phone and she sat silently next to him on the bed, listening to his end of the conversation. They were arguing about something, probably the very X-File he’d been just referring to. Fox didn’t seem to mind what Diana heard and it was a small comfort. But then she heard words that piqued her interest.

...Artifact...

...Extraterrestrial…

...Genesis...

These words weren’t uncommon in the files themselves; she’d gone through most of them during her tenure in the basement. But used together… her mind continued to reel.

This artifact, whatever it was, had been drawn to Fox. Why? Was it truly the source of whatever was causing him distress?

“Well then, go ahead and prove me wrong, Scully,” Fox grumbled into the phone.

He was exhausted and Diana knew his head hurt, and she wanted to enjoy his annoyance with his partner but she couldn’t. Maybe it was the familiarity with which he’d dismissed Agent Scully; despite his frustration Diana knew he wasn’t really angry.

Fox handed her the receiver and turned his back to her, covering his head with his comforter and seeking sleep. His body language indicated clearly that he had no more use for her; she’d served her purpose this afternoon.

It was in this moment, this final rejection by the man she loved, that a strange feeling came over her: that the timing of all of this had been preordained somehow, driven by destiny. Any nagging doubts that had clouded her mind and perhaps her better judgment over the past few months were drifting away like sand through a sieve, and she felt her old reliable modus operandi creep over her like camouflage.

The work.

Could Fox himself be the very person the Company had been searching for, for years?

She wasn’t stupid, and she hadn’t been a believer in fate her entire life for nothing. Fox had to be the one. Very suddenly, she’d never been more certain of anything. And she remembered what Spender had told her. The three of them seemed to indeed have been thrown into the mix together, just as he’d said, for a singular purpose: to finish the work.

If Fox knew, if he only knew what he was, how important he was, surely he would agree to what needed to be done. To save the world. When he came out the other side a hero, he’d understand.

It occurred to her she was at a crossroads. Her first instinct was to turn Fox over to Spender. But when she thought of Fox ending up in the hands of the man he hated, the man who’d controlled so many aspects of her own life for years, she hesitated.

She could warn Fox, tell him what was going on. Let him decide what to do. She’d never fooled herself into believing she could keep her deception from him forever, but she had entertained the hope that if he did learn of it, he might understand. That when he learned everything she’d been doing, the sacrifices she’d made, and the reasons she’d made them, it would all be worth it in the end for the truth.

For his truth.

She stood to leave his bedroom, knowing what she needed most desperately of all right now was time. She was due to check in with Spender and the unanticipated distraction of the fox had kept him waiting. Spender didn’t like to wait.

She clicked the receiver back on, dialing. She then removed her jacket as she waited for an answer.

“Yes?”

“I received a call from Agent Mulder this evening, he was in a particular state of distress.”

“Distress? Why?” Spender asked.

“I don’t know why,” she lied. “But I’m staying here until I find out.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She hung up the phone, knowing she didn’t have long to make a decision. Her mind was reeling with possibilities, choices and consequences and feelings and it was all wrapped up in what she now suspected Fox could discern with his newly forming powers. If she wasn’t careful, he might learn everything. And there would be no stopping it.

There were questions she needed to ask him, important questions that would ascertain her beliefs and help her make the right decision. Perhaps there was a way to keep his mind off her thoughts and on something else. She began to undress, a strong suspicion coming over her that between his half-conscious state and her half-naked body in his line of sight she could easily get the information she needed.

Fox was a smart man, he always had been. But he was still a man. And from everything she’d witnessed over the past few months, everything she’d known about him since the night she met him, he could be incredibly stupid around women.

She’d just pulled her shirt off when she rounded the corner and found Alex sitting stock still in a chair in the corner of the living room.

“Jesus- ” she dared a glance into Fox’s bedroom. Still not moving. She closed his bedroom door quietly. “Alex!” she hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I had no idea you two were still so cozy,” Alex said.

“What, are you jealous?” she challenged, hands on her hips, standing there in her bra.

“No,” he said smoothly, and she believed him. It didn’t matter. She’d never cared before, and she certainly didn’t intend to start now. “It just irks me when I’m the last one to know something.”

“There’s nothing to know,” she said, bristling. “He’s sick and he’s resting.”

“Ah,” he said, with a smirk on his face she found all too familiar. “Is this ‘nothing to know’ why you’re undressing in his apartment?”

She shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s hot, and I’m getting comfortable. I’m going to be here for a while. As if it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said. “Especially if you have a personal relationship with the guy who’s quickly becoming the most important man on the planet.”

It occurred to her then that Alex was the link between Fox and Spender she hadn’t anticipated. She wondered how he knew about Fox, his current condition, any of it, then the answer came to her. Skinner. Alex had had Skinner under his control for months now, and if AD Skinner knew, Alex knew.

And if Alex knew, Spender certainly wouldn’t be far behind.

“It’s over between us,” she said flatly, not wanting to believe it.

“Doesn’t look over,” he indicated, his eyes raking over her body. “Surely you wouldn’t be… so foolish as to put the project at risk for the sake of your personal pleasures?”

A line straight from Spender’s playbook. She shook her head. The nerve.

“What are you doing here, Alex?” she asked. She stole a glance back towards the bedroom where Fox was snoozing away. “You have to go. If he finds us here together-“

“Then… what? He’ll know you’ve been sleeping with the enemy?" He smirked. "Seems like he’s the one who’s been doing that.”

She drew her lips into a tight line, wanting to say no more. Wanting to reveal no more. And she felt oddly protective of Fox. “I can handle him, Alex. Please go.”

Alex stood and moved towards the door. “I know you know what he is, what he's become. And the old man’s going to know now, too.”

A chill ran up her spine at this; that her suspicions were in fact correct, and she wasn't the only one who knew about it. Fox was in danger now that was beyond her control.

“Think carefully about your next move, Diana.”

He took one long look at her, then at Fox’s bedroom door, and as he left the apartment she had the crippling realization he had taken all of her options with him.

***

Fire. His brain was on fire.

It had been smoldering since Diana found him in that stairwell and brought him home. What he remembered was bits and pieces: her helping him to his feet, just barely. Walking, driving; it was all a blur. He didn’t even remember calling her. Had he called her? He only wanted Scully. But here was Diana, walking with him through the door of his apartment once again.

“Fox, what happened? What’s wrong?” he could hear her asking him.

“My head…” he answered, holding it with his hands. The pain was intense. “Before, I was hearing… voices, loud voices…”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “When did this start? Do you know what’s causing it?”

He wanted to talk to Scully; that’s who he needed to tell. But Diana was here and she had been on the X-Files, after all. And she wanted to help. “I don’t know, I…” He wasn’t sure how much he should reveal, but he knew she would probably believe him. So he told her.

Diana was silent, looking at him hard, and he wondered what she was thinking. The aural dissonance he’d experienced in Skinner’s office had been returning in fits and starts, but right now there was nothing.

She wasted no time getting him undressed and into bed, and he was in such pain he let her. He remembered asking for Scully as he drifted in and out of consciousness, knowing she could somehow figure this out, that she was the only one who could help him.

When Scully did call, he could immediately detect the annoyance in her voice.

“Mulder, where are you?”

The question was pointed, but it wasn’t the question she was really asking. She’d called him at his apartment, not on his cell phone. She knew exactly where he was.

“I’m here. I’m resting.” I’m doing exactly what you asked of me.

“Who answered the phone?”

It wasn’t lost on him that her first questions, those that would typically inquire after his health, were instead focused on the woman answering his phone. The woman whose voice she must have recognized.

Fucking Diana, answering his phone. She was too comfortable here, and he’d allowed it. He was more annoyed with himself than anything else, but his head hurt too much to care right now.

“I’m home. It’s okay.” He’d promised Scully that Diana’s name wouldn’t come out of his mouth again. This was awkward enough, and there were more pressing matters.

He wanted to tell Scully about his condition, but she clearly hadn’t been just patronizing him when she told him she’d find the artifacts. She’d actually found one. She was in New Mexico, hours away, and he’d have to wait to see her again anyway. He didn’t want her rushing back on his account; not when they were so close to the answers they’d sought for so long, again.

What she described didn’t surprise him, however; somehow he’d known the truth ever since he saw that artifact. There was something inside him that had reawakened, and he knew not what exactly, but it was most definitely alien. It had to be. This wasn’t a theory, or a hunch. He felt it deep down inside him; he knew it in his soul the same way he knew he was human, the same way he knew the sky was blue. It was simply the truth.

Scully, however, didn't have the luxury of being in his position.

“Mulder, that is science fiction. It doesn't hold a drop of water.”

“You're wrong,” he said. “It holds everything. Don't you see?”

See it, Scully. See.

“All the mysteries of science- everything we can't understand or won't explain, every human behaviorism; cosmology, psychology, everything in the X-Files, it all owes to them… it's from them.”

“Mulder, I will not accept that. It is just not possible.”

They were dancing again, and through it all, through everything they’d been through in the past several months, it felt wonderfully familiar. And as frustrating as the dance could be, he loved it now more than ever.

I’ll always want you around to prove me wrong.

“Well, then, you go ahead and prove me wrong, Scully.”

His head pounded as he handed the phone back to Diana and dove back underneath the covers, desperate for sleep. He hoped she’d take the hint and leave. It felt as if his mind wouldn’t rest, couldn’t rest.

Tunguska. This all went back to what had happened to him in Russia, he knew it. Whatever vaccine he’d been given had merely rendered the microbial alien life inside him dormant and the artifact must have had reawakened it. It was all so clear to him now.

He needed to see Scully in person. When she saw him, the state he was in, she would have to believe. She couldn’t prove him wrong this time, he was sure about that. But he also knew she’d go to the ends of the earth for the truth if she had to.

That truth was inside him now. She would have to believe.

He squeezed his eyes shut and time passed; he was vaguely aware of voices in the living room, which was odd, considering he’d thought he was alone with Diana. But his aural dissonance had been coming and going so frequently it was difficult for him to discern which voices were real. In any event, the silence soon returned and he could feel sleep approaching at last.

***

He awoke dazed, distracted, and in pain. For a moment he forgot where he was; the room was dark, only dim lamplight from his living room illuminating the form of Diana sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Fox…” she whispered.

“Where’s Scully…?” he moaned, rolling over, his back to her. “Please, go.”

“Tell me about this artifact, Fox… let me help you, please.”

“I don’t...” he said, pain reverberating within each word. “I want Scully…”

He heard her sigh. “It’s never going to work with her, Fox. You have to see that.”

Besides the fact that he was in no state to navigate this love triangle at the moment, he knew it was a fool’s errand in any case.

“I know her, Diana," he mumbled into his pillow. "You don’t.” She didn’t get it, she never would. He didn’t want to bother trying. “Please, just let me rest.”

She was silent for a minute, and then suddenly, as if switched on by his rejection, the voices returned.

“...Must deliver him to the facility…”

“...It has to be Fox…”

“...The work..”

“What did you say?” he asked, suddenly fully at attention.

“I didn’t say anything.” He couldn’t rest. He rolled over in the bed, gripping his temples in pain.

“Fox?”

“...He knows, he has to…too late…”

“...I have no choice…”

“...So many years…”

“Fox..? Are you alright?” she asked. And what had occurred in Skinner’s office suddenly became clear to him.

He was reading her mind. He could hear her thoughts.

“Who was here before?” he asked her. “I heard voices in the living room. Were you by yourself?”

“No.” he heard, plain as day. But her lips didn’t move.

“Yes. Of course,” she lied. “What kind of question is that?”

Tell me it isn’t true, tell me…

He sat up in the bed, and slid out, backing up against the wall.

“It’s starting… the artifact… he doesn’t suspect…” the sound of her voice came from closed lips.

He shook his head, it can't be... The trust he’d given her over the past few months, the trust he’d always had in her as long as he’d known her… had any of it been real? Had any of it been true?

Mulder pressed his hand to his temple.

“not possible… gain his trust… Alex...” Her thoughts continued, uncontrollable.

Alex? Could she mean Krycek? Had he been here, in this apartment? Was she involved with him?

And if she was… could that mean… Jesus, he’d been so stupid ...

“You’re lying,” he said firmly. “Someone was here. Why were you talking to Alex Krycek?”

She began scrambling, climbing off the bed. Through his haze he could see her standing there, clad only in her skirt and a bra. “Fox, you’re not well. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he said firmly.

Liar, she’s a liar, he thought. After everything, Scully had been right. And he’d ignored every sign, every indication. Pushed aside every shred of her evidence because he wanted to believe.

She reached for him. “Fox, please…”

“Why is it so hot in here?” He was sweating; from the pain, from the betrayal, from what else he didn’t know, but he felt like hell. “Why are you here?”

“You’re not yourself, Fox.”

“Where’s Scully?” He had a sudden urge to locate the only person he knew he could trust. The only person he should have trusted all along. He’d wanted to believe that Diana was at the very least his friend, that she was worthy of his trust. He’d wanted to believe it so badly he’d become blind. Why did this keep happening to him? Why was everyone in his life such a fucking disappointment?

Everyone except Scully, he corrected himself.

He wanted to scream, to rage at the injustice, but he had no one to blame but himself. He’d broken all of his own rules for Diana and now all he had left was shame and regret.

Trust no one.

“Why are you here, Diana? Why are you back in Washington? Was this entire thing a setup? Just to get to me, to get to the X-Files?”

“No, of course not…” She looked afraid of him, and he could hear her conflict.

“I never wanted any of this, you have to believe me…”

“Spender…”

“Tell me the truth! ” he shouted at her. “Are you working for him? For that black lunged sonofabitch?!”

He heard her searching her mind for something to say, but no words were forthcoming. It didn’t matter in any event, Mulder heard it all. The whole truth. Everything she’d hidden from him since the day they met.

“The Company… all along… the truth… the Syndicate…”

“Fox, I…”

He shook his head, the cacophony getting louder and louder. The pain was unbearable. “I don’t believe this… Diana…”

“I love you.”

He fell to his knees, this unspoken declaration the last thing he heard before he passed out completely.

GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JULY 1999

Scully burst through the doors of the medical facility, panicked. She’d switched flights twice, the anxiety and fear of flying completely pushed to the back of her mind in favor of the more pressing matter at hand.

Mulder’s in serious condition.

Skinner had never sounded so grave, and she worried that he hadn’t been more forthcoming over the phone. She never would have left Mulder’s side at all if she’d known he was in real danger.

The things she’d learned in New Mexico only strengthened her belief that whatever this artifact was, it held power she didn’t understand. The cosmic galactic radiation all over it indicated Mulder could be right, that whatever this artifact was, it had come from outer space. And that radiation was not only affecting Mulder, but had put Albert Hosteen in critical condition as well.

She felt a connection with the old man that was more than just sympathy; it was empathy, for she was reminded of her own cancer and how incredibly lucky she’d been to survive. Was the source of Albert’s cancer the same as hers? Could it possibly have originated from exposure to the craft: weeks and weeks of translating and handling it? It was far too coincidental not to be the case. She had no idea how much time he had left, but she sincerely hoped she’d be able to speak to him again.

And she prayed Mulder’s own prognosis was not so dire.

When Skinner grabbed her hand a fear took root that continued to grow as she saw Mulder locked in that room all by himself. Then that fear turned into dread. This was much worse than she’d expected.

How would she learn how to help him if she couldn’t even talk to him? If he couldn’t tell her with his own words what had happened to him? She couldn’t trust doctors; she couldn’t even trust Skinner.

And she certainly couldn’t trust Diana Fowley, whom she was not pleased at all to be confronted with once again.

“Thank you for coming,” Fowley said. “He was asking for you last night.”

Ignoring Fowley, she tried to listen to the doctor. Abnormal brain activity. No sign of stroke. She was trying to take what the doctor was saying and make sense of it, but thoughts of Diana Fowley at Mulder’s apartment again- at night, no less- irritated her to no end.

“...he’s a danger to anyone,” the doctor finished.

“Not to me,” she declared. She just wanted to be with Mulder, to see him up close. She knew he would never, ever hurt her.

“Can we speak in the hall?” Fowley interjected.

Scully turned to look at her, never before having wanted to punch anyone in the face so fervently. “About what?”

It was disconcerting enough that Mulder would have Fowley at his place again after everything she and Mulder had talked about over the past few weeks, but it was downright suspicious that Fowley was the last person he’d apparently spoken to before ending up in his current state. Maybe Mulder wouldn’t see it that way, even now, but Scully wouldn’t put anything past the woman at this point.

Skinner seemed to want to move the drama out of the observation room, and gently motioned for them to step out. Scully took a last look into the monitor where Mulder faced the camera and shouted directly into it. “Scully!”  

The sound of her own name had never ached so much.

When they were out in the hallway, Fowley faced Scully. “When did all this start?”

You tell me, Scully thought. Mulder seemed to go from having a slight headache to being a psych ward patient after spending time with you.

“When we took this case, when Skinner gave it to us,” she said, looking at her boss.

“What kind of case is it?” Fowley asked.

“Investigation into a murder,” Scully answered shortly.

“Of whom?”

Skinner interrupted. “The case has nothing to do with what’s happened to him.”

“Agent Scully says it does,” Fowley insisted. “Now you know my background, my previous work on the X-Files. If I can help on this case…”

Scully regarded the other woman. She had no desire to tell Diana Fowley the details of what was really going on here. What was her angle? If she truly wanted to help Mulder, why was she asking for information rather than offering it?

“Why were you with him last night?” Scully asked.

He wouldn’t lie to me. He’s finished with you. Tell me why.

“He called me. I found him in a university stairwell, he could barely speak. He said I was the only one who would believe him, about an artifact.”

The only one who would believe him, Scully repeated in her mind. Not a chance.

She’d tried Mulder’s cell phone multiple times before finally reaching him at his apartment. It had been turned off, or disconnected. It was odd, because Mulder’s cell phone was never off. But she’d brushed it aside at the time, thinking maybe in his disillusioned state he’d forgotten to charge it or left it somewhere.

He called me.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

“You’re a liar,” Scully said, venom in her voice.

She glared at the other woman, daring her to argue, fed up with these games. It was more manipulation, more posturing. It was as if Fowley had taken what little she knew of Scully and Mulder’s relationship, made a huge assumption, and called her bluff about it. But Fowley knew nothing about their relationship, nothing.

She didn’t know Scully was his one in five billion.

Skinner made to protest, but she stopped him, knowing just as she had been right about Fowley, Mulder was probably right about Skinner. No one was to be trusted, not anymore. “You’re both liars.”

She turned and strode out of the hospital, frustrated at her inability to see Mulder but determined to help him in whatever way she could. Her mind raced with thoughts of the piece of the puzzle she already had: the artifact that had caused this. It was the only thing she had to go on, and that artifact had come from the Ivory Coast.

The answers were in Africa, and she planned to find them there. She would do whatever she could to find the cure; to save him.

I’m afraid… I’m afraid to believe.

She was afraid again, but this time she was afraid not to believe. Not believing could cost her Mulder’s life.

***

Twenty two hours later, Scully found herself wandering the coast of Africa. She was exhausted, hot, and desperate. Her hair was plastered to her neck and her clothes stuck to every inch of her skin, but as the breeze whipped across her face and sand stung her eyes, she saw.

She finally saw.

The waves crashed and receded, revealing the surface of what she could only describe as an enormous spacecraft.

Dana Scully’s entire world changed in a single instant.

[jaybug-jabbers]

All-Glitch Pokemon Blue Run Pt1: An Introduction

The following is an archive of a series of e-mails exchanged between ‘junebug15@pokemail.com’ and ‘profwg@pokemail.com.’ 

Please keep this information classified.

6/10/97 10:00am

Greetings!

I am a news reporter with the Butterfree Bugle. I received a tip about a young lady who was found unconscious just outside the town limits of Pallet Town. She reportedly wandered out there in pursuit of "a strange noise."

I am currently attempting to contact this individual so that I might interview them for further details. I would greatly appreciate any help you could offer in tracking her down. The safety of the residents of Pallet Town are my top priority. Such news could serve to alert others to any potential problems or threats in the area.

I thank you in advance for your assistance,

-W. G., Butterfree Bugle

---

6/11/97 7:22pm

Butterfree Bugle Reporter,

I think I may be able to help you locate this person. Do you work at the local office in Pewter City? Did you plan on conducting interviews there? It's odd, but I can't seem to find any W.G.'s listed on your website.

-J

---

6/11/97 9:08pm

J,

Yes, I am a recent hire, and our website has not been updated in some time, unfortunately. I do apologize for that.

I'm actually stationed quite a distance from Pewter, so I was hoping to conduct the interview over the phone or even online.

I am quite pleased to hear that you can assist me! You do live in Pallet Town, then? Did you know this young woman personally? Perhaps you could provide an address or phone number for me. This would help enormously.

Thank you greatly,

W.G.

---

6/12/97 11:31am

Butterfree Bugle Reporter,

To be honest, I do want to help you, but I have some concerns. There's plenty of scams going around online. I kind of need you to provide me some credentials or something. I hope you understand.

-J

---

6/12/97 1:06pm

J,

I understand perfectly. You are wise to take such precautions.

Please see the attached file with my work ID. I trust this will be sufficient.

-W.G.

---

6/13/97 12:14pm

"Butterfree Bugle Reporter",

I just got off the phone with the Butterfree Bugle. Spent an hour talking to them. They've never heard of you. I also described the "work ID" you sent me. It's nothing like what they use for their employees.

Buzz off, creep.

-J

---

6/13/97 11:44pm

J,

All right. Let me start again. I beg of you to read this before you block my address.

I apologize for the subterfuge. The fact is I must be extremely cautious in my line of work, and that sometimes requires a cover story. I can't very well e-mail half the country while spreading my name and purpose around.

However, I strongly suspect you are the very person I have been attempting to locate. So I will reveal to you the truth. I can only hope that you are cautious about what you do with this knowledge.

My name is William Ginkgo. I am a pokemon professor located in Cinnabar. My specialty focuses on very . . . unusual pokemon.

Look, I heard from an old contact about something strange occuring in Pallet Town. I have very good reason to believe that I could provide at least a partial explanation for who or what you encountered out there. I'm willing to wager that nobody else has been listening to you about it.

Let me help.

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/14/97 2:52pm

Professor Ginkgo,

Okay. I'll bite.

You want to hear my story, I'll tell you. But you may be disappointed. There really isn't much to tell.

It was late, like 9ish or something, the sun was about to set. I was outside with my Caterpie and my Kakuna, practicing moves. We were just in the grass right outside of town. Sometimes in the evenings I hear weird sounds coming from the distance. Like a cry of some sort, but strange . . . distorted. Almost sounds like something between a human and an animal-- I can never really tell which it is. My friends can never hear it, they tell me I'm nuts, but I��know it's there. Also, sometimes I think I can see stuff moving out of the corner of my eye? But when I turn to look it disappears.

Well, the mystery had been bugging me for ages, and I was getting tired of my friends telling me I was crazy. And that night, I heard it again. It seemed to be coming from the field just past the fence. Actually, that often seems to be where the sound's coming from.

I don't know if you've been to Pallet Town before, but there's this tall, decorative fence that goes around most of the perimeter of the town, and a big abandoned field just past it. Nothing really out there but grass, but whenever we were young and we tried to climb the fence our parents yelled at us. Nobody was ever allowed to climb it, and we were told not go out there in the field. I guess it's private property or whatever. I'm honestly not sure. But I never see anyone out there. It's practically taboo around here to even joke about going out there.

It really wouldn't even have occurred to me to break that rule, if it hadn't been for the weird noises. I spent a while perched on top of the fence, listening, and waiting to see if anybody would come by. Nobody did, so I hopped down on the other side and made my way over to the grass.

Everything was fine and normal at first, but as I got closer, I started feeling a little lightheaded, and the sounds seemed to be growing louder and higher-pitched. Almost as if I could hear them inside my head. And then I reached the grass, and my vision went blurry and started to black out. I thought for a second that I saw . . . something. I'm not sure what. It's kind of jumbled in my mind.

Then I guess I passed out, because the next thing I remember is waking up at home in my bed. My parents were there, really worried. They said somebody spotted me as they were walking by, unconscious on the ground.

And that's about it.

You're a pokemon professor, so maybe you have some idea of what's hiding out there. Is it dangerous? My friends and family still tell me I'm imagining things.

-June

---

6/14/97 6:12pm

Dear June,

Thank you for sharing your story.

I do not believe that you are simply imagining things. In fact, what you are describing is a phenomenon that has occured before. Typically it occurs when people wander too far outside a town or city limits. It does not always happen, of course, but there are certain locations . . . that seem to attract the phenomenon.

As to what's hiding out there, I may have some idea. I would like to ask: have you ever heard of glitch pokemon?

-Ginkgo

---

6/14/97 8:04pm

Uhh. What? Glitch pokemon?

---

6/15/97 1:45am

Dear June,

Allow me to give you a proper introduction and explanation.

As I said, I am Professor Ginkgo. I have a small lab on Cinnabar Island. To be more precise, there are a series of labs on Cinnabar Island housed under the same roof, and I rent a small space there.

I actually grew up in Viridian City and attended the same school as the pokemon professor in your town-- Professor Oak. We were once colleagues, in fact, along with our little circle of friends.

They were all so welcoming at first, and so supportive. We all helped each other and were quite close. Encouraged each other, learned from each other. I watched Oak get his research off the ground, uniting his interest in psychology and pokemon and developing his innovative Pokedex. I collaborated with Elm on some of his studies with pokemon breeding. I even had some of my work published in some very prestigious academic journals.

That all started to change once I started to progress further into my own research interests. Back then, I was studying Ghost-type pokemon. So much is still unknown about them. In particular, I had been investigating reports of a ghost that the Silph Scope had been unable to identify. It took many months, but eventually I encountered this creature myself. And what I experienced . . . I could not quite explain. During my struggles to understand, I uncovered some very obscure papers published in a very niche journal: they were about glitch pokemon.

The article's authors theorized about the existence of these creatures. Creatures with extraordinary features and powers, unlike anything we've ever seen before. Their underlying theory was that our world, and our very universe, can have certain points where the very fabric of reality is weakened, or . . . distorted. The very laws of nature can bend or even break at these points. And somehow, glitch pokemon can immerge from these points.

I realize this sounds remarkable and perhaps even unbelieveable. Yet the descriptions in these old papers aligned so well with my own observations and experiences. The more I pursued it, the more I learned, and the more I realized I was onto something big. Enormous. And incredibly important.

Unfortunately, my colleagues were not quite so open-minded. Even when I confronted them with the direct evidence that I had collected, they scoffed at my ideas and dismissed them as mere drivel. Crackpot theories and superstition, they told me. Journals refused to publish my work. Colleagues stopped collaborating with me. I was eventually ostracized by the entire academic community.

In my desperation I contacted the authors of the original articles I had found. It took time, but eventually I tracked them down. And here, in Cinnabar, I found a few scientists quietly studying glitch pokemon. It is here I have settled and devoted myself to my life's work.

I apologize for giving you such a lengthy personal history, but I thought it prudent to explain precisely where I'm coming from. It is important that you understand I am not just some quack or charlatan. I can tell you with certainty that glitch pokemon are very real and very incredible creatures. Just as Ghost type pokemon were once thought to be silly superstitious drivel, but were later revealed to be very real lifeforms that we could observe and capture-- thanks to the Silph Scope-- we are on the verge of another scientific epiphany.

However, we must also be very cautious. Over my years of study I have come to learn just how powerful glitch pokemon can be. They have the potential for a great deal of danger, as well, if mishandled. In the wrong hands, this could be devastating. This is why I must take so many precautions. It is also why my research is so crucial. We must come to understand these powerful creatures if we are to safely co-exist with them.

June, I believe you may be able to help me with my research. I don't wish to overwhelm you, but you spoke of frequently hearing strange sounds and seeing things you could not explain; things that nobody else seemed to notice. One of the things I have learned in my work is that not everyone seems to perceive glitch pokemon. It appears that only a select few are capable . . . or are willing. I am still uncertain as to why this is, but I suspect part of the reason is that glitch pokemon are usually very shy, ellusive creatures. It could be that something about you draws these pokemon to you, and makes them more willing to reveal themselves. In any case, the fact that you notice them at all is highly noteworthy. 

I'd like you to mull it over. You could contribute to some very important and meaningful work. And the fact of the matter is I am in desperate need of a field assistant. I may not have the popularity nor the generous funding of your local Professor Oak, but I can promise you the research will be exciting and interesting.

Let me know what you think.

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/15/97 4:38pm

Professor Ginkgo,

Are you sure you want me? I'm literally just a Bug Catcher. I don't have any aspirations to beat all the gyms or become the very best at anything, like the other kids do. I just like spending time with my bug pokemon and maybe having a few battles for fun. Honestly, I don't have much to do this summer and this whole glitch pokemon thing sounds really crazy but also . . . kinda cool? But I figured I should warn you. I'm not exactly a model pokemon trainer.

---

6/15/97 5:19pm

June,

That shouldn't be a problem. Because of the need to be discrete about our research, I actually would actively discourage you from seeking out many battles for recreational purposes. It's best to keep a low profile.

Of course, I still would provide you with a pokemon to accomapy you during field research. It's simply a necessity in this modern day for anybody going out and about-- for guarding against unruly wild pokemon, for subduing potential research subjects for capture, for protection against any ruffians that may try to pull a Rattata out and try to mug you, etc.

In addition to the sheer practicality, though, I think it would present the perfect opportunity for you to start learning about and bonding with glitch pokemon right away. There's no better way to learn about something except first-hand, after all. It would be a formal part of your research to travel with such a companion.

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/15/97 8:06pm

Wait, you're gonna give me a glitch pokemon? Really??

---

6/15/97 8:31pm

Of course, if you decide to assist me. I would also loan you a pokedex, of sorts-- one modified for my own purposes. You should find it an invaluable tool on your journey.

Would this be agreeable to you?

-Professor Ginkgo

---

6/15/97 10:00pm

To heck with it. I'm in.

-Junebug

---

End Notes

This series will follow my playthrough of Pokemon Blue using a team of only glitch pokemon. Throughout my journey I will explore and play around with a lot of other glitches in the game, too. I will not be using any sort of cheating device; these will be strictly natural glitches.

These end notes will list the specific glitches I use in each post. Obviously I’m mixing in a little lore and fiction to spice things up in these posts, but I believe the end notes should clarify exactly what’s going on. I hope you all enjoy the adventure with me!

Click For the Next Part of the Series!

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Nov 20, 2019.