#this and city of fallen angels just fever dreams

[witchlingcirce]

City of ashes is peak fever dream shadowhunters because I always forget that Valentine quite literally WENT to Simons house and KIDNAPPED him 😭😭

Or the fact that Simon and Clary DATED and than Simon broke up with her because he couldn’t compete with her ‘brother’… like…

[andrea-lyn]

Avatar the Last Airbender - Master Fic Rec Post

See under the cut for forty-two total recs, predominantly Zukka.

Wooing the Water Tribe by lenaballena (ALL TIME FAVE RIGHT HERE)

Zuko is courting Katara, and with every passing day finds new and insane ways of showing that he would quite literally move the spirit world and earth to make her happy.

In hindsight, it probably would've been better if Sokka had realised he was in love with Zuko at literally any time before this. Or preferably, never fallen for his best friend in the first place.

exothermic reaction by blueconsequences

When Sokka is temporarily blinded by Fire Nation soldiers, the members of the Gaang take turns to care for him.

One pair of hands is warmer than the others.

Love's Such an Old-Fashioned Word by drvcos

When invited to the 100th anniversary of his father’s company, after 15 years of radio silence, Zuko decides to show how happy he is to all the people from his past. There’s only one (fatal) problem.

Or,

Zuko is a frazzled single dad, Sokka is an absolute flirt, and the “fake” that comes before their relationship doesn’t feel all that fake.

like real people do by verdanthoney for bleekay

Sokka knew he would be dealing with a raging case of baby fever during their annual vacation on Ember Island. What he didn’t expect was to discover that he was also hopelessly in love with Zuko, and had been for years without realizing.

Spirits Help Us, There's Two of Them by hopepunk

Sokka and Zuko are both weird guys. Fortunately, they're the same kind of weird as each other.

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade

Under the leadership of Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Nation has made every attempt to restore peace and make amends for the harm they inflicted during the Seventy-Year War. Their newest proposal is a literal proposal: a marriage to unite the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes.

The Fire Nation offers Prince Zuko’s hand.

The Water Tribes offer Princess Yue’s.

Sokka is apparently the only person in the world who has a problem with any of this.

isn't this the vision that you wanted by nebulastucky

Firelord Zuko - ender of the Hundred Year War, ruler of the Fire Nation, payer of respects and reparations - takes advice and counsel from representatives of every nation, division, and specialty.

But teenage boy Zuko - friend of turtleducks, wielder of fun looking swords, stumbler over words and feet in the presence of cute boys - only listens to two people, and they are conspiring together to ruin him.

or: Iroh just wants what's best for his nephew, and Katara just wants to know everyone's business.

we had a moment, we had a summertime by nebulastucky

Sokka shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You get captured and killed by the Fire Nation,” Toph provides.

“They won’t execute me in a tea shop,” Sokka says around a sudden lump in his throat. “That’d be bad for business.”

or: the one where sokka falls for a tea shop and a boy with too much charm for his own good.

Ignition Point by Yuu_chi

Most people know they're a bender since birth. Sokka just had to discover it at twenty when he accidentally burns his own house down.

Alchemy by mindbending

Sokka (a.k.a the Silent Knight, a.k.a. the sharpest detective in Caldera City) has three cases weighing on his mind.

1.) Zuko, son of the mob boss Ozai, has gone missing under sinister circumstances. 2.) Lee, a teahouse waiter with the face of an angel, wears a scar of mysterious origins. 3.) The Blue Spirit, a lithe and enigmatic cat burglar, keeps stealing into the Fire Nation’s storehouses (not to mention Sokka’s dreams).

Sokka sighs and takes a swig from his special bottle. It’s hard solving three completely unrelated mysteries at the same time...

i wanna be still with you by tristanyvaine

Handwritten letters sent back and forth do not a love story make. Or. Maybe they do, in the case of a certain Fire Lord and Water Tribe warrior who happen to fall in love over sending letters to each other at least.

keeps me up late at night by midnights

Fifteen years since the war had ended, and still Zuko remembered every step of the way as if it were yesterday. More than anything, he remembered Sokka. He'd been in love with him then, and he still was.

ft. ambassador sokka, fancy parties, pining zuko, and two oblivious fools

the brightest you've ever been by panthalassas

Azula folds herself into the lotus position and empties her mind. Then Yue places her hands on either side of Azula's face, and her mind fills back up again. Or: Yue notices Azula is lonely. Turns out, Azula's ready to feel some emotions.

real love baby by verdanthoney

Five times Zuko and Sokka pretend they aren't in love, and one time they don't.

OR,

Sokka initiates a friends with benefits relationship between them, and Zuko keeps coming back for more.

Seasons in the Sun by burkesl17

Ambassador Sokka's first year in the Fire Nation, a story for each of its seasons. With thunder, assassins, blossoms, poison, politics, volcanoes and a baby dragon. Also falling in love.

Or: four parties, four assassination attempts.

Please Return if Found by CSHfic, VSfic

When Sokka sees a “lost pet” poster near his apartment for an actual, literal dragon, he thinks it’s a joke.

Right up until he finds the dragon sitting on his couch.

Nobility by hikuni

Book 3. Sokka/Zuko. Set after The Boiling Rock Pt. 2, Sokka and Zuko explore the Western Air Temple, where Sokka tries to get Zuko to talk about girls, marriage, and maybe even a future for the two of them.

Worship the Ashes by meregalaxiesandgods, patentpending

All Azula wants is for things to go back to the way they were – her father on the precipice of conquering the world, her own position secure at his right hand. Now, the only secure thing is her, trapped in a gilded cage in her brother's new Fire Nation. Lonely and adrift, Azula would do anything to make it end, until an unexpected connection rekindles a light she long-thought had burned to ashes. But falling for Suki isn't something Azula can let herself do, especially with the world as they know it threatening to crumble around them.

Or: Azula goes to therapy, has an identity crisis, stops actively trying to kill her brother, makes a few friends, and falls in love along the way.

No Quiet Life by JustGettingBy

Zuko's not sure when it started. It would be easy to say it started with Boiling Rock, or with the Western Air Temple. But whenever it started, his crush isn’t about to go away anytime soon.

*

“It’s not too late, ‘Lee’. We could steal a boat. Sail across the high seas until we hit the horizon. Spend the rest of our days living off the land.” He brandishes his arm as if to show Zuko the untapped potential of their future as wild hunters.

“No, Sokka.”

Sokka shrugs. “Well, it was worth a shot. When you’re up to your eyeballs in expense reports, don’t say I didn’t ask.”

Zuko’s mouth feels very dry. “I won’t.”

virtues uncounted by bloobeary

fire lord zuko visits the southern water tribe eight years after the war ends

based on that text post

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic, VSfic (My absolute fave of the canon rewrites for its wildly IC enemies-to-lovers feel)!

Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole.

[An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead].

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

Relief Next to Me by wilteddaisy (taotu)

Sokka thinks Ozai’s beach house is pretty awesome. Slightly less awesome is the couch he has to sleep on, as is accidentally getting into Zuko’s bed. At first, that is.

noble blood by lupus (khaleeseas)

The Southern Water Tribe was no place for a firebender...or even a Fire Prince for that matter. And yet here Zuko was, not only in the South Pole’s capital itself but in the Royal Palace, protecting the tribe’s Chief after a failed assassination attempt. Chief Sokka, his old friend and a man who was intelligent and witty, yet kind of a dumbass. A man who was brave and strong and kind. A man who Zuko was utterly failing not to develop...personal feelings for. __

aka: a kind of roleswap AU with Southern Water Tribe Chief Sokka and bodyguard/mercenary Zuko.

it's more about the things that you take with by winterfire22

it’s been a few years since zuko took the throne, and he's doing his best. but there are some things missing.

enter his new ambassador program, and an opportunity to reconnect with an old friend.

before we jump ship, let me teach you how to stay afloat by eurydicees

He doesn't remember when his feelings changed, just that, somewhere between the fires of his homeland and the ocean of Sokka's pirate ship, he fell in love.

In which Zuko learns to swim, Sokka falls in love, and the sun and ocean remain as steady as ever.

in silence; ripen, fall and cease by aiyah

Zuko reaches out with trembling hands and tucks it behind Sokka’s ear.

“A pretty flower for a pretty boy,” he whispers.

- - -

[or: this is the story of an ikebana artist and the man who visits him.]

zing by meteor-sword (vaenire)

“I’ll just put away the rest of the treats for them. Toph, hold this will you?” He hefts Zuko’s bag over to her before Toph can protest, and she has a mind to drop the bag at her feet before she feels something interesting inside the bag. As her seismic sense ran passively through the bag, she sensed something small; it was heavier than the parchment but lighter than the bag of coins-- giving a feedback of vibration somewhere between glass and limestone.

//

Like usual, Toph sees this coming when no one else does.

gold in the air of summer by leopardfringe

Sometimes, Toph likes to ask about colors. Not often—people generally aren't great at explaining them to her, but her newfound metalbending abilities have left her curious.

(This, of course, has nothing at all to do with how she doesn’t even need her feet to know who's crushing on who in this group. Nope, this is just purely for research, and definitely not because she's sick of them dragging their feet.)

the stars go waltzing out in blue and red by tristanyvaine

Zuko falls in love with Sokka in the Southern Water Tribe. Sokka falls in love with Zuko in the Fire Nation. It spirals from there.

or: (Zuko thinks a lot about blue, words, love, and Sokka // Sokka thinks a lot about red, touch, love, and Zuko)

To Be Named, To Be Known (To Be Loved) by Erisenyo

Zuko needs tomorrow to be perfect, but when one person is so many things to so many people--My Lord, Fire Lord, Nephew, Zuzu, Sifu Hotman--how is he going to find the time to make sure everything goes exactly right?

Or,

Five titles Zuko has earned himself + One more to add to the list. If he can just get through this Very Important International Celebration first...

this ultraviolet morning light by GallifreyanFairytale

“Sokka?” Zuko’s voice is quiet and raspy as he shifts just enough that Sokka lifts his head up from Zuko’s shoulder. The confession Sokka had ready to go dies on his lips at Zuko’s expression - at the red he can just barely make out in Zuko’s eyes. “Sokka, I… need to tell you something.”

Sokka swallows and nods silently, not trusting his own admission to not slip out if he dares to open his mouth. Zuko must be confessing the same thing Sokka wants to. Which, admittedly, Sokka hadn’t actually planned for, but it’s fine. He can adapt to this. He just needs to shift a few words around in his brain, and--

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?”

And why does Zuko’s tone make this sound like a break up?

OR

sokka and zuko break up, make up, go undercover, thwart a rebellion, watch the sunrise, and change the course of fire nation history. not necessarily in that order.

the stars sighed in unison by spellboundrose

For some reason, Zuko can't stop looking at Sokka out of the corner of his eye. It must be something about the way the moonlight reflects off his skin—or maybe how his eyes, such a vibrant shade of blue, glimmer like the stars above them—

Oh.

Oh, no.

(Or, five moments under the night sky and one beneath the sun.)

everything and nothing at once by tristanyvaine

See, everything would be fine if Sokka was here, because if Sokka was here then Zuko wouldn't be thinking about him over and over and over again while he misses him from the stupid ponytail to his weird Water Tribe shoes.

signs of light by beachytablecloth

And now, out of breath from running, Sokka can feel the anxiety beginning to overwhelm him, stitching his sides and pounding in his ears.

“It’s Zuko,” he finally gets out, panting. “He’s missing.”

or,

Zuko gets kidnapped; Sokka falls apart.

A Predictable Story by mindbending

"On this night, you shall share a kiss with a great love of your life!”

That lying, scummy Aunt Wu predicts a grand romance for Sokka. To disprove her "fortunetelling" once and for all, Sokka decides to spend the night with least romantic person he knows.

Zuko.

Boomerangs and Rainbows by mindbending

At Sokka’s behest, the Gaang skips rescuing Zuko during the Siege at the North Pole. Instead they leave him, unconscious, buried in the snow.

In completely unrelated news, Sokka’s haunted by a ghost now.

little taste of heaven by loserlesbian

"His mom had given him a diary.

No, not a diary–– a journal, she had specified. He knows it’s a diary. Zuko thinks she only called it a journal because she thought that Zuko wouldn’t use it if she said otherwise. A diary is for feelings and angst, but a journal was for working through your problems without all that mushy, gushy stuff. It was for writing out simply what was in your head, nothing more, nothing less."

or, zuko through the years, struggling with himself and his sexuality.

i'll tell you the truth (but never goodbye) by lesmiserablol

“I was ready to fight for us. I was ready to find a way, any way for us to work. And you were the one who ran away when it got too hard!” “That’s not what happened and you know it!” Sokka snaps. “It was never going to work, and it was stupid to keep pretending otherwise! I’m sorry Zuko, I am, but just because you are the Fire Lord, just because we– we were in love, everything wasn’t going to magically fall into place.” Zuko still has a stubborn expression on his face. There are angry tears in his eyes when he says, “We could’ve figured it out. We could’ve…been us. We could’ve had a good life together.” “Yeah, well, I guess we won’t ever know.” (or, the twenty years between Zuko and Sokka breaking up and finally getting together again, shown in 5 times they don’t say goodbye, +1 time they don’t have to)

boy problems by burnt_oranges

“I accidentally signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka,” Zuko says faintly. He sits up so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka, and he agreed." In which Zuko suffers in a variety of ways, including but not limited to: close and constant proximity to the object of his affections, assassination attempts, and irreparable injuries to his dignity.

Yesterday is Ashes by alivingfire

Sokka takes a strategic step back, but he also smiles: triumphant, like he baited Zuko into exactly what he wanted. Like it’s a challenge. It’s the same way he looked when they sized each other up at the prison, with Sokka in chains that left red marks around his wrist, in tattered prison garb, malnourished and angry. Back then, that was Sokka saying: I see your power. I see you. Now, see me. Zuko saw him then. And he sees him now; different, but the same. I see you. Zuko lights his daos in flame. Sokka grins, back to gravel and heat. “Come on, Fire Lord. Impress me.”Zuko burns. His vision flickers with fire. His heart races. His blood sings. His body is like a magnet, pulling ever onward to meet Sokka’s. He advances.He pins Sokka to the wall, blades against his throat. Or, Zuko found Aang first, Sokka and Katara were imprisoned in Boiling Rock for trying to rescue their dad, and all Sokka knows is he's pretty sure he's not supposed to think the Fire Lord is attractive but he's never let things like rules stop him before.

in flammam flammas【火上澆火】 by ranilla_bean

Zuko scoffed. “As always, I am the author of my own unhappiness.”Sokka hummed. “Years ago, when it was just us travelling together, we came across this fortune teller. I didn’t believe any of that mumbo-jumbo. But then she said that my life would be full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted.”It suited Zuko’s life extraordinarily well, he felt. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only person in the Fire Nation who has a vision of what it takes for this country to get better.”Sokka turned to face him, but Zuko looked resolutely forwards. “That can’t be true.”

Zuko turns twenty-five. In spite of his best efforts, the Fire Nation seems to lurch from crisis to crisis. The firebenders have lost their flame, and the situation with the former colonies is only worsening. All the while, he's ill, lonely, and consumed by work. And on the other side of the country, Sokka has just moved in with one Master Piandao.

[goodnightmemes]

FLORENCE + THE MACHINE  /  DANCE FEVER SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ The very thing you're best at is the thing that hurts the most. ❜

❛ But a woman is a changeling; always shifting shape. ❜

❛ I never knew my killer would be coming from within. ❜

❛ And I was never as good as I always thought I was, but I knew how to dress it up. ❜

❛ Sometimes I wonder if I should be medicated. If I would feel better just lightly sedated. ❜

❛ I'm always running from something. ❜

❛ Being clever never got me very far. ❜

❛ And for a moment when I'm dancing I am free. ❜

❛ Is this how it is? Is this how it's always been? ❜

❛ Oh, don't you wanna call it off? ❜

❛ But there is nothing else that I know how to do; But to open up my arms and give it all to you. ❜

❛ I don't know how it started; Don't know how to stop it. ❜

❛ Something's coming, so out of breath. ❜

❛ I just kept spinnin' and I danced myself to death. ❜

❛ And do they speak to you? 'Cause they speak to me too. ❜

❛ Never really been alive before. I always lived in my head. ❜

❛ Sometimes it was easier, hungover and half-dead. ❜

❛ I'm back in town, why don't we go out? ❜

❛ I came for the pleasure, but I stayed for the pain. ❜

❛ If you get spat on, that's just your big city baptism. ❜

❛ I thought that I was here with you, but it was always just an empty room. ❜

❛ What a thing to admit, that when someone looks at me with real love I don't like it very much. ❜

❛ Is this something that you would like to discuss? ❜

❛ And it's good to be alive, crying into cereal at midnight. ❜

❛ If they ever let me out, I'm gonna really let it out. ❜

❛ But, oh God, you're gonna get it. You'll be sorry that you messed with me. ❜

❛ Everyone treated us like little pets. ❜

❛ Oh, tell me, it's not over yet. ❜

❛ In my darkest fantasies, I am the picture of passivity. ❜

❛ When I decided to wage Holy War, it looked very much like staring at my bedroom floor. ❜

❛ And I know I may not look like much, just another screaming speck of dust. ❜

❛ Well, did you miss me? ❜

❛ I've been expecting you, I'm ready. ❜

❛ Deliver me that bad news, baby. ❜

❛ Am I your dream girl? ❜

❛ You think of me in bed, but you could never hold me and like me better in your head. ❜

❛ Make me evil. Then I'm an angel instead. ❜

❛ At least you'll sanctify me when I'm dead. ❜

❛ Well, did I disappoint you? ❜

❛ Do I just remind you of every girl that made you mad? ❜

❛ Make me perfect, make me your fantasy. ❜

❛ You know I deserve it. Well, take it out on me. ❜

❛ I am nobody's moral center. ❜

❛ All the things that I ran from, I now bring as close to me as I can. ❜

❛ All this work gone to waste. ❜

❛ I used to see the future and now I see nothin'. ❜

❛ Well, can you see me? I cannot see you. ❜

❛ Everything I thought I knew has fallen out of view. ❜

❛ All the gods have been domesticated. ❜

❛ Heaven is now overrated. ❜

❛ Well, you can take your complaints straight to the Lord. ❜

❛ I try to still look with wonder on the world. ❜

❛ Heaven is here if you want it. ❜

❛ Hell, if it glitters, I'm going. ❜

❛ You know I always get my man. ❜

❛ I couldn't help it, yes, I let it get in. ❜

❛ The helpless optimism of spring. ❜

❛ I'm not bad, I'm not good. ❜

❛ Made myself mythical, tried to be real. ❜

❛ There is no bad, there is no good. ❜

❛ A generation soaked in grief; we're drying out and hanging on by the skin of our teeth. ❜

❛ I never thought it would get this far, this somewhat drunken joke. ❜

❛ Sometimes I see so much beauty I don't think that I can cope. ❜

❛ So tell me where to put my love. ❜

❛ Am I quiet enough for you yet? ❜

❛ You said this could have been the best thing that ever happened to you; So you decided not to do it. ❜

❛ If I was free to love you, you wouldn't want me, would you? ❜

❛ Unavailability is the only thing that turns you on. ❜

❛ I've blown apart my life for you. ❜

❛ Come here, baby, tell me that I'm wrong. ❜

❛ I don't love you, I just love the bomb. ❜

❛ I've been here many times before. ❜

❛ I should've come with a warnin'. ❜

❛ I'll show you what it means to be saved. ❜

❛ Oh, you know I'm still afraid. ❜

[ladyhindsight]

And so begins the fifth book where Clary continues to have the uncanny ability to make every single thing about herself, Jace, or both. Isabelle has no makeup and looks younger, the suddenly does and looks like a French film star. Alec seems to have reverted back to his “previous” characterization, leaving me thinking that City of Fallen Angels was probably just one big fever dream of major bitchiness.

The story begins with a prologue about Simon who was returned home as he said at the end of City of Fallen Angels. Except he has been barred from the house by his mother with all kinds of Jewish paraphernalia. So Simon tries to persuade his mother Elaine to let him in but she is adamant that Simon is dead and this Simon, the vampire, has killed her true son.

Starting with the oldies but goodies.

→ No suddenly

I made this point already, but Simon was never given any reason to doubt the lasting effect of his encanto. Simon just went on, foreboding how Elaine would begin remembering at some point when Raphael explicitly tells him there is no way Simon can reverse the effect of it. 

Clary then calls Simon.

Jace may be gone but never forgotten. And even absent, certainly never not the center of the attention.

So the first chapter begins, and structurally it is chaotic. Isabelle and Clary are hanging out in Isabelle’s bedroom, waiting for the Clave to decide on Clary’s fate as the whole RUSE about Raziel reviving Jace is out of the bag.

Church exists again because of The Infernal Devices.

Clary begins to narrate what happened immediately after City of Fallen Angels ended.

What makes the narrative structure weird is the tense change. As you would expect, Clary tells the story in past perfect tense. Things and actions completed and done before a certain point in time. Then, in the middle of the same paragraph, Clare changes the tense to past tense.

Past tense continues here, as if Clary has just gotten out of bed, not sitting on Isabelle’s and reminiscing this certain moment that has already come to pass days ago.

The Mortal Sword is painted as this torture device used to pull the truth from the person holding it. It’s a sound device because I don’t trust any of these people, Clary the least, to be honest about anything especially after keeping a secret that proved to me extremely detrimental.

“And now” finishes Clary’s recap of the past two weeks which could have been executed clearer just by using past perfect tense. It is also ridiculous and unnecessary notion that after two weeks and dozen times of holding the Mortal Sword, Clary can’t help but remember what it was like. Duh? It just happened.

→ ...waited for the Council to rule on her fate. (Paragraph division) Holding the Mortal Sword had been like tiny fishhooks embedded in her skin, pulling the truth out of her.

→ Losing muscle mass can’t be good for their endurance and performance in battle. Will it have any consequence or effect? No.

→ If there is someone else other than Jace or Clary who goes trough difficult things, it is the utmost importance to note that they, too, are still on par with other people’s suffering. Of course she is worried and losing weight because of the stress but I had to make a point because no one ever gets to suffer more.

Then there’s this mess:

You couldn’t keep up with Isabelle’s facial situation for three pages.

→ Clave is the only one/thing furious at Clary. Her and Jace’s actions had disastrous consequences, but none of them are truly felt by Clary (or later, Jace). The narrative treats both of them softly but operates in the area of plausible deniability. Clary felt fishhooks! She knows! She is sorry! She hates herself because of it! She has been punished enough! Clary being interrogated with fishhook-y feelings is not a consequence with any weight. It bears no difference at all. It is there to show that there was some kind of reaction, but that reaction, in actuality, is bullshit.

The Clave also has no reaction to finding where or what the Mortal Mirror is. There is no reaction to their Angel being raised. There is only focus on Clary’s part in this, and even then it is severely lacking. I don’t care what the Clave wants or doesn’t with Clary. I care that not one person in Jace’s life is furious about this, Clary and Jace’s secret having this big an effect on their lives. They’ve lost Jace because of something completely preventable if Clary and Jace had been honest. But no character can find themselves berating Clary (and justifiably!!) because then Clary would actually have to pay some sort of price.

What the price is not: Jace being gone and Clary angsting over it or the Clave being meanies and finding out the truth with force. What the price is: Someone at least saying out loud how could you? How fucking dare you? My son is gone and all you can say is you’re sorry???

→ I complained already that the reason for keeping Jace’s death and resurrection secret was never reasoned nor justified in the writing, in CoG or CoFA. Here’s only what I can say to be a cheap attempt at it. Clary and Jace did not think about any laws. They did not think about feelings of others. They did not think anything at all other than themselves and how this would be their secret.

Isabelle is the one woman support squad to Jace, when needed, and to Clary, when needed. Isabelle would never reproach Clary because only these nameless, faceless, mumbling Shadowhunters whose presence or thoughts bare no weight do that. What the price is also not: nameless, faceless, glaring Shadowhunters mumbling about Clary.

All of this is artificial. An imitation of consequence.

There’s been at least a couple of these moments where Isabelle does something nice to Clary, and Clary is constantly astonished because she and Isabelle are not close. All of the moments of Clary and Isabelle becoming closer (Clary stroking Isabelle’s hair like she would’ve her own sister’s, Isabelle coming with Clary no questions asked and having her back) are all made meaningless when every time their relationship is brought up, Clary thinks how they have never really that been close. How are they supposed to grow closer when the end result is always the same sentiment of them not being that?

→ Also, don’t drag Isabelle into this Not Like Other Girls thing Clary has going on. Isabelle has no close friends, they have grown secluded in New York. Clary has actively chosen to be hostile towards other girls. Isabelle has had their backs no matter what. Isabelle being “more comfortable with boys than other female companionship” is more authentic because it was never made a point in her character.

→ Also the use of words boys and female.  → than the companionship of girls

Alec arrives to tell the news on what the Council has decided for Clary.

How was Clary punished at all? I am not saying more fishhooks, I am saying righteous anger from someone who lost Jace because of Clary and Jace and can’t be angry at Jace because he is not there.

I don’t disagree but I don’t agree with this characterization, probably solely for the fact that it is Clary’s observation that completely excludes herself and her own behavior. She had a rather immovable chip too.

Oh, my, my. Parabatai as a concept returns properly, but it has been absent for so long that it needs a reintroduction. Again, because now there exists a parabatai pair that Clare actually cared for and wanted to write about so she couldn’t any longer ignore Alec and Jace’s.

This is pure showing, for which it is more powerful than any of the ruminating on the simplest of things and blandest of ideas of love pages after pages Clare does with Clary and Jace.

There is also this confusion. In City of Fallen Angels, Simon notes that Isabelle’s whip looks like golden bracelets: “Loops of gold laddered her right arm. They looked like bracelets, but Simon knew they were really her electrum whip.“

But previously in this part here, Isabelle is told she was wearing electrum bracelets which I assumed were actually her whip. But apparently not?

Clary, Alec, and Isabelle have agreed that they will go to the Seelie Court together to find out what the Queen wants with the bell Clary has. They go downstairs or somewhere where other Shadowhunters and Magnus is. Alec goes to Magnus and they fall into their own bubble.

Which Clary then makes about herself and Jace. Nice.

→ Just as with Kaelie in City of Fallen Angels, Clary has to comment on anyone who has had any kind of romantic action with Jace at some point and how it doesn’t really affect her.

→ And then makes it about how Jace is gone and she is sad.

→ Aline and Helen are just standing next to each other, how on earth are you supposed to tell they are a couple?

→ The final part is just annoying recapping.

As it is, once again, just one of those things Clary needs to be acutely aware of because otherwise it would be a clumsy reminder, which it now totally isn’t. 

→ Just let some stuff go without all this nonsense. Let Alec hug Aline and whether readers remember City of Glass is totally their own business.

Such a way to pat your own shoulder for a thing you did not do. You have shown nothing, just congratulating yourself here and trying to justify your own bad writing and indifference towards Alec and Magnus as having influence. Again, a facade, an imitation, artifice.

Oh, god, the Blackthorn eyes have made their entrance. I had forgotten the Blackthorns were introduced here already. In my recollection they just appear in City of Heavenly Fire. Interesting to note that Ty is Tibs. I don’t think Helen or anyone called Tiberius “Tibs” in TDA. Obviously the nickname went through a change before TDA, but it would’ve been a cool point for continuity if it remained Helen’s thing to still call Ty “Tibs.” 

Another thing that was changed, a mysterious sixth Blackthorn sibling that never came to be. Like Simon’s second sibling.

[multiverse-imagines]

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Knives x Reader

Song fic, Murder Song (5,4,3,2,1) by AURORA

-

You almost considered it a fever dream; The day you were found by Knives Millions. It was the day that Lost July became, well, Lost. After an altercation with his Brother, Vash The Stampede, Vash's Angel Arm decimated the entire city.

You had been left in the rubble. A small toddler of maybe four or five. Who your parents had been, where they were now, or if they had been looking for you didn't matter. As Knives walked about the rubble, pleased with his deed, he found you. Sniveling under what remained of a house, a tilted piece of material that was no longer recognizable. Your arm was gashed open, and your leg appeared to be broken, but you didn't scream any longer.

He didn't know why he took you. To this day, nearly thirty-five years later, he still had no clue why he had plucked you off of the ground and brought you home to his troop of The Gung-Ho Guns.

However he never allowed you to even pick up a gun, or any weapon for that matter. You remained something along the lines of his pet. A little pet human who depended on him endlessly, and loved him eternally. He provided you with a proper diet, fitting and fashionable clothing, and a comfortable living quarters which resided next to his own.

It was when you were 15 that he began to include you in on what he really did in life, and his true goals. Eradicating all human life on Gunsmoke, and this creating a perfect world for him, Vash, and the rest of the plants. And although his time with you and the Guns was finite, he had promised you and the others painless deaths once he had achieved his goal. He made it very clear you were not to beg for your life in His paradise.

After that year, the countdown began. More cities began disappearing off the map, and the people with them.

5: Juneora Rock fell when you were 19, and it was also the year you realized you had fallen for Knives.

4: May turned to ruins when you had turned 23, and by then you had told Knives of your feelings. It would take a year for him to accept this, and actually indulge your "incessant fantasy"

3: December fell just before you turned 26, and Knives had fully succumbed to your relationship. His favorite pet, his love, his toy.

2: Augusta fell at age 32, in which you had to console him at the death of his brother. This future had been for him too. Why did he have to fight it?

1: Octovern was the last city to die just 3 years later. All of the humans had perished, save for those within the remaining Gung-Ho Guns, and yourself.

Five members remained, and it was this day at the end of Gunsmoke that the seven of you stood in a circle with Knives in the middle.

"Thank you for everything. Thank you for helping me create my Paradise. Thank you for your Loyalty. Now my gift to you, is the death you've been searching for." He said pointing the silver gun that had once belonged to his brother to the sky as he cocked it to the ready.

5, 4, 3, 2, he shot them all in the head. Clean shots that wouldn't cause them pain. Their bodies falling with a hollow thud in the cold floor of the otherwise empty room. He paused at Legato. His right hand man. Knives seemed to ever so slightly hesitate. This gave Legato a moment to speak.

"Thank you, My Master. My Love." He says before Knives pulls the trigger, his eyes closing.

Legato hits the floor. 1.

Now it was just the two of you. You look up to him, trying not to have any pleading emotion within your eyes. He leans down to press his lips to yours. Heated, passionate, and quite literally your last kiss. You wished he would fuck you one last time, but that would just be delaying the inevitable. It would be asking too much of him.

"Legato kind of stole my words, Master Knives. Thank you for allowing me to stay by your side." A smile crept across your face, serene and accepting of the bullet that had your name on it.

"I've finally achieved my dream. I just wish He could have seen it." Tears streamed down his face.

"It is your decision to enter this era alone, My Love. One I have always respected." The tears began welling up behind your own eyes.

"This world is not meant for lowly humans such as yourself. Such resources would be wasted by your need for consumption." He recited with no malice in his voice. They were words you'd heard a Million Times. He placed the barrel against your forehead, the gun clicking the bullet in place in the chamber. You knew he was killing you for mercy.

"I will Miss you, Master. I love you, Knives." Your voice waivers as a year slides down your cheek.

"Me too, My Pet. May you find peace in death." His eyes are already closed when he pulls the trigger, and Bang, you are dead.

You felt yourself above your body, though a pressure in your back, and waist remained as you looked down to see Knives holding you in his arms. You can slowly hear the screams of his crying begin to fade as your soul detached from this life more and more. You wave goodbye as you depart knowing you have been saved from the awful things in life that would come from the world he created.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [02]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 3.5k a/n; i know it feels like a lot of bg and internal conflict but y/n!! our girl is struggling! she’s processing and is going through some times BUT things will spice up soon so thank you for all the love +notes, see you again thursday! 

[01] [02] [03]-> masterpost

The two most frequent contacts in your phone (you hope it’s your phone? It’s the same edition and everything) are Jimin and Taehyung. 

Jungkook (or not-Jungkook) high-tailed it out of there as soon as he deemed your reactions unfit for basic human society. He muttered that you were crazy and probably under something, and sped off in his motorcycle just like that. Like you were a stranger. 

It's not easy to ignore the aftermath of your heart after taking yet another rejection, but you're independent and you must stride forward in this strange situation. Taking a cautionary look around the area, you clutch your phone like a lifeline, tethering you together in this unfamiliar place. There's not many people around, but you spot a large library and a playground. Professionals are mulling from building to building, zombies in wrinkled suits and dripping iced coffees. Your phone displays an innocent 7:51, revealing how early it is. Toggling between the two friends in your contacts you take your chances and start with Jimin. The phone rings once, twice, before his dulcet voice chimes in your ear. 

“Babe?” he croons, and your heart drops at the sickly warm tone, “you can’t get enough of me after what we did last night?” 

You’re going to throw up. Scratch that, acid is already bubbling through your throat and you force yourself to tamp it down. There is no, no way in hell could you have hooked up with Park Jimin in your lifetime. 

Unless this is hell. 

“Jimin,” you steel your voice, hoping he can’t hear how absolutely mortified you are. You can picture this version of Park Jimin now, laying around in bed with crossed legs and casually enjoying how much you’re squirming on the other line, “I just need you to tell me where I live so we can move on with our lives.” 

He laughs, giggles bubbling like soft pink champagne. “Wow, I really must’ve fucked your brains out if you can’t even remember where you live.” God, in what life would Park Jimin be “fucking your brains out”? Maybe you should find a trashcan just in case you do puke on the sidewalk. “Y’know, you signed your lease with Taehyung a month ago? You just moved in last week?”

“T-Taehyung?” you stutter, trying to imagine the notion, “I live with Taehyung?” 

A beat passes, and you realize that just like you scared not-Jungkook away, you could be doing the same to Jimin. 

He says your name softly, gone the cocky tone you were initially bombarded with. “Are you okay? You could’ve waited for me to wake up, y’know. We had a lot to drink last night.” he mumbles, almost cutely if it weren’t for the fact the he was insinuating sex two seconds ago, “Did you eat?” 

“‘M fine,” you mumble, trying to chalk up your previous question with inhiberation. “Just loopy, I guess. I almost got hit by a motorbike, so my brain is probably just catching up.” 

“You got hit? Did you call a hospital?” great, now Jimin’s panicked. “Where are you? I’m gonna go get you. Drop your location, I’m leaving now!” 

“I’m fine!” you snip, and you feel bad for nearly screaming on the line. “I’m almost home, I’m just gonna lay in bed and sleep it off. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You don’t bother hearing his response, and you hang up. You then start to furiously scroll Taehyung’s chat wall, noting that he’s on an academic trip with his students until next week and you have the apartment to yourself. After a good ten minutes of scrolling and reading conversations that you can’t recollect you finally catch the address to your shared apartment. 

The city is the same, fortunately. So are the bus stops, and you’re thankful that your bus pass has some fare money. Turns out you’re starting your journey at the University of Seoul. The bus routes are the same as well, and you manage to take a tour of your side of the city, noting the tiny differences in the town. 

For example, there’s no BigHit Entertainment in its usual spot. Instead it’s an additional practice  space for Cube Entertainment. 

There’s no fanfare to your city tour, and it almost feels like you’re just a normal woman taking a ride home. There’s still the same trees and squirrels, familiar odeng stands and ice cream shops. It feels like you’ve been cut and pasted into this world with no rhyme or reason, a fever dream. 

The bus circles around the usual route once more until you’re in front of your supposed home, only a twenty minute bus ride from where Jungkook almost ran you over. 

It’s a lot, and you realize on the drive over that you’re probably in deeper shit than you could ever imagine. You pull out your keys, and instead of seeing the ramen keychain Jungkook got you when he went to Tokyo Disney, instead it’s replaced by a university ID labeled Assistant Professor under your full name. 

You pin that new fact for later and focus on getting inside.

Your apartment is nice, you muse. Simple black and white furniture, but there’s a definitive home-ness to it. There’s a moss green afghan folded up on the couch, presumably made by the artist himself. You’re glad Taehyung’s appeal for the arts hasn’t been lost, as revealed by the frames on the walls detailing pictures of you and Taehyung’s families, and some of Jimin and Taehyung. 

Deeper into the apartment you find your room. You choke back a sob at the familiar bedsheets your parents bought you at Target, and you even notice some familiar clothing pieces folded haphazardly in the corner. Instead of your bed being filled with shameless BT21 PR however, your RJ and Mang are replaced with simple panda and cat plushies. 

Finally letting your tears fall, you sob loudly into your pillows, hugging and grappling at anything to comfort you. You feel achy and tired, as if your heart has fallen out of your body and nothing can fill the void. As much as your bed sheets feel the same, as genuine as those pictures are in your shared living room, this isn’t your home. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━•

Between your bouts of crying and forcing yourself to stomach cheap ramen, you find out a couple of things. 

You’re an assistant professor at Seoul University. At least this version of you is. A little part of you is pleased by this, you have always wanted to teach at the university level before settling with BigHit. To your chagrin however, you’re not a language professor. 

To your horror, you’re a pre-medical student teaching two “History of Neuroscience” classes. It’s only two classes because according to your Google calendar, you’re also balancing the completion of  your final thesis on muscular dystropathy among low-income neighborhoods. 

Dear god, if your parents ever found out you could’ve been a doctor in another life, they’d be surely choking on their own spit. In this world, you probably weren’t lazy and wholly capable of achieving the impossible. 

You don’t know why you spend the next two hours sending emails to your students about cancelling the next week of classes. Fortunately all your lessons are neatly packaged in your drive, and you send out an email with said lessons citing your mental health and how you’ll resume direct instruction the following week. 

From time to time, your eyes can’t help but travel to the frames and polaroids that decorate your walls. Some of the memories are vaguely similar, a house in the suburbs, an annoying cousin who can’t stop and won’t stop pulling at your pigtails, a movie night with unlimited pizza and breadsticks. 

Some of them are far and beyond your state of recognition. Jimin and you playing hopscotch by the river, Taehyung stuffing his face with fried potato skins in a cheap hole-in-the-wall, you winning the blue ribbon at your high school’s science fair. 

You could very well walk out of this life and just focus on going back home, but something tells you that you need to continue on with this life, at least for now. 

It feels too real to be a dream. When you tug at your hair tie, it’s painful when it snaps across your wrist. Your skin blooms with color upon impact. Could you die in this world? If Jungkook had not skidded in time, would you have survived a motorcycle accident? 

Three days pass like that. You’re contemplating, absorbing information. In-between pints of ice cream and crying your ducts out, you’re drawing conclusions. Could you be in a coma? A very realistic, painful coma? But Jimin and Taehyung are still sending you texts and the day turns to night as painfully slow as it always has. A coma can’t fake a forty person class, all of them vying for your attention through various emails and Zoom calls. It can’t be it. 

And as you rummage through your drawers, check every bit of social media and even your yearbook photos, you also confirm that Jeon Jungkook has no place in this version of your life. It saddens you greatly, and reminds you eerily about the heated conversation you had before all of this. The Jungkook from days ago, the one who looked terrified when you tried to touch him, only met you through happenstance. 

By day four, you get a phone call. There’s no picture next to the contact, only named Biggie Mentor. After a few rings, you finally get the courage to answer the call. 

A deep timbre seeps its way through the line, and you almost whine at how much you missed him. “y/n,” Namjoon says, but he doesn’t sound happy, “tell me why our students said you cancelled all of your classes this week due to mental health?” 

If Namjoon’s your mentor, that means you’re probably in deep shit for cancelling all your classes without his consent. 

“Uh, exactly that,” you say, and it hurts how much you have to strain your voice, trying not to pour any type of affection into this version of Namjoon. You’ve always had a soft spot for his gummy smile. “I’m sorry for not telling you beforehand. Something really traumatic just happened and,” you choke back a sob, trying to cover the microphone, “and I really needed some space.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” his voice is like melted honey, and you close your eyes and picture yourself back at BigHit, Namjoon’s happy smile whenever he tries to cheer you up. It only makes you even more upset, and your mind is all shadowed and filled with fuzzies as you attempt to picture Namjoon as your boss, “I was just shocked, that’s all. Is everything alright?” 

“No,” you reply truthfully, “and I don’t know if it will be.” 

There’s a terse silence, both your breaths hanging on the line with no move to continue the conversation. If your personality here is similar to your true world, you would understand why Namjoon would have a hard time formulating a reply. You don’t even know how close you are with him here. What remains is that you’re the type to keep your secrets to yourself, and if they truly felt hindering, you’d tell somebody. Not to say you’re the suffer in silence type of person, but you weren’t one to immediately dump your feelings on someone. 

Finally, Namjoon musters a reply, “I have a break at two. Why don’t you swing by our usual lunch spot and we can talk? Their sandwiches always cheer you up. ”

“Joonie,” your voice cracks, and you shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you. A slip of the nickname comes out before you can help it, and you hope this Namjoon is fond of the manner. “I don’t know where that is. Or what our ‘usual’ spot is. I don’t know what sandwiches you’re talking about either.” 

“Okay,” and you relax at the calmness in his tone, “I’ll swing by after my 5PM then. Set the table for us, yeah?” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

Namjoon smells of dry-erase marker and antiseptic. 

He’s bounding into your apartment like it’s his own home, carrying two paper bags and a stack of leather bound books. The items fly across your coffee table, and you two work together to organize both your dinner and the books. Namjoon looks like a textbook nerd, wearing shades of burgundy and burnt orange as he breaks into your front door. Gone are the boots and sleek outfits that trim his figure, and you can’t help but go a little anti-starstruck at how normal this moment is.

But what remains is the bumbly stance as he makes his way through your tiny space, long limbs and all flailing to help you place his work in a safe space. The curve of his nose and dimples so deep you could fill a lake in them, you can’t help but muster a shy smile as he takes notice that you’re staring at him a little too much for comfort.

The two of you eat in relative silence, and you gratefully accept the bag he pushes in your direction. To your surprise the sandwich inside is a favorite combination of yours, and you wonder if this restaurant exists in your world. 

Your world. 

“Namjoon,” you place your sandwich down, despite the fact that your stomach is protesting for you to finish the first real meal you’ve had in days, “you know that movie, Avengers?” 

Namjoon’s face is puffed with bread, and you hand him a water bottle to chug it down. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “Marvel isn’t a popular franchise, so even if I had I wouldn’t remember.” 

“Marvel isn’t popular—” what kind of fucked up world is this? Your Jungkook would have a field day if he was in your shoes. “Anyway. There’s a concept from Marvel that there’s multiple Earths. Like you can create a rip in space and land yourself in another dimension if you’re not too careful. Do you think it’s possible?” 

Your tall mentor pushes his charcoal hair back, exasperated. “Is this why you’re taking off? Because you believe in some silly comic book series?” 

You feel your heart cracking, desperately trying to keep itself together. In your haste you grip Namjoon’s arm, desperate. “Please, just hear me out.” you warble, “a few days ago I was out drinking with a friend. Next thing I know, I’m in another world where I run into a boy. That boy is my friend, but he says he doesn’t recognize me! But I don’t recognize this life. Namjoon I can’t even imagine you wanting to be a doctor!” 

Namjoon is looking at you funny, and you know he’s really trying to believe you. Instead of the reassuring words you hope for, he instead says, “this isn’t even pseudoscience, y/n. This is supernatural! How could you possibly think you’re from another dimension? I just saw you last week and everything was fine!” 

“I saw you last week too!” you exclaim, clutching your chest, “and you cried again for the umpteenth time because you lost another pair of custom Airpods.” 

A pause. “That does sound like me.” 

Hope blooms in your stomach. “Doesn’t it?”

“Well, in this supposed other life. What is my profession?”

Your face falls. “Uh, you’re in a worldwide K-pop band. You’re making millions and producing beautiful music.” 

That sounded way better in your head. Out loud it sounded absolutely bonkers. You don’t even blame Namjoon when he bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. You let him, sinking further into your seat and hugging your knees. You really hoped Namjoon would’ve come through for you. 

However you’re not laughing along with him, and he immediately stops at your teary expression. He pushes himself over to you with his long legs, quickly moving to prevent yourself from tucking into your shell. He sees how small your form becomes and he reaches over to place a hand over your hair. “You’re really upset over this, aren’t you?” he questions aloud, and he can’t piece it together, “did you hit your head or something?” 

Defeated, you explain, “I may have gotten hit by a motorcycle the other day.” 

“What?” he squeezes your shoulder, “well, that explains a lot! What if you’re hallucinating? What if you have a concussion? You could be suffering from short-term memory loss!” 

You’re sure it’s none of those things, but you let him ramble. The explanation is clear-cut and so painfully normal that it’s the only conclusion that Namjoon will cling to. Your mentor insists you take a medical leave, and says he’ll take over your classes in the meantime. He gives you a number to call, explains there one of the best doctors for trauma and motor incidents. You don’t say anything to that, but you accept the number and lie when you say you’ll call them in the morning. Namjoon still treats you like a friend however, despite your fruitless confession, and you concede that his comfort is more than enough after such a rough week. 

•━━━━━━»••»💮💮💮«••«━━••

It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve contacted Jimin. 

Sure, Jimin’s contacted you. A couple flirty texts here, some low-key sexy selfies there. Usually, you’d eat that up like honey and butter. Now, there’s only one-word replies and half-hearted attempts at continuing a conversation. He loosens his tie, thankful he’s working out of the office today. He can look at his phone all he wants, and no one will judge him. 

Jimin finally looks up at the photographer his marketing company contracted, who’s still mulling over the contract. “We’re not trying to jip you, promise.” Jimin assures, and he almost laughs at the comical way the young man’s large eyes catch his concern. “You’ll get all that money, and then some if you need to work overtime. It’s a sweet gig.” 

“Yeah,” the young man nods, and grabs the pen to sign at the bottom. “Looking forward to working with you.” 

“Same to you, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin grins, meeting him halfway across the table, “I’ve seen your work, I’m sure the commercial will be beautiful.” 

“You can call me Jungkook,” the new employee flashes him a quick grin, taking his palm in his. Jimin tries not to twitch at this cute kid, who is both devastatingly handsome and cute at the same time. He’s a little jealous, a little attracted. 

“Great, because Mr. Park is my dad. Jimin’s fine.” 

It’s then that Jimin’s phone lights up, both pairs of eyes darting to the picture of you decorating the wallpaper. 

While it’s not a completely flattering picture (you’re asleep with your wire-rimmed glasses half-off and there’s drool dribbling down your chin.) However it’s definitely you, the person Jungkook nearly killed a couple days ago.

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and he lets go of Jimin’s hand like it’s fire. Jimin hardly notices, grabbing his phone in hope that you replied to his text. To his despair, it’s just Taehyung. He ruffles his hair in frustration, letting the slick ebony strands fall out of his hairstyle.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, shoving his phone in his blazer. 

“Everything alright?” Jungkook asks, trying to be polite. On the other hand, he’s rather curious about the girl from weeks ago, who still hasn’t left his mind. 

In the heat of the moment, Jungkook left the scene with you blubbering on the road. How wide your eyes were with recognition, and almost mother-like as you coddled him like someone to protect. He’s felt bad about it since, but he had an interview with Jimin’s boss and he couldn’t blow a job opportunity. It couldn’t be helped that your sad expression has been his midnight fixation when he can’t sleep or has a creative block. He should’ve at least called a cab to take you to the hospital or something, you were clearly not in the right mind. 

“Yeah, it’s just a friend.” Jimin forces a smile, not wanting to dump his baggage on the new employee. “She almost got hit by a motorcycle the other day,” Jungkook masks a wince, remembering the horror he felt when he saw you, just lying there across the street. “Ever since then, she just hasn’t been herself. I’m just worried. It’s like she’s seen a ghost or something.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook steals a glance at Jimin’s phone again, hoping to see your picture light up again. He does feel a little guilty pushing you off him and running away, but then again it was you that started being weird. 

How did you know him, and why were you so concerned for his well-being? Would he get fired if he asked Jimin about you? That would be the quickest job he ever got contracted for. Instead, Jungkook forces a smile and offers a neutral, “Well, I’m sure things will work out.” 

“Thanks, I hope so too.” 

Jungkook’s palms are sweaty, as if it’s a dark premonition that something will happen. With Jimin around supervising him, he has a feeling that if things don’t work out, things will happen regardless. 

Maybe he’ll understand why you were so concerned for a stranger’s well-being, and why you looked at him like that. 

Like someone in love. 

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

The Road Ahead | Adam Milligan x Reader

Words: 2279

Warning: None, except some typos and Adam not being in this one as much.

A/N: How does writing work again? What do you mean I have to type it out? I’m thinking of a series name for this to organize these continuous oneshots. No promises of regular updates. It’s only when I can.

Continuation of [True Winchester Fashion] and [Night at the Museum].

-

The museum director hummed softly to herself as her heels echoed through the empty halls of the building. The exhibit was coming along nicely and her contact had come through and found an actual grimoire. Finally, her years of searching were finally over. If only she had brushed up on her Latin, then she would have had no problem translating it herself. Her senior curator had fallen sick after a week of trying to translate the ancient book, which left the college student rookie to translate. She had kept an eye on you for some time now. She had seen the potential in you, the potential of witchcraft. It takes practice and intelligence to master it and she had only wished the matrilineal side of her family had kept on the tradition of passing down the defunct coven’s knowledge. No matter. Blood of the coven is thicker than water of the womb, as they say. You make your own family.

With each passing week of you translating the grimoire, more incidents had been occurring around town. She wanted to approach you about it, to help you control the power of the book, but it would mean revealing her intentions too soon. She had watched you run in fear when the growing number of creatures had reached the museum. Then, those damn FBI agents had to get involved. They stopped by the museum after you had reported the bodies of the security guards that night and she had to pretend to be a clueless director that had limited knowledge about the objects in the museum and the history they hold.

It would be a matter of time before the grimoire gets out of control.

Exiting the museum, she felt a cold presence behind her. She spun around and saw a woman with the reddest hair, palest skin, and radiating the most powerful energy she had ever felt. The woman’s red lips split into a smile, a chill running down the director’s back telling her that it wasn’t a friendly one.

“Who are you?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Oh, dear. Oh, sweet dearie. You dare mess with magic and not know who I am?” The woman chuckled, taking a step forward. “I’m Rowena, the most powerful witch that ever graced this horrible planet and… the current Queen of Hell.”

“Queen of Hell. You must be joking.”

Rowena stared her down and the director suddenly felt her knees giving out. “I have been told that I have a grim sense of humor, but I do not joke about this. And you, missy, must think that witchcraft is a joke. What was it? Some kind of soul searching, finding out who you are from your family tree? Think you could feel close to them if you get a fancy old book and a cauldron?” she said mockingly. “What’s your name, sweetheart.”

“Joana Faith,” she gasped as the weight on her shoulders lifted.

Rowena hummed. “You. You need to fix this mess. As much as I love chaos, I love organized chaos and I’m not going to let some amature run around with a powerful grimoire like she’s in Harry Potter. You watch yourself, because I will also be watching you, Joana Faith.”

“Alright, alright.” Joana slowly picked herself off the ground. “And what about those FBI agents that have been snooping around? How is all of this going to be explained?”

Rowena rolled her eyes, a mix of irritable fondness in one gesture. “Those boys. They probably already know by now. As long as you set things right, you don’t have to worry about them. You do know how to stabilize that grimoire, right?”

“Well…”

Rowena rolled her eyes again.

-

Adam felt Michael’s presence in the back of his mind, asking to take over. “I can help,” the archangel said. Adam nodded, taking a step back and allowing Michael to take control.

“I don’t know what to do,” you moaned, clutching your head between your hands as eerie figures began to crowd around the windows of your apartment.

Your eyes landed on the grimoire, the leathery surface and crispy pages drawing you in like a magnet. Heat radiated off of the old padlock as your hand drifted closer. There were ancient powers in that book, power to change things, to manipulate them, and to end things. And the grimoire chose you.

You could hear Adam’s voice, but it sounded like you were under water. You couldn’t catch what it was, but you felt your heart pick up in panic. This wasn’t right. This was something that you don’t know about… but maybe you can learn to.

Firm hands gripped your shoulders as you were yanked away from the grimoire. Adam’s hazel eyes were looking down at you, but it didn’t feel like Adam. You still couldn’t understand what he was saying. He frowned, pressing two fingers onto your forehead. Heat spread through your head, brightness filling your vision as if you were pulled out of the ocean.

“Sam and Dean will be coming to deal with the monsters outside, but I need you to focus.” He paused, watching as your eyes still drifted down to the grimoire. “That thing doesn’t call to just anyone, you know.”

As you calmed yourself, so did the noises outside, the dark shadows disappearing from view. Your eyes snapped back to him. “What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear, that you have a gift and a curse,” came a Scottish woman’s voice.

You spun a head around and saw a red haired woman and Joana who looked haggard. The red haired woman rolled her eyes at her.

“Oh, please, you want to be a witch and you can’t even handle teleportation,” she chided. She looked over at you and Adam and smiled. “Hello, Michael. Fancy seeing you here. Playing college student, I see.”

“Rowena,” ‘Adam’ said with a curt nod, “You’re here for the book.”

“Of course I am. Even if the Winchesters deal with those monsters outside, there’ll be more coming if we don’t get that book under control. You,” Rowena sauntered over to you, “How much of the book you’ve read already?”

“Almost all of it,” you said sheepishly.

She hummed, looking almost impressed. A grimoire would be difficult for a beginner, but for someone who had no experience to make it that far into the book is a feat in itself. Maybe you’d be useful to her in the future, or maybe become a potential apprentice.

“Well, you two are glad that I’m here. Listen up, I’m about to give you a Witchcraft crash course and I expect you to pay attention. You wouldn’t want me to visit you when I’m upset. Michael, help those boys outside while I sort this out, would you?”

Adam stood up and gave her a look of warning. “Make sure (Y/n) is safe-”

“Or else what, dearie?” she smirked. There wasn’t much use arguing with the Queen of Hell, especially if it was Rowena Macleod.

He glowered before turning to you. “It’s going to be okay,” he assured you.

You watched him disappear with a small gust, strands of your hair flying out of your face and loose paper flying off the table. “What do you mean by Michael?” you asked Rowena.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Your boyfriend Adam is the vessel of the archangel Michael,” she said nonchalantly, “but we’ll unpack that later. We’ve got work to do.”

-

There was an energy that coursed through your veins that you never knew was possible. It was invigorating, like you could fly or punch through a wall. Rowena warned you about becoming too power hungry.

“Ambition is good, but too much can kill you,” she said, then added with a smirk, “Unless you find a way to cheat death, I suggest you know your limits first.”

After the incident with the grimoire, everything seemed to go back to normal. Your friend, who the Winchesters had saved from the vampire den also had no recollection, convinced that she was drugged and kidnapped while your other friend was not so lucky in getting out. The two of you mourned all the same, but only you knew how she really died. No one in town even remembered what happened with the disappearances and the killings, except for you and Joana. You now see her in a different light, knowing what her main goal was in creating the Salem witch exhibit. Her talk with Rowena seemed to humble her and she regarded you with a little more respect than she used to. The exhibit was still ongoing, but this time, no dangerous objects for display. No, that grimoire stayed with you after Rowena helped the two of you contain it. It was now imprinted with you and under your care. You didn’t know where to start.

Adam had disappeared that night and no one remembered him, either. It was as if he had vanished along with everything that was unnatural, like some weird fever dream. Rowena had said that he was a vessel to an angel, the archangel Michael of all things. In any other circumstances, you would have had a hard time believing it, but with the grimoire and the monsters and witches that came with it, it was just another piece to the universal puzzle found. Now you know the truth. The things in stories like the werewolves, the vampires, the witches, and even angels and demons, were all real, and there were people that dealt with them within the shadows. They come and go and only a few even notice them. They save lives without any recognition or reward. Hunters, they were called. The Winchesters.

After graduating college, you weren’t sure what you wanted to do. There was the museum library, but it was no longer what you wanted to do. Now that you have discovered witchcraft, you wanted to know what you could do. Maybe you could help people, too, like Adam and his brothers.

You cleared up your desk at the museum as you snacked on the brownies that a senior curator had brought in for your last day. They were sad to see you go, but you told them that you had applied to a museum in the city and wanted to see where you went from there.

“You are always welcomed back here,” one of them said as they hugged you.

Your last stop was the cemetery where your friend had already left flowers. She didn’t talk to you all that much, saying she needed more time with her family and had sought professional help to cope with your mutual loss. Maybe it was for the best. You still blamed yourself for your mutual friend’s death after all.

You turned to leave and was immediately faced with Joana. She had dropped her perky and enthusiastic mask that she had kept up around others and offered a sympathetic smile instead.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” she said, “I didn’t realize that an old leathery book would cause this much trouble. I’m sorry.” She looked around, eyes squinting as the summer sun beamed down on the two of you. “I heard you were leaving town. Good for you. I… there’s another thing I should apologize for.”

It was then you realized that she had a small book tucked under her arm. She pulled it out and handed it over to you. It was worn from constant use, scribbles and rough sketches on every page. Flipping through them, words like wendigo, werewolves, and revenant, stood out.

“It had been left on your desk that night when… the whole thing with the grimoire had been put to rest. I got curious and… I might have borrowed it. I realized it must have been left by those hunters that had helped us,” Joana explained.

“Possibly by Adam,” you muttered, closing the journal.

“Adam. Rowena said that he was a vessel of an angel. Is that true? Did you know?”

You shook your head. “Not sure how much from the Queen of Hell is true but I wouldn’t be too surprised anymore if it was. There is a lot out there that people don’t know about. What about you? What are you going to do now?”

She shrugged. “I could dabble here and there. I think I want to use it to protect this town, though. After everything that happened, I realized the impact of one thing could have on a whole community, especially when it involves things that people don’t believe existed. If those hunters hadn’t come here, hell, even if Adam hadn’t decided to go to school here, who knows what would have happened.”

“Yeah. Makes you think about those that weren’t so lucky. I’m going to try to learn more about this… this whole business with supernatural things. If I have a gift, I should use it, right?”

Joana nodded before stepping back. “Well, good luck. Come back whenever and tell me about what you’ve found. I’m curious, but I don’t think I’m cut out for venturing.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

As you walked towards your car, there was the bittersweet ache in your chest. You had never lived away from home before, the town was practically all you knew. Yet, there was something inside of you that felt that you had the potential to do more and be more than what you were now, and it wasn’t going to change unless you stepped away into something new.

The road ahead was dangerous, but it was better than staying in one spot forever. Maybe one day, you would even run into Adam again.

[andrea-lyn]

If you know one (or two) things about me, it’s that I am occasionally chronically late to a fandom (sometimes accidental, sometimes on purpose), so I missed the ATLA renaissance, but I found my way around to it, which means! Recs! 

This is going to be majority Sokka/Zuko, with a couple others in here. There’s def a second post coming as I make my way through the tag. As ever, master rec post can be found pinned on my tumblr here! 

Zukka ATLA Recs

Wooing the Water Tribe by lenaballena (ALL TIME FAVE RIGHT HERE)

Zuko is courting Katara, and with every passing day finds new and insane ways of showing that he would quite literally move the spirit world and earth to make her happy.

In hindsight, it probably would've been better if Sokka had realised he was in love with Zuko at literally any time before this. Or preferably, never fallen for his best friend in the first place.

exothermic reaction by blueconsequences

When Sokka is temporarily blinded by Fire Nation soldiers, the members of the Gaang take turns to care for him.

One pair of hands is warmer than the others.

Love's Such an Old-Fashioned Word by drvcos

When invited to the 100th anniversary of his father’s company, after 15 years of radio silence, Zuko decides to show how happy he is to all the people from his past. There’s only one (fatal) problem.

Or,

Zuko is a frazzled single dad, Sokka is an absolute flirt, and the “fake” that comes before their relationship doesn’t feel all that fake.

like real people do by verdanthoney for bleekay

Sokka knew he would be dealing with a raging case of baby fever during their annual vacation on Ember Island. What he didn’t expect was to discover that he was also hopelessly in love with Zuko, and had been for years without realizing.

Spirits Help Us, There's Two of Them by hopepunk

Sokka and Zuko are both weird guys. Fortunately, they're the same kind of weird as each other.

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade

Under the leadership of Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Nation has made every attempt to restore peace and make amends for the harm they inflicted during the Seventy-Year War. Their newest proposal is a literal proposal: a marriage to unite the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes.

The Fire Nation offers Prince Zuko’s hand.

The Water Tribes offer Princess Yue’s.

Sokka is apparently the only person in the world who has a problem with any of this.

isn't this the vision that you wanted by nebulastucky

Firelord Zuko - ender of the Hundred Year War, ruler of the Fire Nation, payer of respects and reparations - takes advice and counsel from representatives of every nation, division, and specialty.

But teenage boy Zuko - friend of turtleducks, wielder of fun looking swords, stumbler over words and feet in the presence of cute boys - only listens to two people, and they are conspiring together to ruin him.

or: Iroh just wants what's best for his nephew, and Katara just wants to know everyone's business.

we had a moment, we had a summertime by nebulastucky

Sokka shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You get captured and killed by the Fire Nation,” Toph provides.

“They won’t execute me in a tea shop,” Sokka says around a sudden lump in his throat. “That’d be bad for business.”

or: the one where sokka falls for a tea shop and a boy with too much charm for his own good.

Ignition Point by Yuu_chi

Most people know they're a bender since birth. Sokka just had to discover it at twenty when he accidentally burns his own house down.

Alchemy by mindbending

Sokka (a.k.a the Silent Knight, a.k.a. the sharpest detective in Caldera City) has three cases weighing on his mind.

1.) Zuko, son of the mob boss Ozai, has gone missing under sinister circumstances. 2.) Lee, a teahouse waiter with the face of an angel, wears a scar of mysterious origins. 3.) The Blue Spirit, a lithe and enigmatic cat burglar, keeps stealing into the Fire Nation’s storehouses (not to mention Sokka’s dreams).

Sokka sighs and takes a swig from his special bottle. It’s hard solving three completely unrelated mysteries at the same time...

[rubykgrant]

I made a slightly condensed version of my Spooky Ref list; it still has a heck ton of movies and books, but now I combined certain categories, eliminated a few, and removed some of the titles that don’t quite fit. If you are looking for things to watch or read so you can get into the Halloween mood (or of you just like some creepy content), here you go!

Movies and Books for October

These range from children’s media to adult content, so be sure to check the ratings/reviews, this way you’ll find ones that are suitable for the right viewers. The dates of movies and names of authors for books are included to make searches easier

(a * symbol is for when a title is in both sections, a book that got made into a movie, ect)

Halloween and Ghosts

Movies- Hocus Pocus (1993), *the Halloween Tree (1993), the Nightmare before Christmas (1993), Trick r Treat (2007), Monster House (2006), Halloweentown (1998), the Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1949), Scary Godmother Halloween Spooktacular (2003), Poltergeist (1982), the Haunting (1999), Casper (1995), Ghostbusters (1984), the Haunted Mansion (2003), Thirteen Ghosts (2001), the Others (2001)

Books- How to Drive Your Family Crazy on Halloween by Dean Marney,*the Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury, the Haunted Mask (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, Dark Harvest by Norman Partridge, Stonewords a Ghost Story by Pam Conrad, Deep and Dark and Dangerous by Mary Downing Hahn, Ghost Beach (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, All the Lovely Bad Ones by Mary Downing Hahn, the Crossroads by Chris Grabenstein, Wait Till Helen Comes by Mary Downing Hahn

 Witch/ESP/Mental Powers

Movies- *Practical Magic (1998), *the Wizard of Oz (1939), *the Witches (1990), Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989), Scooby-Doo and the Witch’s Ghost (1999) *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (2001), the Craft (1996), the Witches of Eastwick (1987), *Carrie (1976), *Firstarter (1984), *Matilda (1996), the Last Mimzy (2007)

Books- *Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman, *the Witches by Roald Dahl, Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones, *Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by JK Rowling, *the Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum, T*Witches by HB Gilmour and Randi Reisfeld, the Worst Witch by Jill Murphy, *Carrie by Stephen King, *Firestarter by Stephen King, *Matilda by Roald Dahl, Scorpion Shards (Star Shards Chronicles) by Neal Shusterman, the Witch’s Boy by Michael Gruber

 Vampire and Werewolf

Movies- Blade (1998), the Little Vampire (2000), Hellboy Blood and Iron (2007), *Hotel Transylvania (2012), Fright Night (2011), What We Do in the Shadows (2014), Alvin and the Chipmunks meet The Wolfman (2000), Ginger Snaps (2000), Van Helsing (2004) Wolf Children (2012), the Wolfman (1941)

Books- Bunnicula by James and Deborah Howe, Dracula by Bram Stoker, ‘Salem’s Lot by Stephen King, Red Rider’s Hood by Neal Shusterman, the Werewolf of Fever Swamp (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, Werewolves Don't Go to Summer Camp (Bailey School Kids) by Debbie Dadey and Marcia Jones, Blood and Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause, Night of the Werepoodle by Constance Hiser

 Zombies and Slasher/Gore

Movies- Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island (1998), ParaNorman (2012), Night of the Living Dead (1968), *Pet Sematary (1989), Zombieland (2009), Resident Evil (2002), Dawn of the Dead (2004) Scream (1996), a Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), *I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), Kill Bill (2003), Happy Death Day (2017), the Hills Have Eyes (2006), US (2019), Friday the 13th (1980), the Thing (1982), *the Girl with all the Gifts (2016)

Books- *Pet Sematary by Stephen King, the Haunting of Derek Stone by Tony Abott, Welcome to Dead House (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, *I know What You Did Last Summer by Lois Duncan, the Dark Half by Stephen King, The Dead Girlfriend (Point Horror) by RL Stine, Another by Yukito Ayatsuji, the Prom Queen (Fear Street) by RL Stine, *the Girl with all the Gifts by MR Carey

 Demons/Possession/Afterlife

Movies- the Omen (1976), Insidious (2010), the Exorcist (1973), *Christine (1983), City of Angels (1998), All Dogs go to Heaven (1989), Fallen (1998), *Rosemary’s Baby (1968), Bedazzled (2000), What Dreams May Come (1998), the Book of Life (2014), Flatliners (2017), *the Lovely Bones (2009), Coco (2017), Jennifer’s Body (2009), the Mummy (1999)

Books- *Christine by Stephen King, Needful Things by Stephen King, HECK where the bad kids go by Dale E Bayse,* Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin, Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Paradise Lost by John Milton, Inferno by Dante Alighieri, *the Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

 Monsters/Mythology/Dangerous Animals

Movies- Monsters Inc (2001), Godzilla (1998), *a Monster Calls (2016), *Jurassic Park (1993), King Kong (1933), Doug’s 1st Movie (1999), Darkness Falls (2003), Atlantis the lost empire (2001), Sinbad Legend of the Seven Seas (2003), *the Last Unicorn (1982), Urban Legend (1998), *How to Train Your Dragon (2010), the Flight of Dragons (1982), Shrek (2001), *the Hobbit (1977), Quest for Camelot (1998), Ferngully the last rainforest (1992), Lake Placid (1999), Jaws (1975), *Cujo (1983), Deep Blue Sea (1999), Anaconda (1997)

Books- *a Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, *Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, Sasquatch by Roland Smith, *the Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, the Moorchild by Eloise Jarvis McGraw, the Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan, the Boggart by Susan Cooper, *How to Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell, Jeremy Thatcher Dragon Hatcher by Bruce Coville, *the Hobbit by JRR Tolkien, *Cujo by Stephen King, Cat in the Crypt (Animal Ark Hauntings) by Ben M Baglio, Congo by Michael Crichton, Watership Down by Richard Adams, the Dark Pond by Joseph Bruchac

 Dolls and Toys, Circus/Carnival/Clowns, Comedy Horror

Movies- *Coraline (2009), the Adventures of Pinocchio (1996), Child’s Play (1988), Toy Story (1995), 9 (2009), We’re Back a dinosaur’s story (1993), the Care Bears Movie (1985), Little Nemo adventures in Slumberland (1989), *Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983), *Big Top Scooby-Doo (2012), Killer Klowns from Outer Space, *IT (2017), *Beetlejuice (1988), Army of Darkness (1992), Gremlins (1984), Arachnophobia (1990), Jawbreaker (1999), Tremors (1990), the Frighteners (1996), Twilight Zone the Movie (1983), Little Shop of Horrors (1986), Eight Legged Freaks (2002), the Goonies (1985)

Books- Frozen Charlotte by Alex Bell, *Coraline by Neil Gaiman, No Flying in the House by Betty Brock, Doll Bones by Holly Black, Joyland by Stephen King, *Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury, the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, *IT by Stephen King, the Cuckoo Clock of Doom (Goosebumps) by RL Stine, a Dirty Job by Christopher Moore jr, Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (Treasury) by Alvin Schwartz and illustrated by Stephen Gammell, JTHM (Director’s Cut) by Jhonen Vasquez

 Gothic/Dark Fantasy, Curse/Transformation

Movies- *the Addams Family (1991), Rebecca (1940), Edward Scissorhands (1990), Mama (2013), the Phantom of the Opera (2004), Crimson Peak (2010), Legend (1985), the Dark Crystal (1982), Labyrinth (1986), *the Neverending Story (1984), *the Secret of NIMH (1982), Anastasia (1997), Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), Willow (1988), *the Last Unicorn (1982), the Princess Bride (1987), *Legend of the Guardians the Owls of Ga'Hoole, Beauty and the Beast (1991), the Princess and the Frog (2009), the Swan Princess (1994), the Thing (1982), the Mask (1994), Freaky Friday (2003), Song of the Sea (2014), Pirates of the Caribbean the Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

Books- the Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, the Shining by Stephen King, Remember Me by Mary Higgins Clark, a Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, Well Witched (Verdigris Deep) by Frances Hardinge, Poison by Chris Wooding, *the Neverending Story by Michael Ende, *Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C O'Brien, a Tale Dark and Grimm by Adam Gidwitz, the Dark Portal by Robin Jarvis, Zel by Donna Jo Napoli, *the Last Unicorn by Peter S Beagle, *Guardians of Ga’Hoole by Kathryn Lasky, Owl in Love by Patrice Kindl

 Mystery/Thriller/Psychological/Suspense

Movies- Clue (1985), *Holes (2003), Get Out (2017), Hot Fuzz (2007), Minority Report (2002), Kidnap (2017), Saw (2004), Wind River (2017), Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), the Great Mouse Detective (1986), Eve’s Bayou (1997), Breaking In (2018), Cube (1997), *Secret Window (2004), Silent Hill (2006), the Sixth Sense (1999), the Good Son (1993), Psycho (1960), Donnie Darko (2001), Fargo (1996), the Game (1997), the Invisible Man (2020), Breaking In (2018)

Books- *Holes by Louis Sachar, the Lost (the Outer Limits) by John Peel, We’ll Meet Again by Mary Higgins Clark, When the Bough Breaks by Jonathan Kellerman, *Secret Window Secret Garden (Four Past Midnight) by Stephen King, House of Stairs by William Sleator, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Dolores Claiborne by Stephen King, Tangerine by Edward Bloor, Lord of the Flies by William Golding, the Girl who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King

 Sci-Fi/Space Aliens, Robots and Technology

Movies- I Robot (2004), the Iron Giant (1999), the Terminator (1984), AI artificial intelligence (2001), the Stepford Wives (2004), Wall-E (2008), *Screamers (1995), *Sphere (1998), *Blade Runner (1982), *2001 a Space Odyssey (1968), MIB (1997), Mission to Mars (2000), Galaxy Quest (1999), Alien (1979), ET the extra terrestrial (1982), Independence Day (1996), Spaced Invaders (1990), Buzz Lightyear of Star Command the Adventure Begins (2000), Chicken Little (2005), *War of the Worlds (1953), *Contact (1997), Signs (2002), Treasure Planet (2002), Frequency (2000), Back to the Future (1985), the Time Machine (1960), Planet of the Apes (1968), Lost in Space (1998)

Books- the Terminal Man by Michael Crichton, Feed by Matthew Tobin Anderson, *Second Variety (Screamers) by Phillip K Dick, *I Robot by Isaac Asimov, Cell by Stephen King, *Sphere by Michael Crichton, *Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep (Blade Runner) by Philip K Dick , *2001 a Space Odyssey by  Arthur C Clarke, a Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle, Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card, the Dark Side of Nowhere by Neal Shusterman, *War of the Worlds by HG Wells, *Contact by Carl Sagan, Childhood’s End by Arthur C Clarke, Aliens Don’t Wear Braces (the Baily School Kids) by Debbie Dadey and Marcia Jones, the Invasion (Animorphs) by KA Applegate

 Dystopia/Disaster, Other Worlds

Movies- Waterworld (1995), the Matrix (1999), Escape from New York (1981), *Demolition Man (1993), the Day After Tomorrow (2004), Volcano (1997), the Fifth Element (1997), Titan AE (2000), Armageddon (1998), Twister (1996), the Birds (1963), the Book of Eli, (2010) Spirited Away (2001), *Alice in Wonderland (1951), Pleasantville (1998), *the Phantom Tollbooth (1970), *the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005), *Hook (1991), the Pagemaster (1994), *James and the Giant Peach (1996)

Books- Among the Hidden by Margaret Peterson Haddix, Uglies by Scott Westerfeld, the Road by Cormac McCarthy, the House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, 1984 by George Orwell, Armageddon Summer by Bruce Coville and Jane Yolen, the Giver by Lois Lowry, the City of Ember by Jeanne DuPrau, *Brave New World (Demolition Man) by Aldous Huxley, Malice by Chris Wooding, * the Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, *Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, the Golden Compass (His Dark Materials) by Philip Pullman, *The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (the Chronicles of Narnia) by CS Lewis, *James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl

 Anime/Manga and J-Horror

Movies- Akira (1988), Perfect Blue (1997), Ring (1998), Dark Water (2002), Ghost in the Shell (1995), Tokyo Godfathers (2003), Cat Soup (2001), *Cowboy Bebop the Movie (2001), Blood the Last Vampire (2000), Pokemon the First Movie (1998), Sailor Moon R Promise of the Rose (1993), DBZ the World’s Strongest (1990), Digimon the Movie (2000), Ju-On (2000)

Manga- Claymore by Norihiro Yagi, Death Note by Tsugumi Ohba and illustrated by Takeshi Obata, *Yu Yu Hakusho by Yoshihiro Togashi, *Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa, *Blue Exorcist by Kazue Katō, *Soul Eater by Atsushi Ōkubo, *Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi,

Anime- *Yu Yu Hakusho, *Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, *Soul Eater, *Blue Exorcist, *Inuyasha, *Cowboy Bebop, Mob Psycho 100, .hack//SIGN , the Promised Neverland, Paranoia Agent, Tokyo Ghoul, Hellsing Ultimate

 Super Hero

Movies- Hellboy (2004), Ghost Rider (2007), the Incredibles (2004), Batman Beyond return of the Joker (2000), TMNT (2007), Logan (2017), Black Panther (2018), Sky High (2005), Spider-Man into the Spider-Verse (2018), Justice League Crisis on Two Earths (2010), Batman Under the Red Hood (2010)

Comics- Animal Man (New 52, 2011) DC Comics, Swamp Thing (New 52, 2011) DC Comics, BPRD Dark Waters (2012) Dark Horse Comics, Nextwave (Agents of HATE, 2006) Marvel Comics

Animated Series- Batman the Animated Series, X-Men Evolution, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2003), Darkwing Duck, the Powerpuff Girls, Teen Titans (2005), Static Shock, Green Lantern the Animated Series

 Cartoons and TV shows

Over the Garden Wall, The Simpsons (Treehouse of Horrors), Regular Show (Terror Tales of the Park), Adventure Time (Stakes), Scooby-Doo Where Are You/What’s New Scooby-Doo,  El Tigre the Adventures of Manny Rivera, Phineas and Ferb (Night of the Living Pharmacists), Gravity Falls, Good Omens, Miracle Workers, Grimm, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, What We Do In the Shadows, Hotel Transylvania the series, Wolf’s Rain, Danny Phantom, Aaahh Real Monsters, the Munsters, So Weird, Tutenstein, Gargoyles, Xena Warrior Princess, Are You Afraid of the Dark, Tales from the Crypt, Goosebumps, Samurai Jack, Metalocalypse, Super Jail, My Life as a Teenage Robot, Futurama, the Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy, *Beetlejuice (animated series), Sabrina the Animated Series, the Owl House, Bewitched, Growing Up Creepy, the Addams Family (animated series), a Series of Unfortunate Events, Courage the Cowardly Dog, Star VS the Forces of Evil, Amphibia, Infinity Train, Penn Zero Part-Time Hero, Murder She Wrote, the Venture Bros, Avatar the Last Airbender, Invader ZIM, People of Earth, Star Trek Next Gen, Rick and Morty, Buzz Lightyear of Star Command

[semete-ningen-rashiku]

The Happy Prince

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince.  He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed.  “He is as beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon.  “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”

“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.

“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”

“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow.  His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed.  He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow.  So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples.  This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds.  Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love.  “She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.”  And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys.  “I admit that she is domestic,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.”

“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

“You have been trifling with me,” he cried.  “I am off to the Pyramids.  Good-bye!” and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city.  “Where shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”

Then he saw the statue on the tall column.

“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air.”  So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him.  “What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining.  The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful.  The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”

Then another drop fell.

“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks.  His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

“Who are you?” he said.

“I am the Happy Prince.”

“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “you have quite drenched me.”

“When I was alive and had a human heart,” answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter.  In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall.  Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful.  My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness.  So I lived, and so I died.  And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.”

“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself.  He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical voice, “far away in a little street there is a poor house.  One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table.  Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress.  She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball.  In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill.  He has a fever, and is asking for oranges.  His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying.  Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt?  My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”

“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow.  “My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers.  Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King.  The King is there himself in his painted coffin.  He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices.  Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger?  The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”

“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow.  “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me.  They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.”

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry.  “It is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.”

“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.

He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured.  He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing.  A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover.  “How wonderful the stars are,” he said to her, “and how wonderful is the power of love!”

“I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,” she answered; “I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.”

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships.  He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales.  At last he came to the poor house and looked in.  The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired.  In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble.  Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings.  “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting better”; and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done.  “It is curious,” he remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”

“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince.  And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep.  Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath.  “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge.  “A swallow in winter!”  And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper.  Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect.  He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple.  Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.

When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.  “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”

“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow.  “To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract.  The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon.  All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent.  At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink.  They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret.  He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets.  His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes.  He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more.  There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”

“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart.  “Shall I take him another ruby?”

“Alas!  I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left.  They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago.  Pluck out one of them and take it to him.  He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”

“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”; and he began to weep.

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”

So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret.  It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof.  Through this he darted, and came into the room.  The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this is from some great admirer.  Now I can finish my play,” and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour.  He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes.  “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up.  “I am going to Egypt”! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”

“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here.  In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them.  My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other.  Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away.  The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”

“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl.  She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled.  Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying.  She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare.  Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”

“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye.  You would be quite blind then.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”

So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it.  He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand.  “What a lovely bit of glass,” cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince.  “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”

“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”

“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands.  He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women.  There is no Mystery so great as Misery.  Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates.  He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets.  Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm.  “How hungry we are!” they said.  “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.”

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey.  Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street.  “We have bread now!” they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost.  The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well.  He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die.  He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more.  “Good-bye, dear Prince!” he murmured, “will you let me kiss your hand?”

“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.”

“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow.  “I am going to the House of Death.  Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken.  The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two.  It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors.  As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.

“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.

“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is litttle better than a beggar!”

“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town Councillors.

“And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!” continued the Mayor.  “We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.”  And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince.  “As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal.  “We must have another statue, of course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of myself.”

“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled.  When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.  “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace.  We must throw it away.”  So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”

[trenchcas]

episode origins p1

i was watching moriah earlier today and was wondering what the significance of the name moriah was, so i searched it up. i’ll explain it here in this. i wanted to learn which episodes have titles derived from pop culture, literature, etc. so i put together this list. it’s not complete, feel free to reblog with more!

why did i waste hours on my life on this, you ask? i don’t know. 

season 1

pilot: obviously, all the first episodes of shows are called pilots. nothing new here.

wendigo: they’re fighting a wendigo

dead in the water: the phrase means “unable to function, move”.

phantom traveler: the name of the demon they’re fighting

bloody mary: based off the legend

skin: shapeshifters, also there might be a meta about how it’s a metaphor for dean

hook man: they’re fighting a hook man

bugs: bugs

home: they go home

asylum: they go to an asylum

scarecrow: scarecrow

faith: the concept of god first comes into play here, i thought that was pretty interesting. that’s why it’s called faith, duh. dean + faith is explored.

route 666: racist truck yes

nightmare: sam’s visions

the benders: i think it’s based off of the bloody benders, a family of serial killers

shadow: meg’s stalkery?

hell house: it was literally a hell house

something wicked: originally chanted by WITCHES in shakespeare’s macbeth. the full line is “something wicked this way comes, open locks, whoever knocks”. obviously the shtriga is a witch and it refers to that.

provenance: painting provenances, it’s in the episode

dead man’s blood: they use dead man’s blood

salvation: being saved or protected, like the boys and john do with the family

devil’s trap: the devil gets them in a trap. and they built a giant devil’s trap too.

season two

in my time of dying: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

everybody loves a clown: based off of the gary lewis song [x]

bloodlust: i think it’s for the vampires but they were also a band in the 90′s

children shouldn’t play with dead things: based off of the 1972 movie

simon said: the whole “you do what i say” thing with andy and evil andy

no exit: it’s a song by blondie and in the episode h.h. holmes captures blondes...? am i just clowning

the usual suspects: based off of the 1995 movie

crossroad blues: based off of the robert johnson song (fave!) [x]

croatoan: i like this one. okay, so you guys probably know about the whole roanoke/croatoan thing in the 1600′s. so there’s a theory that the settlers were wiped out by a disease (similar to this town). also, the town would disappear off of the map.

hunted: gordon hunted sam

playthings: dolls, but the little girl was the grandma’s sisters plaything

nightshifter: a shifter in the night

houses of the holy: based off of the led zeppelin song and album [x]

born under a bad sign: based off of this song [x] there are a bunch of others including jimi hendrix but...?

tall tales: yeah i think this one is self explanatory

roadkill: someone got killed on the road

heart: werewolf heart but also how sam gave his heart to madison aww also there’s a band called heart

hollywood babylon: based off of the book by the same name

folsom prison blues: based off of the johnny cash song!! [x]

what is and what should never be: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

all hell breaks loose: yes it did

season three

the magnificent seven: based off of the pretty famous western go watch

the kids are alright: based off of the who song [x]

bad day at black rock: based off of the 1955 movie

sin city: there’s a bunch of songs but the city was sinning so

bedtime stories: they were bedtime stories

red sky at morning: the full phrase is “red sky at morning, sailors take warning”. with the theme of this ep it fits pretty well.

fresh blood: fresh blood yes

a very supernatural christmas: i’m not sure. i think it’s based off of a christmas album?

malleus maleficarum: a 1400′s book of witches. latin for “hammer of the witches”.

dream a little dream of me: i love this song! based off this: [x]

mystery spot: mystery spot

jus in bello: i can’t really explain it but here [x]

ghostfacers: g h o s t f a c e r s

long-distance call: long distance call

time is on my side: based off of the rolling stones song [x]

no rest for the wicked: a biblical quote that means “evildoers will face eternal punishment”. also, “one’s work never ceases”.

season four

lazarus rising: in the bible, lazarus is the righteous man, which makes dean the righteous man. and he rises. so. 

are you there, god? it’s me, dean winchester: based off of the judy blume book (maybe?), are you there, god? it’s me, margaret.

in the beginning: they go back in time

metamorphosis: with the rugaru but also sammeh

monster movie: monsters and movies

yellow fever: referring to the disease i think, but also there are a few songs

it’s the great pumpkin, sam winchester: based off of it’s the great pumpkin, charlie brown.

wishful thinking: yeah

i know what you did last summer: dean + hell, sam + ruby. is it based off of the shawn mendes song? i don’t think it is because this came out way before the song.

heaven and hell: opposite sides meet, dean’s hell experiences.

family remains: there are remains

criss angel is a douche bag: idk?

after school special: based off of the abc program? i think?

sex and violence: there was a lot of sex. and violence.

death takes a holiday: death took a holiday

on the head of a pin: i’m not sure but this article is interesting, maybe related. probably related. [x]

it’s a terrible life: based off of it’s a wonderful life? i love that movie btw

the monster at the end of this book: ughhh! yes!!! first of all there’s a sesame street book by the same title. also, chuck actually was the monster at the end of the book! that’s crazy. insane. 

jump the shark: “(of a television series or movie) reach a point at which far-fetched events are included merely for the sake of novelty, indicative of a decline in quality.“ probably the whole long lost brother thing.

the rapture: a belief that christians will rise to “meet the lord in the air”. kinda like jimmy does.

when the levee breaks: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

lucifer rising: lucifer rose

season five

sympathy for the devil: based off of the rolling stones song [x]

good god, y’all!: cas goes to find god

free to be you and me: a marlo thomas album and the brothers split up

the end: yeah it’s the end

fallen idols: i think we get it

i believe the children are our future: a lyric from a whitney houston song

the curious case of dean winchester: based off of the short story, the curious case of benjamin button.

changing channels: channels were changed. the end.

the real ghostbusters: based on the 1985 animation

abandon all hope: the full phrase is “abandon all hope, ye who enter here” and that pretty much sums up this episode.

sam, interrupted: i’m not sure?

swap meat: meats were SWAPPED.

the song remains the same: based off of the led zeppelin song [x]

my bloody valentine: based on jensen’s movie. but also the band?

dead men don’t wear plaid: based on the 1982 movie

dark side of the moon: a pink floyd album

99 problems: that one jayz song whatever

point of no return: a 1993 movie but also the poto song hehe

hammer of the gods: based off of the 1985 book i think? it’s about led zeppelin so probably yeah.

the devil you know: means that it’s better to deal with a situation you understand than one you don’t.

two minutes to midnight: this phrase is commonly used as a countdown to a global catastrophe (i.e. the fucking apocalypse)

swan song: someone’s final performance before retirement (i think this is about both brothers because it’s sam last battle and dean’s last fight before living with lisa)

season six

exile on main st.: based off of the rolling stones album [x]

two and a half men: it was a sitcom? but idk if that’s where it’s from

the third man: based off of the 1949 noir thriller? maybe? but there were also three men so idrk

weekend at bobby’s: it was a weekend at bobbys

live free or twi-hard: based off of twilight and that bruce willis movie that i watched once way back when

you can’t handle the truth: truth goddess. soulless sam gets exposed ig

family matters: based off of the 1989 sitcom? maybe

all dogs go to heaven: based off of the 1989 movie? probably

clap your hands if you believe: i think this is an original title idk

caged heat: based off of the 1974 movie i think

appointment in samarra: probably based off of the 1934 novel of the same name

like a virgin: based off of the madonna song [x]

unforgiven: sam does unforgiven things

mannequin 3: the reckoning: not sure

the french mistake: just... just read this link [x]

and then there were none: based off of the agatha christie novel of the same name

my heart will go on: y’all all know what’s up [x]

frontierland: they went to yeehaw town

mommy dearest: based on the 1981 film? maybe?

the man who would be king: based off of the 1888 novel by rudyard kipling

let it bleed: based off of the rolling stones album/song [x]

the man who knew too much: shares a name with the 1956 film

season seven

meet the new boss: they met the new boss idk

hello, cruel world: sad sam

the girl next door: there’s a 2004 romcom with the same name

defending your life: a 1991 romcom! wow!

shut up, dr. phil: sam and dean became philanthropists idk

slash fiction: hahahahaha i think we know what it means but wHY is it called that?

the mentalists: they met a bunch of magic people wow!

season 7, time for a wedding!: more like season 7, time for a slightly r*pey episode and GARTH!

how to win friends and influence monsters: based off of the 1936 book how to win friends and influence people

death’s door: they were at death’s door idk

adventures in babysitting: based off of the 1987 movie by the same name

time after time after time: based off of the cyndi lauper song? [x]

the slice girls: prolly based off of the spice girls idk

plucky pennywhistle’s magic menagerie: yeah idk

repo man: it’s a 1984 film too

out with the old: they were fucking around with antiques

the born-again identity: obviously based off of the bourne identity which i haven’t seen in forever

party on, garth: hahaha

of grave importance: it was very important

the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo: probably based off of the movie/book the girl with the dragon tattoo. 

reading is fundamental: reading is fundamental. go read a book.

there will be blood: there was blood

survival of the fittest: everybody fought idk

okay i’m gonna stop here for this one because i’m tired asf and i’ll do part 2 later 

[reblogthiscrapkay]

Persephone in “Jasper In Deadland”

Thanks to a random comment from a friend on a Tumblr post, I only just remembered that there’s another musical with Persephone that lies somewhere in between “Hadestown” and “Mythic”: “Jasper In Deadland.” I saw it back in 2014 and I thankfully have an audio recording of the show (there was an official recording made in 2016 and they’re quite similar but it doesn’t have the dialogue bits). It’s functionally a modern teen-audience retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth but the Underworld has been replaced with Deadland, a land that is a ultimately a mixture of different mythological underworlds.

When Jasper is in Deadland searching for his dead friend Agnes, he encounters a bunch of people and places from myths in the six-layered combo-Underworld:

There’s a boatman named Lester, not Charon. The river they’re on is the River Lethe from Greek mythology (the first layer) and serves the same function. There is a Mr. Lethe, as opposed to a goddess of the river as there was to the Greeks. 

Mr. Lethe is the story antagonist (of the evil capitalist factory owner variety; think an evil Hadestown!Hades and the closest thing to Satan) and Mr. Lethe’s goons who follow Jasper around are Loki and Hel of Norse mythology.

A three headed dog (who isn’t referred to as Cerberus in my 2014 recording but is referred to by name in the 2016 recording) guards the second layer.

Osiris, the king of the Underworld in Egyptian mythology, is a club DJ in the city layer, the third layer.

The club is called Helheim, the domain of Hel in Norse mythology and obviously where Hell comes from.

At one point Lester appears again and mentions that the only living souls in the Underworld are Orpheus, Lazarus, JC (I think it’s easy to guess who that is), and Jasper thus bringing in Christian mythology. The comparisons between Jasper and Orpheus are mentioned frequently throughout the show from this point.

Ammit of Egyptian mythology guards the fourth layer and weighs hearts along with “Blind Justice” (it’s been too long for me to remember what that means).

The fourth layer is some sort of gulf, but I’m not sure if that comes from any myth.

In the gulf, they meet Beatrix from The Divine Comedy who in this is part of the Elysium transit authority who drives a vehicle called Purgatorio.

They are brought to Mr. Lethe’s factory, which seems to be most like the Christian Hell or Tartarus, and there are Sisyphus, the Danaids, Brutus, and the fallen angel Luke, who’s the foreman.

They get to Elysium from there, and Jasper meets Eurydice in a fever dream.

In this musical Pluto and Persephone dwell in Elysium, the sixth layer and it’s implied that they rule that layer (I couldn't find an image of them from the show I saw but they were both wearing traditional Greek garb possibly in pink and burgundy or light green and black or something). It’s a little unclear what their relationship is to Mr. Lethe but it seems like everyone in the musical more or less runs their own specific domain without really stepping on anyone else’s space. It drives me nuts that they use those names since Pluto is the Roman name and Persephone is the Greek name (of unknown origin truthfully) so I’m just gonna call him Hades. At the beginning of their introduction Persephone is saying goodbye to Hades and he is begging her to stay longer and calling her snowflake. Lester comes in as her attorney to makes Hades sign their annual divorce contact. Persephone tells him that the year was “almost bearable” (and calls him Plutes, which sounds kind of gross to me but okay). It’s unclear whether she is messing with him or being honest but their relationship comes off as very unbalanced. Hades is very clearly in love with her and her feelings towards him are less clear. While I kind of like the idea of Persephone being so powerful because of how it recalls very old earth goddess/male consort ideas, it reads as kind of sad. There’s no mention of the origin of their relationship, which could have at least made it seem a bit more like maybe Hades was still repenting for kidnapping her or something but nope. She’s just kind of weirdly ambivalent to him while he worships her.

When Jasper and Agnes show up Hades is kind of annoyed to see him since he’s been causing such a ruckus but Persephone is amused by his presence. I support both aspects of this characterization. However, they are in agreement that Jasper needs to go back to the world of the living but that Agnes can’t. Jasper says he wants to trade his life for Agnes’ and Hades says he will allow it. An interesting change from the 2014 show to the album recording is that “Lifesong”, a song originally by Jasper about him giving up his life for Agnes, is now a Persephone song and then partially repeated by Jasper in the following song “The Trade/The Swim”. The ideas in the song about bringing life and the end of life vibe very well with her purpose so I understand the change and always support the idea of Persephone getting more screen time.

After Jasper’s declaration, Persephone steps in to say that maybe an exception can be made because she sees herself in them in how she too wants a “meaningful life.” This “meaningful life” line is actually not on the album so I wonder if they cut it because it feels completely random without the characterization to back up what she means by that. It could hint at the idea that maybe part of her ambivalence to being underground has to do with her not having as much work to do as she would on earth, but this is purely speculation.

Persephone offers to stay one more day with Hades if they are allowed to both go back and Hades is comically pumped. She makes a comment about how it’s hard for the first few millennia but you get used to it (seemingly she means she’s used to Hades or possibly his enthusiasm?). This may have also been cut from the show by 2016 because it’s not on the album but I don’t know. It is kind of startling that after millennia, this is still the dynamic between them. I can’t say I’m a fan.

Persephone gives them instructions to get out and later when they get above ground Jasper attributes the snow in spring to “an act of goddess.”

Overall, I like how powerful Persephone is in this interpretation but I can’t say I like sitcom!husband and sitcom!wife as a choice for her relationship with Hades.

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was ARIANNE ALTIER, a GIFTED loyal to the cause of the MORTALS. She is said to be TWENTY-FIVE and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as a MEMBER of the ROUND TABLE. Blessed be her name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

 It came as no surprise, her ability to stop the beat of a person’s heart - to paralyze the entirety of their body so that they were at her complete and utter mercy. It is with a wrench of her gut and twist of her fingers that she renders her victims completely and utterly still. She is able to isolate the muscles and organs, paralyzing them as she sees fit. However, these powers are capable of being developed further and come with dire drawbacks if she overextends herself, that being a great weakening and slowing of her own heart. It makes this gift a great disadvantage when engaging, unprepared, in combat. As all who have suffered and survived the Blood Plague, Arianne’s scars are obvious and unsettling: she looks as though she has been struck by lightning, her veins branching out, colored in different hues, changing in the light.

THE HISTORY.

Few know what it is to be loved and adored - and even fewer know how to wield such emotions like a blade. It was not a difficult skill for her to learn, doted on and besotted as she was by her mother and father. They did not love one another, but it was easy for them to lavish their affection upon their youngest daughter, swaddling her in the finest silks, spending upon her money that they did not have; to her they gave the love that they could not give one another. She was not theirs, not by blood, but she was their favored daughter all the more - giving to them what they could not have themselves, an heir to be proud of - lavishing their affection upon her came as naturally as it had to their first-born. It was difficult not to when her eyes were so large and beseeching, cheeks painted with an ever-present blush, voice so melodic that the larks of the trees had to silence themselves so that they might catch the notes of her words. Although, as she grew she realized that it was because they had given their hearts to another before they had laid eyes on each other: her mother to the man she had known as her best friend, her father to the man that he had once hunted with before fate took him too quickly and too soon. Though they were proud of their eldest daughter, there was no denying who was the apple of their eye and who held their hearts captive - and as she grew older, she began to see the advantages of collecting the hearts of those around her like lightning bugs within a jar. How she adored seeing the way that they glowed when she cast her gaze upon them, eyes widening in adoration, lips curling into enigmatic smiles. Why would one want for anything other than her unabated happiness? For her unparalleled and ever-wanting joy?

Imagine her confusion, then, when the girls’ father decided to hide the jewel known as Arianne from the world. In the shadows of trees of the forest she found herself buried, hidden away like a magpie hides their shiny little trinkets - with jealousy and covetousness. He called himself a hunter, but Arianne saw him for what he was -- paranoid to the point of insanity, demanding that the girls prepare for a war that might never come.  Each day at twilight he would have them hunt for the creatures that he considered abominations, those tainted by divinity; the scourges upon the earth that should have never tainted its soil. He would not allow food to fill their bellies until they had awarded him with a prize, and it is in this manner that the Altier girls found themselves formed and it was during these years of isolation that they learned the value of wit and cleverness. One was the bait and the other was the snatcher, the two of them becoming so attuned to one another’s glances that they no longer needed to ask who would play what role that day. Yet he did not find satisfaction in this, could not bring himself to give his daughters the commendation they deserved -- instead it seemed to drive him deeper into his paranoia. He could see the horrors that lurked around every corner, but he was blind to Arianne’s ceaseless contempt for him. 

On her eighteenth birthday, her and her sister stood over the final corpse that they would drop upon the well-worn doorstep. Bloodied and broken was the corpse of their father. It had happened in the midst of their fever - the Blood Plague had swept over them, silent and sudden. Arianne had wept when the symptoms first became clear, scarlet stains on her cheek while Romilda hushed her and frantically tried to stave off the inevitable: the moment that their father realized how cursed the daughter that he had once adored truly was. He had barreled through the door, his hands painted a rich and vivid scarlet from the hunt of the day. Fevered as she was, Arianne saw him awash in red - the blood painting his brow, his neck, his face. She saw the ghost of her mother behind him, screaming out in horror - calling for her, for Romilda, to run on winged feet. In a haze, in a dream, Arianne saw his hand wrap around her sister’s throat and in the next moment, her father was skewered upon the fireplace poker, her pale hand wrapped around its hilt. She watched as Romilda finished the gory task. Arianne blinked as she looked about the room, stumbling back to her cot in her stained nightgown, a curve hidden at the corner of her mouth. What a family the Altiers made, awash in strokes and flecks of red. She had entered this world beloved and bloodied - how poetic it seemed to be that her birthday should be marked in much the same way. 

They travelled from one town to another, leaving whispers in their wake, all fawning over the enigmatic beauty that was Arianne Altiers. There were those who thought she might have the blood of celestials running through her veins, soft and winsome as she was, the slightest glance of her eyes felling all, so that they might kiss the ground upon her feet. They were all too happy to, aiding the Altiers in their climb in society until the Holy Land knew of their names before they had stepped foot upon its cobblestone streets. It was then that she realized the power that she held at her fingertips, and how it had long been smothered and stowed away due to disuse. But now, though, Arianne was all too aware of how pivotal such persuasion could be. If she so willed it, the Mortals that had long been quieted - just as she had been - could very well take the city for their own. If she so willed it, the demons could run amok in the streets, the angels could rule with an iron fist...if she so willed it. Arianne learned how to wield the affections of the people even more adeptly than she had ever learned to wield a blade. Cut yourself then, she whispers, cut yourself on the blade of your own adoration and paint the world scarlet for me. 

THE CONNECTIONS.

ROMILDA ALTIER & REVNA VOLK: The Trinity. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb - and they are bound by the blood that stains their hands and the water that they shared as they grew older. They spilled the blood of their father, embraced their sisterhood as though they were two parts of the same soul, and embarked upon the journey of their Fate together. It came as no surprise that when they realized the gifts bestowed upon them by the Blood Plague reflected their counterpart nature. Where Romilda blisters like the sun, Arianne stirs the soul like a full moon, where the elder Altier edges her words as bluntly as her blades, the younger sweetens hers like honeyed cakes. And when Revna entered their lives, it was as if the stars of the skies began to populate their world, adding to it a wealth of novelty and color. Revna and Arianne have taken to one another like kindred spirits, revolving around each other with a gravitational pull only witnessed in the celestial bodies of the sky. Together, the two of them fostered and cultivated the growth of one another’s gifts -- exercising the extent of their power and, in turn, seeing within one another the weaknesses that would have made others turn away. With Romilda’s determination, Arianne’s magnetism, and Revna’s ruthlessness, it is a wonder that the entirety of the universe has not fallen under their thrall already.

JASPER RICHE: Looking Glass. There is a kinship between them -- not something that ties them together, but a bond that sits between them like something primordial, twisting them together regardless of how they might pull or tear away. They see one another for what they are, recognize within each other the parts that others glance away from for fear of repulsion. Arianne does not bother to turn away, but is instead far more interested in studying the weaknesses in him that she might find in herself -- so as to rectify it. And it isn’t difficult to see that Jasper is assessing her, gaze sliding over her so as to probe at what lesser people might deem as “flaws”. It is in their sameness that they find comfort, and it is within their sameness that they find the singular threat to their ambition. When they regard one another, it is with the same disposition that a lion might regard a wolf. What an ever-present temptation it is, to rip one another apart.

NERISSA: Flint. They are the flint that Arianne will use to set the world aflame. There is something volatile about Nerissa that Arianne wishes to cultivate, to utilize and make her own. There is something in Arianne that Nerissa seeks to refine, to hone until one need only to glance at her and realize that they are bleeding through and through. Whenever they encounter one another, there is a careful dance that occurs between them, each of them learning new ways to move about the other. Whether they like it or not, Nerissa has found herself taking Arianne into her tutelage -- they debate and they spar, they challenge one another in nuanced ways that surprise Nerissa each and every time. Though, in part, they might admit that the majority of their interest lay in seeing how far they can push Arianne before the little Gifted girl balks. And, if Arianne were to be honest with herself -- she is curious to know what horrors she might be shown before she balks as well.

ASMODEUS: Entrapment. He had seen within her the ceaseless potential and wished to carve it, to make something of it. Where she walks, he finds his eye perpetually following -- drawn to her like a sinner is drawn to blasphemy. She was a sparkling, beauteous piece of marble and he sought to shape it into a vision so breathtakingly stirring that all might fall to their knees before it in awe. Arianne couldn’t blame him - she knew how skilled she was and how much further she had to go; she would not let hubris be her downfall, as it had been for so many others. Which is why she had not let her blindness keep her from seeing the truth of the matter: Asmodeus was under her thrall far more than she was under his. Though he had sculpted her, she had stepped off the pedestal upon which she was placed, and lorded over him the singular beguiling enchantment that a muse has over their artist. He has done all, but fall to his knees before her -- there is no doubt, though, that he will soon do that too.

Arianne is portrayed by Yuko Araki and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TAKEN by MINNIE.

[jamesherondale-cordeliacarstairs]

Then the next day he went to train with Lucie and Cordelia. Cordelia had brought with her the Carstairs’ famous sword, Cortana, which James had long wanted to admire up close. He didn’t get a chance, though, because ten minutes into their first exercise, he collapsed in a sudden spasm of unbearable pain.

The girls cried out and ran to him. He had crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, and only the years of training he’d already put in kept him from accidentally falling onto his own blade. By the time he realized where he was and what had happened, he was on the floor.

The look on Lucie’s face as she touched his forehead did not reassure him.

“By the Angel,” she exclaimed, “you’re burning up.”

Cordelia was already racing toward the door, calling, “Mâmân!” in alarm. Her image wavered and faded as James closed his eyes.

Scalding fever, Sona and Elias declared. They’d seen it before. It was a disease unique to Shadowhunters. Most got it as infants, when it was very mild. Once it passed, you could never catch it again. Before James was even up from the floor of the training room, Sona was barking orders, her heavy skirts gripped in both hands. James was carried to his bedroom, Lucie dragged away to her own quarters, and messages dispatched to Will and Tessa, and the Silent Brothers.

Feverish, James lay in his bed and watched the light fade outside. As the night came on, he began to shiver. He wrapped himself in all the blankets available but shook like a leaf. He waited for the Silent Brothers to come—until they had checked him, nobody else could be in the room.

It was Brother Enoch who came, not Uncle Jem, to James’s disappointment. Yes, it is almost certainly scalding fever,he said. Everyone who has not had it before will need to depart the house. I will go to tell them.

Lucie had not had it before. James didn’t know about anyone else. He waited a long time for Enoch to come back, but he must have fallen asleep, because all of a sudden there was morning light casting silvery stripes on the wall, and the sound of a door, and footsteps, and then Cordelia was there.

James rarely saw Cordelia without Lucie. This was not how he would have chosen to present himself for one of their rare moments alone. He was half under his covers, shifting around restlessly, unable to get comfortable. His face was flushed with fever and his nightshirt clung to him, wet with sweat.

He took a breath to speak and broke into a pained cough. “Water?”

Cordelia hurried to pour him a glass from the carafe on the nightstand. She tried to press it into his hand, but he couldn’t grip it. She slid her hand behind his neck, warm against his skin, supporting him as she held the glass to his lips.

He flopped back on the pillows, his eyes closed. “Please tell me you’ve had scalding fever before.”

“Yes. My mother has too,” she said. “And the mundane servants are immune. Everyone else has gone. You should have some more water.”

“Is that the treatment?”

“No,” said Cordelia, “the treatment is a grayish concoction made by Brother Enoch, and I suggest you hold your nose when you try to get it down. It will help with the fever, but apparently there’s nothing else for it but time. I brought books,” she added. “They’re over on top of the chest of drawers. I… I could read to you.”

James flinched at the light but forced himself to look at Cordelia. Tendrils of her deep red hair curled against her cheekbones. They reminded him of the curlicues cut into the surface of his Uncle Jem’s beautiful violin.

He flicked his eyes over to the chest of drawers where, indeed, a surprisingly tall pile of books rested that had not been there before. She gave an apologetic smile. “I wasn’t sure what you might like, so I just took things from all over the house. There’s a copy of A Tale of Two Cities with the second half missing, so maybe it’s only a tale of one city. And a collection of poetry by Byron, but it’s a bit nibbled around the edges, I think by mice, so it might be theirs. Otherwise it’s Persian literature. There aren’t even Shadowhunter books around. Oh, except one copy of a book on demons. I think it’s called Demons, Demons, Demons.”

James let his eyes close again but allowed himself a smile. “I’ve read that one,” he said. “My father is a great admirer of it. You probably don’t even have the newest version, which adds a fourth ‘Demons.’ ”

“As ever, the London Institute’s library puts ours to shame,” said Cordelia, and then Sona came in and stopped short, surprised to see her.

“Cordelia,” she said with what James hoped was mock surprise. “Really? Alone in a boy’s bedroom?”

“Mâmân, he can barely sit up, and I am a trained warrior who wields a mythical sword.”

“Mmm,” said Sona, and waved her out. She descended on James with, she explained, her own remedies from home: pastes and poultices of frankincense, of marigold and haoma.

“I’d like it,” James said, “if Cordelia would come back and read to me later. If she wants to.”

“Mmm,” said Sona again, dabbing his brow with a compress.

Cordelia did come back, and she did read to James. And then she returned again and read again, and again. He was too fevered to track the passage of time. Sometimes it was dark outside and sometimes light. When he was awake, he ate what he could, and drank a little water, and forced down some of Enoch’s loathsome potion. Sometimes his fever would break for a time, and then he would grow overwarm and sweat through his clothes; sometimes it was as though a bitter cold wind tore through his body and no number of blankets or logs in the fireplace would help. Through it all was Cordelia, quietly reading, occasionally reaching out to wipe his brow or refill his water glass.

She read him the poems of Nizami, and especially the story of Layla and Majnun, one she clearly loved and had known since she was very small. Her cheeks grew unexpectedly red at the more romantic parts: the poor boy falling in love with the beautiful Layla on first sight, wandering mad in the desert when they were separated.

“ ‘  That heart’s delight, one single glance his nerves to frenzy wrought, one single glance bewildered every thought. He gazed upon her, and as he gazed, love conquered both. They never dreamed to part.’  ”

She glanced at James and then quickly glanced away. James started. Had he been staring? He was not entirely aware of his own behavior.

“ ‘  The killing witchery that lies, in her black, delicious eyes. And when her cheek the moon revealed, a thousand hearts were won: no pride, no shield, could check her power. Layla, she was called.’  ”

“Layla,” he murmured to himself, but he didn’t think Cordelia had heard. He closed his eyes.

Only once—that he knew of—did he tumble into the shadow realm. He was awake, shaking with fever, his hair matted to his head with cold sweat, agitated. He saw Cordelia’s eyes widen in alarm as the change came over him. She leaped to her feet and he thought, She means to go for help; she is frightened, frightened of me.

He reached for her, and the shadow that was his hand caught hers, darkness against flesh. He wondered how his touch felt to her. His whole body was tensed, like a horse shying from thunder. The room smelled of lightning.

“James, you must hold on. You must. Don’t go anywhere,” Cordelia said. “Stay with me.”

“So cold,” he managed to add, shaking. “Can’t get warm. Can’t ever get warm.”

In his body, he would have squinted his eyes shut, trying to still his trembling. As a shadow, it was as though his eyes were open wide and he could do nothing to close them. He saw Cordelia cast about the room for something, anything to help. It was no use, he knew; the fire was already roaring, he was already wrapped in blankets, there was a hot-water bottle at his feet. Nevertheless, a bitter, raw wind tore through him.

Cordelia made a noise of frustration, then furrowed her brow in determination. The thought drifted through James’s mind, far behind the endless howling wind, that she looked beautiful. It was not the thought he might have chosen, and he did not have time to think about it now.

But then Cordelia carefully laid herself down on the bed next to him. He was under mountains of blankets and she was atop them, of course. But her presence began to force back the cold. Instead of feeling the agony of being whipped raw by ice, his awareness turned to the length of her body, warm and solid, all along his own. Through the many layers between them he could still feel her pressed against his side: her leg shifting into a comfortable position, her hip against his. He was looking up at the ceiling and she was on her side, but her face was very close. Her hair smelled like jasmine and woodsmoke. She put her arm over his chest and pulled herself as close as she could.

It took a strenuous effort, but he turned his head to the side, to look at her. He found her eyes open, luminous and deep, gazing at him. Her breathing was very steady.

“ ‘ I sought not fire, yet is my heart all flame. Layla, this love is not of earth.’   ”

He shuddered and felt himself come back to this world fully, felt his body return to the space he occupied. Cordelia didn’t take her eyes off him, but she released her lower lip from between her teeth, her body slackening in relief.

James was still cold, but not nearly as cold as he had been. Cordelia reached up and pushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes. He shuddered again, but not because of cold, and let his eyes close, and when he awoke again it was morning, and she was gone.

It was only another day or so before James’s fever broke for good. And only another day after that, Brother Enoch deemed him no longer contagious and his parents arrived with Lucie. And then he was well enough to get up, and then he was leaving Cirenworth for Idris and the familiar comforts of Herondale Manor. The weather there, his father reported, was fine.

Once he was out of bed, James and Cordelia returned to their ordinary, cordial way. Neither of them mentioned the time they had shared during James’s illness. No doubt, James thought, Cordelia had simply cared for him with the kindness and generosity she showed to everyone she liked. They did not embrace when they said goodbye. (Lucie clung to Cordelia like a limpet, despite Cordelia’s reassurances that she and her family would be at Herondale Manor themselves later that same summer.) As he stepped into the Portal, James waved to Cordelia, and she, amicably, waved back.

In the night, for a long time to come, James thought of jasmine and woodsmoke, the press of her arm, fathomless dark eyes gazing into his.

“ ‘ The secret path he eager chose, where Layla’s distant mansion rose; he kissed the door. A thousand wings increased his pace, whence, his fond devotions paid, a thousand thorns his course delayed. No rest he found by day or night—Layla, forever, in his sight.’  ”

❌SPOILER ALERT❌

DAYS PAST:CIRENWORTH HALL,1900

That F*CKING BRACLET HAS DONE SOME THING TO MAKE JAMES HERONDALE FORGET THIS😡😡😡😡🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

[basketofverbiage]

Angels Calling

Hi everyone! I just wanted to give a bit of a preface to this story. I know I was supposed to post a much happier story but I just couldn’t. A little bit about me that you may not know is that I worked for a local Hospice for 6 years. I helped people shower, maintain their homes, and just be there for them as they died and provided love and care to their loved ones as they were passing. My dad’s parents have been my next door neighbors since I was 4 years old, and I started noticing my sweet Gram declining a lot last year. When it got to the point that she needed help with showering, she wouldn’t let anyone else but me help her. So, when she was actively dying and in Hospice at the hospital, I stayed with her a lot and when she was still aware, she wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She lingered for 9 days. The night she died, I did her final post-mortum (after death) bath and got her ready for the funeral home to come myself. Because of my time with Hospice, I have a very unnatural way to deal with grief and everything is a little more complicated. When I started having nightmares about being at the hospital just waiting for her to pass, I knew I needed to do something to get it out of my system, and this story was born out of my need to deal with both my time working for hospice and the hundreds of patients I cared for and losing my Gram over the summer. So, with that, I’m sorry, but this story is really sad, but lightens up a bit at the end. But also know that I wrote this more for myself than for anything else.

Warnings: character death, grief, Hospice, terminal illness

Words: 18301

“Appa, I don’t feel so good.”

Hoseok never dreamed that those simple words spoken to him at 2:30 am would be the start of his worst nightmare come to life, but it was. Hoseok was a single dad, and as difficult as it could be, he wouldn’t trade his precocious 3-year-old daughter for anything in the world. Almost every father would say that if asked, but for Hoseok it was the truth. As far as he was concerned, the sun, moon, and all the stars rose and set in Dasom. Dasom’s mother had been young and a bit flighty, so when she found out she was pregnant she begged Hoseok to let her have an abortion, but he refused. He finally begged enough and promised that if she carried the baby to term, she’d never have to see either of them again, and she’d agreed. After 15 hours of labor, Dasom was born and her mother signed documentation resigning all parental rights to the child leaving her solely with Hoseok. As much as it broke his heart that she wanted nothing to do with this vibrant child, he was just selfish enough to be relieved that she couldn’t stroll in whenever it benefited her and shatter pieces of Dasom’s heart.

Hoseok could only think of a handful of times in her short life that Dasom had been ill, but she had recently begun attending pre-school and came into contact with more children her own age. He figured that it was only a matter of time before she would catch a cold, so when she came into his room and shook him awake and said she didn’t feel good, Hoseok figured she might have the cold that was going around.

“What doesn’t feel good, my Love?” he asked gently as he turned on the lamp on his bedside table.

“Appa, everything hurts. My skin even feels sore.”

Hoseok reached his hand out and felt her forehead and she was burning up. He picked her up and she immediately snuggled her face into the crook of his neck. He carried her into the bathroom and sat her gently on the countertop to take her temperature. She was old enough to take her temperature orally now and tolerated him holding the digital thermometer under her tongue until it beeped. When he glanced at the number on the screen, he did a double take. How was it possible that his baby had a temperature of 106 degrees? He was no doctor but he knew enough to know that her fever was dangerously high and probably the reason her little body was aching.

“Dasom, darling, we have to go to the doctor, but first I want you to take some medicine, okay?”

“Okay, Appa. As long as it helps. It hurts so much,” she whimpered as tears started streaking down her cheeks.

Hoseok hated seeing her in pain, so he gave her a dose of children’s fever reducer then got dressed to take her to the emergency room. After dressing himself quickly, he helped Dasom slip out of her pajamas to put on something that would be comfortable but warmer to go out into the chilly late-autumn night. When he took off her pajama pants, he gasped. There were big dark bruises down her legs that had not been there several hours ago when he’d helped her bathe before bed. As much as he was panicking on the inside, he was trying to stay calm for Dasom.

“Darling, did you fall out of bed or bump your legs coming to wake me up?” he asked, quietly.

“No, Appa, but it hurts.”

She was beginning to cry in earnest as he helped her into her booster seat in the back seat of his car and helped her buckle her seatbelt. The drive to the hospital went quickly, but Hoseok was so worried that it felt like it took hours to get there. Luckily, when they arrived there were no other people in the waiting room.

“Hi, Sir. How can we help you?” the receptionist asked.

“It’s my daughter. She woke me up saying she felt really bad, her fever was 106 degrees when I took it under her tongue, and she has bruises on her legs now that weren’t there when I helped her with her bath at 8:00.”

After entering the information into the computer system in front of her, the receptionist stepped from behind the desk with a clipboard.

“I’m going to go ahead and take you back to have her checked out by a doctor, but in the meantime, I do need for you to complete some additional information please.”

She led them back into a small room that was sectioned off with a curtain but had a bed in the middle. Hoseok laid Dasom gently on the bed and pulled a chair over beside her. She had brought a small yellow stuffed dog with her, and while she still cried a bit, she was toying with its ears while Hoseok completed the paperwork. He wrote down their insurance information and paused slightly when he got to the section about emergency contacts. His parents and sister lived several provinces over, and while he had some friends in the city, he and Dasom were pretty much solitary. After pondering for a moment, Hoseok wrote in the name of his best friend and business partner, Kim Namjoon. As far as Dasom was concerned, Unca Joonie and his partner, Unca Tookie, were her best friends. Namjoon and Hoseok ran a small bookstore/coffee shop combination in Seoul, while Namjoon’s partner Jungkook ran a game and comic book shop down the street. Namjoon and Jungkook had met a couple of years ago when Jungkook started coming into the café every morning for an Americano with double espresso shots every morning before opening his shop. Hoseok had just finished completing the requested documents when a doctor in a long white coat slipped into the room.

“Hi! My name is Dr. Kim Seokjin, but you can just call me Dr. Jin. What’s causing you so much trouble in the middle of the night, Princess Dasom?”

The dark-haired doctor was gentle and playful enough with her that he eased Dasom’s worries about being in the hospital, while still performing a thorough examination. After looking her over and taking her vitals, he turned to Hoseok.

“Mr. Jung, how long ago would you say Dasom had the fever reducer?” he asked.

“It was around 2:45 am,” he said, looking at his watch. “So maybe an hour and 15 minutes ago?”

“Hmm…” Dr. Kim thoughtfully jotted a few notes down. “It should definitely be taking effect by now, but her fever is now 106.3. I am going to have my lovely assistant come in and draw some of Dasom’s blood to do some tests. I’m also going to have him start an IV so we can give her a different medication to try to bring that fever down.” He turned to Dasom then and gave her a blinding smile, “I’ll be right back, Princess Dasom. I just want to step down the hall and get you some juice. Don’t give my lovely assistant too hard of a time, okay?”

Once she had giggled a bit and agreed, he exited the make-shift room. Since the room was essentially a big curtain in a circle around the bed, Hoseok could hear Dr. Kim speaking softly to someone outside the room but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He was watching Dasom snuggle under the light blanket with her puppy when someone new popped into the room.

“Oh my goodness! You must be the beautiful princess Dr. Jin was telling me about! My name is Taehyung,” the tall man said cheerfully before bowing to Dasom.

Dasom started giggling as soon as he called her a beautiful princess, and Taehyung shot her a big boxy smile before he came and sat down on the side of the bed.

“Princess, Dr. Jin said you are feeling pretty bad, and he wants us to do some tests to find out why. In order to do that, I need to take some samples of your blood which might not be fun for you, but I’ll be as gentle as I can, okay?”

Hoseok was still on edge, but the kindness of the nurse to even make his baby girl smile in this scenario was so appreciated. Dasom reached over and squeezed Hoseok’s hand while Taehyung drew three different tubes of blood and inserted an IV. Once the IV was in, he hung a bag of clear liquid and connected it.

“Alright, Princess Dasom! We are all done with the worst part now. I’m going to take your blood off to my friend to run some tests. In the meantime, why don’t you try to take a nap?”

After Taehyung left, Dasom lifted her little arms up to Hoseok and asked, “Appa, can I sleep in your lap?”  

“Of course you can, my darling,” he smiled to her. He picked up her small body being careful not to tug the IV lines and climbed into her bed. She snuggled into his arms and within a few minutes she had fallen asleep.

After she had fallen asleep, Hoseok checked the time. It was nearing 5:30 am, and they still had no idea what was wrong. Hoseok was exhausted with worry, so he tilted his head back on the pillow in Dasom’s hospital bed and drifted off to the rhythm of her sleepy breaths on his neck.

 The phone at the nurse’s station rang and Taehyung picked it up, chatting with the person on the other end for a moment before covering the mouthpiece with his hand and flagging Jin down.

“Dr. Kim, this is Dr. Min in the lab about our pediatric patient in Bay 1.”

Jin looked up from his charting and walked over to take the call.

“Hi Yoongi-chi. Have some good news for me?” he said cheerfully into the receiver.

Taehyung knew that Dr. Kim and Dr. Min had gone to medical school together and were close friends. They usually bantered back and forth for a bit, but from the look on Jin’s face, something wasn’t right.

“You’re sure, Yoongi-chi? Damn. Okay, send me up the report.”

After hanging up the phone, Jin pulled up the digital report before swearing softly under his breath.

“Tae, I hate cases like this. She’s really sick,” he said. “Do me a favor and go make Mr. Jung a strong cup of coffee and get some chocolate milk for our princess.”

 “Mr. Jung?”

Hoseok startled awake at the deep voice calling his name. He still held Dasom to his chest, and he could feel where she had drooled some in her sleep onto his shoulder. Taehyung smiled softly at him then helped him sit the head of the bed up a bit. He sat a sippy cup full of chocolate milk on the over bed table, before holding out a cup of coffee.

“Here, you are going to need this. Dr. Kim is going to come in after you’ve had a few minutes to wake up to talk with you about Dasom. It’s not the best coffee you’ve ever had, but it’s not jet fuel either.”

Hoseok thanked him and sipped on the hot coffee while waiting for the doctor. Something about how Taehyung had given it to him made his stomach twist with nervousness. After a few sips, the coffee and the churning of his nerves made Hoseok a bit queasy, so he abandoned the cup onto the over bed table beside the cup with Dasom’s chocolate milk. Before he had the time to overthink, Dr. Kim came in and sat in the chair beside the bed.

“I see our princess is still sleeping. I’m a little glad that she’s going to sleep through this conversation,” Dr. Kim sighed then and ran his hands through his hair. “We got the blood tests back that I ordered on Dasom. Her white blood cell count is literally off the charts. It’s so high that our machine that reads the count gave an error. Our lab director is a friend of mine and he personally ran the test for me. I really suspect that Dasom has a form of leukemia, but I can’t treat her here in the emergency room. I’m going to have her admitted to our children’s ward upstairs and personally refer her to a colleague who specializes in things like this. Dr. Park is a couple years younger than me, but he’s brilliant and knows all the latest treatments. He should be able to pick up where I leave off. Is there anyone you can call to be with you? I didn’t see mentions of Dasom’s mother on the paperwork…”

“She signed away parental rights the same hour Dasom was born. I haven’t seen her in literal years. My best friend lives in the city, so I’ll call him,” Hoseok murmured.

He was in shock. His baby was so sick. He could feel the panic bubbling up a bit, but he swallowed it harshly down.

“Taehyung is going to come in a few minutes and take you upstairs. Dasom will have to go up a separate elevator due to hospital rules, but we will make sure you have her room number before you go. That will also give you a chance to call your friend.”

Dasom was still asleep when Taehyung came to push bed and all up to the 7th floor of the hospital. He gave Hoseok the cup of chocolate milk and a slip of paper with her room number written on it. Hoseok stepped out of the emergency room bay and walked out into the lobby inside the main portion of the hospital to make a phone call.

 It was still dark outside when Namjoon’s phone rang. He knocked a closed bottle of water off his bedside table trying to get to it and then croaked out a greeting. He was trying to stay quiet enough not to wake Jungkook sleeping with his head on Namjoon’s bare chest, but when he heard Hoseok sobbing on the other end about Dasom and the hospital and something about leukemia, he sat up fast enough to dump the younger man off his chest harshly.

“Hobi, we will be right over. We will stop by and put a note on the door of the shop that it will be closed for the day.”

Jungkook had pouted at first at his rough awakening until he heard how upset Namjoon was. Namjoon was rushing around getting dressed faster than Jungkook had ever seen, and it made Jungkook respond with his own shaken brand of frantic dressing.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?” Jungkook asked as he pulled a black shirt over his head.

“Hoseok. He’s at the hospital with Dasom. They’ve been there all night and the doctors think she has leukemia.”

 That was the beginning of the flaming hellscape that Hoseok’s life became. After four months of intermittent hospitalizations for weeks at a time, chemotherapy treatments that made Dasom vomit everything out for days afterwards and made her beautiful hair fall out, other treatments in the form of shots, IVs, and elixirs, and a bone marrow transplant, Hoseok wasn’t sure how much more either of them could take. It seemed like their options were slowly running out, and that was terrifying to him. It was still amazing to him how Dasom was still as bright and playful as she had ever been despite how sick she truly was. Namjoon and Jungkook had been by their sides the entire time, and Jungkook had spent a small fortune in cute hats and headbands for her when all of her hair had come out.

“I can’t help it, Hobi. I just want her to still feel as beautiful as she is, with or without hair,” he’d said when Hoseok had commented on it.

The three of them took turns staying with her during the day. Luckily, Jungkook’s friend Yugyeom was able to help out at the game shop on the days when Jungkook was babysitting, much like today. Hoseok and Namjoon were both in the shop that day preparing for a book signing coming later in the week, and Jungkook was sending them both photos of their adventures as the day went on. Hoseok was re-arranging the window display for the upcoming Valentine’s Day holiday when his phone rang. He hadn’t been expecting a call, so it startled him a bit when he saw the phone number for Dr. Park’s office on his caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Jung? This is Eunwoo at Dr. Park’s office. He’d like to schedule a time for you to bring in Dasom to go over her recent labs. Is there any way you can come this afternoon?”

Something in Hoseok was shattered by the urgency of the request, but he set the appointment for 3 pm. That gave him a little more than 2 hours to pick up Dasom from Jungkook and arrive at the office. He placed the red tinted fairy lights he’d been attempting to detangle back in the box and headed to the back of the shop to find Namjoon. He found him in their office on the phone confirming the time with the local author for the book signing that Friday. Hoseok sat on the edge of the chair in front of the desk and waited for the call to end.

“Alright, Hobi. That was just confirming the details for our signing Friday afternoon. He will be here at 4 and we can get him settled at his table with some tea before we let in the masses.”

“Joon, Dr. Park’s office called and scheduled an appointment for Dasom in 2 hours. I’m going to have to go pick her up and go,” Hoseok told him anxiously.

“That doesn’t sound good. Why don’t I ride with you and we have Kookie meet us at the office with Dasom? If it’s not good news, I don’t want you to be alone,” Namjoon asked. Hoseok knew that he was worried by the way his forehead was crinkled just between his eyebrows, but he was trying to hide it.

“Okay. If it’s not too much trouble for you and Kookie.”

 Hoseok was so nervous about the appointment that they ended up leaving nearly an hour before they had to be there. Hoseok felt the anxiety buzzing around his abdomen like he’d drunk live bees instead of tea with breakfast that morning. Namjoon’s presence at his side was soothing and familiar as they sat on a park bench in front of the office waiting on Jungkook to get there.

“Hey, Seok? No matter what happens when we walk out of this appointment, we will handle it together. We are brothers. Jungkook and I love Dasom just like she is our own child. We will help you with whatever comes next,” Namjoon said softly, squeezing Hoseok’s hand gently as they watched Jungkook park his car and help Dasom out of the backseat.

Hoseok felt his throat close up with nerves, so he just nodded and plastered on a bright smile for his daughter. While the smile was initially fake, it slowly became a true grin as he heard Dasom and Jungkook singing “Baby Shark” as loudly as they could while crossing the parking lot. Jungkook was holding her against his chest and she was wearing a sparkly lavender princess dress and was clipping her matching tiara into Jungkook’s curly locks as they walked.

“Wow, Kookie! Who knew you made such a beautiful princess!” Hoseok teased.

“I’d be offended, but Dasom already told me that I’m the prettiest princess, and her word is law since she’s the queen,” he sassed back, making Dasom giggle.

“Hi Appa!” she squealed when Hoseok reached out for her.

“Hi my Love! Have you had a fun day with Princess Kookie?”

“Yes! We read more of The Princess Bride after lunch, then Unca Tookie let me play dress up for a bit.”

Hoseok listened to his daughter chatter about her day with Jungkook as they checked in with the receptionist. The group had only just sat down when a familiar face popped out and called them back.

“TaeTae! I didn’t know you worked here!” Dasom squealed out while she hugged his legs.

“Hi Princess! I just couldn’t wait another day to see you! And Dr. Park’s assistant had a baby last week, so Dr. Jin let me come over to help out. Plus, you know how much trouble Dr. Park gets into. Someone had to come keep him straight,” Taehyung explained as he hugged her.

They had gotten to know Taehyung pretty well as he had transferred up to the children’s unit shortly after their night in the emergency room. He still worked in the ER when they were short staffed, but he mostly worked in the inpatient unit for sick children. Since Dr. Park Jimin was the head of the children’s ward, Taehyung also floated over to the doctor’s office when needed. Somehow, just seeing his boxy grin and easy demeanor always put Hoseok and Dasom at ease; Dasom loved Taehyung and said he was her favorite nurse because he gives the best hugs. Taehyung took them back towards a room but stopped to weigh Dasom and measure her height.

“Princess, you have grown another inch since I saw you last! I’m going to give you a rock for a hat so you don’t get any bigger!” he teased before taking the rest of her vital signs.

Hoseok was a little surprised that Taehyung picked up Dasom and carried her while leading them to Dr. Park’s actual office instead of an exam room.

“Dr. Park wanted me to bring you in here instead of an exam room. He said he’d be in to speak with you in a few minutes. Make yourselves comfy. Do any of you want coffee or tea?” Taehyung asked. When they all refused, he patted Hoseok on the back and left the room, leaving the door slightly open.

They had only been sitting for a few minutes when Dr. Park came in. Hoseok always thought that if he’d met the man in a different setting, he’d have never known he was a doctor. Park Jimin was a bit shorter than Hoseok and had this habit of pushing his blonde hair back out of his eyes. He never wore a lab coat like most doctors Hoseok had ever met unless he was at the hospital, and then he just wore the lab coat over jeans and simple shirts. He had no qualms about kneeling in the floor to speak eye-to-eye with his young patients and his entire manner was soft and friendly. Children liked him and he was great with them. Not only was he great with his patients, but the man was truly brilliant. He had presented treatment options that Hoseok had never even heard of and had been willing to try anything. When Dr. Park came into the room, Dasom climbed out of Namjoon’s lap where she’d been doodling on the notepad that he always kept in his pocket to hug her doctor.

“Hello, Princess! I see that you brought in your royal guard and a new princess I don’t think I’ve met yet with you!”

“Oh Dr. Chim, that’s not a princess! That’s Unca Tookie, and you’ve met him before,” Dasom giggled.

“Well, don’t tell him I said so,” Dr. Park whispered conspiratorially to her, “but he makes a very pretty princess.”

Hoseok glanced over at Jungkook, who was blushing a bit and sneakily trying to remove the tiara from his hair and chuckled to himself.

“Princess, why don’t I take you to play with TaeTae for a little while? I need to talk to your Appa,” Dr. Park said before taking her hand and leading her out the door.

He was only gone for a few minutes, then came back and closed his office door. He shook each of their hands in greeting before sitting down behind his desk and opening up a folder that Hoseok hadn’t noticed before.

“Thank you for coming in at such short notice, Hoseok. I just didn’t want to dally in discussing this with you. As you know, we were hoping that the bone marrow transplant would help Dasom. I got her labs back this morning, and they were discouraging. While her white blood cell count is a little bit lower that it was before the transplant, it’s higher than it was during her last bloodwork. This tells me that it isn’t working,” Dr. Park paused at this point to look Hoseok in the eye. “You know that the transplant was the last-ditch effort we had to get ahead of this. I don’t have anymore tools on my belt that I can use to magically heal Dasom, and God knows I wish I did.”

Hoseok struggled to speak for a few minutes before finally choking out, “So what does this mean?”

Dr. Park ran his fingers through his hair, then stood and walked around his desk to take Hoseok’s hand before speaking again. “Hoseok-ssi, it means that with all of the efforts we’ve made to heal Dasom, none of it has worked. She is still very, very sick and there are no more options for treatment. We’ve tried them all.”

“Is she…please…is she dying? Is my baby going to die?” Hoseok stumbled over the words in his horror.

“I’m so sorry, but yes. I think she’s dying, Hoseok. I wanted to bring you in and talk to you about requesting some help for you. What do you think of Hospice?” Dr. Park said gently.

Hoseok couldn’t speak. His mouth fell open, but Jungkook spoke for him. “Isn’t Hospice for people who are going to die right away?”

“That is a misconception that a lot of people have. Hospice is designed for patients who are terminally ill and have a prognosis of living 6 months or less. While they won’t get better or heal really, the entire goal is for the patients to have the best possible quality of life and be comfortable in the end. Not only that, but you’d be able to keep Dasom at home throughout the process. She won’t have to be hospitalized again. I would still be her doctor and manage her care, but there would be other people involved. A nurse would come at least once a week and would be on-call 24 hours a day, a social worker would be available to you, and you would have access to 13 months of completely free bereavement care after Dasom dies. And that offer is for more than just you, Hoseok. It would be available to both Namjoon and Jungkook. They can also help arrange bereavement with your parents and sister through a Hospice nearby their homes.”

Hoseok crumpled under the weight of the shock. He couldn’t help but to fold in on himself. Dr. Park was still knelt down in front of him and holding both of his hands, but Hoseok’s head was nearly resting on his knees. He started to sob unintentionally; he had wanted so much to be strong for his baby girl, but he was so scared and devastated at this news. Before he realized what had happened, Dr. Park had released his hands and pulled him into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Hoseok. I wish I could do more to help her,” he whispered into Hoseok’s ear.

When he finally calmed down enough to pull back from the doctor, he could see the tears streaking down Dr. Park’s own face. He was an amazing doctor, so compassionate and brilliant, but there were still limits to what he could do. He couldn’t work a miracle. And while Hoseok understood that in his mind, his heart was shattered.

“I’m sorry for breaking down. But she’s my whole world. I literally exist to be her father, so the thought that she’s going to die before me is incomprehensible to me,” Hoseok said while trying to wipe his tears away. “Since we can’t do anything else, I guess Hospice is the next best thing. I don’t want her to be in pain, and if she can be at home to pass, I think she’d be more comfortable.”

Dr. Park sucked in a stuttered breath then said, “Okay. I will make the referral today, so please expect a call in the next couple of days. A nurse and a social worker will come out to your home for that and begin to get to know you. And I will of course make visits occasionally to check in on Dasom.”

Hoseok listened to the rest of the things that Dr. Park said about Hospice services as if he were standing in a tunnel. The sound echoed around his head, but most of the words were lost. After a few minutes, Namjoon and Jungkook helped him to stand and walk out of the room. They found Dasom sitting in Taehyung’s lap reading a storybook just down the hall. A toy stethoscope was clipped around her neck over the top of her princess dress and she had a disposable cap on her head like the ones used for surgery.  Taehyung was doing silly voices for all of the characters in the story and Dasom was laughing along with him. Hoseok just stopped to stare at her, gripping onto Namjoon’s arm while he saw how lively she seemed in this moment. It took everything within him not to hit his knees right then.

“Hey, Seok? Why don’t Jungkook and I come over and help you make dinner for Dasom? I just want to help support you both,” Namjoon asked softly. Hoseok just nodded before approaching Taehyung and Dasom. As he got closer to her, she looked up at him with a huge smile on her face.

“Appa, are you all done with Dr. Chim?” she asked.

“Yeah, Darling. Let’s go home now. Uncle Joonie and Uncle Kookie are going to come over for dinner. Should we order something?” he replied as he picked her up.

He couldn’t resist hugging her to his chest, and when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, more tears slipped out of his eyes. Would this be one of the last times he was able to hold her? To see her smile? Hear her precious giggles?

 After Dasom and her family had left, Taehyung stepped in to check on Dr. Park. They were good friends outside of work, and Taehyung had suspected that whatever news had been delivered to Mr. Jung was not good; Taehyung knew that Jimin would not be handling it well. In fact, he had rescheduled all of his appointments for the rest of the day when the reports had come in.

When Taehyung got to the office door, he could hear the sobs. Jimin was such a tender-hearted soul that his patients affected him deeply. He slipped in the door to find Jimin with his head down on the desk, crying into his folded arms. Taehyung closed the door behind him, then went to kneel beside Jimin.

“What happened, Chim?” he asked gently.

“She’s dying, Tae. The bone marrow transplant didn’t work. Her labs are still terrible and there’s nothing else I can do. I had to bring her father in and suggest Hospice to him for his 3-year-old daughter. I’m a horrible doctor. I can’t help her!”

Taehyung pulled Jimin into a hug and squeezed him tightly. “You are the best doctor at this hospital, Chim. Seriously. You have helped so many sick children recover. And I know, Dasom is a special little girl and it sucks so much that she’s so sick, but you can only do so much. You have tried every single treatment available for her, including some non-conventional methods and nothing has worked. Maybe her candle was only meant to be lit for a short while. All we can do now is make sure she’s comfortable and as happy as she can be through the end. Are you going to do home visits for her?”

Jimin nodded against Taehyung’s shoulder. “Want me to go with you those days?” Taehyung asked. Jimin nodded again. “Okay. We will go together. And we will make sure that she is the happiest that she can be.”

 Y/n hated pediatric cases. They were always the worst. She had begun working as a Hospice nurse to help dying people pass in comfort and peace and to make them smile as often as possible, but most of her patients were elderly. They had all lived long, mostly joyful, lives and were tired of being sick. As she stared at the admission information for her new patient, her heart sank.

Jung Dasom, born 26 May 2015, is a 3-year-old female patient with Juvenile Myelomoncytic Leukemia. The patient has endured a variety of treatments, including various chemotherapies and a bone marrow transplant. The transplant slowed down the growth of the leukemia for a short time. The patient’s mother has revoked claim to all parental rights and should not be given any information whatsoever regarding the patient’s condition should she reach out or inquire. The primary caregiver for the patient is her father, Jung Hoseok, who runs a bookstore/coffee shop. Additional caregivers are the father’s business partner, Kim Namjoon, and his boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook; information regarding the patient’s condition can be shared freely with both. The patient’s grandparents and aunt live out of town but do visit regularly. Mr. Jung has given permission to also speak with both regarding the patient’s condition. Mr. Jung has expressed interest that the patient remain at home for the duration of her illness and not be hospitalized again. Primary physician is Dr. Park Jimin, who will continue to manage the patient’s care and should be contacted for any and all changes in the patient’s condition. Dr. Park plans to make regular home visits to the patient to monitor the progression of the disease.

Y/n had not been the nurse to admit the patient as she had been attending a visit for another patient’s death, so her colleague, Sara had gone.

“Hey Sara, I see you did the admission yesterday for my pediatric patient. How are things there?” Y/n asked.

“She’s an absolute doll. You will fall in love with her. She is still very happy and playful and doesn’t report pain often. She lost all of her hair from the chemo, and complains of nausea when she eats, so Dr. Park has her on some meds that she takes before meals. Her dad is a total sweetheart and is super hands on with her care. He’s absolutely devastated at the news but is trying to hold it together for Dasom. The entire scenario is horrific, and I’m so glad she’s your patient and not mine.”

 The night that they’d gone home from Dr. Park’s office, Namjoon had driven Hoseok’s car back to their apartment and Jungkook had followed behind with Dasom so that Namjoon and Hoseok could talk.

“I swear I never dreamed that she would die before me, Joon. The thought rips the breath out of my lungs. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell her, but I think I have to,” Hoseok cried to his friend.

Namjoon had tears rolling down his cheeks by the time that he parked the car, but they had developed a bit of a plan. Namjoon and Jungkook would order in dinner and set the dining room table while Hoseok tried to explain things to Dasom. Before stepping out of the car, Namjoon reached over and squeezed Hoseok’s hand a couple of times to give him strength then wiped the tears from his face. They looked at each other and both took some deep breaths before stepping out of the car.

Jungkook and Dasom were singing “Baby Shark” again. Jungkook was doing a great job of keeping his energy up for Dasom for the moment, but Namjoon could see the sadness in his eyes.

“What sounds good for dinner, Somie?” Namjoon asked as they took the elevator up to their floor. “Jungkookie and I are going to order something yummy for us.”

She tapped her little index finger against her chin for a moment while she thought about it. “Can we have noodles?”

“Of course! We will order loads of noodles,” Jungkook replied with a soft smile.

“Can we have chicken too?” she asked.

“Yeah, we can order chicken too,” Namjoon said, also with a smile.

“When we get home, can you meet me in my bedroom with your puppy, Love? I want to talk to you for a few minutes before we have fun with Joonie and Kookie,” Hoseok asked her as he knelt before her as the elevator was nearing the 8th floor where their apartment was.

Dasom nodded then put her little hands on each of Hoseok’s cheeks and blew a raspberry on the tip of his nose. “Yes, Appa. We can talk,” she said as she giggled at the silly look on Hoseok’s face.

Hoseok stood then and held her hand as they exited the elevator. When they got to their apartment, Dasom kicked her shoes off beside the door and put them in their designated spot on the shoe rack before running down the hall to her room. Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok all stepped into the kitchen after removing their own shoes. Namjoon and Jungkook stepped forward to hug Hoseok, but he held his hands up to stop them.

“If you hug me right now, I’ll lose it. And I have to keep it together to talk to her,” he explained before grabbing Dasom a juice box out of the refrigerator then heading towards his room.

When Hoseok opened his bedroom door, Dasom was already there. She was sitting in the middle of his bed with her puppy plushie in her lap, fidgeting about with his ears. When he heard the door open, she smiled at him. He put the straw in the juice box and handed it to her before sitting down in front of her.

“Dasom, I wanted to talk to you a little bit about our visit with Dr. Chim today. You know that you’ve been sick for a while and had surgery, right?” Hoseok paused for her to respond, and she simply nodded as she took a sip of juice. “Well, Dr. Chim talked to me today because the surgery didn’t do what it was supposed to, and you are still sick. Dr. Chim told me today that there is nothing else he can do to help you get better.”

“Appa, am I going to go to heaven?” Dasom asked softly.

“Yes, Baby. At some point soon, you will go to heaven. Dr. Chim is going to help us make sure that even though you are still sick, it won’t hurt, and it won’t be scary. I’ll be with you the whole time. So will Uncle Joonie and Uncle Kookie. Dr. Chim is also going to send us some new friends that will help us take care of you at home, so you won’t have to go to the hospital anymore.”

“Okay, Appa. Will I get to see TaeTae again?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll call Dr. Chim’s office tomorrow and see if TaeTae can come visit you sometimes.”

Hoseok had to stop talking because his voice got caught in his throat. He reached out and picked Dasom up and pulled her into his lap. She instantly snuggled into him and wrapped her little arms around him to hug him.

After a minute, she looked up at him and said, “Appa, I’m not scared to go to heaven. I just will miss you so much when I’m there. You are the best Appa in the world. I love you so, so much.”

Her words broke him more than he already was. Hoseok cried as he whispered back that he loved her several times.

“Appa, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay,” she said as she kissed his cheek. “Unca Joonie and Unca Tookie will take care of you when I get to heaven.”

 The minute Hoseok had walked out of the kitchen to speak with Dasom, Jungkook had lost it. He had been strong the whole time he drove so that Dasom wouldn’t realize how upset he was, but when Hoseok left the kitchen, Jungkook wrapped himself up in Namjoon’s arms and let his own tears fall. Namjoon held him as he shook in his arms until they heard the click of Hoseok’s bedroom door open. Jungkook pulled back from the hug and walked to the kitchen sink to splash some water on his face to clear out all of the tears from his cheeks.

Jungkook had just dried his face on Hoseok’s hand towel when Hoseok himself came around the corner. He took a deep breath before turning around and seeing Hoseok taking slow deep breaths.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asked gently.

“Better than I thought. She said that she loved me and that she’s not scared to go to heaven and that you and Joonie would take care of me when she’s gone.” Hoseok whimpered, fighting hard against the pain in his chest. “I don’t want my baby to die.”

Jungkook started crying again with him as he pulled him into a hug. Namjoon draped his arms around both men, and they all stood there and cried together for a few minutes, before a small voice spoke up.

“Don’t be sad please. I don’t want you to be sad,” Dasom cried as she wiggled into the middle of the three men. “I don’t want you to cry because I’m sick.”

Their tears had made their favorite princess cry because she didn’t want them to be sad because of her. Jungkook picked her up and snuggled her into all three of them.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’m just sad that I won’t get to see you anymore when you leave us. But I promise I won’t cry anymore.”

 Y/n called and scheduled an appointment to meet her new patient 2 days after she had been admitted to Hospice. She was a little nervous about meeting Dasom and her father, but her nerves were immediately put at ease by the man with the 1000-watt smile who greeted her at the door.

“Hi, my name is Y/n. Mr. Jung, I presume?”

“Oh please. Mr. Jung is my dad. Please call me Hoseok,” he said warmly as he shook her hand. “Dasom is playing in her room. Should I go get her?”

“There’s no need. We can chat with her in her room if that’s better,” Y/n said. She couldn’t help but smile back at Hoseok as he led her into the apartment and down the hallway on the right side of the living room.

“Can I carry something for you? You look like you have your hands full,” he asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you though. I lug my bag and computer around from place to place all day long, so I barely even notice it these days.”

Hoseok nodded, then led her into the little girl’s room at the end of the hall. Dasom was sitting in the floor in front of a dollhouse at the end of her bed playing with some tiny dolls, one of which she was currently putting into the tiny bathtub in the upstairs of the dollhouse. She was wearing a light blue cotton dress with a picture of a unicorn on the front and some pink house slippers. She had very little hair, just a bit of peach fuzz that had begun to grow in after her chemotherapy treatments had ended, but she had on a blue headband with a bright yellow flower attached to it. She looked up at them when they entered the room and her dark brown eyes twinkled brightly when she saw her father.

“Somie, this is Y/n. She is one of the new friends Dr. Chim sent to help us out here at home. She needs to check you over so she can report back to Dr. Chim,” he explained as he introduced Y/n to the little girl.

“Hi Y/n! I’m Dasom. Are you friends with TaeTae?” she asked.

“TaeTae is Dr. Park’s assistant. His name is actually Taehyung, but Dasom gave him his own nickname because she loves him so much. He’s her favorite nurse,” Hoseok explained with a smile at the confused expression on Y/n’s face.

“Oh okay. No, I don’t know TaeTae yet, but I’m sure I will meet him soon since I’ll be calling Dr. Chim on a regular basis. Can you sit on your bed for me? I just need to take your temperature and your blood pressure.”

Dasom was completely unbothered by the discomfort of the blood pressure cuff as Y/n took her blood pressure. She was quiet until Y/n finished taking her blood pressure then she chattered about random things as Y/n continued her assessment.

“Dasom, do you hurt anywhere? Do you feel okay today?”

“No, nothing hurts today. I had a headache yesterday, but Appa gave me medicine and it helped. I haven’t thrown up in 3 whole days!” she replied excitedly.

After doing a physical examination, Y/n and Hoseok left Dasom to play with her dollhouse as they chatted a bit more in the living room. Y/n sat down on the sofa in front of a coffee table to chart on the visit on her computer and speak a bit more with Hoseok. Hoseok brought her over a cup of hot tea to sip as they talked more.

“Thank you so much for this,” Y/n said as she took a sip. “I just wanted to sit down with you and answer any questions you might have about Hospice, Dasom’s illness, or any concerns you have. I’m planning on visiting twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays. Since Dasom is so young, I just want to be present a bit more to get ahead of any symptoms that come up. I also want to be here to support you as much as I can.”

“I appreciate that very much. My best friends, Namjoon and Jungkook, will probably be here at times when you come so that I can work. My priority is Dasom, but on the days that she feels okay, I try to go to the bookshop to help Namjoon. I can do quite a bit of work from home since I do most of the bookkeeping and ordering of supplies, but it helps to get out some.”

“That’s understandable. I can call you and give you an update or leave you a note if you prefer on days you can’t be here. I have some families that keep a journal of sorts to write down their questions for me and for me to leave notes for them. We also have a nurse on call every night. If you have any issues, please call and someone can either give you instructions by phone or will come out as needed. I’m regularly on call as well, so sometimes if you call, you might speak with me.”

They chatted a bit more and Y/n could tell that Hoseok was a bit nervous, but she tried her best to assuage his fears. “I know this seems super overwhelming at the moment, but I will be by your side throughout this process. Death and dying seems like such a foreign process to most people, but I will be here every step of the way to help manage her symptoms and help you know what to expect as we go along. Don’t worry about that part though. For now, I just want you to take things day by day and enjoy spending time with your daughter.”

 Months passed before anything really changed. Dasom had good days when Hoseok could barely tell she was sick, and she played and laughed and grew. Other days were worse. She complained of headaches more often, and her nausea was harder to control. There were days she couldn’t even keep water down she was so nauseated, and she would cry and beg him to make it better. Those days were hell for Hoseok because he couldn’t make it better for his baby as much as he wished he could. Y/n was an angel throughout everything, and Dasom had taken to her as quickly as she had taken to Taehyung. It was so reassuring to Hoseok that she came on a regular schedule, every Tuesday and Friday. It was also so good to know that if something went badly during the middle of the night, he had someone he could call right away for help.

When they had first been admitted to Hospice, they had been given a special packet of medications that were tailored to Dasom that Y/n called an emergency kit. It was a set of medications that were often needed during end of life care for patients and kept in the home so that they were on hand if needed. The dosages and medications had been modified from what was typically given in a standard emergency kit because Dasom was too young to be given doses of that size of some medications or needed alternate medications altogether. This kit was kept in a high cabinet in the kitchen where Dasom couldn’t access it but was handy if something was needed. While Hoseok hoped they’d never have to use it, there was something so comforting about knowing it was there.

Hoseok never anticipated that things were going downhill until the floor collapsed from beneath him. He was out at the shop doing some work there since Dasom had been doing wonderfully for 2 weeks. She’d felt good and had been able to eat normally and play. Her hair had finally begun to grow back in earnest and she currently had the equivalent of a cute pixie cut. She still wore her hats and headbands that Jungkook had gotten her, and he’d bought several more since then. Since she had been so well, Hoseok felt safe with leaving her with Jungkook for a few hours while he worked in the shop knowing that Jungkook would call the second anything happened. It was nearly 4 in the afternoon on a Thursday, and Hoseok was shelving the newest batch of best-sellers he had ordered when his phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey Seok, its Jungkook. I think you need to come home and have Namjoon follow you. Dasom was fine up until after lunch. She said she was tired and fell asleep on my chest watching Frozen. That was at 12, and I’m having trouble waking her up. When I try, she opens her eyes a little, says, ‘So tired, Unca Took,’ then conks back out. I’m worried.”

That was all it took to bring the walls of a normal day shattering around Hoseok. Namjoon immediately closed the shop and they left to head home. While he was driving, Hoseok called Y/n to update her on Dasom.

 Y/n was leaving another patient’s home when she got the call from Hoseok, and she could tell he was panicking. She promised him that she’d meet him at their apartment. She got there just before he did since she had only been a few blocks away. Jungkook answered the door holding Dasom to his chest, and Y/n could see the fear in his large, bright eyes.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you’re here. Dasom isn’t really waking up and she’s breathing kind of funny,” he said. “She fell asleep on my chest and I’ve just been holding her so she wouldn’t be scared.”

Y/n instantly noticed that Dasom was a bit paler than usual. She naturally had her father’s golden skin, and it was a bit disquieting to see her so pale. Y/n convinced Jungkook to carry her down the hall to her bedroom and lay her on her bed. Several weeks ago, they had switched Dasom’s toddler bed out for a hospital bed so that they would be able to elevate the head of the bed as needed. Jungkook and Y/n got her settled in the bed and laid her favorite blanket over her lap. The whole time, Y/n noticed that her breathing was starting to be a bit more rapid than was normal but had begun to have periods where she stopped breathing altogether for a few seconds. Y/n was able to rouse her a tiny bit, but she instantly went back to sleep after finishing her sentence. Y/n was taking her temperature when Hoseok ran down the hall with Namjoon hot on his heels.

“What’s happening?” Hoseok asked, panicking a bit at the way his daughter looked. In his eyes, she already looked dead because of the pallor of her skin, but he could see her staggered breathing.

“Please, sit down, all of you. This might be a lengthy conversation,” Y/n said as soothingly as she could. Jungkook stepped and grabbed two chairs from the dining room table for himself and for Namjoon to sit in, while Hoseok opted to sit on the edge of Dasom’s bed.

“Thank you. I don’t want you to think I’m being unsympathetic of the situation or being harsh. I just need to speak honestly with you, so you all understand what’s happening. Dasom has been such a strong girl, but her body may be starting to give out. She may start to sleep a lot more than is usual for her and she may not breathe normally. Her heart rate might speed up and she could have periods where she doesn’t breathe at all; you may hear me call that periods of apnea. She may also start to have constant fevers. This will just get worse and worse until eventually she stops breathing altogether. Now, I would love to be able to tell you how long something like this will take, but I simply don’t know. She could also have several days in between where she will have more energy and be more awake; these periods are called rallies. She is rallying her energy up to take care of any business she may have and to say anything she needs to say to you. I will start to come more often for a while because I want to be here for you. I’ll also call Dr. Park to update him. He will probably call you to make a visit.”

Y/n’s heart was breaking with these three men. While Namjoon and Jungkook were not related to Dasom at all, this child might as well have had 3 fathers with as much time as they spent with her. Over the nearly 5 months she had been taking care of Dasom, she had rarely had a visit where only Hoseok was present. She had even come when Taehyung and Dr. Park had been there a few times. Everyone that she came into contact fell in love with this little girl, Y/n included. If her father’s smile was bright as the sun and his heart just as warm, his daughter’s smile was brighter and her heart warmer. As sick as she was, she always wanted to know that the people around her were happy, and she spoke wise words for such a small child.

While Y/n would never breathe a word of this to anyone, she had suspected that this was coming soon. Dasom’s birthday had been a week ago, and Y/n had visited the day before her birthday party. Her birthday had fallen on a Thursday, but she had wanted everyone she loved to visit for her birthday on Saturday, Y/n included. Hoseok stepped away to take a call as Y/n was finishing up listening to Dasom’s lungs.

“Y/n-ie, will you promise me something?” Dasom asked solemnly while her father was distracted.

“Of course, Love. What can I promise you?”

“Promise me to take care of my Appa. I love him very much, but I’m scared for him when I go to heaven. I’ve been hearing angels say my name when I’m sleeping, and I know I’m going to heaven soon. You’ve taken such good care of me. Will you take care of him too?” she asked.

Y/n blinked away tears before speaking again. “Yes, Somie, I promise. I will help take care of your Appa. I will help Namjoonie and Jungkookie. We will make sure he is okay when it’s time for you to go.” After securing that promise, she returned to her usual happy, giggling self as Hoseok came back into the room apologizing for his rudeness at having to take the call.

All 3 men in her presence were crying after Y/n explained what was happening in Dasom’s body. Namjoon was crying hard into Jungkook’s shoulder. Hoseok had climbed into the bed with his baby and wrapped his body around hers protectively. He had pulled her into his arms and was crying into the top of her head as quietly as he could. Y/n herself was struggling not to sob with these men who were watching this whole thing.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to step into the living room and call Dr. Park,” Y/n said before walking quickly from the room.

Y/n took her phone into the kitchen and dialed the number to the doctor’s office.

“Thank you so much for calling Seoul Pediatrics and Youth Care. My name is Taehyung. How can I help?”

“Hey Tae. It’s Y/n. I’m here with Dasom. Is Dr. Park around?”

“Hey Y/n! He just stepped out of an exam room. I’ll call him over,” Taehyung said happily.

“You might want to send him to his office, Tae. I don’t have good news.” Y/n’s voice broke at the end of the sentence and tears started flowing in earnest.

“Oh no! Let me put you on hold a minute, and we’ll both pick up in there,” Taehyung said before the overly cheery hold music started.

 Taehyung and Jimin had closed the door to Jimin’s office and picked up the call on speakerphone. Taehyung had warned him as well as he could that the news was grim, so Jimin had tried to steel himself for the call.

“Y/n, this is Dr. Park. What’s happening with Dasom?”

Jimin’s hands were shaking as Y/n relayed that Dasom was experiencing states of heavy sleep and semi-consciousness, periods of apnea, and she already had a fever.

“I think you’re right, Y/n. It does sound like she’s approaching end of life. I have 2 more appointments, but could you please let Hoseok know that Tae and I would like to stop by?”

At the end of the call, Jimin looked up at Taehyung’s glassy eyes and swallowed hard. He couldn’t even speak for a few minutes, so he squeezed Taehyung’s hand and they just sat there in silence composing themselves to endure the rest of the afternoon.

 Before she left that afternoon, Y/n kissed Dasom on the forehead softly and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet Girl.”

Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon all walked with her to the door. They were all still crying a little bit, but she hugged them all tightly before picking up her laptop case and bag.

“Dr. Park and Taehyung will be here in a bit, and I’m on call tonight. If anything happens, please call me, okay? I don’t care if it’s 3 am.”

 As much as he wanted to hurry to see Dasom, Jimin knew that he had to keep his head in the right place. Lucky for him, his final patients of the day were just general check-ups on a pair of siblings who were getting over the flu. He put on a smile and made sure that the pair were recovering appropriately. Their lungs were clear, so it had not turned into pneumonia. He sent them on their way with instructions to rest and keep up the increased liquids for a few days before going back to school.

Once his final patients left, Jimin charted the visits using his laptop then nearly bowled his receptionist over as she came around the corner. “Eunwoo, Taehyung and I are going to see Dasom. Her Hospice nurse called earlier, and it sounds like she’s dying. I may need you to reschedule some appointments for the day of the funeral.”

 Taehyung insisted on driving to the Jungs’ apartment. He and Jimin had been taking turns, but he knew that Jimin would be upset when they left this visit, and he didn’t want him taking a chance. They put on some soft classical music for the drive just for background noise.

“You ready for this, Chim?” Taehyung asked gently as he backed his car into a parking place at Hoseok’s apartment building.

“No. Not at all, but it’s part of my job, Tae.”

Neither of them spoke again until they were standing outside the door of the apartment. Taehyung squeezed Jimin’s hand and whispered, “Let’s go say goodbye to the Princess.”

 After Y/n had left, they all just stared at each other for a second. Hoseok was completely in shock. His baby had been fine yesterday, and today she was dying. He lifted his left hand and pinched himself hard to see if he was dreaming, but he didn’t wake up; this nightmare was very real.

“Can I have just a few minutes alone with her?” Jungkook asked softly through his tears.

“Of course, Kook,” Hoseok replied, waving him towards her room.

 Jungkook sat down on the side of the bed as close as he could get to her, and just looked at her. The first time he had met this beautiful girl, she’d been barely 10 months old toddling about the café at the bookshop on wobbly legs while holding onto Namjoon’s fingers. It was the first time he’d been in the shop, and she had taken one look at him and abandoned Namjoon. She’d reached up to him with a sweet smile and upheld hands, saying, “Up peez.” He hadn’t been able to resist her then and he couldn’t now. He loved her so much and she lit his life up so much. Dasom had lived the meaning of her name in every sense of the word. Hoseok had named her well: Love is what she truly was.

“Somie, its Uncle Kookie. I just want you to know how much I love you. I know you don’t remember the first time I saw you, and how you wanted me to pick you up even then, but you won me over that day,” Jungkook spoke softly to her through his sobs. “I love you very, very much, Princess. I want you to know that I will watch out for Joonie and your Appa, so please don’t worry about leaving him behind. We will make sure he will be okay. When it’s time for you to be our guardian angel, let go and fly.”

Jungkook kissed her gently on the cheek and stumbled out of the room. He couldn’t see through his tears, but he didn’t have far to go before Hoseok was hugging him tight. They were still standing at the head of the hallway sobbing into each other’s arms when Namjoon answered the door to let Dr. Park and Taehyung in.

 Jimin and Taehyung went together back to Dasom’s room. She was peacefully lying in the bed, but her breathing was very shallow when they entered the room. Jimin could feel his heart break and the pieces leapt up into his throat as he sat down on her bed beside her. He took his stethoscope from around his neck and listened to her heartbeat. It was definitely beating at a higher rate than normal as her little body desperately struggled to ward off the leukemia in her veins.

Hoseok had excused himself to the bathroom for a few minutes to try to calm down before coming into the room, so they were alone with her.

“Hi Princess! It’s TaeTae. I needed to come see your beautiful face one more time. I know that you are about to become a star in the sky, so I wanted to ask you a favor. When you get there, please go find my grandma and give her a hug for me. Then, both of my favorite ladies will be together. I know you’ll be looking down on us. Your family is going to be fine; I promise. Your Appa is a good, strong man, and he will be okay. I’ll miss seeing your smiling face,” Taehyung murmured to her softly before kissing her forehead gently. After speaking his gentle goodbye to her, he squeezed Jimin’s shoulder as he left the room to check on Hoseok.

Jimin had a much more difficult time finding words to say, so for a moment he just sat quietly and held her small hand in his own and thought back over the time since Jin had referred her to him as a patient.

“Dasom, it’s Dr. Chim. I just came by to check on you. Y/n called me and told me that you weren’t doing so well. You don’t seem to be in any pain, which is good,” he paused a moment when the tears started streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, Dasom. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to help you get better,” he whispered to her before rushing out of the room.

 Hoseok felt like he had no more tears left to cry. He had wept out every molecule of fluid in his body in the hours since Jungkook had called him. Namjoon and Jungkook had opted to spend the night, and Hoseok had told them to sleep in his room and he’d wake them if anything happened. He had planned to curl up in bed around Dasom so if she needed him, he’d be right there. He laid down beside her in her hospital bed and brushed his fingertips gently over her forehead. It was almost as if she sensed him since she curled up to him at that gentle touch and snuggled closer to his chest. He drifted off to a fitful sleep as soon as she settled down into his arms.

Sometime later, he woke up to her tiny hands touching his face. He opened his eyes to see her looking up at him and stroking his cheeks and the shape of his nose.

“Hi Appa,” she said softly.

“Hi, Baby.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up but I needed to see you one more time. I love you, Appa. Please don’t be sad, but it’s almost time for me to go,” she said with a soft smile.

“I’m so glad you woke me up, Somie,” he cried, trying to smile at her through the tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Can you see them, Appa? Can you see the angels? They’re so pretty.”

“I can’t see them, Darling. But they aren’t here for me,” he whispered to her. “You can go with them if they ask you to, okay? Please don’t stay for me. I’ll be alright.”

She just nodded and wiped his tears away with her little hands. After a few more minutes, she laid her head on his chest and put her arm around his waist. She drifted off to a deep sleep soon after, but Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to sleep anymore. He watched and counted every breath she took that night, and just held her small body to his chest for the last time. Just as the dawn was breaking and light was peeking through her window across their faces, Dasom took her last breath.

 Namjoon woke up to Hoseok’s nearly screaming sobs confused as to where he was, but when he opened his eyes, everything came smashing back in on him.

“Jungkook, get up! Something’s wrong,” he said as he flung the blankets back and grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table.

Namjoon practically ran down the hall to find Hoseok holding Dasom to his chest, sobbing and begging her to wake up. She looked like the fairest china doll he’d ever seen and she wasn’t moving, even with her father being as loud as he was.

“Oh my god. Seok, please, you have to calm down. We have to call Y/n,” Namjoon said soothingly as he reached out for his friend.

At that moment, Jungkook slipped past him into the room and wrapped his arms around Hoseok. “I got this, Joon. Go call her.”

Namjoon stepped into the living room and dialed Y/n’s familiar number. She answered on the second ring even though it was still super early.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s Namjoon. We need you to come. Please…I think…” he stopped to breathe in for a moment before he could continue. “I think Dasom is gone. Hobi is holding her and is nearly hysterical begging her to wake up.”

“Oh no. I’ll be right over, Namjoon. Just give me 20 minutes to drive there.”

After disconnecting the call, Namjoon stood in the living room trying to steel himself a bit. Hoseok wasn’t screaming anymore, but Namjoon could still hear his sobs echoing down the hallway. He was afraid they were going to have to sedate Hoseok to get him to let go of Dasom’s body at this point. Luckily, they’d already planned a basic service back when Hospice was called so that Hoseok could just mourn when Dasom passed instead of having to make major decisions. Namjoon took a few more deep breaths then walked back down the hall.

Jungkook had managed to get Hoseok to lay Dasom back down on her bed. After he put her down, it was almost as if all the bones in his body disintegrated and left the man in a crumple on the floor. Jungkook was wrapped around him trying to offer some measure of comfort while he was crying himself. Namjoon knelt down beside both of them and whispered that Y/n was on her way and she’d be here soon. When he heard Namjoon’s voice, Hoseok unfurled from Jungkook’s embrace and moved to Namjoon’s instead.

“Joonie, I thought we had more time. Can I go with her? Please? Please let me be with my baby,” Hoseok begged as he buried his face in Namjoon’s chest and fisted the sides of his shirt.

“Seok, I’m so sorry. It’s not the same, but we loved her too, and we will be with you every step of the way. I promise you that Kook and I will take care of you until you can stand again, okay?”

Before they could talk anymore, the doorbell rang. Jungkook got up and went to let Y/n in. Hoseok took a few deep breaths as he listed to Namjoon’s deep voice assuring that he wasn’t alone in the hellscape that his life had become and was no longer sobbing. Tears were still raining out of his eyes, but his chest had apparently finished caving in because there were no wracking screams or sobs leaving his mouth.

 Y/n had expected this to be a horrible death visit. She had known that when she had to officially pronounce Dasom, Hoseok was not going to do well. And what father out there would do well with having to bury their 4-year-old?

The scene she walked into was worse than she’d dreamed. Hoseok was curled in a ball on the floor, shirtless and bare feet, but flannel clad knees pulled to his chest and his bare back pressed against the rails of Dasom’s hospital bed. He was crying into his best friend’s chest and Namjoon was crying too. Jungkook’s face had been red from crying too when he answered the door for her, and she had been able to hear Hoseok’s screams during Namjoon’s phone call. She dropped her bag inside the door and knelt in front of the two men in her black scrubs, gently rubbing Namjoon’s back.

“Hoseok? Can you look at me?” she asked softly.

He leaned back from Namjoon and launched himself into her arms when she offered a hug. “I’m so sorry, Hoseok. Was she comfortable?”

He nodded for a second before speaking. “She woke me up a few hours ago rubbing my face. She told me she loved me then asked if I could see the angels. After we talked, she fell back asleep and I just held her over my heart and watched her leave me. Oh my god, Y/n, bring my baby back. Please! I need you to bring her back!”

Y/n just sat down in the floor then, scooting the fully broken father in between her legs and brought his head to her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and held him and let him cry for a bit, knowing that he just needed to get a bit of the grief out of his system. After a bit, she could feel his hysteria starting to slow down a bit, and she moved her hands to his shoulders to pull him back to look at him. He had stopped crying, but big tears where still standing on the apples of his cheeks and his eyes looked so incredibly lost.

“Hoseok, I’m going to stand up now and do the part I have to do for Hospice, okay? I have to officially pronounce that she’s gone. Do you want to stay while I do?” she murmured to him.

When he shook his head slightly, Y/n stood then let Namjoon lead Hoseok into the living room to sit him down. Jungkook remained behind, still crying, but softly mentioning that he knew which outfit that she should be buried in. He had gone to the closet and chosen Dasom’s favorite glittery purple princess dress and matching tiara. He laid it beside her on the bed and held her tiny, now cold hand as Y/n listened with her stethoscope for just a few minutes. Dasom was definitely gone, and Y/n officially pronounced her at 6:47 am. Y/n hugged Jungkook and left the room to give him a moment alone with Dasom before going into the living room and checking on the others.

Hoseok was beginning to succumb to the emotional exhaustion already, but his breathing had begun to return to a stuttered normal where he had wept so hard. Y/n hugged Namjoon and whispered that Jungkook wanted a moment to say goodbye alone, before turning to Hoseok. She crouched down before him where he was crumpled onto the sofa and took his hands before speaking.

“I’m all finished with her. Jungkook picked out her final outfit. I just wanted to see if you are ready for me to call the funeral director. It’s okay if you aren’t,” she said in a soothingly gentle voice.

Hoseok took a deep breath and nodded. “I think so. I can’t bear the thought of her getting cold though. Can we wrap her in a blanket?”

“Is there a certain one you want to wrap her in?”

“There is a purple one at the end of her bed. Its super soft. That’s the one she always wanted when she felt bad,” he whispered.

“Do you want me to do it? Or do you want to help?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to remember the way she looks cold and lifeless. I want to remember my happy, giggly baby.” Hoseok whimpered.

Jungkook had come back into the room when Y/n stood to go back and wrap a blanket around Dasom. Namjoon’s face was pressed into his chest and they were softly crying together. Y/n smiled sadly at them before heading down the hallway. She found the blanket easily enough that Hoseok had wanted her wrapped in. Y/n gently picked the tiny body up and held her to her chest as she spread the blanket out with one hand. She swaddled Dasom’s lifeless body in the blanket as if she were a large infant, then kissed her on the forehead.

“Bye, Baby Girl. I’ll keep my promise to you. I’ll take good care of your Appa,” she whispered before calling the funeral director.

 For Hoseok, time seemed to stop. He had no idea what day it was or how long it had been since Dasom had died. He knew that it couldn’t have been any more than a week, but he felt like his life had stopped the same moment hers had. Namjoon and Jungkook refused to leave him alone for any length of time and they’d practically moved in at this point. Hoseok only slept when the crippling sadness and exhaustion made him stagger down the hallway to Dasom’s room where he’d collapse into the “big girl bed” that she’d used for maybe two weeks before it had been replaced by a hospital bed. The only time he could sleep was when he was wrapped up in the sheets that still vaguely smelled of her baby powder scent with her stuffed puppy squeezed to his chest. In those moments, he could pretend that she was just across town with her Unca Joon and Unca Tookie and he could pick her up.

Hoseok is unsure how he survived the funeral. He remembers standing by the too small casket in a borrowed suit, locking his knees to remain on his feet, and shaking the hands of everyone he knew. He remembers his mother and sister crying softly beside him in the visitation line, and his father struggling to not let the tears fall. He remembers the pastor saying a few words and the prayers before they closed the casket. He remembers Namjoon holding him back from tackling the funeral director who closed the lid and to keep him from collapsing as he begged them not close his baby in a box. He remembers Y/n being there too and standing beside him at his insistence at the graveside service, the death grip he had on her hand, and he remembers the sweet amber scent of her perfume keeping him from going insane when they lowered the tiny casket into the hole in the ground. And he remembers Jungkook wrapping his arms around him and hiding his face in Jungkook’s chest when they started shoveling the dirt back over his daughter’s grave.

After the funeral, Namjoon and Jungkook drove him back home while his parents followed behind. His mother and sister came in and began trying to cook away the pain in their chests. They cooked enough food to feed nearly the entire Korean army it seemed. They made Hoseok sit down at the table in front of all the food, but he just stared at the chopsticks and the dishes like he’d never seen them before. After a few minutes, Namjoon helped him walk into his bedroom, and for the first time since they’d graduated college, Namjoon helped Hoseok change clothes and helped him into his bed. Hoseok just stared at him with empty eyes for a few minutes.

“Hey, Seok, I’m going to step into the kitchen and grab you a bottle of water. Then I’ll come lay down with you for a while, okay?” Namjoon told him.

When Namjoon came back, Jungkook came with him and they each curled their bodies around Hoseok’s and wrapped their arms around him. They both knew that he wasn’t doing well and wanted to provide as much support as possible. When they enveloped him in their arms, Hoseok shattered again. He cried these terrible sobs that sounded like they were scraping the inside of his chest out and left his voice raspy and broken. Namjoon and Jungkook looked into each other’s tear-filled eyes and knew that they were in for a long road.

 Over the next several weeks, Hoseok walked around an empty shell of the father he had been. He found himself searching the apartment for Dasom sometimes, then breaking down when he remembered he’d never find her again. After a while, he threw himself into work so that he wouldn’t have to come home until late. Namjoon and Jungkook practically moved in with him for the first 3 weeks after the funeral until Hoseok had insisted that he was okay and that he needed to bite the bullet and get used to his childless house alone. The first night they had relented and gone home, Namjoon called him every hour to make sure he was still okay. At midnight, Jungkook had turned Namjoon’s ph0ne completely off so he’d give Hoseok some space.

Hoseok needed time alone to remember his daughter and try to come to terms with her death. While he did take advantage of some of the bereavement services that were offered, he never felt totally comfortable speaking with a gentleman who had never even met Dasom about her life and the giant black hole her death had created in his chest. So, he worked. He worked nearly 90 hours a week for practically a month after Namjoon and Jungkook had returned home. He needed something to fill all the time he had designated for caring for Dasom. It helped him to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he could fall into bed and sleep immediately without feeling any of the sorrow that had consumed him.

Just 2 short months after Dasom’s funeral, Jungkook had needed to attend an out of town conference primarily for gamers. He had reserved a booth there nearly a year in advance, before Dasom had ever gotten sick. Hoseok insisted that he’d be fine and that Namjoon should go with Jungkook, so they’d reluctantly agreed. They left on a Friday morning and were slated to return on the following Tuesday. Hoseok worked in the shop diligently, but the problem came on Sunday. The shop was always closed on Sundays, and he was so far ahead on work that he had nothing he could do on that day, so he was stuck at home. He did well until dinnertime that night. He had thrown himself into doing some research into some less well-known authors in the area that he wanted to feature in the shop and planning a display.

When he realized that he should eat dinner, he warmed up leftovers from the night before and decided to have a glass of wine. A single glass of wine with dinner became a bottle and a half as he tried to drown the ache in his chest. Before he knew it, he was completely inebriated after having finished the second bottle. In his drunken grief-stricken hysteria, Hoseok lost it completely.

 It was 2 am on Monday morning when Y/n’s phone rang. She had kept her promise to Dasom and kept in regular contact with Hoseok. He had been doing okay, or so he portrayed to everyone else, but Y/n had a little more experience with the cycles of grief. She knew that he was putting on a good mask, but it would crumble sooner or later.

“Hello?”

“Hi Y/n, is ‘oseok. Can you come over? I can’t find Dasom.”

“Hobi, honey, how much have you had to drink?” she asked softly. He was mumbling a lot and slurring his words.

“Um…I don’t know? A bottle or two of that red wine Joon likes?”

“Oh wow. Um…yeah. I’ll be over in a little bit, okay? Can you make sure the door is unlocked?”

Hoseok hung up after promising he’d unlock the door. While she was not sure what had led up to this, she got up and dressed in leggings and a comfortable sweater to head over. She didn’t know what she’d find, but she knew she had a long night ahead of her. Luckily, she had the next 3 days off from work after her weekend on call.

 When Y/n got to the apartment, she knocked lightly at the door before entering. Luckily, Hoseok had kept his word and the door was unlocked. She paused at the door to remove her shoes and smiled softly when she saw Dasom’s tiny pink house slippers still sitting on the mat beside the door.

“Hoseok?” she called as she walked through the living room. He wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room.

“In here,” he replied, followed by the distinctive sound of vomiting.

She found him, in nothing but his boxer briefs, knelt in front of the toilet in his master bathroom. The skin of his shoulders and up his neck was flushed from the alcohol and from getting sick from drinking too much. Y/n knelt down beside him and rubbed his back softly for a moment before speaking.

“Oh Hobi,” she murmured. She stood and wet a washcloth in cool water and placed it over the back of his neck, before heading toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and some painkillers.

“Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me,” he begged when he had a moment of a break between heaving.

“I’m just going to the kitchen, Hobi. I’ll be right back, okay?”

When he nodded, she quickly gathered the water and medication and placed them on his bedside table. Then, she turned back his bedsheets and fluffed the pillow on the side of the bed closest to the bathroom door before joining him in the bathroom. She found him sitting with his back against the cool porcelain of the bathtub with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. She wet another washcloth and gently used it to wash some of the sweat off of his face. He tilted his face into her touch, and tears slipped out of his closed eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I just wanted to not feel so much hurt.”

“Hoseok, I wish I could help more with that. I hate seeing you hurt so much, but the only thing that will help is time. In time, you will be able to look back on the memories of your baby girl and smile at the light she was instead of sobbing. But for now, sob when you need to.” When she spoke, he opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment. His eyes were glossy with tears and the alcohol coursing through his system. “You feel okay to walk to bed?”

He nodded, so Y/n helped him stand and stood with him while he brushed his teeth. She took the washcloth from the back of his neck and hung it over the side of the tub. When he was ready, she wrapped her arm around his waist to make sure he’d stay steady until he got to the bed. He seemed to have begun to sober up a bit after being sick, so she helped him lay down and tucked him under the blankets. She turned to walk out of the bedroom, but he grabbed her arm.

“Please…don’t leave me. Stay?”

She just nodded, and he shuffled over in the bed to make room for her. She laid down beside him and turned off the lamp.

“Y/n? Could you hold me?” he asked softly.

“Of course, Hobi. Come here,” she whispered back. When she opened her arms to him, he curled into her and put his head on her chest. She could feel him crying and shaking a bit, so she hummed a song and rubbed his back soothingly until he fell asleep.

 It was several hours later when Hoseok woke up. The first thing he noticed was that his head was throbbing. After a few moments, the memories of the wine, vomiting, and Y/n came back to him. His eyes flew open, and he was a little surprised to find himself alone in his bed. He remembered her holding him until he fell asleep and the little song she was humming to him. Hoseok gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and saw the water and medication on the bedside table. He took it and walked into his bathroom to brush his teeth again. He pulled on some lounge pants and a white tee shirt before walking into the living room.

“Y/n?” he called.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

He walked toward his kitchen and saw her propped against the sink with her phone pressed to her ear, and ingredients for a possible breakfast spread across the counter.

“He’s okay, I promise, Joon. You had to know that this was bound to happen eventually, right?” she said with a smile into the phone. Hoseok could hear Namjoon’s voice murmuring on the line, probably fretting over him. “Namjoonie, I’m a nurse. He called the best possible person. Besides, he was puking his guts out when I got here, so I’m pretty sure he learned his lesson. And with the way he’s squinting at me right now, I’d say he has a hangover from hell…Yeah, you do that. See you soon.”

She hung up the phone before turning to Hoseok. “Think you can handle some breakfast?” she asked.

“Nothing much. I don’t think I could handle the smell of eggs or anything like that cooking.”

Y/n just nodded and popped some bread in the toaster before turning to pour him a cup of coffee. He handed him the coffee mug before pouring her own. When he added milk to his, she giggled, sipping her own coffee black.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked when the toast popped up. She spread just a bit of peanut butter on the slice before cutting it in half and handing it to him before treating the second slice the same way for herself. “The peanut butter is high in protein and will help take the edge off the hangover.”

He thanked her before sitting down on the stool behind the kitchen counter. He took a small bite of the toast and chewed thoughtfully before speaking. “Thank you for coming last night. I know you didn’t have to, so it means a lot that you cared enough to come check up on me then stay over.”

“Hobi, I care about you. Of course I would have come when you called.”

 That night was the only night he tried to drink his pain away. He had learned that it just made him feel worse in the long run. He began to simply take it a day at a time and tried not to work so much. Around nine months after Dasom’s death, Hoseok finally decided that he needed to clean out her room. Leaving everything like she was just going to come back was making it so much harder to heal. Plus he wanted to donate some of her things to the children’s ward. He had called and spoken with Taehyung to see what they needed, and he had a list of the things he could take them. Once he had decided, he called Y/n to see if she could help. They had begun talking more often since the night that he’d called her in a drunken stupor, and he considered her a good friend. He knew that Namjoon and Jungkook wouldn’t be able to hold it together in cleaning out her things, but Y/n would be. Something about her was soothing to Hoseok, and he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Y/n came over early on a Saturday morning to help Hoseok empty out Dasom’s room. They had several boxes to fill. Hoseok had already removed the bed and had labeled each of the boxes. One box was to be taken to a local shelter that helped women and children who were escaping domestic violence situations, one box was to be taken to Dr. Park’s office for the children’s ward, a small box for things that Hoseok wanted to keep, and another small box of things to give to Namjoon and Jungkook. Hoseok had already taken all of the tiny hats and headbands that Dasom had collected to Dr. Park’s office except for one. The tiara she had worn the day that they had gotten the news that she was dying was in the box for Jungkook. He had asked for that one, since he knew it was her favorite and it was the one Dasom would always clip in his hair. Hoseok had moved her yellow puppy plushie into his room. It sat on his bed all day amongst his blankets and pillows so he could squeeze it tightly the days he missed her so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Hoseok and Y/n worked diligently that day. Neither said much, but together they were able to clear out the room. Dasom hadn’t accumulated that many possessions in her short life, and they were able to empty out the room in a little over 6 hours. She helped him load the boxes into his car. He wanted to deliver them himself to the different places. He knew that Dasom would have been so happy to know that other little girls were going to have her princess dresses and dollhouse; she had always been so giving.

“Y/n, could I ask you something before you go?”

“Sure, Hobi. What’s up?”

“After I drop off all of these things, would you go to dinner with me? I don’t think I should be alone tonight,” he replied.

“That sounds good. I’ll go home to shower and grab some pajamas and my toothbrush. How about I meet you back here at 6 oclock?”

Hoseok delivered everything to their respective donation points except for the box for Namjoon and Jungkook. He’d take theirs with him to the shop on Monday. After dropping everything off, he returned to his emptier apartment. Even though he knew that he had needed to do this, it still was difficult. The familiar ache in his chest had lessened some and he was able to remember happy times with his baby as he sorted through her things. He showered and thought about the day and how much help Y/n had been, and not just physically. Her presence was soft and soothing, and it was no wonder that she made a fantastic Hospice nurse. If the way she had handled Dasom’s Hospice period was any indication of the way she did her day to day work, she helped a lot of families. In the past year or so since meeting her, Y/n had become a welcome addition to his life and the lives of Namjoon and Jungkook. They often all spent time together playing games or watching movies. She’d even tried her best to teach Namjoon to cook Jungkook’s favorite meal at one point.

In thinking it over, Hoseok realized that he hadn’t actually been on a real date since he was with Dasom’s mother. While dinner with Y/n wasn’t an official date, he found himself wondering if she would be willing to go on an actual date with him. Even the thought of asking her made him a little nervous, so he decided that he’d ponder that a bit more when he wasn’t about to spend extended amounts of time with her.

 Y/n rushed through her shower to spend a little extra time getting ready. In the amount of time she had spent with Hoseok since caring for Dasom, they had gotten very close. Lately, she had realized that she’s developed a huge crush on the man with the heart shaped smile. While having dinner together as friends wasn’t a huge deal, and she knew that the invitation to stay overnight with him was just as a comfort measure to him, she couldn’t help but be a little nervous because of her stupid crush. Besides, she told herself, he was still in mourning for his child; he didn’t want a relationship with her.

They hadn’t discussed where they were going to have dinner, so she opted to dress in an outfit that would be appropriate for a variety of places. She opted for a light-yellow sundress with a jean jacket over it and ballet flats. She packed shorts and an oversized sweater for sleeping in and an outfit to wear home the following afternoon. After packing her things for the overnight stay, Y/n finished curling her hair in loose soft curls and pinned it out of her eyes, then did just a touch of natural makeup.

She pulled into the parking lot of Hoseok’s apartment complex at 5:56 pm, and decided she’d just take her overnight bag up to his apartment and they could leave from there together. She glanced down at her phone after ringing the doorbell, and when Hoseok opened the door, she looked up to find him in just a pair of jeans and still towel drying his hair.

“Hi,” she said softly, “I’m a few minutes early, but I thought I’d bring everything up.”

Hoseok smiled and apologized for not being ready yet. “I just lost track of time in the shower. Go ahead and take your bag into my bedroom. I’ll just finish drying my hair and grab a shirt then I’ll be ready to go.”

Hoseok walked back into his bathroom as Y/n placed her overnight bag just outside his closet door. When he’d opened the door to see her standing there in her cute dress and her hair curled that way, it had nearly taken his breath. She was gorgeous in such a soft, gentle way that he was a little bit addicted to. Something about her just felt like home.

 They had opted to go have sushi at a place near Hoseok’s apartment, so they had just walked over. During dinner, they had laughed and joked as much as possible to lighten up the solemnity of the day. Hoseok had to admit that he felt better after laughing and just being around Y/n. As they were walking back to the apartment, the sun was just starting to set. Without thinking about it, Hoseok reached over and took her hand, linking their fingers together. He felt her stiffen up for just a second before relaxing and squeezing his hand. He looked down at their linked hands and smiled at her.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to hold your hand all evening. I hope you don’t mind,” he said to her shyly.

“I don’t mind at all, Hobi. I kinda like it.”

 When they got back to the apartment, they decided to watch random reality tv shows and just lounge around. Y/n slipped into his master bathroom to change into the shorts and sweater she’d brought to sleep in. When she got the sweater on, she realized that it covered her shorts completely but there was nothing she could do about it. She stepped out into the living room to find that he’d changed into a tee and some lounge pants and was pouring them each a glass of wine.

He turned around with the glasses in his hand and found her standing in the living room in just a sweater that was so big that it kept slipping off of one of her shoulders.

“I swear I have shorts on. It just looks like I don’t because my sweater is so big. I just didn’t realize it when I packed it,” she said, nervously fiddling with the seams on her sleeves.

“Oh…okay,” he stammered. “You look so cute standing there. Seriously, my heart is pounding.” His face turned bright red as he realized that he’d actually said that out loud, but her giggle in response was enough to make him feel less embarrassed.

They curled up on the couch, sipping the wine and making fun of the rash decisions that the contestants on the reality show were making. To Hoseok, this felt like something they did every day, and he realized that he kind of wished it was something they did every day. After finishing the show they were watching, Hoseok glanced over to see Y/n dozing against the arm of the sofa. He smiled softly before deciding he’d just carry her to his bed. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements, but there was no way he was going to make her sleep on his couch after everything she’d done for him that day. He scooped her into his arms bridal style and started towards his room. She woke up just as he was laying her down on his bed. He’d laid her on his side of the bed without thinking about it and was tugging the blanket up over her when her eyes fluttered open.

“What’re you doing, Hobi? I can’t steal your bed.”

“I’m a gentleman, Y/n. I refuse to let you sleep on my couch. I’ll sleep on the couch; it’s no big deal,” he smiled at her.

“It is to me. Can’t you just sleep in here with me? I promise I’ll be good,” she pouted at him.

He chuckled softly at the way she’d phrased it, then finally agreed. “Okay, Darling. If you insist. I’m just going to go turn off the living room light and the tv. I’ll be right back.”

She was already back asleep when he returned to the bedroom with her back facing the door. Hoseok went to the other side of the bed and climbed under the blankets. The light from the full moon was streaming in between the sheer curtains hanging over the window, and it caressed her cheek softly, making her glow. Y/n looked beautiful in sleep, and something about the way that she was snuggled into his pillow like she belonged there made his heart ache in such a good way. He kissed her forehead gently before whispering, “Goodnight, Darling.”

 Hoseok woke up the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee and something savory that definitely had bacon in it, and his bed empty. He used the restroom and brushed his teeth before following his nose out to find Y/n singing softly in his kitchen as she pulled a beautiful quiche out of the oven. She had to have been awake for a while to have put this together.

“That smells amazing,” he murmured as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she giggled. “I hope you don’t mind that I raided your fridge and made breakfast.”

“Not at all. I rarely make time to eat more than a slice of toast as I’m running out the door to the shop, so this is a serious treat for me.”

Y/n sliced up the pie and plated it before grabbing a fruit salad out of the fridge she’d also made. Hoseok moaned at the first bite he took of the quiche. It was so good. The crust was flaky, the eggs were cheesy and there were just enough chunks of vegetables and bacon to make every bite a little different. Paired with the tangy pineapple and sweet strawberries in the fruit salad made it twice as good. Y/n blushed a little bit at his visceral reaction to the food she’d made before they began chatting about the day. By the time that Namjoon had called to see if they wanted to catch a matinee of some horror movie that Jungkook wanted to see, Hoseok had eaten two big slices of the quiche.

“I need to shower, but I’m so full,” Hoseok whined.

“I didn’t tell you to try to eat half the quiche at once,” Y/n laughed. “Go shower. I’ll put everything away and clean up our breakfast dishes.”

 Y/n had fallen asleep quickly after Hoseok had carried her to his bed. She’d woken up just after 7:30 with her head pressed to Hoseok’s bare chest, her ear pressed just above his heartbeat. He’d had both arms wrapped loosely around her. It felt so good that it scared her a bit; she’d wriggled her way out of his arms and tucked a pillow in her place. When she was stressed or needed to think, she cooked, so she made breakfast. She’d actually been on her second cup of coffee when Hoseok had stumbled into the kitchen in all of his golden glory, and when he’d moaned at the taste of the food she’d made, her heart stuttered in her chest. It had made her wondered how else she could make him make that sound, and that was something she was not prepared to deal with, so she decided to shove those thoughts deep down and not consider them again.

She covered the quiche with plastic wrap and slid it and the fruit salad into his refrigerator. There was enough left for him to have that for several more breakfasts. She began to sing softly to herself as she emptied the coffee pot and washed up the plates, mugs, and silverware from their breakfast. She was rinsing the last of them when Hoseok slid his arms around her waste and snuggled her into a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her.

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

“Yes, I do. You took beautiful care of my daughter, and you are still taking care of me in subtle ways. So thank you. I wish she’d had someone like you to be her mom.”

Y/n sat the mug down, then turned around in Hoseok’s arms to face him. He had tears on his cheeks as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

“I’m sorry for getting emotional. I was just thinking about Dasom in the shower. If she had never died, I’d never have met you. And while I wish sometimes she was still here, I would never want her to suffer the way she did for any longer,” he whispered through his tears. “If she’d never died, we’d have never met and you wouldn’t be making my heart skip beats by singing while you clean my kitchen. I don’t know how to feel about that thought, but I don’t want to lose this chance at happiness. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m still a lot broken and a bit damaged from losing my daughter, but I like you a lot.”

“Oh Hobi,” Y/n smiled. “I like you too. I never told you, but Dasom made me promise to take care of you after she was gone. Keeping my promise to her has been a joy in itself, and when I woke up with my head on your chest this morning, I kept thinking how much she’d have laughed and teased me for falling for her Appa.”

Hoseok pressed his forehead to Y/n’s and closed his eyes. “She so would have. And she’d have asked me why I hadn’t given you kisses yet.”

He opened his eyes and looked into hers for just a moment. When all he saw was a soft happiness in her eyes, he pressed his lips to hers. She sank into the kiss slowly, slipping her fingers into his shower dampened hair. When he pulled away, they just stood staring at each other. He knew that they needed to take it slow, but he could feel the gap that was still in his chest from Dasom’s death closing up just a little bit. Y/n herself had been so healing to him just being there for him. They stood there for a few minutes, just holding on to each other before Hoseok spoke again.

“Why don’t you ride with me to the movie later? We can tell Joonie and Kookie about us. But there is a stop I want to make first.”

 Hoseok parked in the parking lot of the cemetery where Dasom was buried a couple of hours later. Y/n was sitting in the passenger seat holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers for him to leave on her grave.

“This is the first time I’ve been back here since the day we buried her, Y/n,” he sighed. “But I felt like I needed to do this. Just stay here. I won’t be long, I promise.”

She nodded before handing him the flowers. He got out and stood beside the car for just a moment before walking down the pathway that lead to the section designated for children. He knelt down in front of the tombstone and laid the flowers just at the base of the stone.

“Hi, my Love. I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit you here, but I’ve had a hard time adjusting to you being in heaven without me. Joonie and Kookie have taken good care of me. Y/n too,” he stopped speaking when the sobs collected in his throat before spilling out. “Speaking of Y/n, I kissed her in our kitchen this morning, Somie. I’m sure you’re looking down asking me what took so long, but your Appa can be so silly sometimes. Ah, Somie. I wish you were still here with us. I wish Y/n could have been your Eomma, but I wouldn’t have been able to meet her if you hadn’t gone to heaven.”

Hoseok stopped speaking for a moment to trace Dasom’s name on the tombstone. After he brought his hand back, a purple butterfly landed on his knee. It felt to him like that tiny butterfly was his baby girl acknowledging his words and telling him that she was okay. The butterfly fluttered it’s wings a few times before fluttering away, but it was enough to add a balm to his heart.

“Thank you for the butterfly, Baby Girl. I bet you are the most beautiful angel in heaven. Keep watching over me, yeah? I love you,” he whispered before wiping his tears and standing up.

As he walked slowly back to the car to rejoin Y/n, he knew that he still had a long way to go with healing, but he felt like he was finally making a solid step in the right direction. While he still missed his daughter, he knew that she’d want him to carry on without her, and for now, that was enough.

[oldsolidbooks]

The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. `He is as beautiful as a weathercock,' remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; `only not quite so useful,' he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

`Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?' asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. `The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.'

`I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,' muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

`He looks just like an angel,' said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.

`How do you know?' said the Mathematical Master, `you have never seen one.'

`Ah! but we have, in our dreams,' answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

`Shall I love you?' said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

`It is a ridiculous attachment,' twittered the other Swallows, `she has no money, and far too many relations;' and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. `She has no conversation,' he said, `and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.' And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. `I admit that she is domestic,' he continued, `but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.'

`Will you come away with me?' he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

`You have been trifling with me,' he cried, `I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!' and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. `Where shall I put up?' he said; `I hope the town has made preparations.'

Then he saw the statue on the tall column. `I will put up there,' he cried; `it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.' So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

`I have a golden bedroom,' he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. `What a curious thing!' he cried, `there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.'

Then another drop fell.

`What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?' he said; `I must look for a good chimney-pot,' and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw

- Ah! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

`Who are you?' he said.

`I am the Happy Prince.'

`Why are you weeping then?' asked the Swallow; `you have quite drenched me.'

`When I was alive and had a human heart,' answered the statue, `I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.'

`What, is he not solid gold?' said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

`Far away,' continued the statue in a low musical voice, `far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen's maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.'

`I am waited for in Egypt,' said the Swallow. `My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.'

`I don't think I like boys,' answered the Swallow. `Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller's sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.'

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. `It is very cold here,' he said; `but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.'

`Thank you, little Swallow,' said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince's sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.

He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. `How wonderful the stars are,' he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!'

`I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,' she answered; `I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.'

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman's thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy's forehead with his wings. `How cool I feel,' said the boy, `I must be getting better;' and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. `It is curious,' he remarked, `but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.'

`That is because you have done a good action,' said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. `What a remarkable phenomenon,' said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. `A swallow in winter!' And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

`To-night I go to Egypt,' said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, `What a distinguished stranger!' so he enjoyed himself very much. When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. `Have you any commissions for Egypt?' he cried; `I am just starting.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `will you not stay with me one night longer?'

`I am waited for in Egypt,' answered the Swallow. `To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water's edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the prince, `far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.'

`I will wait with you one night longer,' said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. `Shall I take him another ruby?'

`Alas! I have no ruby now,' said the Prince; `my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.'

`Dear Prince,' said the Swallow, `I cannot do that;' and he began to weep.

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `do as I command you.'

So the Swallow plucked out the Prince's eye, and flew away to the student's garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird's wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

`I am beginning to be appreciated,' he cried; `this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,' and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. `Heave a-hoy!' they shouted as each chest came up. `I am going to Egypt!' cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

`I am come to bid you good-bye,' he cried.

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `will you not stay with me one night longer?'

`It is winter,' answered the Swallow, `and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.'

`In the square below,' said the Happy Prince, `there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.'

`I will stay with you one night longer,' said the Swallow, `but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.'

`Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `do as I command you.'

So he plucked out the Prince's other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. `What a lovely bit of glass,' cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. `You are blind now,' he said, `so I will stay with you always.'

`No, little Swallow,' said the poor Prince, `you must go away to Egypt.'

`I will stay with you always,' said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

`Dear little Swallow,' said the Prince, `you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.'

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another's arms to try and keep themselves warm. `How hungry we are!' they said. `You must not lie here,' shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

`I am covered with fine gold,' said the Prince, `you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.'

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children's faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. `We have bread now!' they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door where the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. `Good-bye, dear Prince!' he murmured, `will you let me kiss your hand?'

`I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,' said the Prince, `you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.' `It is not to Egypt that I am going,' said the Swallow. `I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?'

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: `Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!' he said.

`How shabby indeed!' cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.

`The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,' said the Mayor; `in fact, he is little better than a beggar!'

`Little better than a beggar' said the Town councillors.

`And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!' continued the Mayor. `We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.' And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. `As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,' said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. `We must have another statue, of course,' he said, `and it shall be a statue of myself.'

`Of myself,' said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

`What a strange thing!' said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. `This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.' So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

`Bring me the two most precious things in the city,' said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

`You have rightly chosen,' said God, `for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.'