#thinking. like. how many near death experiences has he gone through up there.....

[aphantimes]

I actually had a mental image of Knux keeling over dying alone on Angel Island and his bod being left at the same spot he fell for weeks,months or even years. Damn that is what I call angst😭

HJHSGHRH HOW DARE YOU DO THIS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

like... oguhggh.... what if it happened somewhere the animals don't visit. like down in lava reef or hidden palace. no one but the animals of this small isolated landmass even know he exists, in order to notice him disappearing. they couldn't help him if they wanted to...... the animals would never know what happened. no one would ever know. and no one else in the entire world is looking for him.....

[kpopfanfictrash]

Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That���ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

 © kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Overwhelmed

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Prompt: Reader has bouncing between so many things in her life that is leaving her chronically exhausted. It hasn’t been too much of a problem until one afternoon. The only one that seems to notice is JJ.

Warnings: Near death experience

The blinding sun crinkles your eyes as you drive your way to the Chateau. Sweat beats down your entire body from the day working with your father. He is a construction worker with his own company, and you work with him during the summer for some spending money. Even though he is your father, he still has you doing all the same heavy lifting as anyone else that works for him.

Normally every summer has been fine. You also work at a local gym on Figure 8 almost every day for a few hours. You’d work with your dad in the morning, work at the gym in the afternoon, and hangout or relax with your friends in the evening. 

Though for some reason this summer your dad thinks any free time you have will be with him, unless you’re sleeping of course. You’ve had talks with him, and he always seems to be on the same page. That is until he starts telling you all that he needs help with and how you are going to come and help before and after the gym all week.

Luckily today ended up being a day he didn’t have much for you to do. Instead of wasting another second you made a beeline for your friends before he could change his mind. You love your dad, and the extra cash, but trying to keep up with work and maintaining your social life leaves very little room to just breathe. 

Though you find yourself struggling to try. From the constant buzz of life that has become almost normal, you find yourself getting anxious anytime you are just laying around. Even if you are with your friends. Anytime you aren’t on the boat or helping with the newest endeavor of finding the gold, you feel like you should be doing something.

“Hey it’s my girl!” JJ shouts from the couch on the porch. Beer in hand.

“Hey babe.” You say with a smile after greeting him with a kiss. “Did you guys catch anything on the boat?”

“Not much but we did manage to save some leftovers for you,” your best friend John B offers. “It’s only been sitting out a few minutes.”

Feeling your stomach rumble, you assure him that you are hungry enough to eat it raw. Walking into the kitchen you let your smile faulter. You allow the wandering exhaustion to settle over you for a moment. Holding back the exhaustion is exhausting enough.

You feel the nice warm water wash your hands of drywall dust, paint, and sweat. Heading over to the counter you find your plate and grab a fork before rejoining the boys. Kie apparently has to work tonight since she was out all day with the boys. Though she promised to come back over after her shift at The Wreck.

You take the empty seat next to JJ, and as you do an involuntary sigh escapes your lips. As you dig into your dinner you hope that the guys haven’t noticed. If they ask you if everything is okay, you’re afraid some tears of frustration and tiredness would break through. Instead you focus your attention on the food in front of you and the latest pointless debate between the boys. Before you know it, every last bite on the plate is gone.

“Hey lets go back out on the HSM Pogue!” John B excitedly gets up. “Sun is setting, nice night dip.”

Everyone excitedly agrees and you head into the spare bedroom to slip into your swimsuit. As you pull up your straps, completing your ensemble, there is a knock on the door. Without asking who it is, you tell them to come in. Only one person would want to come in and that is JJ. It is basically his room after all.

Closing the door behind him, JJ takes in the sight of you. The newly defined muscles on your arms and legs from the work with your dad. You can’t complain about the benefit of the job. Though when his eyes meet yours all you can see is concern.

“If you’d rather stay in and relax I’ll stay with you.” JJ offers you. An overwhelming sweep of adoration floods through your senses, but next comes the wave of anxiety. No, I can’t do nothing.

“It’s okay, we can go on the boat.” Your voice upbeat and convincing of the energy you do not contain. “I’m fine.”

Even as the last two words leave your lips, tears form behind your eyes. Thankfully the room is dark, no power on the Cut from the hurricane. Unconvinced, JJ nods and heads back out with the other two. You take two deep breathes as you clear your eyes and slow your now racing heart. With a quick nod at yourself in the mirror, you make your way out to the HSM Pogue.

The sound of the waves hitting against the boat is almost enough to pull you to sleep. That and the warmth of JJ’s arm around your waist. Leaning into him you find your eyes fluttering shut every few minutes. If this wasn’t the first time you’d physically seen everybody in days, you would have just stayed at the Chateau with JJ.

Situating yourself, you lean toward the cooler for a cold beer. Even though you know alcohol is a narcotic it just gives you something to do than think about how tired you are. From the corner of your eye you see JJ analyzing you. Aside from a beer here and there, you aren’t much of a drinker. It isn’t until you send him a smile that he drops his watchful gaze and smiles back.

“This looks like a good spot.” John B insists as he slows the boat to a stop and throws the anchor over.

The four of you jump into the cool water. The sudden alertness gifted by the water sends you through the break into the sky. Though as your body adjusts to its temperature the feeling of exhaustion returns.

JJ wraps his arms around you and peppers your face with kisses. Squealing, you try to pry him away from you but your efforts are futile. Taking your frame in his, JJ manages to throw you a few feet in the direction of Pope. Who of course fakes offence at the unseen attack. Water is thrashed around by each person until a full blown water war breaks out.

Swimming around to the boat, you take deep breathes as you watch the boys continue splashing around. You plan to hide out for a bit before climbing onto the boat and performing a cannon ball that will soak everyone. The splash to end all splashes. Not wanting to spoil the fun yet, you float on your back in the water. 

You close your eyes and feel the cool water soak into your warm skin. The aches and pains from the day’s work unravel from your body. Dark clouds filter behind your eyelids as the sounds around you become more muffled. You know you should get up but you can’t will your body to move. 

The water around you laps farther up your face, and within a few moments you’re completely submerged into the water. Making the mistake to breathe, a burning sensation fills your lungs and your body fights out of its own slumber. But you’ve already breathed in too much water and your body is still too exhausted to propel your body toward the surface. 

**

Looking around JJ realizes that he hasn’t seen (Y/N) in a few minutes. He calls out (Y/N)’s name while circling around the boat. Giving up on swimming, JJ climbs up on the boat and surveys around the best he can in the dark.

Panic rises within JJ’s chest and his breathing becomes labored. JJ knew he should have suggested harder that you two stay at the Chateau. He could tell through (Y/N)’s eyes how exhausted she truly is. Just a few nights ago he went to surprise her at home. Crawled in through her window with a big bag of snacks and drinks that will keep her up well into the night. However, the moment JJ wrapped his arms around her, (Y/N) was knocked out cold.

With his shaking hands, JJ grabs for a flashlight and shines it on the water. JJ knows he won’t be able to see anything but he can’t think straight. Just before he is ready to radio for help he sees a bubble rise to his right.

Not wasting any time, JJ dives into the water. His eyes spot (Y/N) a few feet down from him, unmoving. A shot of ice cold fear radiates through his body as he fights his limbs to move him toward (Y/N). JJ wraps his arms around her waist and propels his legs to break the surface above.

“HELP!!” JJ screams to John B and Pope. “HELP!!”

The guys hear him and turn to face his panic-stricken face. Realizing that (Y/N) is in JJ’s arms, the guys spring into action. John B gets onto the boat while Pope joins JJ and lifts (Y/N)’s limp body. JJ grabs onto the boat and pulls his body up and is quickly joined by Pope.

“Tell me how to do CPR!” JJ frantically shouts to Pope.

“You think I know?”

“You’re the fucking genius,” JJ lays you flat on your back, “so help me goddammit! I can’t lose her!”

“Okay okay!” Pope presses his fingers against his temple as he thinks about what to do. “Chest compressions! Two sets of 30 and then mouth to mouth. Check for breathing and then start over!”

JJ places his hands over (Y/N)’s chest and begins to press up and down. His actions start off timid, afraid that he will hurt her but feverishly picks up when he sees there is no change. Lowering his mouth to (Y/N)’s, JJ breathes air past her lips and sees her chest rise and fall. JJ can’t believe that only moments ago the last time he was this close the two of you were kissing, and now he is trying to breathe life into her.

I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. She’s my everything. I can’t lose her…

JJ presses up and down (Y/N)’s chest to this mantra. Years ago, his mother left and his father became a raging drunk who is always on someone else’s meds. (Y/N) made him stable, made his life feel stable. Without her, JJ is scared he will end up just like his father. (Y/N) has showed him that there is more to life than the Outer Banks. They always talked about leaving one day, buying a house, running a business, and eventually starting their own family. Right now, all those happy plans are slipping past JJ’s fingertips along with (Y/N).

**

A burning rush of water flows up your throat as a coughing fit surges through your chest. Grabbing on to something nearby, you flip on your side to help expel the contents. Even as all the water leaves your system you keep coughing and feel as though you will never stop.

After what feels like forever, your coughing subsides and you feel two strong arms wrap around your torso. As you take in what happened, you feel your body begin to shake at the realization that you could have died. Tears flood your cheeks and fall against JJ’s bare shoulders. That’s when you register that JJ is shaking as well.

“JJ,” you say as your hand holds the back of his head, “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

JJ doesn’t speak but shakes his head against your skin. His head fits in the crook of your neck and you feel him breathing in your sent. It’s as if he doesn’t believe that you are awake and breathing.

“JJ look at me.” You whisper.

Reluctantly JJ’s eyes meet yours. You see his blood shot eyes and tear-stricken face. JJ leans his forehead against yours as his fingers run through your hair. A pit hits the bottom of your stomach as you think about how worried JJ was and how reckless you were.

“Next time,” JJ takes a deep breath as his voice catches, “can we just stay at the Chateau?”

“Yes, yes.” You sigh in relief.

JJ connects your lips with his. The kiss starts off soft and gentle, but JJ quickly turns it hungry and desperate. It’s as if he needs you instead of air. In this moment you make yourself a promise that you won’t over work yourself from now on. You’ve realized that you aren’t the only one that will become overwhelmed.

[hjpslytherclaw]

Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

[keresnotceres]

TF 141: Civilian Lover

[sfw] cw(s): mentions of death/abduction.

sorry for leaving u guys hungry for like two weeks i have no excuse

Likely knew you before he was in the military, perhaps you were someone he went to school with or the two of you were coworkers at a part-time job. Otherwise, how you two managed to get close during his months away on deployment is a mystery.

Ghost keeps his life outside of work private, but you more so. He refused to tell anyone he had a partner until Price accidentally squeezed it out of him during a casual drink.

He worries about you more than you worry about him. He knows what he does, he knows there’s always the chance he won’t make it back to you. He’s only told you that he’s military, not that he goes on near suicide missions.

It likely takes him until a near-death experience, in which he truly thinks he’s not going to make it back to you, that he lets you know a bit more about his job. It’s not much, but he tells you who he works with and why his leaves aren’t as long as other military personnel may be.

Likes having dates at home. He doesn’t want to show you off in public in fear that being seen with him will get you killed or kidnapped to be used as leverage by an enemy. He likes watching movies he can relax during, such as shitty rom-coms, so that he can just admire you instead of having to pay attention to the movie.

Also loves cooking with you regardless of your skill level when it comes to cooking. It’s the level of intimacy that comes with trusting each other enough to be comfortable in the kitchen together that makes him melt a bit.

If you fell first, he absolutely fell harder. Is just absolutely smitten with you. Loves to dote on you and treat you like the most special person to ever exist. Will absolutely give you princess (or other equivalent) treatment just because he can.

Has like five pictures of you in his wallet and like five more hidden in his tactical gear. There’s no theme to them either, they’re just a collection of his favorite photos of you. There’s probably just so many in his room too.

Could probably be convinced to teach you how to handle a pistol. He likes the idea of showing off his own weaponry prowess and wants you to know how to protect yourself if it comes down to it.

Apprehensive to tell you what he does for work besides the military aspect. He’ll tell you he’s a sergeant in a Special Operations unit but you can’t get much else out of him. Has nightmares that he can’t explain to you due to the secrecy of his work and it makes him feel guilty.

At first he didn’t expect you to give him the same love he gave you due to the nature of his job, being away for so long and only being home for a few months (at best) at a time. He realized eventually that you live him despite the fact he’s gone for long periods of time and it made him all the more smitten with you.

Always makes a point to catch up with you when on leave. Likes to hear the gossip you’ve curated over the months, what new things happened at your own job: who quit, who got hired. The possibilities are endless. Sometimes he even comes in swinging with gossip of his own; a few recruits have had their names dragged through the mud.

Probably moved into the relationship very fast, didn’t even think about how his job could put a wedge between you two early on. Didn’t expect you to stay with him after his first deployment was over, but was so happy when you stayed.

Plans dates for you two to go on whenever he has downtime on base. He likes being cheesy about them, too. Always has flowers, always has a stupid one-liner at the ready, and always pays. He will not be convinced to let you pay.

Can and will gush about you to his friends and the other that members of the Task Force. Price is most willing to hear him talk about you and sometimes offers advice if Soap feels stuck, but Gaz is usually the easiest to talk to about relationships.

Please god let him take you shopping. It doesn’t matter if it’s clothes, shoes, or even grocery shopping. Let him take you. He is going to have the time of his life. Will compare prices like a grandmother — and will coupon like one too. Do not underestimate his shopping abilities.

Occasionally brings home trinkets for you that he found on missions. Be it a nice rock, a cool looking bullet casing, or a dead man’s knife; you better believe he is bringing it home for you to indulge in the crow instinct. Once brought you a cool ring he found in the dirt — it cost quite the pretty penny.

Writes you letters when deployed :( Literally writes pages upon pages of letters just so you can have more than just his clothes in the closet and pictures of him. He’ll talk about anything and everything he can do that you can know that he’s not dead and is waiting to come home to you.

You probably thought he was a father the first time you saw him, and that led you to believe he was married. But he is not either of those things until you’re ready!

Has thought about having a family, but doesn’t want to make you feel like you need to have a family to make him happy. He really just needs you to be happy and fulfilled.

Whenever he comes home, he makes a big show of it. Will spend three days just attached to you because he’s missed you too much to even think about letting you go. You will not convince him to leave you alone, he just wants to love you :(

Speaking of, when Price comes home from deployment he is immediately by your side doing domestic things. Yes, he does the cooking and yes he does the cleaning!! Takes care of you while he can and always makes sure you take care of yourself when he can’t.

Has definitely made comments about you to the boys, and has definitely gotten a lot of questions back. Whether it be Soap basically taunting him for information about you or Ghost asking how you’re doing, you’ve become quite the topic amongst the 141 (and you don’t even know it).

Has tried to tell you what he does for work but can’t bring himself to explain that he puts his life on the line for his job and that he could never come home one day. You understand the military can be dangerous, but you don’t know how dangerous his military career is. If you found out without him telling you, he’d definitely feel extremely guilty no matter your response.

[feelbokkie]

Sire, Sire

Feeltober Day 8

genre: fluff and slight crack

pov: 2nd person

description: Changbin wants you to sing for him, and you get to pick the song.

pairing: Changbin x siren!reader

warnings: none

word count: 807

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

☀️Feelbokkie M.list ☀️

👻13 Days of Feeltober👻

It's a sight that's not uncommon in your relationship with Changbin. You standing with him holding your hand while he's on his knees. If anyone else was in the room, they would think that he was either proposing to you or apologizing for doing the unthinkable. But in reality, he's just whipped.

"Please!" He begs, slightly tugging on your arm. "Just one song?" Changbin had gone out with the boys and had a few drinks. He came home tipsy, begging you to sing for him. When you refused, he got down on his knees and held your hand in his.

"Binnie," You say softly, stroking his hair.

When you first met Changbin, it's like he had his own version of a siren song and you fell in love almost instantly. He was unlike any man you met before. He was warm, great at listening, and always made sure to give you space to be yourself. And the best part? He wasn't under your spell. You were so nervous at first about singing around him because you knew that his feelings for you wouldn't be his own, but a spell used by generations of sirens before you to manipulate men to their deaths. And while most sirens no longer use their powers to kill, many of them still use it to control. And you hated it. Sure, you've done it in the past with some of your relationships, but it always left you feeling hollow inside and made you second-guess every relationship in your life.

You were careful of your tone around him, making sure nothing sounded even remotely close to you singing. And then one day, Changbin decided to surprise you at your house while you were cleaning. Your window was open and he heard you singing along to a song. When he showed up, acting only slightly more clingy than he normally was with you, you realized what had happened. You couldn't just break up with him, the effects that he would suffer as he would slowly experience would have only been worse if you didn't stay near him. So your plan was to cut ties with him once the spell wore off and move away. But as the week turned into weeks, you became increasingly worried that he was suffering a weird side effect that some men have. You were careful to not sing around him again, but his feelings towards you hardly changed. In fact, he was more into you than before.

"You know I can't be sired anymore so there's no harm." He pouts. "I just really want to hear you sing."

You think for a moment, weighing the options. You know it's safe for both Changbin and all of your neighbors. Changbin helped you soundproof your apartment when you realized how thin the walls are after an incident with an innocent recent university graduate who lived next door.

"Fine, but I choose the song," You sigh, faking a stern look.

"Yes! Whatever song you want." Changbin gets up from the floor and drags you to the couch, stumbling a little bit.

You slide your phone out of your pocket, looking through karaoke versions of songs, waiting for one to jump out at you while Changbin stares at you with loving eyes. Your thumb freezes as you see a familiar name, a smirk creeping up on your face.

"Okay, I found one." You sit up straighter and turn to Changbin, the video loading on your screen.

Changbin continues to stare at you with a stupid smile on his face and a slight twinkle in his eyes…The poor idiot has no idea what song is about to play.

The opening notes of the song begin to play through your phone speakers and you almost miss the twitch that blinks across Changbin's face. As more of the song plays, his smile slowly drops as he realizes what it is.

"Wait no, not that song." He quickly snatches the phone out of your hand and turns the song off.

"You agreed that I could choose the song." You laugh, louder than you intend to.

"Yeah, but not one of Pdnim's songs. Anything but that." He groans.

"But 'Fever' is so fun." You giggle as you poke his sides.

"Y/n, please. One song, not by that man. I will pay you."

"Am I a jukebox?"

"Wait no. That's not what I meant."

"I'm offended," You fake pout, turning away from him.

"Fine!" He panics, handing you the phone back. "Fine, you can sing it. But just this once."

You turn back and smile, kissing his nose as you start the song over again.

"Yeah, yeah," He waves off like he's annoyed. But the dopey, 'in love' look he had earlier is back on his face. "I'm sure it's going to sound better with you singing it anyway."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

Taglist

@amyyscorner @puppysmileseungmin @veedoesntknaur @itsseohannbin @marked-unknown

@honeypaintedskies @jaydebow @want2besomeoneelse @lanatheawesome @starlostastronaut

[roseeycreates-blog]

I AM IN MISERY

Whenever I think about a new Avatar after Korra, it makes me sad, If Korra was gone... and so is Lin 😭😭😭 And since we are on this topic, It's a hard pill to swallow, but I think Lin would probably be the first one to go among the Gaang kids.

I'll base this on their line of work, lifestyle, environment, and traumas (since trauma can affect physical health too).

Let's start with who I think would be the last to go.

Suyin Beifong

She's the youngest among them. Traveling the world gave her happiness and an opportunity to work on her traumas (like her conflicts with her mom and sister). As the Matriarch of Zaofu, she's surrounded and cared for by the best healers and physicians. We also see how active she is with dancing and other hobbies, which makes her the healthiest.

Firelord Izumi

Before you comment "Izumi is the oldest," I know, but hear me out: We saw just a bit of her in LOK, but have you seen how fit she is for her age? As a monarch, she's been cared for by servants and healers/physicians since birth. I bet she hasn't eaten a rotten meal in her life. While she can fight, as long as Zuko is alive, he'll protect Izumi at all costs. Not just him, but the whole army of the Fire Nation will as well. So yeah, LONG LIVE THE FIRELORD! We don't know much about her, so I don't have an entry with trauma...

Tenzin/Kya

These two are tied. Let's start with Kya. She's one of the greatest healers, and if she's ever injured, she has Katara to heal her. The only trauma of hers that I know of (same with Bumi) is that Aang favored Tenzin and neglected them. Knowing her personality, she doesn't seem to mind it a lot. For her, she still has her mom, Uncle Sokka, and Bumi. As for her lifestyle, she can be a bit reckless at times, but her nature as a healer always prevails.

With Tenzin, he eats a healthy diet (Air Nomad diet). Like Kya and Bumi, Katara has him covered. He doesn't have many injuries because he doesn't fight often unless it's necessary. The main trauma he faced was his father's death and the pressure of being "the last Airbender." He worked through that by getting married and having kids. Additionally, as the leader of the Air Nation, his health is cared for by the air acolytes.

Bumi

To be honest, I almost made him tied with Lin because of their line of work and their recklessness at times. He got fighting injuries like Lin and often faced near-death experiences. They just differ in terms of trauma. Bumi handled his trauma very well; we can see how bubbly his personality is. Like Kya, despite Aang being absent, he had his mom, uncle, and sister. "You always know when I need a hug," Bumi once said to Kya, implying that they had each other's back. Oh, and he's also retired now and got bending, so yeah, his lifespan got extended.

LASTLY *sighs*

Lin Beifong

It's incredibly tough to admit, but her job is one of the toughest, and she didn't even like it. She took it to seek approval from her mom, who wasn't even happy about it. She endured numerous injuries from fighting triads, being electrocuted by chi blockers while wearing metal armor, and facing near-death experiences. Her traumas include conflicts with her mom and sister, her breakup with Tenzin, and having her bending taken away. She also has the worst way of handling these issues—bottling everything up until it's overwhelming. Her lifestyle and environment haven't been favorable either; due to work demands, she likely doesn't eat proper meals, often relying on instant noodles or beef jerky, and I bet she even skips meals. Perhaps the saddest part is that for a long time, she didn't have anyone to take care of her. Lin definitely got the short end of the stick. 😭😭😭

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love part 2 (new steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part one here Also on AO3 (where it's tragically in need of some love *sobs*) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Chapter Two

Steve POV

Steve blinks his eyes open. Fear lurches then fades. Leaning over him, kinda blurry, are… Robin? Munson!?! He’s at home. Lying on the couch in his parents’ living room, to be precise.

“Steve? You back with us?” Robin appears wild-eyed, spooked out. She’s holding a bloodied cloth over his bat bites, which stab like new again.

Steve presses the heel of his hand to his brow, disguising his pained whimper with a shaky, “Yeeeeah.”

“Phew! Not delirious? Only a bit woozy, huh?”

“You seriously still shitting yourself about rabies?”

“To be honest, no. That’s slithered so far down my list of things to lose my mind over, I’d forgotten. Trust me, he’s as likely to have it as you now.”

Eddie, who hovers at her shoulder, pokes out his tongue, kinda jokey. The rest of Eddie’s face is still slightly blood-smeared. Haunted. His hair is a mad mess, his bandana repurposed as a bandage about his elbow. Steve glances down his own aching body, which is damp, vaguely shivery. Near naked, in fact, with a towel tucked around his waist.

Oh yeah. He went for a swim, and then… 

“Shit! Are you seriously mopping my blood with Mom’s linen napkins?” Steve tries to push himself up, and flops back down, humiliatingly fast. On top of that, his head throbs—when does it not, these days? He makes a more concerted effort to sit, forcing himself through a wave of nausea and dizziness, then notices: “Shit, shit, SHIT! I’ve bled on the couch—this cost a thousand bucks!”

“I knew there was a reason Wayne avoided white faux leather,” says Eddie, as he and Robin share a look. “Oh, and a Munson never splashes less than fifteen-hundred bucks on soft furnishings.”

“You’re hilarious,” mutters Steve.

“Your Pops can chew my head off,” says Eddie. “Some of that blood is yours truly’s. I mean, I got got bad. Really bad. And theeeeen… I got better.” He narrows his eyes to inquisitorial slits, which bewilder Steve, given how rough he feels.

Robin lifts the ruined napkin. “You’re bleeding like before Wheeler first bandaged you up. It makes no sense.”

“Nothing’s made sense for about two and a half years,” Steve points out. Actually, scratch that. Little of his life has made much sense. “There’s a first aid kit in the kitchen, with proper bandages. Where did you think I got the Hibistat towelettes from? Didn’t you morons think to look?”

Robin hurries off. Eddie takes over holding the now thoroughly disgusting napkin over Steve’s bites. “Woah, he’s not lying,” she calls. “His parents keep an actual first aid kit with actual useful crap in it.”

“Yeah, in case you forgot in the last thirty seconds,” says Steve, “the Harrington family bleed.”

“It doesn’t even come out green,” Eddie says. “Totally destroys your ‘rich folk are aliens’ theory, Buckley.”

“Haha,” snarks Steve.

“This might take a minute,” calls Robin. “I had no idea there were so many sorts of dressings. We don’t want a triangle one, huh?”

Left alone, Eddie doesn’t seem able to look Steve in the eye. He’s giving off such awkward vibes that Steve takes pity, nudges Eddie’s hand away, holds the napkin himself.

“I guess this is where I thank you for saving my life,” says Eddie.

“From what I could gather from Dustin, you’d only gone and done the same for us. Not a hero? Total bull.”

“Those weren’t normal circumstances.” 

Eddie’s so squirmy, Steve flinches away too. He’s felt drawn to Eddie for some time. He likes the guy way more than he’d expected, finds he likes looking at him too, crazy rocker tresses and all, but… Jesus Christ! Talk about shitty timing.

It’s not the first time Steve’s been blindsided by a crush on a guy. Plus, he knows Eddie is queer; he’s one of the few other friends that Robin’s lately ‘come out’ to. However, Steve’s simply not gotten the energy to figure out if the weird fizzle of chemistry he feels is all in his head. What he really wants is to stagger upstairs to bed and sleep for a week. No time for that, though. He groans, threads the fingers of his free hand through his damp hair.

 “We need to take advantage of this earthquake chaos. Get you outta town right now before somebody comes looking.”

“Yeah. I figured as much.” Eddie sighs hard. “No more facing down ferocious monsters. I return to being Eddie the Banished.”

“Not much choice, man. Look, we can bring bedding, whatever supplies we need from here. Take one of Dad’s cars and find a place to lay low till we know what’s happening and what the next plan of attack is.”

“You were worried about the couch and now you’re suggesting we jack your Pop’s wheels?”

“I don’t give a crap about the furniture—it was a dumb knee jerk reaction. I mean, things change. People change. Last time I looked, we weren’t exactly bestest buds.”

Now we’re off saving each other’s lives.

A loud crash from the kitchen slices between them. “Sorry!” yells Robin. “Kinda dropped… everything.”

“Need some help there, Rob?” Steve tries to push himself to his feet. His head rush is instant and epic; his vision blacks out, nearly taking his entire consciousness with it.

“Easy, easy!” Eddie’s arms are around him, clumsily guiding him back down. Steve whimpers before he can stop himself; his stomach churns and he feels painfully sick. Eddie wedges a cushion beneath Steve’s head, presses the cloth back to Steve’s bleeding side. “Robin’s right. You need those injuries looked at. I go alone.”

“No.” Steve snatches a shaky breath. “Way I see it, we’re both deep in the shit."

“I’m the one with the murder rap snapping at my butt, Harrington.”

“And I’m the one who’s been harbouring a known fugitive, stealing Winnebagos, and Christ knows what else. Crap, I bet they’ll blame me for Nance’s sawn-off shotgun. While the rest of those underage brats get off light, I’ll be dragged to jail as sure as you.”

“Your daddy can afford a lawyer, man.” At least Eddie’s looking at Steve now. His words still feel like a punch in Steve’s already bleeding gut—with those knuckle dusters that’d gotten lost somewhere on the ride.

Steve retaliates with as daggers a glare as he can conjure: “You wanna thank me for saving your life, Munson? Then stop trying to ditch me.”

Part 3

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

...

tags: @estrellami-1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, I would probably cry... in a good way, honest! Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :)

[pod-together]

Pod-Together Day 8 Reveals 2024

A gradual decline into disorder [text, audio] (Criminal Minds (US TV), Inception (2010)) written by asuralucier, performed by peasina Summary: Whenever Reid has a near-death experience, his older brother shows up to cook him dinner, and they don’t talk about it. (After the events of “Entropy”, Reid receives a visitor.)

sing this one song (to the world) (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù) written by coffee_and_cardamom, performed by Gavilan Summary: There is a curse sitting in Lán Wàngjī’s bones, and a flute in her ears.

A hymn to a mother scorned (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore) written by GwenAChan, performed by hiddendruid, itallcomesbacktoandreil, BubblesKat, and mahons_ondine Summary: This is a familiar story, told in an even more familiar world. The story of a girl torn from her mother’s arms, and how that woman turned her fury to the world. A hymn to Demeter, through a new lens.

world with purple skies (mulberry down!! - Nicole Kornher-Stace) written by Koschei_B and Rosemarycat5, performed by Koschei_B and Rosemarycat5 Summary: Scenes from the Exiled One and the Other from the dream world with purple skies musing on temporary death and strange yet accommodating worlds.

Now you are in my Power, to Slay or Spare as I will! (Merlin (TV)) written by mdzjodrt, performed by Penndragon27 Summary: Canon divergent from s02e03 where Merlin decides to admit to Morgana that she does have magic and he reveals his magic to her along with Gwen and Arthur finding out as well.

you are the one (I have been waiting for) [text, audio] (9-1-1 (TV)) written by OfTheDirewolves, performed by Matriaya

keep the earth below my feet (for all my sweat, my blood runs weak) (Good Omens (TV)) written by shadoweddepths, performed by elle_dubs Summary: “A-Aziraphale,” Crowley stutters, a bit helplessly. He looks – lost. Like he doesn’t know what to do, or say, or think. So Aziraphale makes the decision. He steps forward, reaches out with his hands. Places them both on Crowley’s shoulders before he can step back again. Underneath his touch, the demon freezes. He’s so still, so unmoving, that Aziraphale is certain he’s even stopped breathing again. Has he gotten it wrong? He was so sure, after what happened at the wedding – but Crowley is frozen beneath his touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t know what to do. But then – it’s like a dam breaking. Like it’s too much, all at once. Crowley crumples forward. Collapses into Aziraphale’s arms, all the strength gone out of his limbs. His arms end up slung across Aziraphale’s shoulders, hands locked together behind Aziraphale’s head. There’s no – he doesn’t make a sound, but the raw agony on his face, the sheer openness of it, says more than words ever could. “I’ve got you,” Aziraphale says, now sounding a bit helpless himself. “You’re alright, Crowley.” (When Crowley returns from his laudanum-induced trip to Hell, Aziraphale helps pick up the pieces.)

After the Crash [text, audio] (Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005)) written by shadowsong26, performed by mangotart_reads Summary: When a small disaster hits the Lower Ring, it brings someone unexpected back into Zuko’s life.

The Fic/Pod at the End of the Universe (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Radio)) written by SweetPollyOliver, performed by semperfiona, 42donotpanic, elle_dubs, SweetPollyOliver, KitKaos, pezzax, and wilfriede0815 Summary: In which our heroes arrive at an alien world who are quite convinced that Arthur Dent is the fabled saviour of their homeworld and Arthur is very embarrassed about how many towels Ford is stealing from the temple they're being accomodated in, in addition to all the general adulation being heaped on his head.

While the tide is low (One Piece (Anime & Manga)) written by Whalen, performed by Cricketbones Summary: There was a strange tightness in her chest when Vivi’s eyes fell on her in the almost-darkness, with the smell of her home around her and the sky melting into the sea. It was all too easy to imagine they were sitting among different trees on an island so very far away. Maybe that’s what led her to keep talking past the pleasantries. Maybe that’s why she told her about her mom and her sister and an old man she never called dad but wished she had.

[evievigilant]

So after this poll I started thinking about Albert owning a rat more, and it spiraled into this whole headcanon about how and why he ends up with one.

In university, Albert knew about and saw rats being used in experiments. He strikes me as the type to primarily stay in his field but dabble in a bunch of other disciplines, including ones that more heavily experiment on rats. A part of him felt a bit bad for them, but he was able to push it down, mostly because of the possible contributions to science that would come out of those experiments.

Also not to mention the general attitude around rats, since they're considered vermin, dirty animals, etc. He probably didn't think as positively about them as other animals.

So fast forward to after his trial, and Albert is feeling a lot of guilt over Asman's death. Even if it was proven to not be his fault, he still feels awful about placing someone in a potentially dangerous situation all for the sake of science. He might start thinking about how even if people hadn't conspired to kill Asman with the experiment, something else might have gone wrong and killed him anyway (since I think his faith in himself is shaken after the incident, too. I know Barok's whole "laudable not laughable" speech was meant to reassure him but there's only so much one speech can do for a man). He doesn't want to put anyone through that again.

Since he has this on the mind, he remembers the rats that were used in experiments and put in danger in many instances. And so now he's in a position where he feels even worse for them.

So one day he makes the rather impulsive decision to get a rat as a pet.

The idea behind it is that he hopes he can prevent one living creature from being used in an experiment, especially one that is especially at risk of being used in a lab.

He gets a big cage, some toys, and really starts putting effort into making sure the rat's living conditions are good. He spends as much time with it as possible and observes what it enjoys most. I think he tries to do his research but a lot of it ends up being trial and error.

Albert, on a whim, starts to see if he can teach the rat tricks. And to his delight, it works! The rat can learn some simple commands and even play fetch (all things rats can in fact do!). Albert starts to realize how absolutely smart it is (and adorable) and starts writing down all the things the rat learned. He also takes the time to write down some cute anecdotes about it, too.

Because really, he is starting to love this rat. He finds himself taking it with him all throughout his home, usually putting it in his lab coat pocket. A couple of times, he's tried to take walks with it outside (making sure it's close to him). Sometimes, since he notices the rat is fascinated by his hair, he'll let it burrow into it. Every time he takes it out, it's a mess of tangles in there, but hey, the things you do for your pets.

And of course, Albert's happy knowing that he's doing exactly what he set out to do, which is giving this rat a good life. He swears he's even seen it smile.

Now, rats don't live very long. And since Albert likely got it as an adult (or near that), they don't spend too much time on Earth with each other (rats live ~2 years or so depending on the type). When it eventually passes away, Albert is of course very upset. He cared about it so much. He spends the days after its death reading the notes and anecdotes he kept about it, partially to look back on all the fond memories, but also because it's proof of how happy and well-kept it was. I don't know if he expected his notes to be anything more than that, but he's happy it is.

I imagine he'll get more rats eventually, especially now that he's got all the stuff for one and more expertise, but the first one will always hold a special place in his heart. It helped him a lot after his trial, by not only giving him something to feel proud of but also making him smile, and for that he'll always be grateful.

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

It’s a topic of conversation that comes up often. Ghost brings it up whenever he wants to argue, needs to get tension out and this is the only way he knows how when he doesn’t have a knife or a gun in his hands.

“Just leave me alone, Johnny.”

Soap lets out a long breath but doesn’t turn away from his journal, the soft scratch of pen against paper having been the only sound in the room before Ghost decided to be a brat.

“And why would I do that, Ghost? I’m quite comfortable here.” Still, his head is down, not looking at Ghost. It irritates him, for Soap to think he doesn’t have to be an active participant in this. So, he slams his hand down on the desk.

“Do you think I’m joking? Fuckin’ hell, Soap. The longer you’re around me, the more danger you put yourself in.”

Soap’s eyes glance at him from beneath his lashes but he doesn’t turn to face him completely. His hand pauses in whatever he’s writing, and there’s a distinct lack of tension in his body that only riles Ghost up more.

“You think you’re dangerous, Simon?” Soap asks, and Ghost almost barks out a sharp, “Yes, yes I am. And I’m going to hurt you,” but Soap doesn’t give him the chance. He hums. “You think you’re a monster.” Not a question this time and it makes Ghost pause. This is…this isn’t how this argument usually goes with Soap. Soap is never this calm. He gets as angry as Ghost does, yells back. But he’s so /quiet/, it’s almost scary.

“Yes.” Ghost breathes anyway, and Soap hums again, dropping his eyes back to his journal and continues to write, as if Ghost isn’t falling apart right next to him now, wound up so tight and on the verge of losing it.

“You are.”

/Oh/. What? Wait, that-

“You’re a goddamn mess, Simon Riley, and hard to love. Nearly impossible. Broken in all the worst way.” Soap lists off every insult Ghost has ever used against himself, and for the first time, it actually /hurts/. Coming from the man he loves more than anything else in the world, Soap’s tone is plain and unbothered….

“Johnny…”

“Do you think it makes you special, Simon?” Soap asks, cutting Ghost off again. “You think you’re the only one?” Even now, Soap doesn’t spare Ghost another look, still writing, looking like this is just a normal everyday conversation between the two of them.

For a moment, Ghost can’t think. Can’t breathe. Soap’s indifference is cutting in deep and he has no response, his head fuzzy and blank.

“I’m-“ This time, he cuts himself off, and Soap makes a soft sound.

“You think you’re one of a kind, Simon, but you’re not, and that’s okay. You think you’re special because of the life you’ve lived. Think about it. How many tortured soldiers exist? How many people have gone through several near death experiences? How many find it hard to sleep because all they can think about are the people they failed to save, both for their job and in their personal lives?” Soap’s writing pauses again. “How many of those people are on this same task force, Simon?”

Finally, Soap turns and looks at him, and Ghost crumbles, dropping to his knees easily. Soap reaches out, gently removes the mask, and then pulls him forward so that Ghost is resting his chin on Soap’s thigh. Fingers gently comb through his hair, evening out the mess from being compressed for so long.

“I’m just like you, Simon. I am broken. I am so hard to love, it’s nearly impossible. I am the same damn mess. I am as dangerous. And I am a monster. But you love me anyway, right?”

Ghost can’t work his tongue to speak, so he nods, and Soap finally smiles at him, so warm and affectionate, everything Ghost had taken for granted before now. It washes away the icy indifference from only seconds ago.

“Good. I love you too.”

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Thoughts 01x07 The Case of the Very Long Stairway

“What was that spider made up of? It looked like a bunch of Hershey kisses all tied up together in the shape of a spider. It was very strange” “the hell is that shirt? A pink snake? That’s kinda funny” “Does he have dentures on?” “Idk it doesn’t look like it. Idk if it was for the character or not” “I didn’t like bird people anyway” “I would like to understand the mechanism that spews the hot wax outside the skull. I know it’s CG, but is it hot in the skull and cold in the room?” “It’s not peer pressure if she’s not one of their peers, right?” “Is that Season 2?” “why is she reasoning with a dead boy?” “you have to be alive to do those things I assume” “so now is Jenny going to see the boys? Or is she still clueless?” “huh that’s kinda funny” “if ghosts were real, imagine the crazy fucked up tv shows they’d make about whatever. Just assume they’re real, that changes how we operate, what shows would happen?” “what if you don’t know that many people?” “doesn’t he have an infinite sack?” “is this s2 already? Is every season a level of hell” “is that the crazy lady?” “this looks kinda like that one nightclub downtown” “was he trying to walk through it? Or travel the mirror or something?” “or that one hotel in Seattle” “Didn’t it say DO NOT RING in the fkn journal? Why did he ring the bell? But it’s scratched out? So do ring it?” “this is the lockpicking lawyer…” “I want Potbelly’s now” “this is like the first hallway they ran threw but shittified” “that’s just wallpaper made to look like books. It has no depth. The books in the foreground look real though” “I feel like after a century, you’d be way more efficient than that, and you’d have way more paper around you”” “mmkay” “what’s that?” “why so many feelings?” “really? He’s going to give up on him that easy huh? Better than going off with the only person who’s walked into the room in the last 100 years?” “wouldn’t Death have put the kid there? Why did Death come back?” “so does this make teenagers children then? I’m not saying I agree or disagree. I’m just asking for facts” “we’re all itching to go into hell?” “that’s interesting” “maybe she doesn’t want them back?” “is that the mind’s eye or something?” “literally burying him ok fine” laughter “Ok” “oh hey bitch” “why are we looking at lobotomy shit?” laughter

“I think they meant to make those look creepier than they were” “almost a stranger things vibe” “I feel like he could have been quieter than that” “oh it’s not Hershey kisses; it’s a bunch of weird dolls” “ok”

“Is it only the eight eyes on the head or is it all the eyes that work?” “imagine filming this” “fkn what the fuck” “what did you do at work today/ Squirm around on the floor. That was insane” “just a few more” “get the hell out before your argue” sigh

“Say it on the other side” “time to fkn go bud” “you could have gone faster but we had to deal with our feelings. Let’s fkn go” “I suppose that what happens to the other lady counts as a near death experience” “that was a very odd technicality” “ok”

“Can’t Jenny see the boys? It would make the explanation so much easier” “he’s going to kill the tree though so that’s not good” “only 4 of them” “give them to the crow and see if he explodes if he doesn’t take them back?” “what does it taste like I wonder” “is it like swallowing a hard candy?”

[scarapanna]

(Shadow Vanilla AU, pt. 3)

now we get into the actual story! (i think i forgot to turn on anon for the past ask.. HELP ME. if you SAW MY USERNAME, NO YOU DIDN'T. /silly)

CW for a brief mention of su!c!dal ideation (nothing graphic though)

-----

It begins with the failure of the Beast Yeast expedition.

It has all gone horribly wrong.

The Faerie Kingdom has fallen. What once was left of the real White Lily is truly no more. The small, innocent piece of her, what remained, the small sliver of hope, is gone. The Light of Freedom has gone silent.

The expedition team is badly battered and exhausted. They didn't even make it to where the "failed Ancients" are sealed away. They barely made it out alive.

The expedition team returns to Crispia to lick their wounds and regroup. Hopefully, the collective might of the remaining kingdoms and Ancients will be enough to take down Dark Enchantress Cookie and her forces. It has to be enough. There are no more options.

Pure Vanilla is in the worst shape of them all. The recent trauma of losing White Lily all over again is almost more than he can bear. The memories are raw and exposed, and they hurt. They make him weak.

To make it even worse, even though they never found the "failed Ancients", Shadow Milk could sense the presence of the Soul Jam on Beast Yeast anyways. He knew they were there all along. The squid that crashed the airship wasn't a coincidental mistake.

Shadow Milk speaks to Pure Vanilla in his mind, telling him horrible things-- telling him to do horrible things. Even if he no longer has his true power, a physical body off the island, he can extend his influence and speak to Pure Vanilla through the vessel of the Soul Jam. Pure Vanilla pushes him away, calling him "horrible", condemning him and telling Shadow Milk never to speak to him again. Shadow Milk won't let him go just yet, though. He needs a puppet to execute his plans, and what better puppet than the vestige of a king, the very one who received the power that was supposed to be HIS? ALL HIS?

Under the weight of these two things, the "true death" of White Lily and the voices of Shadow Milk constantly echoing in his head, both Pure Vanilla's willpower and his will to live crumbles (pun intended). His mental fortitude wasn't generally that good before, but now it's... bad. Really, really bad.

So consequently, Pure Vanilla's mental and physical health go into sharp decline. He starts mumbling in his sleep, bags form under his eyes, barely eating, losing weight. He's in very bad shape. But he can't tell anyone what's wrong. He has to be perfect. He has to be perfect. How can he be anything but, when so many people look up to and are depending on him right now?

So he bottles his problems up and keeps his feelings to himself, showing no weakness, just like a "good" leader should. All for the betterment of the future. Better push aside these feelings now, so everyone can benefit later.

Pure Vanilla's friends suspect something is wrong, especially those who went on the expedition with him, but they all think the cause of it is the "true death" of White Lily. Nobody wants to bring it up with him, for fear of hurting or losing him.

The only person who has an inkling of what he's going through is Hollyberry. She has been to Beast-Yeast before; the Soul Jam's previous owner spoke to her. She had to resist, but it was nowhere near as traumatic as Pure Vanilla's experience. She tries her best to help him get through it, or at least help him resist, but Pure Vanilla pushes her away.

He pushes all of them away. He doesn't want his friends really seeing the hurt he's been through. He doesn't want to talk. Shadow Milk sees this all. Through the link of the Soul Jam, he's able to maintain a psychic connection. He weaves seeds of doubt through Pure Vanilla's mind, causing him to isolate himself even further. Manipulating him.

"Well.. maybe they would understand. They're my friends. They need me to be honest with them, and I think they'd appreciate it." "But are they.. really? They wouldn't understand. Weakness is a liability here. You're.. expendable. If you show your weakness... you'll have no friends anymore. I'm the only one you have left... the only one you can truly be honest with." Now that Pure Vanilla is alone, completely cut off from his friends, Shadow Milk uses the opportunity to become a sympathetic ear.

And the isolation just makes Pure Vanilla even more vulnerable. He's blinded by an endless loop of grief and hurt. And because of this, he confides in Shadow Milk, because he thinks it's the only option. "I shouldn't be talking to you. The things you've done.. the things you've said to me..." "Pure Vanilla, I was.. forced to do those things. I was dealt a hand I couldn't help, just like you. I'm.. deeply sorry. I've made mistakes. I'm not a bad Cookie.. Is that what you really believe? Or is that just what they want you to believe? I'm here for you. Really. I'm not the enemy here."

"I.. well.. oh, crumbs. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have judged you so harshly. I can see now that.. you're a bit like me. I apologize..."

"I accept your apology. I can help you, you know.. if you just let me in... tell me what's troubling you..." Eventually, Shadow Milk gets to a point where Pure Vanilla is so trusting of him, that if he wants, he could take over PV's body. And Shadow Milk knows it.

Now, Shadow Milk's voice becomes less of a comforting echo in the back of Pure Vanilla's mind, a shoulder to cry on, and becomes.. controlling. Bullying. Jockeying for a place in Pure Vanilla's mind, trying to take over completely.

And by the time Pure Vanilla's realized that he's been taken advantage of, that he was blinded by grief and anger, it's too late. The most he can do is fight back as much as possible, try to maintain some semblance of control over his own body. Shadow Vanilla.

One cookie’s mind, another's body. Pure Vanilla is drowning in his own head, and nobody is there to witness it. He contemplates taking his own life, just to break Shadow Milk's control. If there's no messenger, there cannot be no message.

But it's too late. It's too late. It's.. too late.

It’s only a matter of time before PV loses at Shadow Milk’s mind games... or dies.

Whichever comes first.

"After I'm finished with this pathetic little body, I might just give it an encore by throwing it off the edge of the Kingdom you once held so dear! Some will mourn your loss, but nobody will have a clue what really went on. They'll think you just... gave up. You'll be remembered not as a Hero, but a coward."

"You- you can't... I- I WON'T LET YOU! I'LL-"

"You'll... ha! You'll what? Maybe you forgot; i'll say it again. You're not in control here anymore.." -----

Shadow Vanilla's design doesn't vary much from canon. He looks about normal, but he's hiding a lean, almost gaunt frame underneath his robes. He also has bags under his eyes, slightly more tousled hair, and a Soul Jam that appears less saturated: more grey than vibrant blue. If you look at it just right, you can almost see.. a slit pupil in the middle of it.. but that isn't possible. It must just be a trick of the light. As for his personality, he's not like himself at all. He becomes quite paranoid. He seems disjointed, extremely unhappy all the time, and easily irritable. Almost as if he's just... a shadow of the Cookie he once was...

----- Thank you for taking the time to read this! I'm sorry it's long,, AAAA.. but I love you so much for doing this! Thanks a lot! /gen /p

Ooooh that's some really intriguing stuff you got there anon!!

I wasn't expecting the idea of SM using manipulative tactics to get a hold of pv, really interesting idea tho!

[icharchivist]

So this whole event is all about grief?

Always Has Been.

jk jk, i think this event is about many things, one of which being grief. but take my own analysis of it with caution, as it is mostly how i felt it, and huh, i'm someone who's very deeply sensitive about grief. Everything is about grief when it's all you know yaknow?

But, yeah, i think it's one major element of this event. I think the King put it best near the end: grief is something every mortal go through, and all they can hope out of it is letting it get you to be closer with others people. Staying stuck in the past is only going to hurt the longer you stay there, in denial, holding to something that's long gone.

We're talking about Rebirth and Destruction, and i think one key element is that... when you get destroyed people will mourn you, if you are willed to life again, people have grieved for you.

It's grief that pushes Raziel to try to find any alternative to bring Lucifer back, grief who makes her think killing the singularity is worth it if it can keep the Phoenix alive. Without knowing the Phoenix was manipulating her, it was her selfish wish of holding on to Lucifer, someone who was long gone, that risked going against what she thought was Phoenix's wishes, and after MC's life.

It's also grief that pushes Sandalphon to stop her, for he has been coping with his own grief for years. Just like the Diviners, he mourns. Lucifer was all his life once. He had to learn to let him go in order to experience more to life. Yet still he yearns for him, but he can't let it move him on a path he doesn't want to walk. It's because he is honoring Lucifer's wishes that he restrains himself from his selfish desire, but also the life he found in this world worth loving.

And it's also grief that pushes Magus to look for any way to bring Astaroth back. She clung to his remains in the Pandemonium trying to bring him back to life, she took his identity for a while as well, she clung to his remains even while dying at the bottom of the skies. And still she thought of going with the Phoenix's plan if only it meant she could find a way to bring Astaroth back.

It's grief that motivated all of Abramelin's arc. It's grieving the loss of his wife and his child that made him make a pact with Phoenix against God. He didn't even care for the cause. He just was grieving. Phoenix manipulated Farhana into accepting death so Abramelin would be driven by grief. And in succumbing to this anger that followed her death, Abramelin was stuck in an eternity of torment. He kept forgetting her, and dooming himself for forgetting his precious family. All he had was Fenie coming back once in a while telling him to hang on on life, but all he wanted was death.

In a sense Abramelin is stuck in the anger phase of grief. He only has rage keeping him forward. Rage against the Phoenix that gave him this cursed life, rage for the God who killed his wife, rage for all of those who can't give him peace. Something also i think is important on that reading is that his memory loss means he can never actually process what he's done, how he coped. Every day he forgets what are the reasons he still keeps going. He's a man walking longing for death, forgetting the people he once loved, and therefore unable to properly process the grief he lived and instead dooming himself for forgetting what was important to him, leading him once again to want to end his life.

Fenie meanwhile was grieving both of her parents, and she turned it into a flame of hope in the darkness. She clung to the promise Phoenix made her and her mother. But everything was shortlived in the end.

Farhana knew the power of grief and let the Phoenix use her for it. And as Sabrina, the past came crashing down and while learning about Abramelin fucked her up, it's losing Fenie that eventually broke her and had her accept her past. Where Abramelin lost his mind, Sabrina found hers eventually. But it still was taken away.

Abramelin accepted death for his child to live. He had accepted death a long time ago and now at leas he knew he was dying for the people he loved, rather than just dying because he couldn't stand it anymore. Sabrina and Fenie will have to move forward from that.

And the Diviners mourn him because he was a companion for hundred of years. The Diviners are people who keep fighting to keep their purpose alive, because it's the only way for them to be alive. Yet being alive comes with the fact that you will experience loss. Abramelin was a constant in their lives, without being one of theirs. They spent the event with the fear of dying, only to mourn once the person they tried to kill all those hundred years ended up finally kicking the bucket -- because you can't help but create bonds, for to live is to love.

Everyone else in that event were dealing with a type of grief, of mourning, they coped in any way they thought possible. They have Eternity to remember, some are doomed to forget, yet you live on with the pain of people you lost.

Every single one of the people focused on in term of grief were immortals, or in Sabrina's case, a reincarnation. They're people who have all the time in the world behind them, and accumulated loss they still have to process into that day.

Which bring me to Ceodric, ultimately the secondary antagonist of the story. Ceodric grieved his mother. We know the Phoenix came to find him while he was still crying her on her death bed. We also know that no matter the reasons Phoenix gave him, whatever the reasons Ceodric fought for, what he hoped in the end was to have the tear of the Phoenix to bring her back. Everything he did, was out of grief. And grief makes you vulnerable. Phoenix took advantage of that, the way she took advantage of Farhana and Abramelin in the past. She never intended for Ceodric to have a happy ending, neither would Farhana and Abramelin once they met again. Phoenix doesn't care about love expect in the way it can help her manipulate others.

Ceodric was consumed by his grief so much he couldn't take it. He tried to find any reason outside of his control to justify the death, because just accepting it as a tragedy wouldn't just work.

Phoenix meanwhile is a creature who cannot comprehend grief. She says she doesn't understand love, she says that for her a thousand years mean nothing, so the reincarnation cycle of a few thousand years means nothing to her either. She's a creature who is so used to living and dying and living again that dying doesn't mean a thing to her.

Honestly i would wonder if it's why the Phoenix seeks the Omnipotent so much. The Omnipotent is Rebirth and Destruction, and the only thing that can kill immortal people. She clung to a piece of him for all that time. I think maybe, it's the only way to actually test her own existence, because life means nothing to her, as it always restarts either way.

but Phoenix uses people. She does so the whole event. She uses the fear the Diviners have to die to infiltrate them and create conflict. She uses the fact Raziel cares for her and is grieving for Lucifer to use her. She tries to use the fact Magus wants Astaroth back to manipulate her, to no aim. She manipulated Farhana into accepting death to manipulate Abramelin later. She manipulated Fenie in accepting her deal despite knowing Fenie will barely survive with her parents. And she manipulated Ceodric who wanted his mother back. And while Ceodric was manipulated because of the love he had for his mother, it's a mother grieving her child who ended up striking him down.

Ceodric was a piece of shit and the way he just accepted how to hurt Sabrina fucking sucked and everything. But i don't want to give in completely to the hatred because ultimately he's just one more person who's grief was used against him by the Phoenix. It's just that every single other players of this mascarade had either purer motives or a stronger heart to move ahead. Ceodric is the cautionary tale of mismanaged grief turning you into a weapon. None of the stories about grief would have hit the same if not for the one person who couldn't stand grieving.

I would also mention that some of the supporting cast also, are interesting choices on that matter. Ladiva is defined by her grieving her parents so much she wants to give the world the love her parents gave her tenthfold. She is so loving because she misses her parents dearly and will do anything so that people don't feel the pain that she's carrying. That's something she also expresses in No Rain No Rainbow, which was among the events being pictured during MC's power surge. Cagliostro, also, has a lot to do with grieving. She grieves her older sister who took care of her when she was so sick everyone else had abandonned her. The sister she loved so much she took inspiration from when she created the appearance she now lives by. And so she brings her own collection of bodies into the battle in order to help MC carry the power of the Omnipotents: representations of the person Cagliostro is missing the most. Not to mention Shalem, even if the event didn't focus on her as much, who is someone defined by how she's grieving people she doesn't even remember.

(Anon who wants Seofon to be a big brother to dead siblings, this is your cue to start crying).

and it's not to count the metaphorical aspect of grief, such as grieving a life you couldn't have had. I would argue MC is grieving their father, in that sense, and isn't abandoning hope to see them again. Because like... this is someone who abandoned them decades ago to go to a mystical land. Abandon mixes together with grief when thinking about why the people you love couldn't have stayed with you. in No Rain No Rainbow, Ladiva actually compares MC missing their father to how she's missing her parents, but how she cannot comprehend our Father's decisions because her parents loved her so much she can't process a parent willing to do that. And to her who misses her parents, she can't fathom how MC must be processing this specific type of grief.

I think grief is the natural thing that comes up if you're talking about the very core of what makes the Skyrealm: it's a place of mortality, one where we die, one where we grief. One where we have to move on, in some way. The primal beasts we meet all get closer to the humanity of the skyrealm as they discover people they care about, and that they care about enough that it would hurt to lose them.

in 000, when Belial spites that loving skydwellers is a pointless thing to do because they'll die one day and everyone else will forget your name, it's ultimately a call of refusing to experience grief in some way or another, made even more tangible by the fact we know Belial grieved Lucilius for so many thousand of years. He exprienced loss and he can't experience it again, and the skyrealm which is a place where loss have to be accepted to move on is something he doesn't want to partake in.

So, yes, actually, i do think this event is a lot about grief. but also it's about hope. It's about moving forward. Raising from one's ashes, literally. It's accepting death, but it's also challenging it. It's living on.

but what i believe is that with Ceodric, there's this type of cautionary tale about denial, about trying to find any explanation, any scapegoat, to refuse to acknowledge your own pain.

There's also some commentary with Ceodric about radicalization, for instance. His belief on power falls a lot into the mindset a lot of fascist fall into when figuring out what they have to consider as scapegoat even if they have to be hypocritical about it, and the way it's usually by preying on vulnerable people that people fall into this type of cult.

There's still commentary about the primals about free will, and about their lack of with the Diviners as well. Whenever they can continue forward or not.

There's obviously a discussion about Power, which, while driven by an unreliable Ceodric, raises questions for Seofon in particular, because while Ceodric is an hypocrite, the fact people who hold powers are the one deciding of the fate of the world is something Seofon has to consider both as the leader of the most powerful crew in the sky, and as someone who currently has a parasite at the back of his head who is waiting for the time he can take over and use the very same power Seofon is wielding to protect the skies in order to do God knows what. Just because Ceodric is wrong on his reasoning doesn't mean there isn't some forshadowing there, is all i mean.

And of course in Granblue's fashion, it's still about love. It's about companionship. It's about how you need everyone to work together to achieve a power that is just the same as Godhood. The dragons taking on the Phoenix individually knocked them out, but working together with the Skyrealms meant they could actually even the odds. Always something our cosmical besties have to learn.

And honestly i think it's a perfect way to celebrate the 10th anni. They talked about how the 10th year will be a marking point for Granblue because many things are ending and many others will be begining. I think the tease about the Moon, about reaching Estalucia, are all about that. We're closing the book on the stories that we followed for 10 years, we're reaching an end there -- but there are now new things to explore. We'll move on, but we're looking back on what we have had so far with fondness.

We're human so we grieve, and so we move on.

but what do i know. I'm just obsessed with grief as it is. maybe i'm just projecting a lot on everything.

So yeah that's kinda my take for now on the event, all fresh from it. Maybe it'll change when i spend more time thinking about it and when my brain will be less fried from a long day.

But what can i say. love me some story about grief.

have a nice day and thank you for reading

[yuseirra]

Kamiki DOES have some sort of power that can ruin people's futures,

He really should be that god who should have originally "led people into goodness" but flipped 180 degrees because Ai died. That just works PERFECTLY with so many things he's been doing.

That's how Aqua was so convinced he could ruin Ruby's future if he were to be alive!

Fatal had lyrics like "burnt eyes, stripped feathers, creative fallen-ness", "you have given me a fatal flaw, selfish giant star, ruined lives", this guy got FLAWED because people had his wife killed.

That character can't BE a normal human being. Your normal person can't possibly do the things he is said to have achieved in a logical sense. That character is a god that's gone mad from losing his wife because look, why does Ai get a lyric like she's a "reincarnation of a star", is said to "have become a star", says herself that "she might as well be a real goddess with worshippers"(novel). She's a god too and they were a couple...

They are gods who blessed the entertainment industry who came to the human realm and reincarnated as people to experience it for themselves... And Kamiki is looking for remnants of his wife left within the star eyes of people she bestowed on others as a blessing, as "love". He wants his wife(Ai) and her love back. And he would have been able to really stay with her and feel her forever the way he wished if none of this mess happened.

That's how I see it. I think that's what the songs are going for. How ELSE can these things even be explained? It even matches up with both their names!! Love of a star and God & Light. That guy'(god)s been collecting the love(light from the white star eyes) to find ways of reuniting with his wife, that's their story!! He's indeed, getting his wife back through this. And Ai's like, oh no he's gone down the wrong path he needs help-and requested help but, since Sarutahiko has a tale where he ACTUALLY DROWNS, I guess they drowned him like that lore. That's also a throwback to the myths.

How are they going to explain this story OTHERWISE while incorporating all these ideas altogether? I don't see it any other way, these elements never had to exist. However, it gives out a BETTER message if this really is how it is!! What point would there be to have Ai love a murderer with some insane logic, it doesn't even make coherent sense, a person can't possibly achieve what he's done unless they have superpowers anyway, there's been!! Ideas! That gods DO exist in the onk universe, we see a girl floating on water. Communicating with a boy who's going through a near death experience somehow, bringing back souls from the dead.

Then these guys SHOULD be ones too more than anyone else in the series because without it being that way? It makes LESS SENSE.

I just see this.. In a really obvious sense, if this ISN'T IT, then I really have no idea what I can take away from this piece either because I don't see any good message coming out of it. I wouldn't understand just why this story is written like this.

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 31:

"I thought that I was getting better."

Emptiness | setbacks | "Take it easy."

Fandom: Camp Cretaceous

Prompts: vaguely all

Short and sweet with a hint of Whump. Rewatched the last episode and was like 'damn tv 7 my ass' for the millionth time. Anywho, a short piece on how trauma bonded kids would not just return to normal the minute they return to their loved ones. I think it probably took them awhile to get to the time skip point in which they were. I may rewatch and do some rewrites or missing moments or added moments lol. This show was just too good.

TW for Panic attack (vaguely) and thoughts of death (mostly just near death experiences they faced, but also a little idealization in there.)

…

Darius doesnt like making assumptions about his friends. The island showed him exactly what damage that could do- even when he hadnt meant to, hadnt known he had been, but it was no excuse- he made a promise to himself to treat them right. His only friends.

So when his nightmares come back with a vengance, he doesnt breathe a word. They all went through hell and back on those Islands, they were all slowly settling back into their lives, they practically lived at eachothers houses- rotating through them because between their parents and themselves, they need the ability to verify the safety of eachother- but Darius sees them adjusting, trying to take back their previous lives with the new knowledge they have. And Darius had been right along with them, writing about their experiences and the lessons learned-

But now here he was.

He awoke quietly, far to use to the need of stealth and the light sleepers around him, he could still feel the hot wet breath of death encompassing. Its hard with a trembling body, but he manages to make it around the other sleeping teens and to the bathroom down the hall. They're at Yaz's house this time around, her mother's room on the second floor while they reside in the basement so hes not worried about her hearing him.

He slides down the wall as soon as he closes the door, theres soft moonlight coming from a small window above the shower, but the room remains mostly shadows. Theres cant be light, it will attract-

No. There could be. He just has to stand and hit the switch, because there is power here and no dinosaurs. He stares blankly at the cabinets instead, what use would light do him anyway? He was just gonna sit here like a lump anyway. He didnt need any light other than the moon, shining off tile, while he sits doing nothing. There is nothing productive to do now, no planning or night watch, no fighting bad guys or identifying dinosaur noises. Just his own breathing as a dream that mixed reality and his worst fears, plays over and over in his mind.

He had made so many mistakes.

He can think of so many instances where something he did had put one of his friends in danger. Things that had them almost dieing, heck Sammy practically had! And Ben, and Brooklyn, and Yaz and Kenji and Doctor Mae and-

And so many people had died.

Ones perfectly fine killing kids.

And others… who had just come to a park to have fun.

He had come so close multiple times too, but… if he had died instead of one of the others than, would that have been so bad?

Kenji rolls over, eyes squinting open, expecting to see the familiar form of his sleeping brother, the empty space that meets him instead has his heart rate spiking and his breath catching. He sits up- too quickly, it startles everyone else, but Darius is GONE- eyes tracking the entire room before he's reminded his brain of the fact they are NOT on the Islands. Darius hasnt been eaten by dinosaurs, but the panic still lingers that they CANT FIND HIM.

"Maybe… he just went to the bathroom?" Sammy offers, although shes already starting to stand.

"The lights off." Yaz is already standing at the hallway, "Doors closed though."

Kenji ventures forward first. Brooklyn close behind, and the others just behind her.

He knocks lightly, frowning further at the lack of response, he glances behind him and gets several nods, opens the door slightly. As expected, it's dark inside, the moon's glow barely illuminates the figure against the wall.

Darius doesn't react to his presence, his stare is blank, body motionless except for the slightest breath. It's terrifying to see such an emptiness in usually such bright eyes. There's raised red marks on his hand, wet and crusting with blood, Kenji's lips purse sadly. Swallowing thickly, he reaches out a careful hand, touches his knee lightly, expecting the flinch,

"Take it easy." He says softly, "You're safe."

It takes several moments, all of them crowded together on the floor of the bathroom- Ben actually sitting in the tub to make more space- allowing Darius the time he needs to come back to them. When he finally makes eye contact, it's hesitant, as if waiting for something.

"Hey bud, how you feelin?" Kenji's voice is gentle, nothing extra in his voice, his eyes hold a worry to them- they all do- but no judgment or anger.

Darius wants to tell them he's fine. That he's sorry. That it's nothing and they can go back to sleep. That everything is proceeding forward as it's supposed to. He opens his mouth to say just that,

"I thought that I was getting better."

That is not what he wanted to say. Seriously brain what the heck?? He can't be bringing them down like this-

"Hey, you are, we all are Darius. Setbacks are normal, and together we can make sure they don't last long." Brooklyn's soft voice breaks his thoughts, and his head snaps up to stare at her.

"You want to know my first thought when I couldn't find you?" Kenji asks, drawing his attention next, the curious look has the corners of his mouth twitching up before they fall again, "I thought you might of been eaten, or being chased, I-" he swallows the emotion, blinking back the wetness in his eyes, Darius reaches out and takes his hand.

"Sorry." And he means it, puts as much emotion as he can into the word, directing it at the room at large.

They were all healing. They all had moments of weakness. But they were a team, they had each other's backs, and for every step backwards, someone would be there to pull you forward again.