#this is just more content for my general 'five steals things and has a loose grasp on paying for things' headcanon

[in-tua-deep]

Inktober day four: Death

Prompt list by @totallyevan​, here ;3c

Honestly this one is more about mourning and the appropriateness of mourning someone if they’re still technically alive, and if death even matters at the end of the day if you undo it. Except you can’t undo the trauma that comes with it, and the coping methods to deal with that trauma

(Five buried his siblings. But there are no graves. Not anymore. Were there ever?)

It’s raining. Not hard, not yet, just a constant spattering of water gently hitting the ground. Blades of grass bend under the weight of the droplets, dancing gently under the constant onslaught.

Five sits cross-legged in his pajamas under the light of the moon, shivering in his wet clothes as his hands run up and down his arms in an attempt to get rid of the goosebumps that are raised prominently against his skin. 

He looks up, and the moonlight gleams against the metallic skin of the statue. Ben’s face stares back. Going back in time to fix things meant that the statue had remained intact the second time around, without the disastrous funeral taking place. Just one small thing on a list of things that had been fixed. 

“I stole one of those bendy rulers today.” Five whispers, his voice lost among the pitter patter around him. It’s okay though, because he’s not really talking to anyone in particular. “And some of those dumb little erasers in the shape of hamsters. And some glitter pens.”

Silence meets his confession. The moon shines and the statue is still a statue. 

Five frowns, “I don’t know - I have a box under my bed with all these stupid little trinkets. What am I supposed to do with them?”

The statue does not answer. 

“There’s no graves.” Five whispers, even softer than before. “There’s no graves, and no bodies to put into them. There’s no headstones, and no flowers, and no need for mourning. And I’m not - it’s just a stupid habit. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Five gazes up at the statue, the statue of the boy who never got to grow up. Ben doesn’t look young, when Klaus summons him. He looks like he’s twenty-nine. He matches the rest of the siblings. He matches.

Five doesn’t match. A boy out of time.

But the statue doesn’t, either. It’s so easy to forget how young Ben was when he died, looking at him as he is now. It’s less easy to forget looking at the statue of the sixteen-year-old with the mournful quote that left no doubt that the owner of the visage was dead. 

“You look more like my Ben.” Five tells the statue, shivering slightly as a chill goes down his spine. “He was so quiet. He never liked the kind of attention we got, never liked the work or the training or anything like that. He was quiet, and he was smart, and he liked erasers shaped like little animals. I called him dumb because he didn’t use them as erasers, he just liked having them.”

It’s raining. It’s raining, and no one can prove that the water on Five’s face isn’t because of that, and nothing else.

“When it was too loud,” Five traces absent shapes into the wet fabric of his pajama pants, “He used to come up to my room to read. He was quiet so I let him, and he always ended up sticking his feet under my legs. His circulation was kind of shit. He would double up socks in the winter. I always wanted to get him some of those fluffy socks, the ones with the grips on the bottoms of them, but Dad would’ve noticed so I didn’t.”

There’s no response to that, and Five sits in silence for a moment before unfolding his legs. He winces and massages at his knees with one hand. No matter how young he appears, there’s the phantom ache that he always gets when it rains, the one he’s had ever since he fucked up that knee twisting his leg in the rubble of the apocalypse.

But despite that, he hauls himself to his feet, swaying gently from side to side. His face is blank and unreadable as he approaches the statue. He stand very still in front of it for a minute before sticking a hand in his pocket and fishing something out.

Very carefully, Five arranges the little hamster erasers along the edge of the statue base. 

“I don’t know if he likes them anymore.” Five says, something almost wistful in his tone as he prods each eraser into the most perfect line he can get them in. “I don’t know if he ever got to wear the fluffy socks. I don’t know where he went to read in peace after I left. I don’t - ”

Five cuts himself off and sighs, looking at the ground in frustration. “They’re alive. There’s no graves for them - but there’s a grave for you. Sort of. Not for the Ben who’s here, but for the Ben who died I guess. My Ben. The one who liked animal erasers.”

He finishes prodding at the erasers and looks up to offer the statue a watery smile, hand coming up to press against the cool metal. 

“I miss you.” Five says. 

I miss them. Five doesn’t say. 

“I know it’s dumb to miss someone who isn’t gone.” Five says, pressing his hand harder against the statue, voice barely audible, “But I forget, sometimes. That I’m not going back to them. That there’s too much at stake, that I can’t risk fucking up the world just because I want to - because I want them to be the way I remember.”

“I want Luther to tell us dumb space facts, and for Allison to like butterfly clips and glitter pens. I want the Diego that cried when we knocked over that fish tank on the Fottren Office mission. I want the Klaus that didn’t look surprised whenever we pay any amount of attention to him. I want him to interrupt me and Ben’s hangouts by dramatically throwing himself on the floor. I want Vanya to ask me what I think of her compositions and to need my help with math homework.” Five lifts his hand away from the statue to scrub his sleeve over his nose. 

It’s just him wiping some rain off of his face, of course. 

“I miss them.” He tells the statue softly, looking down at the lineup of eraser hamsters. “I used to grab things that reminded me of them, back in - back in that place. I’d leave them at their graves. I know that they were grownups, but when they were covered up I didn’t think about it much. I just grabbed things I thought they’d like.”

He contemplates the erasers in silence for another minute, just standing there are letting the rain wash over him. 

“I never found your body. My Ben’s body. Any Ben’s body.” Five admits, taking a step back. He still doesn’t look at the statue’s face. “I still grabbed you things though, and left them with the others. I figured they’d make sure they got to where they belonged, same as Vanya’s. But I knew you were dead, because of the book.”

Vanya’s book. The only link Five had to his adult family. No matter how many times the others made comments about it, Five knew it for the lifeline it was. There was a good chance he would have died out there in the wastelands of the apocalypse, hopeless and beaten, if he hadn’t had such an important reminder of what he was fighting to get back to. 

The book hadn’t said when Allison grew out of butterfly clips, or when Luther stopped telling them random space facts, or how Diego got his scar, or when Klaus stopped sleeping with a nightlight. It didn’t say whether Ben had still liked animal erasers. In the end, the book hadn’t said much at all, but even something is a little bit more than nothing.

Vanya used to love princess stories, when they were small. Her and Allison would crowd around Grace and beg for one after another. It was one of the few times that Allison and Vanya were truly sisters, when Allison and Vanya spun around Allison’s room pretending they were royalty locked away in a castle waiting for a prince to come and save them.

Five remembers teasing them for it, remembers telling them that the stories weren’t real and that there weren’t any princes who would want them because they were stinky. Though, to be fair, Five had probably been around seven at the time. 

But when he’d found a princess story in Reginald’s vast libraries, even the real ones which weren’t so pretty or as much fairytales, he always slipped them into Vanya’s room. She’d run over to Allison’s and they’d lay on Allison’s bed, reading it together. 

They don’t do that anymore.

Five had felt lightfingered and stolen a princess book, leaving it in Vanya’s room because he used to put them on her grave but that wasn’t available anymore. She’d come down later and handed the book to Allison, and Five had reflexively smiled, but then Vanya had simply said, “Oh Allison - I think Claire might have left this in my room?” and then gone to bed. 

Vanya was twenty-nine. Princesses were a childish thing that she didn’t much care about anymore and hadn’t in years. 

There are a few princess books in the box under his bed, in the box where all the things go that he can’t take on grave visits anymore. The box is starting to get full. Five isn’t sure what to do about that. 

Some things he can leave around and no one minds or cares. He leaves glitter pens in draws that Klaus makes excited noises when he finds them. Diego thinks that the slinky is just an old toy that got shoved in a box, even though it isn’t. The space facts books are shelved in the library and, when found, attributed to Luther’s youth. 

But how can Five explain swiping the toys? The thrift store McDonalds toys that are reminiscent of the ones that Five fished out of the dumpster under his room as a child for every birthday. The sticker sheets full of stars and colors and childish wonder that Allison used to stick on every surface of her room. The action figures they’d all seen in shop windows after missions but had never had the courage to ask Reginald to buy. The pots of glitter nail varnish and clips with cat faces on them.

The animal erasers.

He knows what they would assume. That they would look at his youthful face and smooth skin and think him precious and adorable or some other thing that he sees red from just thinking about. But how would he explain that these things aren’t for him? That they are offerings and tributes to the siblings he left behind - the thirteen-year-olds just growing into their own skins, stuck between childhood and child soldier. That they’re mourning gifts for his dead siblings who are still alive. How does he explain that?

That they’re tiny reminders blooming from the rubble that he picked up and dusted off and held close to his heart so that he would never forget what he was fighting to get back to. Who he was fighting to get back to. That there’s no rubble anymore, but he sees something and his brain says Luther would like that or that reminds me of Diego or one of the million little things that has Five reaching out and pocketing an item with an absent intention of leaving it on a grave that does not exist, for children who did not die but who did grow up. 

He’s still standing there in the rain. He’s stopped shivering, which is probably an indication that he really needs to go inside. He feels cold down to his core, numb in a way that is almost satisfying. 

He trails a finger in front of the little lineup of erasers - close, but not quite touching. Something that almost feels like a smile pulls on lips numb with cold, and it��s small but genuine.

He goes inside. He peels out of his clothes and takes a warm bath at four in the morning until he feels a little more human again. He looks at the box under his bed, but does not open it.

He comes down later, when everyone is up and the kitchen is bustling with activity. When he looks into the courtyard, the erasers are gone from the statue.

No one mentions it.

[itsclydebitches]

For me, I think what I've concluded is that CRWBY is oftentimes too willing to sacrifice story for spectacle. Does it make sense for Ruby&co to steal a plane and whoops! It all goes wrong and suddenly they're fighting a big mech? No. Is it more exciting? Yes. Does it make sense for Qrow to team up with Tyrian to fight Clover? No. Does a 2v1 battle and a villain-hero team up look 'cooler'? Technically, yeah. Your thoughts?

I think you're a mind reader, friend, because that point has been bopping around my head since I posted that ask. And yeah, I get it. I mean, RWBY is a fighting show, first and foremost, no matter that it has expanded in a way that requires a lot more non-action storytelling. I would no more expect Volume 6 to end without an epic, exciting, spectacle of a fight than I would expect that for any season finale. Fans were right to criticize Volume 5 for spending too much time in the house and then following that up with a truly lackluster Haven battle. We expect that Rule of Cool.

So the problem isn't RWBY's desire for a spectacle, but rather its unwillingness to plan one that makes better sense and doesn't leave the heroes looking that bad (unless, of course, we got a version of the show actually interested in taking them through an arc wherein they grapple with their mistakes). As you say, they're prioritizing spectacle over story rather than realizing the very simple writing fact that you can have both. It always surprises me how many fans act as if published RWBY content is a historical event as opposed to a malleable fiction that a group of authors had complete control over. If the end goal is "The group has an epic battle against a mech" or "There's a 2v1 battle featuring a villain-hero team" that's great! It's just that, you know, you should implement those ideas in a way that doesn't destroy so much consistency and characterization in the process. Nine times out of ten, RWBY's problems lie in its inability to provide good setups for an idea (planning ahead) rather than the idea itself. Like we've been saying for forever now, almost no one has a problem with Ironwood becoming an antagonist as a general concept, only in how we reached that point. Same with the fights. No one has a problem with a cool mech battle, just that we got there via rejecting a perfectly peaceful plan + the heroes endangering so many needlessly. No one has a problem with a cool hero-villain battle, just that we got there by Qrow loosing all brain cells and deciding that teaming up with Tyrian is a good idea. As writers with complete creative power and an already flexible story (because, again, RWBY doesn't abide by its own rules) there are a hundred different ways we could get those battles without sacrificing so much else in the process. But that requires a lot of work and forethought that RWBY isn't putting in nowadays.

Specifically regarding the Cordovin battle, I'd be slightly more forgiving in regards to the, "It had to happen that way because the finale needs an epic fight" argument if not for one, crucial thing:

Adam.

The story ALREADY had an established antagonist for our heroes to fight, very conveniently tracking them across Remnant and, ignoring the complicated racism allegory, Adam is likewise an established baddie who the characters should have no (or very few) qualms about fighting. Tweak things a bit — plan ahead with characterization and the morals of the story in mind — and there's no reason to have the group go through all this Cordovin nonsense in an effort to give them someone cool to fight because someone cool to fight is already there.

I have an ask in my inbox that I'll probably never get around to answering, just because it would require a whole lot of thought and work and I'm fundamentally lazy lol. The gist of it though is a challenge to rewrite five scenes that I would change, creatively, rather than merely discussing them analytically. As a nod to that (sort of...), I was thinking about just one way we might change the end of Volume 6 with the above points in mind. Everyone who reads my RWBY posts know that I take issue both with rejecting Cordovin's offer and the group's hivemind, so why not fix both issues by giving Weiss some more agency? Cordovin agrees to send her to Atlas and Weiss agrees too... but Ruby doesn't. Throw in some tension based on their different experiences post-Fall of Beacon. Weiss has spent her time facing down her father and proving to herself that she's no longer under his control. She might not love the idea of heading into Atlas first, but to be frank she didn't want to go back to Atlas at all. If she's already agreed to handle that for the sake of the mission, she can handle this too. Ruby, however, has spent her time mourning the loss of Pyrrha, and Penny, and watching Qrow nearly die. So when the prospect of Weiss being separated from her is put on the table her PTSD rears up and goes, "ABSOLUTELY NOT SHE'LL DIE." So they will not separate, thank you very much. She's pulling rank on this one. Weiss, stop arguing.

So the plan is mostly formulated the same way, but this time there's a clear divide in the group regarding whether they should be doing this at all. Most agree that sending Weiss is the best option, period, but they're struggling to convince Ruby of that in a way that doesn't completely undermine her leadership and doesn't send her into spiraling with worry. The end result is Weiss making her own choices — just as she always has. She boards the airship with a hidden Maria (and maybe she's convinced Ruby to let her hold the Relic too because I hate the "It sporadically attracts grimm!" characteristic and want to remove that from the Leviathan fight entirely) and then Weiss calls them to basically say, I'm leaving. Yes, I'm really going to Atlas. I'm not going to attack those guards. I'm not going to steal the airship and turn it around. That was a stupid idea, you dolt, and though I think I have an inkling of why you're upset I'm still pissed that you don't trust me enough to do this. I can handle it. Maria and I will speak to Ironwood as soon as we land. Hang tight, Weiss out.

So they cross the border completely legally — perhaps with a cliffhanger-esque ending for them with the viewer wondering what actually awaits them in Atlas. Weiss-Maria solo adventure in Volume 7? — and Ruby is left floundering. The rest of the plan is useless now, no point in carrying it out, which means that Blake and Yang either come straight back to the group, or never had time to leave them in the first place (either way, they don't fuck with the CTV tower). Which means that when Adam gets impatient and finally goes after Blake, the whole group is aware of him as a threat. He's the final boss of this Volume.

But, of course, with so many heroes and only one villain, that fight isn't going to last long. Enter the grimm. There are a lot of hand-wavy ways that you could summon a whole lot of them for the group to fight. Maybe the combined emotions of Yang (lost limb) and Blake (abused + stab wound) manages to draw a lot more than would normally be the case. Maybe in a move worthy of Watts, Adam has done something in Argus to distract the group/scare civilians enough to draw a large number. Maybe RWBY has actually written in better consequences for world-altering events and the grimm have been a problem this entire time: a school was destroyed, a celebrity was murdered, communications are still down, and everyone is in such a state day-to-day that the grimm have just been waiting for something to tip the emotional scale. Adam does that.

So the group splits. Most have to head back to Argus to help with the grimm attack — which they are not the cause of this time! — which includes a giant Leviathan. Cordovin still gets to hop in her mech (because mechs are cool) and punch it in the face, requiring an uneasy alliance between the heroes and someone who they simply don't like. Ruby can still use her eyes, perhaps drawing on what she's emotionally grappling with regarding Weiss/all the death she's seen, though in this version the Relic isn't around for her to stall with and Maria isn't there to guide her (because in this version Maria is also an active mentor). Ruby really struggles and her eventually hitting the Leviathan, even just to do minor damage, is a big win. While most of the group deals with Argus and a few others deal with grimm near the primary fight, Blake and Yang face off against Adam. As the main antagonist now, we'll get a much longer, more emotionally focused battle. Let's introduce him to the rest of the group before his demise, maybe with some sisterly protection before Ruby is forced to focus on the grimm, what with having Silver Eyes and all. Let Yang and Blake both fumble a lot more than originally as they struggle to fight him while simultaneously battling their own PTSD. Reveal the brand earlier and let the characters respond to that. Set up the horror of it, the worldbuilding implications, and the expectation that they'll have to tell Weiss when they next see her. Crank up their power levels again (back to both Adam and Yang capable of cutting through mechs) so that we get something truly epic. Then kill him off and then reserve time for the girls to start coming to terms with that, rather than walking it off after a single hug.

Maybe the even kiss!

So the group has actually saved Argus this time. Volume 6's focus is on a villain we care about, not a cartoon paper-pusher. We've set up conflicts for Volume 7 like how Weiss will respond to the brand, how she'll reconcile with Ruby, what Ruby's leadership will look like moving forward (and her mental state), how Blake and Yang will deal with killing a man even if it was in self defense, etc. Obviously, this would change a lot moving forward. We'd start Volume 7 with the group still split. How would Ironwood respond to just Weiss coming in legally? How long does it take for them to meet up again? Are there any additional problems along the way? Does this change the trajectory of Volume 8? (I sure hope so.) But then, that's the point. If you're going to change one aspect of the canon, that should, by default, influence a great deal that comes later (and a bit of what came before). But the point of this very long-winded hypothetical is that we can always take the major beats in RWBY and rework them in a way that's not quite so frustrating. I'm not going to pretend that my revision is some fantastic bit of writing — I'm literally just spitballing based on my last 24 hour shower thoughts — but the takeaway is not, "This revision is better/worse" but rather, "Oh yeah, we can achieve many of the same basic ideas, including spectacle, without relying on stupid concepts like Ruby straight up lying as she screams that Cordovin never gave them a chance, so now she just has to do a bunch of dangerous shit for the sake of a Rule of Cool focus. There are avenues to these epic fights that don't require making the characters that unlikable, or throwing out what little consistency the show has."

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 6: The Slowest Cooker

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s Friday, April 17th, and they’re eating lunch in the Hoover building’s cafeteria. They eat lunch together almost every day now, Mulder realizes. They’re practically joined at the hip.

Except in the fun way.

Today is different, though. Because today she invites him over for dinner.

Scully’s devouring a caesar salad, and Mulder’s heart is warmed by the evidence of her returning appetite. Five months ago, she was dying of cancer, and now she’s here stealing the occasional potato chip from the bag he got from the vending machine. He doesn’t mind; she could take his entire sandwich from him right now, and he’d happily watch her eat it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “My mother got me a crockpot for my birthday and I’m thinking of giving it a test drive.”

His heart leaps, and he wants to shout yes, but instead he asks “What about Mark?”

She gives him one of her patented Scully looks. “I’m allowed to have friends, Mulder. And I still owe you for going to the bar with me that one time, remember?” She takes another bite of salad. “Also, he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mulder says knowingly. “Sure; what’s on the menu?”

“Pork roast,” she replies. “My mom’s recipe. The leftovers make great pulled-pork sandwiches.”

“Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Scully shrugs. “Red wine would go nicely, but I’ll be testing you at the door to make sure you’re not Eddie Van Blundht,” she says dryly.

“You gonna check me for evidence of a tail, Scully?” he says in a low tone, leaning in so they’re not overheard.

“Keep that up and I’m rescinding my invite and keeping all the leftovers to myself,” she replies, picking a wilted bit of romaine out of her salad.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself. Just friends sharing dinner.

Regardless, he takes a shower and puts on one of his nicer sweaters before heading to her place.

He knocks on her door at 6:30 sharp, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand. His palm is a little sweaty, and he grips the wine tightly to avoid dropping it.

“It’s open,” he hears her call out.

He opens the door and is hit by the savory aroma of meat and herbs. His mouth waters instantly. When he turns and sees her in the kitchen, it waters for a different reason entirely.

Scully’s reaching into the cupboard above the sink, her soft green sweater riding up to expose a ribbon of creamy skin. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, tell her to forget dinner because he’s got something else on his mind.

Instead he just says “Hey”.

“Hi,” she greets him, bringing down two salad plates and setting them on the table. “Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?”

Mulder blinks. “Uh,” he says brilliantly. That goddamn little sweater-

“The good news is that I’ve had the crockpot running for about six hours, and nothing’s caught fire,” she says, leaning against the countertop.

He nods. “And the bad news is…”

“I started the roast at almost half noon,” Scully admits. “I had to go to the grocery store first and that took longer than expected. So the meat won’t be done until eight-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” Mulder says, hoping his stomach doesn’t rumble loudly enough for her to hear. “Oh, and I brought Pinot Noir,” he says, reading the label.

---

They eat the salad she prepared; it’s spinach and apple with vinaigrette, and Mulder has to admit it’s pretty tasty.

“You’re a good hostess, Scully,” Mulder says as she pours him a glass of Prosecco. “Maggie should be proud.”

“Please note the size of crockpot she gifted me,” Scully replies, gesturing to the slow-cooker on the counter. “She fully intends for me to feed a crowd, not just you. I have a long way to go.” She sits across from him and takes a sip of her wine. “But this is a start.”

“Can I make a confession?” he asks.

Scully nods.

“I… I don’t drink much wine. So I have no idea if the one I brought is any good. I told the store clerk I was having pork for dinner and he recommended that one,” Mulder says, cocking his head toward the bottle on the counter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scully assures him. “I’m not a wine snob by any means. I’m kind of surprised you’re not one, actually, considering your background.”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t drink much, aside from the occasional beer. But this is good,” he says, lifting his glass.

———

The Prosecco is… very good.

“How long until the meat’s done?” Mulder asks, resting his head on his hand.

“Half hour,” Scully replies, downing the last sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Do you want some cheese and crackers to tide you over?”

“M’good,” he says lazily, stifling a burp. He’s feeling warm and soft inside, and the wine’s put him in a charitable mood. “How are things with Mark?”

“Things are good… things are fine,” Scully says, then sighs. “He’s… god, he’s so nice.”

“Nice is good, right?” Mulder asks, toying with his empty wine glass. “People like nice.”

Scully narrows her eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay, Mulder?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he says, slumping in his chair and stretching his long legs out under the table. “We’re talking about Mark. Mark Eidolanterns.”

“Einolander,” Scully corrects him. “And yes, nice is good, generally,” she continues. “But sometimes I wish he weren’t so nice. I don’t know,” she says, exhaling. “I need more wine if I’m going to talk about this,” she says with a huff of laughter.

“Hey, we got it,” Mulder says. “Dinner’s almost ready anyway. Let’s try the mystery Pinot I brought.”

---

The pot roast is done cooking and they’re definitely a little drunk.

“Whew… I’m feeling this,” Mulder says, holding the bottle up too close to his face as he attempts to read the label. “It’s been so long, I forgot that wine does this to me.”

“Higher alcohol content,” Scully says. “And you’re a lightweight.”

“That your medical opinion, Dr. Scully?” he asks.

“Yes,” she mumbles, slicing a piece off of the roast and dumping it unceremoniously onto his plate. “Tada,” she says, pushing it across the table to him. “Meat.”

“I can see that,” he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. “Wine’s good,” he assures her, even though she’s already on her second glass of the red.

“Can’t say the same for the roast,” she admits, chewing. “I skimped on the salt and in hindsight that was a bad idea.”

Mulder shovels a piece into his mouth. “Tastes good to me,” he assures her. “But I’ve only had wine and salad since lunchtime so at this point I’d eat anything. I’d eat you,” he adds, pointing his fork in her direction.

“Pass that idea along to Mark,” she sighs, then covers her mouth. “I didn’t say that,” she says, face red.

“You did,” Mulder crows, too tipsy to feel jealous. “You did and I heard you.” He takes another draw from his glass. “The store guy was right, this is good with pork.”

“You’re going to have an incredible hangover tomorrow,” Scully says, chewing meditatively. “Wine’s a bitch.”

“You should swear more,” Mulder says. “It’s endearing.”

Scully shakes her head. “I can’t believe how drunk you are,” she says, almost fondly.

“I’m not that drunk,” he insists. Just in love with you.

Scully smiles. “No sober man has ever said that.”

---

“There’s no spark,” she blurts out.

They’d taken the rest of of the wine to the couch and are slumped on opposite ends, goblets in hand.

“No spark?” Mulder echoes. It was an admission he wasn’t expecting. He angles his body towards hers, careful not to spill his glass.

“With Mark. I like him, I really do. He’s kind, intelligent, a devoted father, and quite attractive; and yet…” She gestures loosely to her body with the hand not holding her wine. “Nothing.” She takes another sip. “I can’t shake the idea that I should be feeling more. And the fact that he hasn’t kissed me yet... I understand wanting to move slowly and let things grow with time, but not even a single kiss?”

“Th-that did strike me as odd,” Mulder stumbles. “You have nice lips.”

“I do,” Scully agrees, seemingly unfazed by the comment. “I should be kissed.” She drains her glass and holds it out to him.

Mulder pours out the last of the bottle into her glass. “Maybe if… maybe if you kissed, you’d find the spark.”

Scully shakes her head. “No. No, it does’t work that way. At least not for me. I don’t want to force chemistry that’s not there,” she explains. “It should come naturally, feel like it does with-”

Mulder waits expectantly for her to finish her sentence. “With?” he prompts.

Her face is flushed with wine, and she licks her lips. “Mulder, tell me honestly; do you think I’m settling?”

The room suddenly feels too warm, and he takes a nervous gulp of wine that does nothing to calm his body. “Scully, I- I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“You’re my closest friend,” she says softly, eyes cast downward. “Who else would I ask?”

She has a point. “Your mother-” he begins.

“She set me up with him in the first place,” Scully reminds him. “Clearly she’d be no help.”

“What do you want, Scully? If you’re honest with yourself.” He raises his glass. “In vino veritas, or whatever,” he says, taking another drink.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I always do this. I find a man I want to impress or gain the approval of, then resent the authority I let them have over me. This cycle of… of compliance and defiance is exhausting.”

He can tell she’s tipsy, and yet at the same time she’s strangely lucid. He’s never gotten to experience this particular kind of vulnerability with her before, and it gives him a thrill. He can feel the warmth of her body permeating him from across the sofa, her bright hair like a wood stove fire on a winter night. He wants to wrap her entire body around him like a blanket and have a long sleep.

“Yup, I’m drunk,” he declares, and throws back the last of his glass.

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon': Prologue ♡ BakugouXFem!Reader (Book 1)

Alright I'm doing it.

I'm doing the thing.

It literally keeps me awake at night I gotta write thisss *cough* okay

Originally I was only going to post this unto Wattpad, but getting traction on their website is a little more difficult than good ole' Tumblr, so I'll be posting it on both. Feel free to visit my Wattpad here: LINK if you want to support my writing on that end. (I would so appreciate it)

This post is going to run pretty long, as it will host both the prologue of the story and my author's notes. Just a heads up.

Summery:

A slow-burn action/romance where you begin in the bowels of a Villain base and rise up to join U.A.'s top Hero Class. This life was your choice. In the event of learning then losing the love of a friend, you make a decision that changes your reality at the core--to become an imposter among villains and bring them down from the inside out. The organization that ruined your premature perfect life was known as H.H., after their leader Head-Honcho. His crime of choice: intelligence. Training and conducting espionage agents and assassins across Japan as a means to further the dark underground network. Your training began at thirteen, after managing to impress the multi-faced villain with your stealth and your conviction. Rumors would soon spread through the dark alleys of Naruhata City of a masked assassin known as Demon, whose bare face could steal the souls of her targets. Everything appears to be going to plan; but the Hero Agencies you've been slipping information to are calling for an end to your superior sooner than you had anticipated. Your time as 'Demon' is limited. What will happen when your world comes crashing down? Where will you go, when everything you had known you helped to destroy?

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This is a slow burn fan-fic; and I am not italicizing those words without reason. This is going to be an agonizingly slow action-packed adventure-romance. This is a self-insert story, just like my three-part series 'Some Combat Training' (link) where you as the protagonist will not be described outside of being female, general physique, and a generalization of your uniform(s). Skin, hair, eyes, etc. will not be described at all--besides ambiguous adjectives. That said, I am taking liberties with physique and stature due to the nature of the story. You're abilities rely on stealth as well as close and fast combat, therefore you are described as 'small', 'lithe', 'athletic', and all of those other fancy little ninja woman words. Your personality has been shaped by the events of your life and the people within it; but if I were to describe it I would choose words like: Intelligent, determined, self-sacrificing, quiet, humble, and studious. The story will follow along with the anime for the most part starting at around the time of the USJ event, though at some point the story will branch off and become more my original concoction. (Such as, fast-forwarding the time-line to when the characters are older.) Some information about you as the protagonist will not be written here, as I plan for those to be revelations within the story. There will be angst, blood and gore, adult-humor, trauma, death, bad language and warnings will be listed with each chapter as needed. Feel free to comment on those chapters as soon as you see something that isn't mentioned that might make someone (if not yourself) feel uncomfortable. I will not be offended. This story is meant to get a little dark. Please comment if you can about your opinions! I have never posted an on-going fic before, and anything you have to say I would appreciate! <3 Now, please enjoy this short prologue~ Chapter 1 is being reviewed and edited, to be release very soon! 👹🖤⛓🔪💣 ...four...five...six.. You counted the footsteps behind your left ear, round the corner of the dim abandoned subway. You'd been stationary; still so long that your digits had all but numbed. Turn... one...two...three... The footsteps were distancing from the hall your attention had been set upon. A T-section, where the entity had gone down and away from your destination. You had to cross that 'T' to get to the junction--where you needed to leave a note completely undetected. The slightest mis-step would lead to suspicion. Suspicion would lead to investigation. Investigation lead to the five percent chance they could find that note--and no percentage was too small. It all hinged on absolute perfection. Nine...ten...eleven... This was their fifth round. A patrol. You had to make sure their movement were predictable before this would work--despite having successfully delivered the note fourty-two times and counting--you did not have the luxury of assumption. Only if their stride was even, only if you absolutely knew they were moving at a certain pattern, could you depend on the following information: It took fifteen steps before they would reach the broken light on their route. The haze of the dust and pollutants reflected in the working lights prior to that was your cover. Cross the 'T', leave the note, and cross it again. Out of sight and out of earshot, mission successful. Fourteen... f-- You turn, and it takes three steps to arrive at the drop to the tracks. You bunch and leap, and even the quietest friction of fabric from your uniform creases your brow. You land, just outside of the light's reach on the thin concrete slab beyond. Your eyes track the metals, the jutting wall tiles; that with which the barest touch could emit a sound--and you maneuver around them. Under, creeping low--and over, leaping to land on the balls of your feet and checking your balance before moving forward. Careful to not cast a shadow into the hall. Paced, so as not to move too quickly nor too slowly. Counting, because every second was controlled and calculated. You reach the juncture, and once again

edging the light you propel yourself to land back on the main thoroughfare. The next obstacle--removing the loose brick. Behind a metal bench centered between two closed-in stair cases, where the tile meets what had once been a decorative brick mosaic; eight bricks right and eighteen bricks up, was your note's destination. Just above your head, where you had to bend at an awkward angle to reach. Not practical, less detectable. You're wearing tight fabric gloves with grips on the pads, but thin enough you can feel the texture of the brick as you gently lace your fingers at each of the corners. Lifting, centering, and pulling the brick from its slot. Holding it just right, you can avoid the loud scrapes and grinds--but you have to hold it perfectly centered. Success. In goes the note. As does the brick, back into the wall. But you're only half-way done. Leap. Quiet, maneuver, avoid, measure. Silent. Leap. Hide. You're back is once again at the wall, the footsteps of the lackey you'd been avoiding closing in proximity to the Hall you'd just left. Four... five... six... Your eyes focus on the wall opposite of you as you ground yourself. The next few seconds determined a new reality. Either they followed their pattern, or they didn't. You had to be flexible. No assumptions. If they move towards the junction, you have to follow. If they move towards you, you'd calculate on your feet. Seven... eight... nine.. Turn. ...one...two...three.. You don't relax. Even after you count their steps to fifteen, even as you slip away back through the hall, even as you exit the unattended vent and breathe in fresh air--you don't relax until you're sitting on the floor in your room, calming down, your mask in your hands. After checking to make sure your door had not been opened, and no one had looked for you. No tracks in the dust. Only then do you allow yourself to ruminate on the contents of the note you had written, because you could still see every letter of it in your mind. ------ 55-1, Minami Senju 5-chome, Musutafu Target: Fukui Mitsuo Floor 8 3 AM. 7. Accompanied. Head. ------ For the briefest moment, you feel your hands shake. They always did on these nights. Realistically, you'd left no openings. Tested and re-tested every method. Calculated every movement. Left nothing to chance. But the 'what-if's' still linger, and you let them. The fear is good. It keeps you on your toes, your mind on edge, your tongue to the roof of your mouth. If he found out, you wouldn't know it until it was over. So you pretended he already did. Below you, underground in his base, plotting how to get at you when you were most vulnerable. Tear you to pieces, throw you in a pit or in a cage. No--too risky, he'd just kill you. A dead-end is better than a possibility. You'd learned that from him. You swallow, head turning so the amber morning sky is in your peripheral. All things considered, you would still unfortunately need sleep. You cherished the brief moments of sunlight and let your mind swim in the memories of your childhood spent in the daytime; before retiring to the broken and borrowed mattress. Seven days. You would check the location of your note in two. If there is another note in response, you would create a reactionary plan. The pattern continues. Until he finds out. ...Until he finds out.

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Hello! super excited to see more people writing for the smp!! could I request number 11 for sapnap inside the smp verse? I think that could be fun with him. thank you!! <3

I hope it’s okay that I put this request together with another one! (”can i get 9, 11, and 15 from the 5k youtube prompt list with sapnap? either irl or smp, its up to you (: just the reader had pulled an all nighter for something and was hyped up on caffeine and was rambling to sapnap their best friend? if not thats okay!! i dont know if your 5k blurb thing has started yet!”), it is indeed set in the amp and I’m v excited to start writing for Sapnap and the smp in general! lowkey wanna write fundy when I reopen requests as well

9 - “I don’t fall in love with people very often, I just can’t believe it was you. Out of everyone, you just had to steal my heart. That’s very rude, you know, to steal?”

11 - “I’m starting to think that five cups of coffee was a bad idea”

15 - “I can’t be a simp - I don’t even know what that word means”

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

They had been put on watch duty together. They hadn’t managed to mob proof the house yet and Dream was - rather understandably - worried about mobs attacking them as they slept, and so had ordered that they would take it in turns for two of them to stay up every night in order to ensure that there would be no mobs getting near them.

It was, in theory, a very good idea - Y/N was a big fan of not dying, and intended to continue not dying for quite a few years to come. The only issue was that this was her second night on watch in a row. 

The previous night she had been keeping watch with Dream while the other residents of their home - Sapnap, George, Callahan, Sam, Alyssa and Bad - slept. Keeping watch with Dream was always fun, she enjoyed hearing him talk about his plans for the community that they were all building together. 

Tonight Sapnap was meant to be on watch with George. However, Y/N had gone mining with George earlier in the day and George had gotten injured. Dream, ever protective over his close friend, had insisted despite George’s protests that he ought to sleep as much as possible in order to aid his recovery.

All of them had offered to take George’s place on the watch that night, but Y/N had insisted that she do it. She wouldn’t admit it to any of them, knowing how they would react in trying to assure her that she was wrong, but she did somewhat blame herself for George’s injury.

Besides, Y/N would take any excuse to spend more time with Sapnap. 

Exhausted from spending the day mining, she had downed as much coffee as she could, bid the rest of them goodnight and had gone to meet Sapnap ready to take the watch.

What she hadn’t considered, however, was how much the coffee was going to hype her up.

“Dude, you’ve got to calm down,” Sapnap was laughing hard at Y/N’s jittery state, her eyes wide as she continued to ramble endlessly at him about anything and everything that came to mind. “What’s wrong with you tonight?” 

“Well I’m starting to think five cups of coffee was a bad idea.” Y/N confessed to him seriously and Sapnap’s eyes widened.

“Five - Y/N, what the hell?”

“I was worried about falling asleep,” she whined.

“Did you nap at all today?” He asked her.

“No I was out all day with Gogy,” Y/N giggled.

“Well... when the caffeine wears off tomorrow you need to sleep all day, okay?” Sapnap ordered her, his brow furrowed in such genuine concern for her wellbeing.

Y/N smiled at him.

“You’re so sweet, Sapitus Napitus,” Y/N sighed, leaning over and allowing her head to fall down and rest on his shoulder. “It’s one of the things I love about you-” she barely felt Sapnap tense up beneath her, just continuing on with her rambling. “But you know, I don’t fall in love with people very often, I just can't believe it was you. Out of everyone, you just had to steal my heart. That’s very rude, you know, to steal? And I just don’t think you’re a very rude person, Sapnap, so I’m sure you didn’t mean it but-”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” Y/N asked eagerly.

“I need you to just...” Sapnap trailed off, moving his hand to cover her mouth. Y/N giggled at the action, her eyes bright, adoration shining unmistakably in them as she looked at him. “You love me?”  

Y/N gave a muffled answer, nodding her head just in case Sapnap wasn’t capable of understanding her. Sapnap chuckled, smiling back at her at last and removing his hand from her mouth. 

“Do you love me?” Y/N asked, her caffeine-fogged brain only now seeming to catch up with the situation, her eyes widening in fear of what she had just confessed to him. 

“I thought you already knew I did,” Sapnap shrugged simply. Y/N beamed, placing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “I didn’t know that all it took to turn you into a simp was an overload of caffeine, if I’d known it before I definitely would have let you loose on the coffee supply earlier.” He teased her as Y/N curled up closer to him, resting her head contently on his shoulder.

“I’m not a simp!” Y/N protested. “I mean, I can’t be a simp - I don’t even know what that word means!”

Finishing 5K Blurb Requests

[nanoland]

Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

main characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael

pairings: Mazikeen/Eve/Michael 

summary: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet. 

warnings: Violence, gun violence, trauma, dehumanization, outdoor sex. 

0 

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?” 

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There’s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.” 

0 

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.”

0 

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?” 

0 

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep. 

0

It was night when he awoke.  

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?” 

0 

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”  

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.” 

0 

Bombshell curls. The only way to celebrate victory.

“Should I even ask why your hair smells like burning plastic?” asked Britney, a sixty-four year old veteran stylist with spectacles and a bright blue bob. She’d worked in Hollywood since she was seventeen and her skilled hands, according to rumour, had tended to Viola Davis herself.

Mazikeen flipped through a magazine with the hand that wasn’t getting its nails painted red-gold by two assistants down on their knees, as intensely focused as if they were touching up The Last Supper. “Blew up some jet skis. Don’t worry about it.”

Picking up the curling iron, Britney said, “That handsome guy you and Eve came in with… new boyfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not in a million years. He’s my intern.”

Eve had only wanted a trim and, as soon as it was done, had dragged Michael away to shop for books and shoes. She was trying, without much subtlety, to work out what he liked; what he did for fun; if he was even capable of having fun. Waste of time, in Mazikeen’s opinion, especially considering that before the end of the week he’d probably run away to some dark hole where he could get back to wallowing in his bitterness. But maybe not. Eve clearly had hope and Mazikeen trusted her judgement.

As the assistants moved on to her other hand, her phone buzzed.

Glancing up to meet Britney’s gaze in the mirror, Mazikeen said, “Get that for me? My nails are wet and it’s probably Eve. Word’s got out what happens to all other humans who call me on a Saturday.”

The older woman’s blue eyebrows bounced as she picked up the phone. “Might be that tasty boss of yours!”

“Nope,” she muttered, old unhappiness flaring hot in her heart. “He only ever calls when he wants me to do something and right now, there’s nothing he can’t do himself.”

Britney held the phone up in front of her face.

There was a message from Linda.

Charlie’s missing his Auntie Maze – see u for dinner Tuesday? J <3

“Uh – are you crying?” asked Britney.

“No!” she snapped. “Just… shut up. Reply for me. Say yes. And add a knife emoji. I always use knife emojis.”

Just then, a white woman with long brown hair and skinny jeans strode purposefully into the salon.

Britney tutted and held up a hand. “Ma’am? I’m sorry, but Ms Smith has booked the entire…”

She trailed off as the woman’s eyes flashed red.

“Chantinelle,” Mazikeen greeted, spinning the chair round and crossing her legs regally. “It’s okay, Britney. She’s a friend. Well – an ally.”

Gravel-voiced, like she smoked heavily, the other demon drawled, “I’m touched, your great and gracious Majesty.”

Mazikeen snickered. “Bitch, get over here.”

With a smirk, Chantinelle marched over and planted a fierce kiss on her cheek.

“What news from Hell?” Mazikeen asked her sister.

Chantinelle briefed her while Britney and the others finished up her curls and manicure. They spoke in Lilim, Chantinelle parking her denim-clad butt on the vanity next to an arsenal of combs and keeping one eye on the door. She’d already tried twice to convince Mazikeen that a queen needed a bodyguard, to no avail.

When their meeting was concluded, Britney said, “So you’re from Holland, right? Oh! It’s a lovely country. My cousin lives there and she’s always telling me to visit.”

(Britney knew they weren’t from Holland. Britney knew they weren’t from Earth. Britney was one of those people who coped with uncomfortable realities like demons in her workplace by ignoring them.)

“Will you be coming home soon?” Chantinelle asked before she left.

Studying her reflection – avoiding her sister’s gaze – Mazikeen said, “Mmm. Yeah. Soon. Just got a few things to finish up here.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting too long. The family misses you. I mean – it’s been years, y’know?”

“I know. I do.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Britney commented after Chantinelle had gone. “How come you never talk about them?”

Mazikeen handed over a wad of blood-spattered cash. “Eh. After a while, I figured out that nobody likes it when I do.”

She began making her way across the mall to Eve’s favourite shoe shop, then stopped when she approached the arcade and heard her girlfriend’s laugh over the beeps and buzzes of various games.

Unsurprised, she wandered in and found her on the Dance Dance Revolution platform, barefoot and skirt twirling as she beat the shit out of someone’s high score, surrounded by a crowd of cheering, applauding onlookers.

Michael stood off to the side, clutching three bulging shopping bags and looking mortified.

“I couldn’t stop her,” he hissed to Mazikeen. “What the hell? What the actual hell? I thought you were trying to maintain a reputation on this crummy rock! What’re your enemies going to think if this is how your allies behave in public?”

“I figure they’ll think something like, ‘Oh my God, she’s tapping that? I am going to literally die of jealousy’,” Mazikeen said, kicking off her stilettos and handing them to him. “Go fetch us some bottled water, wimp. We’ll be here for a while.”

Eve’s competitor on the adjacent platform yelped as Mazikeen shoved him off and took his place.

“Hi, pretty lady,” said Eve, her eyes sparkling. “You know I’ve been dancing for millions of years, right?”

Mazikeen grinned at her and tossed back her bombshell curls. “Bring it, beautiful.”  

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Michael blush bright red. 

0 

What was he doing here?

“We are fifteen miles over the speed limit!”

Mazikeen cackled and drove faster. In the seat beside her, Eve punched the air and turned up the radio until Michael thought Rihanna’s voice would burst even his divine eardrums. (Contrary to his brother’s accusations, he did, in fact, enjoy some types of music. Just not when it was loud or fast-paced.)

“May I remind you of a crucial fact?” he demanded, having to shout to be heard. “It’s not me who’ll die if this thing flips! Angel, remember? You two are the ones who’ll be splattered all over the road! Hello? Is anybody listening to me?”

“I’m a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine,” Mazikeen sang.

The desert outside the cherry-red convertible they’d stolen in Las Vegas was a sickening blur and he hated it. Not that he’d never travelled this fast – though he was slower than just about all his siblings in the air, he could still outpace a jet. But flying under his own power couldn’t be compared to being trapped in this hideous human death trap under the command of a demon and a madwoman.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, this time to himself, gripping his seatbelt with both hands like it was the neck of an angry serpent. “Whatever happens. Even if we crash. They’ll die. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” called Eve, turning to look at him, squinting. “Are you really not having fun? Maze! Slow down! He’s not having fun.”

Mazikeen groaned but brought them back to a less terrifying percentage of light speed, while Eve undid her seatbelt and climbed into the back with Michael.

He sputtered. “Jesus H. Christ – you’re not supposed to do that while the vehicle is moving. Rules exist for a reason, goddammit.”

“I’m sorry we freaked you out,” Eve told him, with… confusing sincerity.

None of his siblings had ever apologised for frightening him, Lucifer least of all (“Aww – don’t be so nervous, brother!” and a golden laugh from the brave, adventurous Morningstar after he’d enticed Michael to fly with him into a hurricane for fun and the noise and sight of it had made his twin cry).

When Michael was young, he’d assumed that was because apologies were for lesser beings, like mortals – except that when he’d discovered his latent talent for underhanded pranks, his siblings had all turned around and demanded apologies from him. The pranks had become progressively mean-spirited after that.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop – for the punchline – he said, carefully, “It’s fine.”

The wind had blown Eve’s hair all over the place. As she brushed it out of her eyes, he was reminded that today she’d chosen to wear one of her thin white summer dresses, this one low-cut enough to make it clear that that was all she was wearing.

Now mischievous, she winked at him. “But you know… if I made a habit of following those rules you like so much, I’d still be married and bored out of my mind. Wanna kiss?”

He nearly jumped out of the car.

“Uh,” he croaked.

His gaze flickered past Eve’s inquisitive face to the back of Mazikeen’s head. How long did he have? How many milliseconds left before she turned around and tore out his throat in a fit of frenzied jealousy?

“Hell, yeah!” Mazikeen cheered, throwing up the horns. “One of you take a picture for me. Or, better yet, move over so I can see you in the rear view mirror.”

Eve’s chin tilted downwards as she examined Michael. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like he’s into it. Er – yikes. Actually, I think he’s gonna throw up. Might wanna pull over, babe.”

“I’m not going to throw up! I just need… just need air. Could you sit back for a moment?” he hissed.

She did so and he got his breathing under control. Crap, his shoulder hurt so much today.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, fidgeting. “I didn’t mean to-…”

“Is this because of him?” Michael snarled, suddenly furious.

“What?”

“Him! Lucifer! He dumped you, yeah? And now you’re – what, trying to get back at him by hitting on me? Or is it just because I look like him so I’m the best substitute you can get, or-…”

She slapped him.

It hurt.

(It really did. What? Since when did getting hit by mortals hurt?)

Mazikeen whistled approvingly.

“No,” said Eve, half-growling. “I’m not like that. I don’t use people like that, Michael.”

He touched the part of his face where her skin had met his. It felt hot. Tingly. He swallowed. “Um – right. Got it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The anger in her eyes subsided. “Good. Now, would you like to kiss me or not? It’s fine if you don’t want to. You’ll still be part of the team. This is just for fun.”

Feeling oafish and off-kilter, he gestured at Mazikeen. “Won’t she mind?”

“Nope!” Mazikeen volunteered without hesitation.

Eve, exasperated, huffed, “I already asked her if she’d mind. Do you really think I’d put the offer on the table if I hadn’t? Whatever they say about me in the Silver City, I’m neither frivolous nor disloyal. I didn’t go behind Adam’s back when I fell in love with your brother; I told him to his face what I was doing.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

“Because he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t care. Adam was a decent man who didn’t love me at all. But Maze does, and I love her, and we’ve decided this is something we’re both okay with.”

“Yeah, most demons are poly,” Mazikeen told him. “As long as everyone’s on board and on the same page, you can hook up with whoever you like.”

“Last chance: kiss or no kiss?” said Eve.

She was close enough now for him to smell her perfume. His chest felt tight. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

“Okay. How about wagers? I bet you anything I’m the best kisser you’ve ever met. Or requests? Please, please kiss me, Michael. Or-…”

She was so warm. Her breath flowing into his mouth felt like drinking hot chocolate on a Winter’s night, sugary heat poured down his throat and filling up his whole chest.

His bones seemed to melt. He slid down the seat, half-pushed, until he lay almost flat with her on top of him, cradling his face in her hands, her thumbs making slow, comforting circles on his jaw.

“Ghnnff-fu-fuck,” he slurred.

That he was hard, and had been hard ever since he’d noticed how low-cut her dress was, seemed almost irrelevant in the face of far more interesting observations, like the soft grunts she made or the way her breasts felt pressed tight against him, until she slid a thigh between his legs.

He cried out. Arched.

“There you go,” she purred against his neck.

Elegant and effortless, she took off her shoes and her panties, and slid down onto his cock with a soft, fluttering sigh. Grabbed his hand and raised it to cover one of her nipples.

Just before he came, he opened his eyes and gazed up, and the sun had moved behind her, draining all but her edges of definition, and the wind had picked up her hair again and sent it billowing up and out, like dark wings. Like his wings.

“Michael! Ah!”

The car stopped.

“Huh,” said Mazikeen. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

She pointed. Panting, they both followed her finger.

Across the sky, from one horizon to the next, the clouds had arranged themselves into the words

I LOVE YOU DETECTIVE !!!!

-LM

“Oh, crud,” said Eve. 

0 

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?” 

0 

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”  

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda. 

0  

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[pastthevaulteddoors]

My brain fogs usually end with me babbling.

This morning @delicatelygloriousphoenix allowed me to babble to them about a thought I had.

And then... It just kept going.

I’m still tired. Here’s a cut version of that conversation.

I had a thought before bed last night 'cause I'm finishing up the extras to SVSSS.

What if someone was reborn into Mo Dao Zu Shi and had to save everyone?

What if Jiang Cheng was the person they were born into? I can't remember the scene properly from the novel, but right before WWX interrupts the summit meeting on Koi/Carp tower, drinks LWJ's booze and accuses Jin Zixun of his labor camp is when this person becomes the new Jiang Cheng. He himself interrupts WWX's rant that nearly falls into a fight and demands that he/Lotus Pier are allowed to keep the rest of the Wens because they burned the place to the ground and therefore have a right to them to rebuild the place.

The argument is quick, and JC is like "I'm taking them" and drags WWX out in surprise. But he turns to LWJ and is like "You comin'?" so of course LWJ comes when he's actually invited to do so. They run off to the camp. JC tries to hurry to get there before Wen Ning is stabbed. They do get there earlier than in the show/novel, but WN is already stabbed (but not dead).

They drag the Wens and an unconscious WN out of the camp. WWX doesn’t go nuts because WN isn’t dead yet and JC is there to lay down some tsundere harshness in his stead.

They have to stop at a village before they get there where Wen Qing can work on her brother and the Wens can rest. JC buys them all rando threadbare robes so they don't stand out as Wens anymore.

Lan Xichen shows up at some point to see if he can't... not so much help as his position won't allow him to take sides on this, but there to 'check on his brother.’ When he gets there, he’s pushed to the inn room where he sees JC focused at WN’s side. He’s giving him spiritual energy while WQ rests nearby. That's LXC’s first little spark of  "Ah, JC is nicer than he first appears."

The Wens are supposed to be 'laborers' to help rebuild Lotus Pier, but JC's really just wanting to make sure that WWX isn't forced off to Burial Mounds and becomes an icon of hatred like the show/novel. And he doesn't have to remove him from the sect entirely.

However, he tells a distracted WWX that he obviously has ideas with his new powers and gives him leave to seclude himself to practice/create/invent but in a safe environment. Jiang Yanli is happy that her brothers are not alone yet able to pursue their separate interests/areas of need.

LXC suggests Gusu taking the Wens as well as 'laborers' since Cloud Recesses was also burned down by the Wens. In reality, they have more safe space for the Wens, it's harder to ambush the 'labor camp' when it's on a mountain peak.

This is where the ALIVE yet healing Wen Ning and Wen Qing ask the Lans to take care of A-Yuan as they are not in the best situation to take care of a child at their camp. This is where LWJ and the frequently visiting WWX basically adopt him.

I mean, if the Wens aren't in danger, WWX has no reason to go back to the burial mounds so of course he’d come to check up on the Wens a lot. Which just means hanging out with A-Yuan and the bunnies often. If LWJ happens to be there with him all the time... well... who’s to say what that means?!

Meanwhile, JC is trying to handle his sect with only a bit of help from WWX here and there, although Wen Qing shows up a lot, as does LXC as a gesture of goodwill and to help the young new sect leader.

JC enjoys being a leader and the System provided him with knowledge and ability to train his new sect. He used to be a salaryman when he was alive, this is far more exciting and much more stimulating.

JC is pretty oblivious that both WQ and LXC are absently crushing on this confident and warmly grumpy JC. He just thinks they like visiting him to talk sect leader stuff or night hunt or... maybe he even thinks they’re his friends.

BUT JC knows his mission is not done, as the System keeps reminding him.

He needs to make sure Jin Guangyao doesn't marry his sister but he can't break OOC or share his knowledge of knowing that JGY and Qin Su are siblings... so he subtly courts Qin Su instead to basically cock block JGY.

Which surprises all but whatever. JC has changed since becoming sect leader, or so they say (really, JC is a different person entirely but ya know).

JC is okay with it, saying Qin Su is a decent woman and pretty enough. He'd be okay if they'd end up marrying, although he's very aware that JGY might try to murder him for taking the girl he likes but he's got his defenses up.

The courting goes on for awhile and JC keeps blocking JGY’s advances where he can but doesn’t go further with his own.

A few years later, JC hosts a birthday party of four year old Jin Ling, with little Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Ouyang Zizhen among others... so it's a mini sect leader party, too. All of this without going OOC, he's still a grumpy sect leader but he's less feared (like, in the novel, JC was a friggen murderer! He tortured and killed anyone he thought was using WWX's methods or was his incarnation!). People actually seem to like him!

Late night at the party WWX, JC, LWJ, and LXC were hanging out. They suggest going on a boat together because a lot of lanterns were going to be let off in the lakes for JL’s birthday.

JC 'accidentally' spills tea on LXC's robes so he has to excuse himself to change. The others wait by the boat and JC is like "Oop, I changed my mind. I'm going to do something else" and kicks the boat off with LWJ and WWX in it and walks away. He chills in a pavilion a little bit later, watching the lanterns on the water and a few boats out there when LXC comes back. He doesn't even ask when happened and joins him, watching the boat that their brothers are in. LXC and JC haven't talked about it, but they both low key ship LWJ and WWX so they're of agreement.

This event triggers the Wangxian relationship quest. JC is pretty happy that they don’t have to wait 13-16 years before they get to enjoy each other’s company.

And that's when JC himself starts to admire LXC. Not that he hadn't before, they had become friends of sorts from both rebuilding their sects, passing advice to each other, and generally get to complain to each other as young sect leaders. JC kept distance though, knowing LXC’s sworn brothers are his confidants but now and again LXC even lets on a bit of that drama (realizing how much NMJ and JGY are at odds) when JC mentions "they just gotta fuck and get it out of their system"

But yeah, it's during that conversation that JC is like "LXC is actually really attractive and fun to talk to..." crush style.

Then a new mission starts! JC has to team up with LXC to get JGY and NMJ together. All the while JC is loosely courting Qin Su still. Wen Qing has since moved on with her affections (WQ is fast realizing that everyone is gay and instead goes to make out with Mianmian because yes lesbians!).

So LXC realizes that he likes JC but doesn't think he'd be interested because of Qin Su and Wen Qing.

Meanwhile, JC is like "The author said the only gay couple in this novel was WWX and LWJ but!!!?!?!?!??!?!? everyone is gay!?”

At WWX and LWJ's wedding, LXC and JC spy on JGY and NMJ who end up kissing behind a tree. They're tipsy but success! JC gives LXC a high five which amuses LXC because 'wtf is a high five? that's so cute, what a grumpy dork'

JC outright stops courting Qin Su then, which pisses off her sect, that is in close ties with the Jins, which turn their anger towards the Jiang sect. So JC has to fight with the Jins in a political battle, and his sister is preggers with her third kid so she can't help much.

But it's finally JGY that stands up to his father to stop bulling smaller sects. No hard feelings for stealing Qin Su then dumping her, apparently.

It's about this time when Mo Xuanyu shows up and is like "you're my daddy" Lady Jin already hates her husband's illegitimate children but now she's furious, especially after her friend tells her that Jin Guangshan raped her and Qin Su is ALSO an illegitimate child (another reason JGY decides he doesn’t hate JC for cock blocking him).

All this combined, Jin Guangshan is shamed off his throne. Jin ZiXuan takes up a lead and JGY (now renamed Jin Ziyao as is the proper generational name) decides he's happy with not being an asshole (since he's getting good dickings with his boyfriend NMJ and Lady Jin has finally stopped bullying him) and decides that he'd be content, even happy, being his brother's advisor rather than dethroning him for sect leadership.

But of course there's gotta be drama. Shi Su and Jin Zixun are not the smartest of people but they've teamed up with Xue Yang who has a bit of the Iron. Together, they start to plot against the sects to overrule them, because they're dumb idiots with a semblance of power.

That's about as far as my brain went when I fell asleep and then this morning when the brain fog focused on that instead of on work while I was waking up.

Just something about 13 years later, JC and LXC are pretty close but not lovers yet, when something-something adventure and JC and LXC become a thing in a similar manner that WWX and LWJ did in the novel. RANDOM CONFESSION TIME that other people have to point out to them!

The following is related conversation but I don’t want to put my friend’s part so... it’s disjointed. Sorry not sorry I’m tired.

Continued conversation about wangxian being together:

because JC already knew they'd be together from the show/novel, and LXC shipped them, so they teamed up to get them to confess

That's what I meant when JC forced them onto a romantic boat ride together.

They weren't parted from the Wen fight stuff so instead of fighting at Nightless City, they had time to realize their feelings and not die instead of confess. ;p

Conversation... conversation...

So for so long JC doesn't know he's into guys (LXC in particular, kinda like SQQ in SVSSS) but just like JC in the novel, he gets himself blacklisted from the matchmakers. Meanwhile, this whole time his very close friend, LXC (they're really close now since JGY and NMJ are a couple so he doesn't like to third wheel it and instead spend his time with JC) things that JC is straight and lowkey crushes on him for 13-16 years before WWX and LWJ have to spell it out to them.

but Lan have a-yuan as adopted heir

He'd (JC) probably ask Jinli if one of her kids could be heir

What if Jin Zixun tries to take the sect leader throne or something. He'd be next in line if jin Zixuan didn't die and JGY didn't step up.

[rotzaprachim]

If you feel so inclined I would LOVE to hear more about your thoughts on heist movies (my favourite genre too!). Do you have a favourite?

why thank you! long story short the heist is the BEST genre and has the potential for a lot of fun and also if the story decides to go there, social commentary, but the heist is also a trick to pull off and takes a certain degree of skill! 

on a craft level, a heist is interesting because it’s pure, contained narrative. i’m sure there are literary fiction type heists out there, but on the whole the heist is the genre that strips all pretensions bare and reveals the bare bones of the story. plotting is KEY. the heist pushes all the elements of techniquie- plot, timing, rising tension, information and its release- straight to the center, often in extremely practical ways I.E we’re all in this One Building together and need to get this One THings. we’ve all seen bad heist movies before, and we’ve enjoyed them, but we’ve also Known they were bad or at least unfeasible, because it was pushed right into the open. (doesn’t stop them from Fun)

leigh bardugo aka MASTER of this genre said in an interview once i think that a heist is all about the timed release of information, which. yes. heists are ALL ABOUT tension and reveals, and a good heist writer is good at tightly controlling the rise and fall of tension based on their manipulation of the situation 

i LOVE genre fiction and am a massive Genre Fiction Defender, because i think sometimes authors can do their best work within the conventions and general plot outlines that a genre can provide. and a heist is both a fairly set and adaptable genre that can be outwardly applied to others, as well. a heist too can sit anywhere on the goofy to grimdark, and is also often blended the crime movie or organised crime movie (often the Set Up/antagonist). finally i think there’s a bit of a distinction within a heist movie- between a Heist (aka an organised plan to steal something in secret, generally) and a Con (a plan specifically revolving around Playing people). arguably the best of the genre Combine the two to maximise different kinds of storytelling and tension. the problems facing the heist tend to be physical, scientific or practical - an uncrackable safe, guard dogs, lazer-eyed alligators, etc, whereas the problems of the COn are human- finding the mark, the mark’s soft spots, and of course, the internality of the grifter(s) trying to work the mark. the COn aspect can be a really fascinating insight into human psychology. 

there’s also just an endless amount you can do with having people pretending to be other people to Get Something DOne and how that can be used to explore themes like class and privilidge.... 

which segues into my next point that a heist DOESN’T have to be subversive or NECESSARILY interested in wealth redistrubution and rob-the-rich-give-to-the-poor (although some of the best written ones are the ones where this is the case IMHO). BUT. the writer has to be aware those tensions exist, even subliminally! they have to underpin the structure of the novel. arguably, along with the organised crime genre, a heist is interesting for the extreme economic cross section of society it often contains - characters who have been struggling or down on their luck their whole lives in some ways engaging with or pretending to be the nobility or wealthy. a good visual heist often exploits this visually. 

the final point is that a multi-person heist often needs a good sense of interpersonal dynamics between the heist crew who you know, like all human being under pressure ESPECIALLY human beings who might not know each other and have prison/lives on the line, may not get along all that well 

so. it’s a pile up here. good plotting. good timing. PRESSURe. class. human psychology. very few heists have ALL these elements, but i’d argue that to tick, a good heist needs at least some of them. 

a lot of my favorites aren’t movies at all! 

- six of crows duology leigh bardugo - this series really got popular on tumblr, and it’s very simple as to why- it’s fucking great. seriously. like the hunger games, it’s one of those ya series i reread this summer and was reminded how well it stands up. (i wouldn’t read the grisha trilogy it intersects with until after, it is not NEARLY as good.) SOC works due to how well bardugo understands her characters, both in terms of internality and the wider political/social/cultural trends of the early industrial fake!amsterdam world they life in and importantly how the external and internal interact, and manages five and then six distinctive POV’s of a heist team MASTERFULLY. (no one in it is like vaguely a teenager is my only serious criticism). takes a while to get going but a knockout of a series. 

(they’re making a tv series of it which mixes it in with a bunch of other content LOOSING the tight “nothing including but the plot-necessary and yet richly detailed” writing that made it in the first place. but. whatever 

- leverage 

the heartwarming series about a team of crooks becoming a Family and dealing with individual trauma while starting to To Good and rob the rich to give to the poor in the aftermath of the 2009 financial crisis! genuinely one of the best shows i’ve ever seen, the plot of the week was always really entertaining and fun but the show did an admirable job of running a good course and finishing in a good place with serious character development in a satisfying way! i especially love the female characters in this one (hats off to inej and nina of six of crows too tho!!! love them) including a very well-written woman in her 40′s and an autistic woman coming into herself while being a baddass thief. and alec hardison is just. the best EVER 

- “time heist” - season 8 of doctor who 

this is just one episode and it’s very classic goofy WHO BUT! i think it manages in 45 minutes to be both a goofy fun alien time and a genuine homage to the genre that has some good reveals 

- timeless is NOT a heist show blatantly but in the way they used time travel there was often examples of Good Heist Writing 

- arguably, though not as a WHOLE, parts Rogue One

the locke lamora series, by scott lynch- 

these are LONG but they are FUN 

ocean’s 8 is also FUN 

[another-writer]

Tactics

Summary: You and Bucky can’t take a hint.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for the simple, straightforward cheese.

Your foot tapped the floor of the lift impatiently as you rode up to your floor of the compound, arms stuffed in the pockets of your coat as you relished in the warmth of the building, ears and fingertips still red and stinging from the New York winter. 

The black dress and new heels you had been saving for this very occasion hadn’t been worth it and it was for that reason, you realised, you felt disappointed with how the night had gone. It wasn’t the restaurant, or the portion sizes of the food (though you had been hungry from about ten minutes after you had finished eating), or perhaps even your actual date. Just that the effort had resulted in a waste of time. 

You weren’t generally a completely confident person; you were content with how you looked, you just wished that  … you looked better. But tonight while you were getting ready, you readily admitted to yourself that this was a rare occasion where you looked really good. 

When you entered the common area, you weren’t surprised to hear that your fellow teammates were still awake. You heard Bucky and Tony in the kitchen. You almost drooled at the smell of Alfredo sauce wafting though the air.

‘So it sucked?’ 

You quirked your eyebrow at Tony’s remark. ‘How did you know?’

Tony shrugged half-heartedly as he took a sip from his mug. ‘He’s a dick, I could tell.’

You smirked, unable to argue. ‘If you knew, why did you let this happen?’ you half-cried, making Bucky snicker.

‘Would I actually have been able to stop you?’

You opened your mouth wordlessly for a moment. ‘I- p-probably,’ you managed lamely. 

Tony shook his head, waving sardonically as he left. ‘You’ll live,’ he hollered over his shoulder.

You sighed and shrugged your coat off and tossed it on the side of the nearest chair. Bucky smirked as he focused on the pot on the stove, sleeves of his henley pushed back to his elbows. 

‘So … good night then?’ Bucky tried.

‘It wasn’t good and it wasn’t terrible. I can barely remember it.’

‘Oh that’s so much worse.’ Bucky shook his head and lowered the stove. 

You hummed in agreement. ‘What are you making? I’m starving.’ 

‘Reheating Sam’s leftovers he really wanted but was too slow to call dibs on,’ Bucky replied nonchalantly. ‘You want some?’

‘Is there enough?’ you asked, smile taunting your lips. ‘I know your diet, I’m pretty sure you eat enough that equates to the body weight of the average manatee.’

Bucky choked on his breath, emitting a brilliant laugh. ‘What?’

You snickered at his response. ‘I’d love some.’

‘Where’d you guys go?’

‘Some sushi place upstate,’ you replied, tying your hair back in a loose bun at the nape of your neck and pouring water out for the both of you. ‘I don’t have anything against sushi but we didn’t eat a lot and he made it pretty clear from the start he was gonna foot the bill so I just let him take over.’

Bucky frowned as he divided out the pasta into two plates; you noticed that there was significantly more in the one he handed to you and you smiled gratefully. 

‘Sounds like a jackass,’ he managed around a mouthful of food. 

‘He …’ Your defence faltered as you unsuccessfully stifled a smirk. ‘He wasn’t terrible, just … dominant. I think he had a superiority complex.’

You flicked the floor lamp on evening out the light with that coming from the kitchen and sunk back into the sofa.

‘So … a jackass,’ Bucky repeated.

You chuckled and licked some stray sauce from your lip. ‘This is so good by the way, Sam’s gonna kill us.’

‘I mean he’ll try.’ 

You laughed. ‘Believe me, Barnes, you’re second on his hit list from the time you held Redwing hostage.’

‘Just second? I’m insulted.’

‘You lost out to the guy who took his wings for a joyride. It was a tough decision.’ 

Bucky snickered and the both of you relished in the comfortable quietness that settled until he felt a strange sense of guilt. 

‘For what it’s worth, ‘m sorry your date sucked.’

You shrugged and hummed appreciatively as you ate. ‘’s okay,’ you replied uneasily. ‘It’s not like I got attached to the guy …’

Bucky frowned. ‘But?’

You felt your cheeks heat up. ‘Nothing,’ you replied. 

‘But …’ 

‘Buck, I’m serious,’ you laughed almost nervously under his comically suspicious stare. You held his gaze for approximately five minutes before you felt your resolve start to crack. ‘’s embarrassing,’ you groaned eventually, digging the point of your heel into the ground and setting your half-full plate on the coffee table in front of you.

‘No more embarrassing than accidentally calling Steve dad.’

You and Bucky stared at each other for a moment, the anecdote hanging in the air. 

‘Scott?’

‘Scott.’

You smiled weakly; the story usually would have had you doubled over and laughing in the most unattractive way. You leaned back into the couch, sinking into the cushions and slumping with your legs stretched out, holding the base of your glass over your stomach. It felt so good especially after sitting up in an uptight high-end restaurant with an uptight high-end CEO. 

Bucky smiled warmly at your posture; it was almost comical seeing you dressed to the nines with your make up still intact, slouched back as if you were in the middle of a binge-watch. The dim glow from the kitchen highlighted half of your face, and the low light from the floor lamp shrouded the room in a warm layer of comfort. He had noticed fairly quickly that you hated bright lights at night.

You groaned self-deprecatingly. ‘I mean, I just want to settle down. I think I want to get married one day,’ you mumbled quietly, though the silence in the room made it so that your voice was clear and loud as day. 

Bucky didn’t seem thrown by your confession. ‘Why’s that embarrassing?’ 

You fixed him with a stare: Seriously? ‘Because it’s … I don’t know.’ 

‘’s very eloquent of you.’ 

‘Bucky,’ you groaned, slumping to the side and leaning against the armrest.

‘What’s so bad about that?’ he asked, a nervous laugh wavering his voice, trying to diminish any tension you felt.

You shrugged, even though you knew the answer to his question. ‘Just feels weird to want something like that, doing what we do.’

‘Take it from the hundred-year old guy who’s in his twenties,’ Bucky smirked, ‘you’re allowed to want normal things.’

The corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile, appreciating his humour. ‘Thanks. ‘m sorry if I made things all serious and stuff.’

‘[Y/N], it’s fine,’ Bucky chuckled at your posture (lack of posture?). ‘But … you weren’t pinning all of this on that guy, were you?’

You lifted your head, eyes widening and brows creasing at the ridiculousness of his question. ‘God, no,’ you declared, the dramatics of your voice making Bucky’s eyes soften fondly at your quirk. ‘It’s not like I got my hopes up for a first date with a guy I don’t know but … I want it to happen one day.’

Bucky nodded in understanding. ‘So if it’s not a dominant CEO with a superiority complex -’ you snorted ‘- then what are you looking for?’

You shrugged again, feeling as though you were under a spotlight; as if moving away from it, you gathered yours and Bucky’s plates and moved towards the kitchen, gesturing for him to keep sitting when he moved to help you.

‘I dunno, what does anyone look for? Just a guy with common sense.'

‘Allow yourself one luxury,’ Bucky called from the armchair.

‘If you don’t think common sense is a luxury, you clearly haven’t dated much.’

Bucky smirked. ‘I don’t know whether now’s a good time to brag or not.’

Perching on the arm of the sofa next to him, you ran your hands through your hair, feeling second-hand embarrassment at yourself, unable to stop thinking of the last few hours.

‘You have rights.’

‘True, I don’t think I ever dated anyone who lacked common sense -’

‘Shut up,’ you groaned. ‘In my defence, I didn’t pick him, this wasn’t my choice.’

‘Who set you up - Sam?’

‘Natasha. I didn’t think it would be this bad.’

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, as though he was both confused and in thought.

‘Wouldn’t have thought so either, myself,’ he said.

You could practically see the gears turning in his head, and suddenly felt as though you were on the same wavelength.

‘Because Nat’s not bad at anything,’ you said, the realisation evident in your voice. ‘Which means she set a bad date on purpose.’

‘And not that it’s important, but I’d like to know how she knows a douchey CEO anyway,’ he added.

Why would she do that? you wondered. It wasn’t as if you were hurt per say, but the chances of Natasha screwing you over accidently in the dating department were incredibly slim. So what was the point?

‘Natasha’s  not spiteful,’ you said. ‘Like, there’s no agenda here or anything.’

‘Maybe there was,’ Bucky said nonchalantly, triggering your mind to worry. ‘Did you steal any of those kale smoothies she has?’

You snorted, wondering whether Bucky was trying to make you laugh or was being dead serious. ‘Those were hers?’

‘She’s suddenly really obsessed with them.’

‘I didn’t take any of her stuff, Barnes.’

‘See, now you broadened it to stuff, which makes me wonder what you have done.’

Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she retreated back to her room, having had enough of yours and Bucky’s conversation.

‘Maybe Sam dared her.’

‘Why are you so desperate to make Sam part of this?’

She listened to you analyse your date and her potential motives with the same in-depth, manic red string habit you would use for scoping out enemy bases and proximity targets. And she grew further frustrated when Bucky returned with the same energy, strategising with you. You were both enjoying yourselves, rebounding off each other, energising one another.

‘We stole his food, we need leverage.’ 

‘You stole his food.’

‘You were complicit.’

And she wondered how neither of you had realised how well you went together. Natasha knew that being so direct as to tell both of you this would injure your egoes. She knew that there were underlying feelings between you and Bucky. And listening to your banter with him, and your inability to pinpoint why she would set you up on such an awful date was almost hurtful.

And she wondered what she would try next to get you both to realise how dense you two were being.

[jamaisjoons]

heart haunting | myg

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you’re in love with min yoongi. you are sure of this. so why does your past lover still haunt your memories? 〞established relationship au

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: yoongi x reader; slight seokjin x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst (god, so much angst) ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 17k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: yoongi being an absolute sweetheart, reader with lots of guilt and lowkey self-hatred, general sadness, emotional cheating? is that a thing?, swearing because it’s me, smut but this one is tame bois, blowjob, fingering (f. receiving), ass play (this is as kinky as it gets), slight dirty talk, cum swallowing, penetration, multiple orgasms, creampie

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: WHAT IS UP DEMONS!!!! a bitch is finally off her exam induced writing hiatus and we start with a SAD BANG and the first instalment of the mixtape series, this took so much out of me and i went through so many emotions but i hope you enjoy it!!!!

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ unedited

It’s a late Tuesday night when you find yourself on your back on Yoongi’s desk in his recording studio, so aptly named the ‘Genius Lab’. Yoongi is hovering over you, his long dexterous fingers flitting over your waist as you squeal and cry out underneath him. Your melon flavoured ice-cream has long since been abandoned, melting away on the opposite corner of Yoongi’s desk as you gasp out under his small but lean figure. Briefly, you wonder how you’d gotten yourself into this situation. Just five minutes ago, Yoongi had been hunched over his desk, large headphones covering his small ears as his slender digits played with the buttons on his various music recording and producing paraphernalia.

“Oh my god, Yoongi stop! I’m going to pee” You squeal as Yoongi continues tickling your sides, his facial features above you twisted in a gummy smile as he laughs. You place your palms on his chest and attempt to push him away, slightly kicking your legs to try and get him away from you before you truly pee yourself.

“Not until you take back what you said” Yoongi says, his fingers moving even faster and you let out a choked gasp as he forcefully draws out more squeals of laughter from you.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry for saying Namjoon is a better rapper than you are, now please let me go. I can’t breathe” You shriek as you finally cave in. Yoongi’s hands still, but they stay where they are, rested just above your hip bones. You gasp in deeply for air as you try to catch your breath before sending him a tender smile. Yoongi responds with his own gummy one before he leans down and steals your breath once again, except this time with a soft kiss. He continues peppering kisses all over your face, dropping light pecks on your cheeks before repeatedly kissing your forehead.

“I love you” Yoongi whispers and you nod before you lean up and kiss him again.

“Mmmm, same” You reply and Yoongi presses a kiss just on the corner of your lips before pulling himself off of you. You sit up and begin fixing your clothing as Yoongi takes his seat back on his swivelling chair, his headphones now perched around his neck.

“So, what are you working on?” You ask curiously and Yoongi sends you a small smile before beckoning you closer. You hop off of his desk and walk over to him, Yoongi adjusting himself so you can sit on his lap. Once you’re seated and in a comfortable position, he places the headphones around your ears and clicks play. You hear the slow, mellow beat begin; bopping your head to the rhythm. It has the feel of an old school RnB track and you look at him in surprise causing him to shrug.

“I was taking a break from the new album and decided to play around with new beats… or I guess experiment with old school beats” Yoongi says and you nod, taking the headphones off.

“It’s good! Do you have the lyrics for it yet?” You ask curiously and he shrugs once again.

“Not sure, nothing I have right now matches the rhythm so I’ll probably play around with it more before adding lyrics or even showing it to Namjoon and Hoseok” Yoongi informs and you nod once again. Your eyes briefly glance at the clock, widening slightly.

“Fuck, how is it already half past midnight? You wanna come home with me? It’s been a while since you’ve been over” You ask as you begin clearing away the takeout you’d both had for dinner. Yoongi continues playing around with the various buttons on his piece of tech before humming noncommittally.

“I was going to stay and work for a bit longer. You know I’m dropping my new album soon” Yoongi replies and you let out a sigh. That was one of the only downsides dating a famous and award-winning solo rapper and producer. Yoongi loved his fans and he loved making music even more. You knew how important this was to him, making his music and being a rapper had always been his dream and you were respectful of that. But most likely he hadn’t been home in days, and it had been even longer since you slept in the same bed. You missed the feel of him next to you, his strong arms wrapped around you, your body close to his own. Besides… if Yoongi wasn’t next to you, you didn’t sleep very well. And if you were faced with another sleepless night, haunted by your dreams, you were sure you’d lose the final shred of your sanity.

“Yoongi, you haven’t been home in days. And those bags under your eyes tell me that you’ve barely slept too. You’ve got all the tracks ready and you’re just editing the final touches, you can come home with me” You try and argue but Yoongi shakes his head.

“I know! But it’s dropping in less than two weeks and it needs to be perfect” Yoongi retorts and your heart pounds nervously at the thought of another night without him by your sight.

“Yoongi, I miss you. I miss sleeping with you. Please, just come home” You reply, your voice small and Yoongi turns to you. He detects the slight nervousness in your voice and observes the skittish way you move about, your eyes not really reaching him as they dart around the room. He notes the uneasiness in your movements, the slightly wringing of your hands as your feet shuffle anxiously. Finally, it dawns on him exactly why you want him to come home and his face eases into a gentle expression.

“Alright, let’s go home” Yoongi says quietly, his voice laced with understanding and the slightest hint of anguish; and you nod, not meeting his eyes. You recognise the tone of his voice, it’s the tone he always uses when you get like this and you hate yourself for it. Hate yourself for using him like this, you hate that he knows you’re using him. Hate the way it makes him feel. Hate the way he’s so understanding about it. But you know it’s beyond your control. There’s nothing you can do when it gets like this.

“Thank you” You mutter and you can see him nod from the corner of your eyes, but the sympathy in them only serves to make you feel worse. You gather all your things as you wait for Yoongi to save his projects before shutting down his computer. Once he’s done, he grabs his jackets before ushering you out the door, one of his hands on the small of your back.

The two of you walk towards his car and you move over to the passenger side, getting in before buckling yourself up. The entire ride is silent and you don’t know whether it’s just your imagination, but the atmosphere is tense and sullen and it makes you feel all the worse for it. Before long, the two of you are back at your shared apartment. You quietly place your things where they’re supposed to go before getting ready for bed.

A short while later and after your extensive bed time routine, you find yourself nestled in Yoongi’s arms for the first time in almost a week. Your chest currently faces his t-shirt covered one. One of his arms is loosely wrapped around your waist, the other cradling your head; his fingers are loosely entwined in your hair, digits combing through the hair at the nape of your neck. You let out a little sigh and snuggle further into his shoulder, letting his clean cotton scent slowly lull you to sleep.

The soft amber light of dawn streams through the bedroom window you shared with your boyfriend. Scrunching your face, you let out a quiet moan of annoyance, not wanting to leave the comfort of your bed. As you begin shifting, you hear a deep groan next to you, the arm around your waist curling and pulling you tighter; flush into the broad and hard body of said boyfriend; namely one Kim Seokjin. You let out a whine of content, instinctively melting into his warm embrace. You slowly turned around so you could face him, a sleepy smile on your face as you took in the sight of your beautiful boyfriend.

His slightly tanned face was perfectly clear and you couldn’t help but pout at how effortlessly beautiful he truly was. You lift a hand and trace his features, brushing his contrastingly dark hair out of his eyes before trailing your finger down his adorable nose and over his plump, luscious lips. You continue tracing your fingers over his face, as soft as you could so you didn’t disturb him, stopping after your fingers traced the hardened defined length of his jaw.

These were your favourite moments.

The early, quiet mornings. When the sun kissed his face, making him glow as if he were an ethereal being. When he was something so otherworldly that you had to touch him, breathe him, feel him. Lest you believe this was all a dream and he wasn’t really in front of you. Lazy mornings like this filled you with peace; you loved being held in his strong, lean arms. But you loved it more when he was awake. When his hands softly trailed over your curves, his fingertips softly flitting across your skin as he peppered lazy, gentle kisses all over your shoulders and neck.

You looked at the clock behind him, a soft groan escaping you as you realised you had to be up. You’d been admiring your boyfriend for almost fifteen minutes. You lifted his strong arm off of you, fighting away from his grip. Eventually you won, Seokjin letting out a groan of protest at the loss of your warmth before flipping onto his stomach. You let out a quiet giggle at how adorable he was before dragging yourself into the bathroom. Another fifteen minutes later you found yourself in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for ingredients.

This would probably end badly.

You were an awful cook but Seokjin was still asleep and you were hungry. Besides, it wasn’t fair to continuously rely on your boyfriend for food, no matter how good he was at cooking and how much you loved his food. On the plus side, if it turned out good, it would be a wonderful surprise breakfast for your beloved other half. As you began prepping your ingredients, the first disaster struck in the form of you cutting your thumb while you were trying to slice the tofu. You let out a yelp, followed by a hiss at the pain, sticking the appendage into your mouth instinctively. Once the pain dulled to a numb throb, you wrapped it in a Band-Aid.

Your next disaster struck when you placed the rice in a pot. Sadly, you had forgotten to add the water to the vessel and a couple minutes later, the rice had caught on fire. You swore out loud as you began fanning the area, trying to get rid of the smoke. You quickly shoved the pot under the water, the pot sizzling and steaming in your attempts at putting out the fire before opening the window to air out the smoke.

“Jagiya? What’s happening?” You heard your boyfriend call from the doorway of your bedroom once the situation was under control. You turned around, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment at your boyfriend watching you in amusement.

“Don’t laugh! I tried making breakfast and well… it didn’t end well” You replied sheepishly. Seokjin simply shook his head before walking up to you, wrapping his arms around you and placing a tender kiss onto your forehead.

“Aish Jagiya, sit down, I’ll make breakfast” Seokjin said fondly, slowly pushing you towards a seat.

“How could I refuse my perfect boyfriend’s delicious cooking?” You tease, taking a seat at the kitchen island, your elbow on the counter, face in hand as you watched him work, admiring the view.

He was always beautiful, but even more so when he was like this. Completely relaxed, a smile on his face as he expertly navigated through the kitchen, chopping vegetables masterfully as he shook the pan, flipping its contents. Half an hour later, Seokjin took a seat beside you, two bowls of hot steaming rice in front of you accompanied by soy sauce seasoned tofu, vegetable omelette, radish kimchi and Korean coleslaw.

“This looks wonderful Seokjinnie” You said sweetly, smiling brightly at him as you started eating, blowing on the rice before putting them into your mouth followed by some omelette and kimchi. You let out a soft moan, the flavours dancing along your tongue, making your taste buds water.

“Is it good Jagiya?” Seokjin asked, smiling fondly at you. You nodded enthusiastically as you continued eating, moaning at the taste.

“Jagiya stop that, only I should be making you make those noises” Seokjin said with a pout and you stuck your tongue out at him, both of you finished with your meals.

“Your cooking is the new love of my life” You teased and Seokjin let out a mock yell of anger, mockingly standing up in rage.

“I will teach you who’s the love of your life” Seokjin said, advancing on you. You choked slightly before immediately standing up and darting out of his grasp, running around the living room.

Seokjin chased after you, the two of you running in circles, around the coffee table and over the couch and into your bedroom, where he finally caught you. His arms circled around your waist, pushing you onto the bed as he fell on top of you. His hands quickly made their way to your sides, fingers wriggling as he tickled you until you were crying with tears.

“Jinnie! Seokjin! Please stop, I-I-I can’t” You stuttered, squealing with laughter until he finally gave up, his arms on either side of your head, holding his body up.

“Who’s the love of your life?” Seokjin asked and you let out a grin, arms wrapping around his shoulders, your head raising to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“You are. Of course, it’s you. Only ever you” You said in between kisses, Seokjin smiling into your lips. He placed another chaste kiss on your lips before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your collarbone, pressing a soft kiss against the tender flesh.

“I love you. But you’re not mine anymore” Seokjin says cryptically and then he disappears.

“Seokjin!” You whimper, jolting awake. The rapid thumping of your heart is loud in the quiet of the night and your pyjamas stick to your sweat-soaked skin. Your skin is flushed and throat dry as you gasp for air, breathing heavy. You blink blearily, mind racing until the fog of the dream clears and you recognise your dark bedroom. You run a hand through your slightly dampened locks, looking over to the alarm you read ‘3:14am’ through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

Scenes from your dream flash through your head and your shoulders begin shaking; a snivel slips past your lips and you quickly cover your mouth, trying to stifle the broken sobs. You briefly glance over at Yoongi. He’s on his back, mouth slightly open and soft snores escaping him. He’s completely at peace and absolutely beautiful but you find no comfort in him because your heart breaks even more, knowing that despite Yoongi being beside you, you still dreamt about your ex-boyfriend. You curl back into the sheets, body arranged in the foetal position, the sheets pulled up close to your face as you quietly cry to yourself.

The dream had felt real. All too real. It was as if you could still feel Seokjin’s touch lingering on your skin despite him being a figment of your imagination. You close your eyes, imagining his beautiful face, soft delicate features and luscious pink lips pulled into a bright smile and another low sob escapes your mouth. You silently cry into the still night, body wracking with sobs as you allow the memories to simply wash over you.

You don’t know how long you’re crying for but suddenly you feel the bed shift and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, his body moving closer to yours until your chest is pressed against his back. Yoongi’s arm tightens around your waist; but he doesn’t say anything, instead simply allowing you to cry while he repeatedly presses light kisses against your shoulder blade. The two of you stay in that position for a long while in complete silence. He doesn’t speak the entire time. He doesn’t need to. The both of you know exactly why you’re crying and you’re ashamed to say this occurrence is more common than not.

The dreams usually stay at bay when Yoongi is sleeping beside you. But it had been so long since you’ve had him by your side that you’d been dreaming about Seokjin more and more often. You’d hoped Yoongi’s presence beside you once again would quell the heart-breaking dreams. Sadly, you were too hopeful. Dreams of your past love still plagued your sleep. But despite it all, you’re glad he’s here. Nights without Yoongi were the worst, his presence and embrace calmed you down more than you thought possible. It was a selfish need. Putting him through this and yet you couldn’t help it, no matter how much you know it’s hurting him.

Yoongi holds you until your cries settle, anguished sobs steadying into soft sniffles every now and then. Once you’ve finally managed to stifle your cries, the weight of your feelings overcomes you; your eyes heavy with fatigue as you drift off into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

The next day, you awake feeling both emotionally drained and physically exhausted. Your eyelids feel strained and your eyes prickly, as if you’d rubbed gravel in them. You let out a small groan and sit up in your bed, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes. You still, muscles locking when you remember exactly why you were so tired. Your eyes blur with tears once again but you shake your head, blinking the tears out of eyes as you throw the duvet off of you. Your feet hit the cold wooden floors and while you normally curse the sudden coolness, today you welcome it. It feels good to have the distraction, even if it was miniscule.

You enter the adjourning bathroom, leaning over the sink and inspecting your puffy, red eyes and slightly swollen face. The dark bags under your eyes seem worse but nothing is as bad as the complete defeat and emptiness that lingers in your eyes. You swallow thickly before bending over and turning the faucet, allowing cool water to gush out. You quickly splash your face with the ice-cold water, letting it wake you up and hopefully erase some of the swelling around your face, before you begin brushing your teeth.

When you’re finally done with your morning routine, you drag yourself out of the bathroom only to find your bed empty. Your eyebrows furrow and you meander through your bedroom and into your open plan living room, where Yoongi is already at the coffee pot, brewing himself his morning coffee. You stare at his fully dressed back with guilt, last night’s memories once again flashing across the back of your mind.

“Morning” Yoongi greets gruffly, voice still heavy with sleep. Next to him, on the hob, is a frying pan full of scrambled eggs and just as you take a seat at the kitchen island, the toaster pops up with fresh toast. You inadvertently compare Yoongi’s breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast to Seokjin’s feast from your dreaming, feeling worse when you miss your ex-boyfriend even more. You watch Yoongi plate up your breakfast before placing it in front of you. He takes a seat opposite you, sipping his coffee as he scrolls through his phone, undoubtedly checking his schedule for the day.

“Morning” You mutter back quietly, picking at the eggs on your plate. If you were being honest, you weren’t exactly hungry at the moment. But you know you need the food and so you begin scooping small morsels into your mouth, swallowing it down as if it’s the hardest task in the world.

“I have to be back at the studio today. I’ll probably be gone until late,” Yoongi says, locking his phone and looking at you with soft eyes.

“Um… that’s okay. I’m probably gonna stay and work from home” You reply, trying to avoid his eyes. The guilt burns at the back of your head and you simply cannot bring yourself to look at his understanding, completely empathetic eyes. It’s more than you deserve right now.

“That’s alright. Do… do you need me to come home early tonight?” Yoongi plainly asks and you wince slightly at how brazen he’s being. You quickly shake your head. Honestly, you would rather have him home earlier. You’d rather him stay at home while you both curl around each other, letting his presence put any thoughts of your ex-boyfriend far in the back of your mind. But the remorse and shame from putting him through everything weighs too heavily on your shoulders and you know if he returns earlier, your own guiltiness will drive you insane.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks and you nod, more certainly this time, “alright, if you’re sure. I have to go in a few minutes” Yoongi says as he finished the last of his coffee. You watch him get up and wander around your apartment, grabbing his keys and shoes before pulling his jacket off of the hook.

“I think that’s everything. I’m going to head off” Yoongi says, walking up to you and pressing his lips against your temple in a soft kiss. A small part of you melts into the action but the bigger part of you reaches out to grab him just as he’s about to pull away.

“Yoongi… I’m sorry about last night” You whisper quietly, voice low as your fist tightens around his shirt. Yoongi sighs from beside you, his much larger palm untangling your hand from his shirt, only to entwine his fingers with yours. He pulls your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the tips of your fingers.

“Don’t be. I love you” Yoongi says and your eyes clench at the utterly sympathetic tone, his words simply fanning your guilt.

“I… same” You respond, voice just barely audible. He presses another kiss to the top of your head before exiting your apartment, leaving you completely alone.

Some days are better than others.

On these days, Seokjin barely enters your mind. In fact, he’s so far out that you don’t even remember your first love and consequently your first heartbreak. On the good days you barely remember what it was like to be with Seokjin or how much his absence in your life leaves you completely heartbroken and empty. These are the days when you’re consumed by Yoongi. When he is all that is on your mind. With his paler skin, small lean frame, small pretty features and gummy smile. These days are filled with his deep voice, sarcastic comments sprinkled with words of affection and his tell-tale clean cotton scent. These are some of your favourite days because these are the days when you live in the present, focused more on your future with your boyfriend rather than dwelling on your past memories of lost love.

Today is one of those good days. Yoongi had released his new album a month ago and had been met with nothing but positive reviews. He had topped the charts and beaten the record for most number 1s previously set by Namjoon with the latter’s latest album ‘mono’. Yoongi was slowly riding out the records, collecting award after award for the masterpiece that was ‘Agust D 2’. However, that also meant that Yoongi was now on a break before he undoubtedly went back to producing, and thus you were able to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Hence, you and Yoongi find yourselves sitting on the grass in a small park in Seoul, overlooking a group of kids, who looked no older than nine, playing baseball under the supervision of their parents and guardians. Granted, the two of you weren’t the only onlookers. Small groups of both adults and children, all of who had decided to take advantage of the good weather, were watching the children run around chasing the ball. You and Yoongi sat just slightly to the side, having an unobstructed, front row view of the game. You watched as a little girl ran in front of the pitcher, a helmet a little too big for her situated on her head.

“Gods, as much as I’m enjoying the show, this is giving me flashbacks to phys. ed. in high school” You groaned, shuddering slightly at the memory. Yoongi laughed from beside you as he snacked on some dried squid. You watched the girl swing her bat, the both of your joining the cheers of the onlookers when she hit the ball.

“It couldn’t have been that bad” Yoongi says and you turn to him, snorting in response. You grabbed the box of Pepero from his side before shoving a chocolate covered biscuit stick into your mouth.

“No, it wasn’t bad. It was god awful. They once tried to make me play basketball and you know what happened? Within two minutes I’d somehow managed to sprain my fingers and couldn’t write properly for the next week” You retort, Yoongi chuckling at you.

“I can imagine you doing that. I wasn’t all that into phys. ed. either but if there was one sport I loved playing it was basketball. In fact, I was on the team, I played shooting guard” Yoongi says proudly and you stare at him in mock surprise.

“Really? I had no idea. It’s not like your stage name Suga comes from that position or anything” You reply back sarcastically, Yoongi lets out a little pout before poking your side causing you to yelp in surprise.

“There’s no need for unnecessary sarcasm” Yoongi replies and you gape at him before letting out a bemused cackle.

“This coming from the king of sarcastic comments? Real rich babe” You snicker causing Yoongi to shrug, an easy smile on his face as he watched the children run around as they continued their baseball game.

“Why does it seem like you want to go join them?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, a small smile on your face at the easiness in your boyfriend’s posture.

“I don’t” Yoongi says suddenly, a small blush on his face as he ducks his head. Your eyes widen slightly in disbelief before you let out a little guffaw. He did want to join the children. You suddenly paused, an image of an older Yoongi popping in your head, surrounded by two children, who looked like a suspicious blend of the two of you, playing basketball. You quickly shook your head, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

“Oh, but you do! I can’t tell Yoongles. You wanna go play baseball with the little kids. That’s so cute” You gush and Yoongi very easily hears the slight teasing inclination to your voice. He lets out a little huff, cocking his head to the side, small lips pulling into a pout.

“Don’t call me Yoongles” Yoongi huffs making you giggle at his childlike actions. You shift closer towards him, until your sides are almost touching. Resting your head on his shoulder, you look up at him with a small smile before pressing a soft kiss to his lower jaw. Yoongi’s shoulders relax slightly, his hand automatically wrapping around your waist.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute” Yoongi mumbles before leaning over, taking your lips between his. You smile into his kiss, your lips moving slowly, softly over each other’s in a gentle kiss.

“Ew!” Comes a random high-pitched voice and you laugh into the kiss before pulling away.

“Stupid cockblocking kids” Yoongi grumbles under his breath with a small tut. You raise your eyebrow in amusement at your boyfriend, wondering how he shifts from pouty child to ornery old man in the space of two seconds.

“We are in public and there are kids are around us babe” You reply, Yoongi tutting once again.

Suddenly, Yoongi rocks back until he’s completely laying on the picnic blanket. He pulls you down with him, a startled yelp escaping you. You look up at him from your position, your head is laying in the crook between his shoulder and arm, Yoongi’s chest directly in your line of sight. He’s got one arm wrapped around your shoulder loosely, the other cushioning his head. You bite your lip as Yoongi closes his eyes, drawing your body closer to him.

“Well if we can’t kiss, then we may as well take a nap yes?” Yoongi suggests and you glance around nervously.

“Yoongi, what if someone tries to rob us?” You ask and Yoongi sighs.

“We only have our phones, unless they want to steal snacks. In which case they can go for it. But we can put our phones between our bodies,” Yoongi says, slipping both his and your phones between the two of you, “happy?” Yoongi asks and you nod with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you want to take a nap, it’s like 4pm” You tut making Yoongi scoff.

“There is no specific time to nap you know. You can take a nap whenever you want. There’s no law to stop you” Yoongi replies smartly, causing you to huff.

“I don’t know why I even bother. Alright old man, let’s nap” You tease, snuggling in closer to him. Yoongi’s hand moves towards your lower back and all of a sudden, he pinches, causing you to jerk away.

“Ow! What was that for?” You hiss in indignation. Yoongi cracks one eye open, eyebrow raising in a fashion that denotes ‘are you really asking that?’.

“If I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d take us both home and show you exactly who you’re calling old. But, I’ll settle for showing you later tonight” Yoongi says, voice gruff. Your face heats up immediately, your face burying into his chest to hide your embarrassment.

“God, I hate you sometimes” You reply, voice muffled by his chest, but there’s no real venom in your tone, only fond exasperation, causing Yoongi to reply with a noncommittal hum.

You realise that’s the last response you’re going to get from your boyfriend. You move your head slightly, allowing yourself to look up at his face from your position on his shoulder. His eyes are closed, small eyelashes resting on his cheeks. His lips are slightly pouty and while small, look incredibly delicate and soft; you have the sudden urge to lean over and kiss him. Instead, you shift again, laying your head more onto his chest as you try to get comfortable, moulding yourself into his side.

Closing your eyes, you absentmindedly doodle on his chest, the light breeze wafting against you every now and then as his calming scent of clean cotton fills your sense. You close your eyes with a smile, relishing in the calmness of the atmosphere, even with the sounds of children playing, people wandering about and dogs barking.

Everything is good.

These are the days you love the most. The good days. The better days. When you are at peace, with the boyfriend you love so much napping by your side. With the stillness of the breeze and the feel of the warm sunshine on your skin. When thoughts of your ex-boyfriend are so far out of your mind, you don’t even remember that he had broken your heart or that you were scarred very deeply by the loss of your first love.

“Yoongi, oh my gosh, how much further?” You whine childishly, a small pout on your face as you stare at the back of your boyfriend’s figure.

“It’s just a little further” Yoongi huffs, more than likely getting tired of your whining. You scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out to the back of his head. Another few minutes later, you and Yoongi arrive at an almost secluded pier.

The sun is low in the day but still bright enough, highlighting the beautiful blue hues of the ocean, the sun rays causing the water to sparkle with every small wave. You look around, spotting people looking almost as small as ants further down the beach. There’re only a few people around the pier, most sitting in solitude either looking out at the sea or with fishing rods. Your eyes narrow slightly, the place looks somewhat familiar to you, but you aren’t entirely sure why. You shrug it off, most beaches look the same and that was probably where you were getting your déjà vu from.

“I like to come fishing here. It’s more secluded, people leave you alone and I don’t need to worry about fans coming up to me because the only people who come here are older men that want to fish in peace” Yoongi explains and you nod, placing your stuff down at one end of the large pier. Yoongi begins pulling out his fishing rod and starts setting up as you help him.

You breathe in deeply, smiling softly at the sea salted breeze. It’s a refreshing get away and as the sun warms your skin, you let out a wide smile. It’s been so long since you’ve been to the beach that you’d forgotten just how much you’d loved it. You watch Yoongi set himself up before sitting down at the pier. You look over the wooden boards, eyes lighting up with excitement as you spot small movements under the clear water. You turn back to your boyfriend who looks more than ready to fish. He’s dressed in a long sleeve black t-shirt with matching black jeans and a cute beige woven sun hat resting upon his head. He’s wearing nothing that looks like beach wear and a small part of you wonders how he’s not overheating.

“Gods you’re such an old man” You jeer taking in the adorable, excited look on his face as he throws his line into the water. Yoongi’s head snaps towards you, slightly tilted up so he can see you tower above him. His eyes are slightly scrunched, avoiding the bright sunlight and you have to fight the urge to gush over how adorably cute he looks.

“Stop calling me old! You’re like two years younger than me” Yoongi grunts out before returning to fishing. You let out a tinkling laugh, before shrugging and taking a seat beside him, legs dangling over the edge.

“Maybe, but I’m not the one who acts like a grumpy old grandpa” You tease, Yoongi nudging you slightly with your shoulder in response, causing you to let out another giggle.

You playfully dangle your legs over the side, more than happy to simply take in the sights while Yoongi fishes, the two of you sitting in easy silence, speaking every now and then. That was the beauty of Yoongi. You didn’t have to always speak when on dates; the both of you were more than happy to just sit in silence and enjoy each other’s presence. There was no awkward small talk or forced conversations. You more than enjoyed days like this, just sitting under the sun and basking in each other’s presence.

You spot a seagull flying overhead and tilt your head, following the bird with an easy smile. You watch as it flies off, disappearing somewhere behind you. Just as you’re about to turn back to Yoongi however, you spot a flash of a familiar figure from the corner of your eye. Your blood freezes, eyes wide and heart thumping. You quickly turn around, and catch the back of his wide shoulders and narrow back before he vanishes into thin air. You take in a shaky breath of air, eyes drooping slightly. Your heart quickens and your palms become sweaty and all of a sudden you can remember exactly why this place feels familiar.

You’ve been here.

More specifically, you used to come here with Seokjin. You’re at the secluded pier in Daecheon Beach, which consequently was also Seokjin’s favourite fishing spot. Suddenly, he’s all you can think about. You turn back, facing the water once again as you try to shake the thought of him out of your mind. You shuffle slightly away from Yoongi, your body trembling as the force of your feelings return. Your fists clench, nails pressing into your palms as you try and bring yourself back under control. You cannot do this. Not now, not when you and Yoongi were enjoying yourselves.

Yoongi.

You turn to him, watching the way he sits relaxed as he continues to fish. The silence between the two of you that had once been calming and even appreciated was now tainted. Because now, without Yoongi’s voice to distract you, you can feel yourself slowly receding into your memory. Now everything feels different. And you hate yourself for it, but you can’t help but compare Yoongi to Seokjin. It’s not fair. You know it’s not.

But now all you can think about is how Seokjin used to bring you here, and how you’d sit side by side as he’d crack jokes or make awful puns that resulted in his squeaky windshield wiper laugh and consequently your own laugh from how happy and infectious his laugh was. Suddenly, all you can think about is how different Yoongi and Seokjin are. Yoongi, with his small build and pretty gummy smile compared to Seokjin’s tall, wide shouldered build and toothy smile. Yoongi, who likes to sit in silence and fish, enjoying each other’s presence compared to Seokjin who hated the silence and preferred filling it up with his trademark dad jokes. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that you have an amazing, next to perfect boyfriend and yet all you can do is think about the boyfriend who is no longer yours. Who could never be yours again.

“____? You okay?” Yoongi asks and you snap your head towards him. Yoongi frowns at you, taking in your quivering lip and glazed over eyes.

“I’m fine” You reply, but your voice is quiet and croaky. Yoongi’s eyes narrow, wondering just what could have happened in the space of a few minutes while he was more focused on fishing. He can’t think of a single reason for you to have been set off. Well, he can. But as far as he’s aware, there’s no reason for you to have been set off. Nothing here could possibly have reminded you of him.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks wearily and you nod quickly, once again trying to shake thoughts of Seokjin out of your mind.

“Alright- oh! Oh, I caught something. Do you want to help reel it in?” Yoongi asks and you nod once again, hoping it will take your mind off of things. But as he moves to let you grab the rod, you hesitate.

Suddenly, you remember the way you and Seokjin would reel in any fish caught together. You remember the way he’d call you ‘Jagi’ and whine if you lost the fish or the way he’d get excited and kiss you every time you successfully caught something. You don’t mean to compare them, but you simply can’t help it because the situation is all too familiar to you. You don’t say anything, you don’t even bring up Seokjin’s name. But Yoongi senses the shift in your mood; he can feel it in the way you hesitate. He knows.

You can see it in the way his eyes drop and his gaze shifts, the blank expression of stoicism once again on his face. But his eyes. His eyes betray him and once again you can see the inkling of torment in his eyes, masked by the look of recognition and sympathy. Once again, the guilt washes over you and you hate yourself. Hate yourself for being unable to move on, hate yourself for putting Yoongi through this, hate yourself for needing him and loving him despite your heart and mind aching for someone else.

“Something’s wrong. Tell me” Yoongi says, voice plain and nonchalant but his eyes continue to betray him. Your throat feels dry, almost as if you’d stood in the Sahara desert with your mouth wide open, allowing the hot sun rays to completely dry out your throat. You swallow thickly and look away. Yoongi waits for you to answer, and a part of you wants to sit in silence and refuse to answer him. Because admitting it out loud means that he knows, knows without any shadow of a doubt, that while you were beside him, you were thinking of someone else. That you were emotionally betraying him. But Yoongi waits, he sits in stoic silence and simply waits for you to say something and you know you have no choice but to say the words out loud.

“I- We used to come here together. Me and him. This was his favourite fishing spot” You finally say, voice quiet and full of anguish because you know that your words are going to hurt him and you can’t bear the thought of hurting Yoongi; sweet innocent Yoongi who never asked for this. Who knows that despite how much you love him, you yearn for someone else, someone you can’t have. The same Yoongi who has shown you nothing but love and understand. And you hate yourself even more. Hate how you hurt him, break his heart over and over again and yet need him, for he’s the last bit of solace you have in this world.

You watch Yoongi grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he stares off into the distant ocean. His rod is placed beside him, the fish he had caught long since gone. You bite your lip, willing him to say something, anything. But he simply sits there, fist clenched with grit teeth, jaw twitching every now and then and you can’t help but want to reach out and hold him, try and placate him somehow. But you don’t have the right. You know you don’t. Any other time, yes. But not right now, not when you’re hurting him like this. A couple moments pass and then he relaxes, breathing out heavily.

“Do you want to leave?” Yoongi asks and once again you hesitate. Yes. Of course, you want to leave. This place, when you had first entered, had been fun and light and you’d enjoyed every single moment with Yoongi. But now, now it was tainted and you hated yourself and your brain for ruining this day. Today was supposed to be fun. You and Yoongi were supposed to sit and enjoy a few hours of fishing before eating the picnic the two of you had packed. But now everything is tainted, painted red with your memories of Seokjin and you want to leave.

But that’s exactly why you hesitate. You can see how hurt Yoongi is. You can see the slight defeat in his body language. See the slight slump of his shoulder. You wonder what’s going through that enigmatic mind of his. Whether he’s wondering if you’ll ever be rid of the ghost of your ex-boyfriend, wondering if you’ll ever be able to simply just be with him. These are the reasons you hesitate because you know you can’t keep doing this. You know you can’t keep betraying him like this. You can’t keep the past from haunting your future.

“Uh- no. No. let’s stay. I want to stay. That was all in the past. You’re the one I’m with now. You’re the one I want to be here with” You reply, swallowing thickly. Yoongi’s face lightens up slightly, his body perking up as he looks at you in perplexity. You hate that. Hate his sudden disbelief and surprise. As if choosing him over Seokjin was completely new to him, completely surprising and unthinkable. You hate that you did that to him.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, voice quiet, as if expecting you to change your mind.

“I’m sure. I want to be here. With you. Just you” You reply and Yoongi nods, a small smile on his face. You scooch closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he continues to fish.

The two of you sit like that for what feels like hours. Realistically it’s only been an hour, maybe less. But the tension is thick and it only aides in making the time pass by slowly. The two of you sit in silence once again. Every now and then you open your mouth to say something, but you don’t know what to say. There’s nothing really you can say. You want to apologise but really, what do the words means when your actions speak much louder. There’s so much at the tip of your tongue but it’s all meaningless because you know what you’ve done, you know how you’ve made him feel. And suddenly, nothing is enough. There aren’t enough words in any language to make things better. It’s getting later in the day, the time passing slowly as the silence mocks the two of you and soon the sun will begin setting. You finally bring up the courage to touch Yoongi on the shoulder, pushing his rod to the side.

“The sun’s going to set soon, do you wanna watch it with me?” You ask nervously. Your eyes are slightly downcast and you pull your lip between your teeth, worrying it. You can feel Yoongi’s calculating gaze on you and briefly wonder whether he’s going to reject it. Reject you. You wouldn’t fault him if he does.

He doesn’t.

Yoongi puts down his rod, placing it beside him before nodding. You scooch closer towards him, practically pressing your side against him as you once again rest your head on his shoulder. Yoongi turns his head and kisses your temple before pulling your hand into his, entwining your finger’s together. He places your hand in his lap before leaning his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in silence once again, Yoongi absentmindedly playing with your fingers. This time, the silence isn’t as tense, but back to being easy and companionable.

Briefly, you think you see the same figure walk past again but this time, you ignore it. This time, you curl further into Yoongi’s embrace, turning your head and placing a light kiss on his neck. The time, you choose to enjoy the sunset with Yoongi. Choose to enjoy the way he feels against your body, the way he smells, the way he plays with your small fingers with his larger, slender ones. This time, you choose Yoongi.

Today, you think, is a wonderful day. Lately, Yoongi has been busy, he’s an award-winning solo rapper and music producer after all. One of the best producers in his company. Hence despite his latest album just being released two months ago, he’s already busy helping other artists in the company produce their albums. As a result, his work load has almost tripled and it means you haven’t been able to spend as much time with your boyfriend. But today, is one of his very few day offs. Consequently, today is also a day you both go out on a date.

Yoongi has managed to rent out a small music shop in an even smaller street just on the outskirts of Seoul. He’s currently sat beside you, expert fingers dancing across the keys of the piano. You’re leaning against the polished wood of the instrument, watching the way he loses himself in the sound and rhythm of the song. It’s a song you know well, one full of emotion. He doesn’t need to rap the lyrics, you know the song, ‘First Love’, like the back of your hand. But the way he plays, the deep sounds of the piano and hauntingly chilling and less upbeat without the extra background instruments and music.

Somehow, you fall in love with him all over again. The way he closes his eyes and plays, the way his body is relaxed, the way he loves music. It all resonates deep within your heart and just as Yoongi loses himself in his music, you lose yourself in Yoongi. You love him. You more in love with him than you’ve ever been before. You know this, know it as well as you know the back of your hand.

You continue staring at him, just watching the way he plays. For the briefest moment, you remember a similar memory, locked far away in your head. A memory of Seokjin playing the guitar for you, the way he’d strum the strings and sing in that beautiful voice of his. But just as quickly as the memory enters your mind, it fades away. You’re too lost in Yoongi, too fixated on the man you’re currently in love with. In fact, you barely even register the memory as painful, instead remembering it with fondness before once again focusing on the piano player in front of you.

The two of you spend another hour or so in the record shop, letting Yoongi attempt to teach you how to play. It doesn’t work very well, you’ve never been good with instruments and that wouldn’t change in one single day. You do applaud Yoongi’s patience with you throughout the entire day however. Sadly, Yoongi has to go back to the studio and with a long kiss, the two of you part.

You practically skip the entire way home; your smile so wide people probably assume you’re a bit crazy. But you don’t care. You love Yoongi. You’re in love with Min Yoongi and you’d willingly shout it to the world at this point. A small, very minuscule part of you feels guilty. Guilty that you’re forgetting Seokjin and moving on. But the larger part of you doesn’t care. The larger part of you is ready to move on because that very same part is madly, head over heels in love with Yoongi.

However, it all comes crashing down the minute you enter your apartment.

Some days are good.

Some days are worse.

Today simply happens to be the worst of the worst.

Because for some reason Seokjin is standing in front of you. It’s impossible, you know it is. But there he is, looking as handsome as he did the day he disappeared from your life once and for all. Your eyes are impossibly wide, gaze trailing over him with disbelief. It’s impossible. You’re going crazy. Perhaps this is all because you feel guilty, but there he is. Your keys drop to the floor and your body quivers; you can feel yourself on the cusp of breaking down, large tears threatening to spill.

“H-how? What are you doing here? How, how are you here? You can’t be here” You stammer out, but he just looks at you from his position by the living room window, sending you a furtive glance.

“You know exactly how I’m here” Seokjin says cryptically and his voice sounds foreign to you, it’s his but it’s not. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it.

“I don’t… I don’t understand” You reply and Seokjin shrugs, a small secretive smile on his face. He glances at the keys on the floor and you quickly bend over, picking them up.

“You never changed the locks, did you? Not that you really needed to. I’m the one that left after all. Disappeared from your life in a flash” Seokjin chuckles, his tone is completely brazen and it’s like you’re reliving it all over again. The way he was in your life one minute and then gone the next.

“I thought you’d have moved out. The place looks nice, different but nice I guess” He comments as he looks around and you want to go up to him, touch him. But you can’t, and you know exactly why you can’t. So instead, you stand frozen in the entry of your doorway, gaping at him with tear filled eyes.

“I almost did” you confess, “move out that is. But there are too many memories here, both good and bad” You breathe out. This was the same apartment you and Seokjin had moved into back when the two of you had started university. The two of you had always talked about moving out once you graduated. Alas, that had never happened. You were still here. In the same small apartment from when you and Seokjin were still together. It was almost like a symbol, just how you were stuck in this apartment, your heart and mind were stuck in the past, lost between Seokjin and Yoongi.

“Yeah. I know. Do you love him? You know, the new guy” Seokjin asks, his head cocking to the side slightly.

“I do. A lot” You reply tersely and Seokjin laughs, you heart griping at the familiar squeaky laugh. But it’s not the same. It’s somewhat distorted. You remember it. But not very well. It’s been so long.

“More than you loved me?” Seokjin asks, eyes sparkling with mirth, a small smirk on his face. You hate him. Hate him for driving you this crazy.

“No” it’s a simple answer, you don’t even need to hesitate or think it through, “I could never love someone the way I loved you. But I do love him. Different to the way I loved you, but just as much” You follow up, voice shaky. Seokjin laughs once again and before he levels his gaze at you, a dark smirk on his face.

“Do you fuck him in our bed?” He asks and a shiver runs up your spine. You close your eyes and shake your head.

“I got rid of the bed. I… I couldn’t keep it any longer” You reply, unsure why you did. This is just your mind taunting you. Your guilt manifesting as your deepest, darkest fears. You feel like you’re forgetting him. You don’t want to.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. You moved on, what? A year and a half after I left? And now you’re slowly forgetting me” Seokjin says simply, his tone slightly accusatory.

“No! No. I could never forget you” You reply earnestly, arguing more with yourself than anything but Seokjin shakes his head.

“You forgot me today. And that day when you went fishing. You’re slowly getting over me. Slowly forgetting me. What happens then? Will I cease to exist in your memory? Will you ever remember me? Or will I become a faceless person in your past?” Seokjin asks, head cocked to the side and his words cause your heart to ache, your bones to tremor and the tears to finally spill.

“I’ll remember. I’ll always remember. I could never forget. I remember the smell of your cologne. I remember the way you used to sing in the shower and the way you’d bring me breakfast in the morning. I remember your birthday and your brother’s favourite song. I remember the way you’d hold me at night and the sound of your breathing the nights I’d lay awake next to you, watching you sleep. I remember. I remember everything. I remember you. More than I want to. I could never forget you but I can’t keep loving you. I can’t keep living in the past. So please… just let me move on” You cry, voice trembling. Seokjin approaches you slowly and you shake your head, letting the tears roll down your cheeks.

“I need you to leave. Please just leave. I can’t do this anymore. You can’t be here” You gasp out, breath in staggered shudders as you slowly find it harder and harder to breathe. He’s so close now. Close enough to touch. Close enough to reach out to. But you don’t. Instead, he just walks past you before disappearing. As soon as he vanishes you let out a small wail, dropping to your knees before sobbing, crying out for everything you loved and lost. You cry for the unfairness of it all. You cry for Yoongi, who doesn’t deserve any of this. You cry for Seokjin because you miss him, more and more each day. But most importantly, you cry for yourself; because no matter what you know his memory will always haunt you. You cry because you know no matter what, you’ll always love him.

It’s been almost two weeks since the debacle that you were now calling The Incident™. You haven’t told Yoongi anything, you absolutely refuse to. Things were slowly getting better and you didn’t want the slight setback to ruin anything. You and Yoongi were doing good and he was much happier now. He no longer looked at you sadly every now and then, he no longer gave you the knowing look. Which was exactly why instead of speaking to him about The Incident™ you hide it for him, instead bottling up all your emotions.

So, you pretend everything is fine. Pretend that everything is good and that you’ve been coping better. You pretend that your emotions aren’t eating you alive inside. You pretend that you don’t miss Seokjin and pretend that there aren’t times when you wish Yoongi was Seokjin. You pretend that you don’t sometimes imagine Seokjin holding you at night instead of Yoongi or that it isn’t Yoongi you’re sleeping next to but Seokjin. You pretend and pretend and pretend. It’s awful and you know it is. Which is why you pretend that your guilt isn’t slowly consuming you from the inside out. It’s a vicious cycle.

Of course, there are good days and bad days. But lately, it seems like it’s all bad. There are brief moments you forget about Seokjin and don’t have to pretend. But those moments are few and far between. Lately all you can think about is Seokjin and your emotions are slowly killing you, breaking you apart. Some days it’s easier because Yoongi is working and you can go days without seeing him and you can live in your memories of Seokjin. Others, Yoongi is beside you and you have to pretend.

Today is another day you’re pretending.

Today is one of the few days Yoongi has off and as a result, the two of you find yourself nestled in bed, your laptop between the two of you as you sit and watch films on Netflix. Your head is currently laying on Yoongi’s chest, his hand rested on your back as it slowly traces up and down your body. You squirm against him, the movement of his fingers only serving to turn you on.

It’s been just over a good two weeks since you slept with Yoongi. Your body was craving sex at this point, but with how much you’d been pretending lately, you didn’t want to take any chances and so you’d shied away from Yoongi’s advances. Thankfully, for one week, you had been on your period. But now you had no excuses other than not wanting to. Which was a lie. You wanted sex. Your body craved it. But again, you didn’t want to take any chances.

But as Yoongi’s hand move up and down your back, your eyes flutter shut and you breathe in deeply, heat pooling in your belly. Your resolve is slowly vanishing with each passing second. Yoongi’s hand dips into the waistband of your panties, large palm resting on your ass. The cold of his hand against the heat of your ass has you throwing all caution to the wind. You shift from your position on his chest, stretching over and drawing his lips in for a kiss.

Yoongi quickly sits up, pulling you closer to him by your neck as he licks your lips, deepening the kiss. You moan into his mouth, your tongues lashing against each other. Yoongi’s hands slip into your hair from the nape of your neck, fingers clutching your locks and tugging you deeper into the kiss. You gasp slightly at the pain before Yoongi breaks the kiss. He tugs at your hair once again, this time pulling your head back and exposing your neck. He runs his nose along the flesh, pressing bruising kisses along the column of your throat.

Yoongi pulls away from his mission to litter the supple skin of your neck with hickeys, his hands moving to the hem of your t-shirt before pulling it off and leaving you in nothing but your panties. Similarly, you reach over and pull his t-shirt off of him, revealing pale smooth skin. You push Yoongi over, crawling on top of him so that you’re straddling his body. His hands move to your hips, fingers digging into the skin as you trail your lips down his neck and to his nipples. Your tongue slides out to swirl around his dark hardened bud, drawing out a small whine from your boyfriend.

Soon you reach the waistband of his boxers, kissing the band before slowly peeling them off of his skin, leaving him completely naked. You lick your lips at the sight, his cock standing completely erect, twitching every now and then. Small black hairs are neatly trimmed and his balls are round and so full. You reach over, a small hand wrapping around the slight curve of his shaft. You’d forgotten how long and veiny he was, with a pretty mushroom cockhead. You slowly pump him up and down, in slight awe of how hard he is.

Yoongi moves so that he’s kneeling, hands tangling into your hair as you stay bent over on all fours. You kiss the tip of his erect cock, slowly opening your mouth to suck at the tip of his dick. Your lips wrap around his head, slowly suckling the tip into your mouth as precum drips out and coats your tongue in the slightly salty substance. Yoongi lets out a little moan, thrusting into your mouth slightly as he urges you to take him deeper into your mouth. You willingly swallow more of him, tongue swirling around the engorged head, groaning at the taste of his precum.

You began bobbing your head, taking more and more of his hard length into your mouth. Yoongi began thrusting his hips gradually, forcing more and more of his cock into your mouth until you took in his whole shaft, your nose pressed against his pelvic bone. He watched with rapt fascination as you stared at him through half lidded eyes, his fists tightening around your head and pulling your head down harder, your tongue circling around the bell of his penis before licking the underside. Yoongi let out a small whine at the action and you smile from under him, enjoying the pleasure you wrought on his body. Yoongi thrusts harder into your mouth, losing himself in the feel of your lips wrapped tightly around his shaft, letting out a small groan whenever you flick your tongue against his slit, licking the precum.

“Fuck it’s been so long since I’ve had your mouth on me sweetheart. Do you like this? Do you like the way I taste?” Yoongi asks and you nod from under him. Yoongi was salty, slightly bitter and deliciously thick. A combination that drove you wild. You loved to taste him, loved when he came in your mouth so you could swallow him down. He tastes different to Seokjin, who was sharper and sweeter. You metaphorically bite your tongue, hating that even now you were still thinking about Seokjin.

You try to focus more on sucking Yoongi’s cock, licking at the underside before swirling around his cock as you bob up and down. You’re slowly coating his cock in your saliva, the mixture of your spit and his precum turning him into a sticky mess. While you continue sucking Yoongi off, his hand moves down your back to the flesh globes of your ass, hands brushing against your soft skin before trailing to your dripping panty covered slit. He pushes your underwear to the side before tracing a finger up and down your wet folds, making your eyes roll back into your skull at the sudden simulation.

Yoongi smirks from above you, slowly sliding a digit into your wet, slick heat until it is knuckle deep. You mewl around his dick, shaking your ass slightly as you silently beg for more, the vibrations around his cock driving him wilder and causing him to increase the speed of his thrusting hips as he begins fucking your mouth. Yoongi slips another finger into your honeyed hole, pumping both his digits in and out, twisting and curling them. You let out a chorus of mewls as he brushes against that soft spot inside your pussy, cunt pulsing around his fingers as you continue gushing your arousal around his hand.

Your teeth graze against the base of his shaft, his cockhead nestled down your throat as you try not to gag and choke. Tingles of pleasure run along your spine and down to your toes as Yoongi continues his ministrations. You move one of your hands to his balls, palming and squeezing the sensitive organs. Yoongi snarls at the action, snapping his hip and forcing himself further down your throat. You struggle to swallow around him, instead gagging and coating his dick in another layer of spit. Yoongi pulls out one of his fingers from your cunt, moving it up to your asshole before tracing the puckered rim. You gasp against his dick as he slowly pushes the slick covered digit into your ass, hips squirming at the somewhat foreign feeling.

You stiffen as he slowly thrusts one finger into your ass, the other buried deep into your pussy, wiggling slowly against your sweet spot. You slump slightly against Yoongi, making him increase the pace of his fingers and the speed of his thrusts. You suck at him harder, bucking and trashing your hips against his fingers as you feel the coil in your abdomen heat up and clench. You’re almost at the cusp of your orgasm, dangling just of the edge. You feel Yoongi’s balls tighten in the palm of your hand, rolling and massaging them in your hands as you try to make him cum quicker, your own end nearing.

"Oh, oh fuck, I'm cumming" Yoongi groans, gritting his teeth as he continued pumping his fingers into you. Suddenly, he removes his finger from your pussy, instead pushing it into your ass, stretching out the tight passage. You whimper at the slight stinging of the stretch, arching your back as you’re suddenly pushed over the edge. Your pussy clamps almost painfully around nothing, clenching and unclenching as you gush, moaning and mewling against his throbbing cock while you cum. The feeling of your wet mouth and vibration of your groans pushes Yoongi off of the edge; he thrusts his hip as hard as he can, forcing himself down your thrust before cumming. You feel his cum shoot down the back of your throat, swallowing the warm liquid eagerly and making sure you don’t waste a single drop.

“Fuck. I love you” Yoongi muttered, pulling you off of his dick before kissing you, tasting himself.

You kiss him back fervently, your fingers burying into his thick locks as you tug him closer. Yoongi flips the two of you over before pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls your underwear down your hips and off of your legs before brushing his hands up your long limbs, until they were resting on your thighs. He slowly moves his palms until his fingers are spread over the soft inner flesh of your thighs before slowly spreading you open. He watches the way your dripping petals slowly open up for him, moaning as he stares at your soaked cunt. Yoongi slowly leans over, pressing a kiss against your clit. You whine, shaking your head before pulling him up until he’s hovering over you.

“I need you in me” You breathe out. One of Yoongi’s hands moves to cup your pussy, thumb brushing against your clit. You shudder under him, throwing your head to the side as he bends over, kissing your neck.

“I want to eat you out” Yoongi whines and you shake your head, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I need you in me. Please” You practically beg. Yoongi groans at the neediness in your voice before nodding. He shifts above you, moving so his hands cage you between both his arms. His hips move slightly and you buck when the tip of his cock brushes against your pulsing cunt. You lean up, drawing him in for a kiss as he slowly slides his cock into your waiting pussy. You moan as he slowly enters you, his girth stretching your pussy out. Yoongi breaks off your kiss with a hiss, burying his face into the crook of your neck at the feel of your cunt walls clamping around his cockhead. He continues pushing more and more into you, your thighs spreading, knees bending as you accept more and more of him into you.

Finally, when he’s completely embedded deep into your pussy, his cockhead kissing your cervix, he stills. You look up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes, completely lost in the way he opens you up. Yoongi stills for a couple moments, allowing you to get used to his size before pulling out and thrusting in once again, this time in one smooth glide. You let out a choked-out moan, your legs kicking until they were wrapped around his waist, using his hips as leverage to push into his slow but hard thrusts.

Yoongi moved his head from your neck, trailing his lips across your collarbone as he pressed soft kisses against your delicate skin. He adjusted his angle, thrusting in once again, head brushing against your g-spot. You stilled, your body heating up as you felt inexplicable pleasure. Your nerve endings caught on fire, as if being constantly shocked every time Yoongi thrust into you. Yoongi moaned from above you when he felt your pussy gush around him, your cunt spasming against his cock. You let out a small whine when Yoongi thrusts harder into you, impaling you over and over again with harsh thrusts. The intensity of his cock plunging into you has your body shuddering and quivering. You feel every vein and ridge of his dick dragging against your pussy walls as he penetrates you, your velvety cunt gripping him tightly.

“Fuck… I’m cumming” You mewl, slowly losing yourself in all the pleasure. Yoongi grins against your skin, biting your collarbone before lapping at the skin. He trails kisses down to the valley of your breasts, pressing a kiss against your sternum before taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling harshly. Suddenly, Yoongi bites your nipple and your back arches in pleasure, your hips and body writhing on his dick with reckless abandon as your nerves prickle with hot waves of euphoria. One of Yoongi’s hands moves to play with your clit, thumb rolling against the hardened bundle of nerves. Your feel your womb tighten as your orgasm nears, the intensity of his ministrations searing along every fibre of your being as you’re set afire with pleasure.

“Fuck, please. Can’t, please” You babble, unable to form coherent thoughts as you’re drowned in the pleasure wrought on your body. You faintly acknowledge Yoongi grinning against your breast, the hand that’s not preoccupied with playing with your clit entwining with yours as you hold hands. You can feel him pour out all his love into each and every action as he drives into you over and over again, impaling you roughly on his cock.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you” Yoongi whispers, but you don’t hear it. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure, pussy rippling. All of a sudden you cum, the slowly building coil unravelling all at once into fiery white-hot pleasure. Yoongi grunts at the feel of your cunt clamping down tightly; he pushes your hips down into the bed, pounding violently into you, fucking you into the bed. He hammers into your cunt one final time, burrowing as deep into your core as he could get before letting out a piercing groan, his body shaking in overwhelming lust and euphoria as he emptied himself into your pussy, spurt after spurt of his cum pouring into your wet heat as he came.

“Seokjin!” You scream, your pussy gushing against Yoongi’s cock. All of a sudden Yoongi freezes above you. But you don’t care, you’re still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, too consumed by rapture to notice Yoongi’s sudden stillness. You slowly come down from your high, body shuddering and gasping for air. You slowly come to, registering Yoongi’s frozen form but still hard dick inside you. You whine slightly, bucking as you try to remove him from your sensitised pussy, but Yoongi is unresponsive.

“Yoongi?” You ask, looking at him in perplexity. He’s staring down at you, a mixture of shock, anger but most importantly distress.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong?”You repeat, but suddenly he’s getting off of you, staring at you in both betrayal and repulsion.

“It’s Yoongi” He says, voice quiet.

“I know it’s you, why are you suddenly bringing this up?” You question, but with the way he’s currently standing, completely naked and fists clenched, a small inkling of doubt and worry crawls under your skin. What did you do? Suddenly, Yoongi starts chuckling, shaking his head as he laughs in incredulity.

“You don’t even know. You don’t even realise. You said his name. You screamed Seokjin’s name instead of mine” Yoongi says, face immediately turning stony as he levels his gaze at you. You stare at him, blood running cold. No. There’s no way. You wouldn’t. Because if you had, that would make you the biggest dick on this planet.

“I- I no. No, I didn’t. I couldn’t have” You try stuttering out but Yoongi simply shakes his head, turning away.

“But you did. I heard it. Is this what it’s come to? You’re thinking of him now?” Yoongi suddenly bursts out.

“No! Yoongi, no I wasn’t! I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt you like that” You say desperately, trying to crawl over and reach out to him. Yoongi scoffs and pulls away and your heart breaks just a little more at his obvious rejection.

Yoongi wouldn’t make this up. And there was a very, very small chance that you could have said Seokjin’s name. Especially with how much you’ve been pretending lately. You don’t want to admit that out loud. You can already see how heartbroken and anguished Yoongi is. You’d could never admit that yes, sometimes you wished he was Seokjin. That sometimes you’d pretend it was Seokjin beside you and not him. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t break Yoongi’s heart like that. Not anymore than you clearly already have.

“But you have. You didn’t want to hurt me and yet you already have. Is this how it’s always going to be? It’s been two and a half years since Seokjin. We met a year after him. Started dating a year and a half after him We’ve been together almost a year. So why are we still on this? Why do we always come back here? Is this how it’s always going to be? Am I always going to be your second choice? Because I can’t do it. I won’t do it,” Yoongi finally says, defeat lacing his voice.

“No! Yoongi I’m sorry! Please I’m sorry” You desperately call out to him but Yoongi simply scoffs.

“That’s all I get! Apologies. You keep saying sorry and things are okay for a little while but then we come back here. To this same place. We always come back here because you just can’t seem to let go of him. I love you but I don’t think I can do this anymore” Yoongi says and suddenly it feels like your entire world is crashing down. He can’t mean he’s breaking up with you? You love Yoongi. You’re in love with Yoongi.

“I- Yoongi no. I-“ You try to express the depths of your feelings for him, but the words just won’t come out. Your mouth is completely dry, as if cotton coats your throat and like you’d swallowed a mouthful of ash. The words are at the tip of your tongue and yet no matter what you do, you just can’t seem to utter them.

“Even now. I see that you’re trying to tell me you love me, but you can’t say the words, can you?” Yoongi asks in complete frustration and your face crumples in despair because he’s right. You both know he is.

“You know you’ve never told me you love me? You just smile, or say same. But you’ve never once said those words to me. Not a single time. And I know. I know it’s because the last person you said it to was him. It’s like you think that saying it to me, will completely remove it from him. That you’ll have nothing of him left. But I can’t do this anymore. I love you and I can’t be him. I’m not him” Yoongi exclaims and his words only causes guilt to wash over you. He doesn’t know you’ve been pretending he was Seokjin and yet it’s like he knows.

You’d once thought that you’d wish Yoongi would take out his frustration. Wish he’d yelled at you instead of being sympathetic. Wished that the two of you would somehow manage to talk it now. But now that it’s happening you hate it. You’d rather he be more understanding. Because he’s right. And his words hurt like a dull knife digging directly into your heart. Yoongi isn’t Seokjin. He could never be Seokjin. They were both night and day and yet in some aspects, just like dawn and dusk, they blend. Seokjin was playful and bright like the summer whereas Yoongi was calm and contemplative, like the winter. Your comparison of them wasn’t fair to either man. They were different human beings, different stories, different personalities. You used to love Seokjin. You would for the rest of your life. But it’s Yoongi that you’re in love with now and you want, want so desperately to express the notion to him. But you can’t.

“You know why I can’t say it. I do. I feel everything I felt for him and so much more towards you. But I can’t… I can’t say the words and you know why. So please, just for now, let it be enough. Can’t it be enough?” You ask, but it’s a futile effort and completely in vain. You can see the exhaustion in Yoongi’s figure. You can see that he’s at breaking point. And yet, you want to try and salvage this relationship. You want to hold on to Yoongi.

“I’m trying to be understanding _____. I really am. But after today… I need some time” Yoongi finally utters as he begins getting dressed. You can’t bring yourself to do anything but watch him. There are so many things you want to say but all you have are actions. And despite the notion that actions speak a thousand words, sometimes actions just aren’t enough. Sometimes you need words. Sometimes you need words of ‘I love you’ and words of affirmation. Because just actions aren’t enough.

They’re not. Not anymore at least. You know that. Yoongi knows that. And he wants to walk away but he sees you, sees the love you have for him in your eyes, in your actions. The way you kiss him and hold him at night. He sees it all. But after tonight, he’s left wondering whether you see him or if you see him. Wonders whether it’s all been a lie. Deep down, he knows. He knows you see him and not anyone else. And you may not be able to say the words but you feel it. But after tonight, feelings just aren’t enough and he needs the words. He needs you to tell him it’s him that you love, and it’s him that you want to be with. But with each passing minute, he knows you aren’t going to say it. No matter how much he hopes.

Time runs out when he’s finally dressed. He lets out a shaky sigh and runs a finger through his hair, pushing the locks out of his eyes. He closes his eyes and draws in every bit of strength and courage he can before turning back to look at you. There’s desperation in your eyes. You want him to stay, but he needs time. Yoongi slowly approaches you, and you perk up, a small inkling of hope in your eyes that maybe it’s okay. That maybe the two of you will somehow get through it.

“I love you. I’m sorry” Yoongi mutters, pressing a soft kiss against your temple. And then he walks away. And every bit of hope you have is gone. And then you’re left completely alone. In the dark of your room.

It’s been two weeks since Yoongi walked out of your apartment. Two whole weeks since you’ve seen your boyfriend. You’ve tried calling and texting him, but he’s ignoring you. Hell, you even tried turning up to his studio, but each time, he wasn’t in. You have no idea where you stand with Yoongi. Whether the two of you have broken up, whether the two of you are still together. You’re completely in the dark. A small part of you wonders if it’s for the best. That’s the same part that still misses and yearns for Seokjin. But the bigger part of you, the one that wants to move on. The one that is in love with Yoongi, wants to make up with him. Wants to kiss him and hold him and be with him forever.

You’ve had two whole weeks to contemplate your feelings. Two whole weeks to sort out exactly what you feel for both Seokjin and Yoongi. Granted, you spent the first few days crying in bed. But the more days that passed, the more you realised, you weren’t crying because of Seokjin. You were crying because you had lost Yoongi. Yoongi with his pretty features, odd sarcastic sense of humour and sleepy tendencies. The same Yoongi who appeared gruff and cold at first, but the more you got to know, the more turned out to be a soft and caring person. And for the first time in years, you’ve come up with a decision. You’ve decided to move on. Seokjin may have been your past, but Yoongi was your future and you’re so in love with him that you can’t imagine your life without him.

You know you have to make it up to him somehow. You need to prove that you love him and most importantly you need to say the words. You have no idea how to go about it however, especially with how much he’s avoiding you. You know Yoongi. He wants his space, but he also wants you to prove he means something to you. You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you contemplate exactly how you’re going to make it up to him. Suddenly, an idea pops into you head. Yours and Yoongi’s first anniversary is coming up in less than a week. And you have just the idea of how to apologise and win him back.

You scramble out of bed, almost falling when your legs entangle with the covers. You reach over to your phone, messaging the two people you know will be able to help you sort out your predicament, help you plan your apology and make sure that Yoongi actually turns up rather than just avoiding you.

A couple days later, you find yourself in the lamb skewer shop in which you had first met Min Yoongi an entire year and a half ago. Luckily, the restaurant owner had a sweet spot for you from back when you worked here during university and had allowed you to rent out the entire place in order to apologise to Yoongi. You quickly ran around the shop, ensuring everything was perfectly in place and ready to welcome Yoongi. The old man who cooked at the restaurant had left the lamb skewers, rice and a couple other side dishes on the table, ready for the two of you to dine. Checking the time, you began smoothing out your dress and hair; nervously twiddling as you awaited Namjoon and Hoseok’s arrival with Yoongi.

You didn’t have to wait long. A couple moments later, the restaurant door opened and in walked Namjoon and Hoseok, followed by Yoongi. You quickly stood up straight, biting your lip nervously as you set eyes on Yoongi for the first time in almost three weeks. His hair has changed, you notice. Previously dark and natural, it’s now the lightest shade of bleached platinum blonde, falling freely into his eyes. It suits him. He looks radiant. He’s dressed in his usual black skinny jeans and black hoodie but and even though he’s dressed casually and you’ve dolled yourself up, he still somehow manages to look better than you do.

“Wha-What is going on?” Yoongi asks as he spots you. His eyes rove over your figure, the empty restaurant with only one table set up before landing on your face. You smile nervously at him, sending him a hopeful glance.

“We’re gonna go, leave you two to talk this out. Enjoy” Namjoon says with a reassuring smile before grabbing Hoseok and leaving the two of you alone.

“____ what’s going on?” Yoongi asks, still stood in the doorway. He looks around unassured and you feel your heart drop at his uncertainty of being with you. However, you steel yourself and smile at him, trying to suppress your nerves.

“Happy first anniversary!” You say nervously, your feet shifting every now and then.

“Do you think this makes up for everything?” Yoongi asks, his eyes narrowing. You shake your head quickly, gulping hesitantly.

“No. Of course not. I just… give me five minutes to explain?” You plead. Yoongi hesitates before nodding; he walks up to the table you’ve had set up before taking a seat. You quickly take the seat opposite him before you began serving him. Yoongi stares at the plate before turning to you, looking at you expectantly. You sigh, knowing he’s not going to start eating until you say your peace. You bite your lip nervously and take a deep breath before looking directly into his eyes.

“I’m sorry” You begin and Yoongi scoffs, opening his mouth to respond but you shake your head, “no please. Just let me speak?” You quickly cut him off. Yoongi huffs but nods, gesturing for you to continue.

“I’m sorry. I know those words basically mean nothing to you anymore but I need you to know that I am sorry. For everything I’ve put you through this past year. I have no excuses for what I did to you, for what I put you through but I am sorry. I know, I know it’s been two and a half years since him, but you have to understand that I was with him for six years. From high school all the way to the end of university. He’s not a simple part of my past that I can just erase and forget. I loved him and for the longest time, he was my entire world. I was sure we’d grow old and get married together. I’m not going to lie. There were times when I wished he was here, when I’d contemplate the what ifs. What if he was still here. What if he was in your place. What if… he was you. And that wasn’t fair to you. You’re not Seokjin. You’re your own person and I shouldn’t have compared the two of you. You’re right. It has been two and a half years… and he’s not coming back. No matter how much time passes. And it’s not fair to keep living in the past” You begin. Yoongi watches you, his expression stoic, eyes shielded from you, giving nothing away of his feelings.

“I’m sorry for the way I made you feel, that you were second best or that you had to compete with him. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I shouldn’t have made you feel like that. And you’re not. You’re not my second choice. You changed my entire world Yoongi. When we met, in this restaurant, a year and a half ago. I was a complete mess. I was still heartbroken and lost and drowning in my own memories. But you pulled me out. You made everything so much better. I didn’t think I could ever feel the way I felt for him again. But I did. I fell for you harder than I thought was possible. I had no idea that meeting you would change my life but it did” You continue, your voice cracking and eyes welling up with tears.

“Losing you for two weeks showed me that I can’t keep living in the past. I can’t… I can’t keep thinking about the what ifs or wondering about what my life would be like with Seokjin. Not when it means losing you. I can’t keep comparing you to him and I definitely can’t be imagining you as him. You were right. I felt guilty. I felt guilty about moving on and that was why I couldn’t say the words. I did feel like, if I said it, I would lose the very last piece of him that I had left and I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. I’m ready to move on, with you. I want to be with you Yoongi. Only you. For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me?” You finally finish, hope in your voice. Yoongi lets out a little sigh. He rubs the back of his neck nervously before looking at you hesitantly.

“I love you ____. But, I don’t know if I can do this. I need to know that you want to be with me. How do I know this isn’t the same as before? That you apologise now and everything is fine for a few weeks before you’re thinking about him again? I can’t keep fighting you for someone who isn’t here. I feel like I’ve had every piece of you, the good, the bad. But I don’t feel like I’ve had the best, because it feels like those pieces are reserved for him. It feels like there are times when you see me but then other times I’m sharing you with his memory. When you wake up in the middle of the night crying out for him and I have to hold you and piece you back together. I can’t keep doing that because it hurts. It hurts knowing you’re not fully mine. That you’re not fully committed to me I want to believe you. I love you and I want to be with you… but I’m not sure anymore” Yoongi finally responds and you shake your head. The tears threaten to seep from your eyes and you reach out for his hand, gripping it tightly within your own.

“It’s different this time. It’s different because I’m letting him go. I love you. I am so irrevocably and uncontrollably in love with you, Min Yoongi. I know I’ve never said it before but I am now. Because I do. I love you. I love you so much. Please. I love you so much” You cry, the tears now falling freely as you sob the words out over and over again. You feel Yoongi remove his hand from yours and you lose the last bit of hope you had, wondering if perhaps it was too late. If the damage was too deep and scarring to recover from.

But then, he places his hand on your cheek and you release another sob. You melt into his hand, nuzzling into the palm before opening your eyes. Yoongi’s own eyes are slightly watery, but you know him well enough to know that he won’t let them fall. You let out a shaky breath before smiling at him, his eyes soft and filled with love, just like you remember them. Yoongi stands up, pulling you to your feet before leaning across the table and kissing you. His soft lips press into yours, moulding against your own lips. The two of you kiss for what feels like forever, your heart soaring as the both of you pour out all the love you have for each other.

Eventually, the two of you break apart. You let out a hiccupping laugh, foreheads pressed against each other’s. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away the tears before placing another delicate kiss against your lips. You grin at him, the two of you taking a seat at the table again. The food has long since gone cold, but you don’t care. You feel giddy, staring at Yoongi with a semi-wobbly smile.

“That’s the first time you told me you love me” Yoongi says, failing to suppress a smile and your heart pounds at his trademark gummy smile.

“I love you. I’ll say it as much as you want me to. I love you. I love you. I love you” You repeat over and over, loving the way pink dusts Yoongi’s cheeks as he blushes. He lets out a little laugh, unable to control himself and you giggle at the childlike exuberance he displays.

“I love you too. I love you so much” Yoongi utters, bringing your hand between his and entwining your fingers together before pulling them up to his lips, pressing soft kisses into the pads of your fingertips.

The two of you begin tucking into the lamb skewers, Yoongi groaning at the taste before praising them for being the best thing he’s ever tasted. You shake your head, laughing at him as you pile some more onto his plate. Somehow you both fall into an easy conversation, Yoongi talking about his latest project. You simply watch and listen as he goes on and on, loving the slight sparkle in his eye. You love when he gets like this, love how passionate he is about music. He’s currently talking about Hoseok’s soon to come out album and the different tracks he’s helped produce on it. You sit back and take him in, feeling yourself fall in love with him all over again.

“Happy first anniversary” You suddenly say, breaking his train of thought. Yoongi stills for a minute, perplexity written all over him before his face softens. He smiles widely at you, bright pink gums on display.

“Happy first-anniversary, ____” Yoongi replies. And it does. Feel like a happy anniversary. Because for the first time in years, Seokjin is nowhere in your mind. You’re completely focused on the man in front of you, the love of your life.

“Hi. It’s been a while. Three years on this day to be exact. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know how to face you, or have enough courage to come here. I miss you. I still miss you. Every day. More and more each day. I think I’ll miss you forever. I’m not going to lie. The day you left… the day you disappeared. I felt like a piece of me died. I loved you. For six years, I loved you. You said forever and I believed you. You promised you’d be here always. You were my everything. There are days when I smell someone wearing that stupid cologne you used to wear that I hated, or when your favourite cooking channel comes on and I miss you even more. I sometimes walk passed your gym and find myself just staring in, wondering if I’ll by chance see you working out there. Silly I know. You’d probably laugh at me if you could” You chuckle, taking in a deep breath as you think about what you want to say next.

“I’ll love you forever. I know I will but I think I have to let you go now. I think that’s what you’d want me to do. If you were still here and saw me the past few years, you’d probably yell at me in the way you used to and be like ‘yah! Life is for the living’ or something stupid like that and then you’d crack a stupid dad joke. I miss those stupid jokes. But yeah, I think you’d want me to move on. And I have. I’ve found someone else. His name is Min Yoongi, he’s a rapper and producer. I have a feeling that the two of you would have loved each other and would have gotten along really well. He’s a few months younger than you but I swear he’s grumpy old man. He loves fishing, just like you did. He actually took me to your favourite fishing spot one day. I missed you a lot that day. I swore I saw you then, but it’s probably my mind playing trick on me. I think if you were still around and you met Yoongi, he’d try to teach you the piano and you’d try to teach him the guitar. He doesn’t like working out though, but he does love basketball. You weren’t very good at basketball, even though you were so tall. Your shoulders and limbs were too long, you had no idea what to do with them. I’m just rambling now, sorry” You continue, tears rolling down your cheeks, a wistful smile on your face as you mindlessly play with the bouquet of blue flowers in your hand.

“I brought you your favourite flowers. The smeraldo ones you loved so much. Usually, people give white lilies but I looked up the meaning for these. ‘The sincerity that could not be delivered’, I think that’s very apt, don’t you? I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to come here, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t come here knowing I still wasn’t over you because I know that’s the last thing you’d have wanted. But I’m happy now. And in love with Min Yoongi. So desperately in love with him. Which is why I’m letting you go. It’s not fair that Yoongi has to compete with your ghost. I’ll never forget you. You were my first love. I love you. I always will. But I’m no longer in love with you” You sob out, furiously wiping the tears at your eyes.

You kneel over, crying softly as you place the bouquet of flowers down by Seokjin’s grave. You let out a little sob, reaching a hand out and brushing it against his name carved into the marble headstone before tracing the letters that spell out ‘beloved fiancé’. You pull your hand away, clenching it into a fist before covering your face with your hands, sobbing your entire heart out. You sit there for another five minutes; crying out every one of your feelings as you mourn the loss of you past lover. A few more moments pass and your sobs settle down into little sniffles. You wipe your face furiously before picking yourself up and off the ground. Taking in a few calming breaths, you steel yourself before looking down at his grave again.

“Until we meet again. Goodbye Seokjin” You finally utter, saying your final farewell. Then you turn around and walk away. You slowly stroll to the entrance of the cemetery, Yoongi standing by the gates, waiting for you. Yoongi smiles at you sadly but you shake your head. You hurriedly walk over to him, taking his hand into yours before smiling brightly at him.

“I love you” You smile, leaning on your tip toes before pressing a kiss on Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi’s grip on your hand tightens, squeezing as he offers you comfort.

“I love you too,” Yoongi says, smiling back at you. Your eyes are lighter now, brighter. There’re no dark shadows hiding in them, or that small inkling of melancholy that used to be hidden deep within them. Yoongi squeezes your hand again. Finally, it feels like he has you all to himself.

Because for one, you’re looking at him and only him. And there are no ghosts of your ex-boyfriend haunting you.

a/n: not going to lie, i sobbed like a little bitch writing the final scene

Mixtape Series | Masterlist

[purplesurveys]

1058

What color shirt do you plan on wearing tomorrow? I dunno yet. Our Christmas festivities are finally done, so I’ll only be at home tomorrow and, as usual, picking out the first shirt I see in my closet to wear in the house.

Do you plan out your clothes a day in advance? Yeah, mentally. When I go to sleep and I have to go out the next morning, I mentally plan my outfit < Yeup, bullseye. I get stressed when I have to plan out an outfit on the spot, so I make sure I do it at least the evening before so that I have enough time to think of pieces that would match each other or would look the most flattering on me, etc.

Do you ever wish you had more money for food? I’ve already started earning on my own, so I definitely have more money for food now, versus the time I was on an allowance and the chance to treat myself to nicer restaurants only came by once in a while.

Do you ever get cravings for food that you don’t have in the house and don’t have the money to buy? Yeah. When that happens I just try to find a budget version at home and eat that haha; like if I happen to be craving noodles or pasta, I just reach for one of the cheap cup noodles we have and hope it offers the same fulfilling experience.

What magazine would you like to be on the cover of? I’d rather work my ass off behind the camera and be part of the prod team than be on the cover of a magazine that would be seen by thousands or millions of people.

Have you ever considered modeling? I did as a young teenager. I was influenced by this old friend of mine who was really into Victoria’s Secret models and VSFS in general; she and her friends all followed the trend so closely and all of them wanted to do modeling. Eventually I got roped in and the whole thing sounded appealing to me too.

Do you have any significant health problems? Nope, I’m relatively healthy as is the rest of my immediate family.

Which celebrities do you resemble? I don’t think I look like anyone but I’ve gotten Anna Akana and Lucy Hale in the past.

What is your favorite type of pants? Denim mom jeans.

Do you make the most of every opportunity? That’s what I do now. I believed in myself a lot less as a teenager and let so many nice opportunities pass by me, and then I sulked whenever I saw someone grab it and enjoy it afterwards. Very pathetic of me. Eventually I got sick of being sad about something that was clearly my fault and I started taking more chances.

When was the last time you did something daring? I guess this’ll depend on what one counts as daring, but on Christmas Eve I greeted Gab a merry Christmas, and reminded her that I love her. What set it apart from previous times that I’ve done it is that I wasn’t desperate anymore. I didn’t say my feelings while depressed and crying. I was happy that night, and I was happy to simply be honest without expecting to hear anything back. I told her not to think too much about it, and that I just wanted to be honest because people simply deserve to know they are loved and because it was Christmas and I just wanted to share love with everyone. I then put my phone away for the rest of the evening and made Christmas happy for me. :)

When was the last time you went to the doctor’s for a health problem? I can no longer tell if it was late May or early June, but definitely during that time.

Do you take any medications? Nopes.

When was the last time you had a severe allergic reaction to something? I don’t have allergies but I’m starting to think I may have a mild one for face masks? (not the Covid ones, but the cold and slimy face sheets) My face gets so irritated and itchy whenever I put on one, and I’ve tried almost all kinds and all variations of face masks.

Have you ever had a life-threatening allergic reaction? Never have.

Do you rest when you feel you need to? Eh sometimes. Other times I get FOMO and would not want to miss out on an event or a gathering, so I attend no matter how beat I am.

Do you ever worry about not having enough? Yeah. That worry has been magnified since the pandemic hit and I find myself worrying about finances and stuff.

Do you use stickers? I love stickers and I used to design my laptop case with them. I’ve had the case removed for a while now, though.

Do you still enjoy suckers? Are those lollipops? Hmm, not really anymore, honestly. Whenever I’m handed one as a small treat, I ask if anyone else wants it. I don’t like how sticky they are.

Do you wear slipper socks? I don’t think so but I looked this up just now and they look so cute. Now I want a pair.

How often do you eat foreign foods? At least once a day. A lot of the things we eat as a family is influenced from other cultures.

List five of your favorite foreign foods. Sashimi, curry, pad thai, shakshouka, and risotto.

What types of seafood are your favorite? I like all kinds of seafood. My least favorite, but I still eat it anyway, is cooked fish. I prefer mine raw.

Do you have a neighbor that plays loud music? I used to, but they finally stopped a few weeks ago. It was such a relief when they did because for the longest time it kept me distracted while I had to work.

How many plaid shirts do you own? Just one, I think. I used to have at least a handful but I’ve already thrown those out because they’ve been out of style for a while.

Do you read a lot? Not anymore. I only read memoirs, and only a handful of them every year.

Do you write a lot for pleasure? I write a lot, but they’re reflective and autobiographical, like these surveys. I get pleasure out of this, so I suppose it counts? I never particularly enjoyed writing poems or short stories.

Are there any vlogs you subscribe to and watch regularly? I will watch some vlogs of local celebrities if the content is intriguing enough and if said celebrity doesn’t exude fakeness. But these days, I don’t really tune in to vlogs even though I’m subscribed to a bunch of channels.

What are your plans for tomorrow? More surveys, more embroidery, more 2 Days 1 Night.

Are you looking forward to next week? No :( I get back to work starting Jan 4th so I’m really going to let loose this week and do everything I want to do that I won’t be able to once work starts again.

Who is your favorite person? I don’t know if I have one.

Do you have a favorite pair of scissors? Hmm not really, though when I do my embroidery I steal the scissors from my mom’s drawer because it’s still very sharp and can cut threads easily.

Do you have any allergies? Nope.

[the-chanteloup]

InuYasha RP Bio

Omg. I’m alive! Things have been so hectic, I forgot I had a Tumblr! Silly me. Well, I’ve returned, and with that return, I give you my finalized InuYasha RP bio! 

So, I created this character about 18 years ago when InuYasha first aired on Adult Swim. I debuted her on Yahoo!Chat, and when that died, she sort of went into hibernation. With the series coming out, and this sudden surge of InuYasha, I really wanted to finalize her, and get her out into the world. :3  

Name (last, first): Setsuna ( Of the Karyukai, The Flower and Willow World )

Nickname(s): Hanyou, Runt, Pup, Geisha

Age: 55 (Youthful appearance, commonly mistaken for 20-25)

Species: Half-Dog Demon, Half-Human (Hanyou)

Gender: Female

Birthday: Around the Winter Solstice

Life Story:

Left on the doorstep of an orphanage in the village of Sawara, in a shabby reed basket during a harsh winter was not the ideal beginning, but, all great legends must start somewhere. Luckily, warm hearts were in good spirits this cold night, and the overseers of this particular orphanage just couldn’t leave a bright eyed, bundle of joy out in the elements. Brought in out of the cold, and raised alongside human children, the pup never really knew she was different, other than having two black fluffy ears atop her head. As she grew, she was given a general education along with the other children, nothing fancy since they were considered the lower class, but enough to get her by should she ever take to selling turnips.

Unfortunately, all fairy tales have to end, and when her 16th year rolled around, she was tossed out into the world to fend for herself.

Being a small Hanyou had its benefits job wise, roaming gangs of thieves were always willing to have her tag along for heists, at a quarter of the profit for most of the dangerous work. But fate is a fickle mistress, and while perusing through a shop during a heist one night, she was detained by an older man named Ino Tadataka, with nun chucks. How embarrassing. She didn’t need superb Demon hearing to know her comrades had bailed, leaving her the scapegoat. However, before she could decide which hand she was okay with having chopped off, the old man offered her a deal. She would assist him in mapping some of the harder to reach places in the area, and in return he would house her, feed her and teach her to read.

Since climbing trees for an old man was a much better option than losing a limb, she hastily agreed, and spent many years assisting “Old Man Ino”, as she called him, in completing his map of Japan.

In the Spring of her last month with Ino, he referred her to an old friend in a village called Kanazawa in the Western Lands for another job. With no other real work leads, other than going back to stealing, she took the lead. When she arrived at the mapped destination Ino had given her, it turned out to be an exotic tea house. She swore on all the Gods above and below that she would knock the taste out of that old pervert’s mouth for this. As she stood outside making her proclamation to bash an old man’s head in, she was interrupted by the tea house’s 'mother', Kikuya. Seeing a rare opportunity to be the only tea house in the district with a Hanyou entertaining, Kikuya took her in instantly.

Amazingly, after several rough years of learning, she was finally “promoted” to the highest rank, Geisha.

Fast forward a few short years, just a few months from fully paying off her debt, she is one of the more popular girls advertised at the tea house. Fully skilled in playing the kokyū, flirting with men in a proper way, starting and losing games of Janken or Daruma Otoshi gracefully, and pouring hot tea in hazardous ways, courtesy of her quick Hanyou reflexes, she has acquired several frequent guests.

A Samurai named Yorimoto quickly became her favorite “customer”, and though they saw each other as nothing more than siblings, she developed a connection to the Human. He was never short on adventurous stories about fighting, and war, which she soaked up like a sponge, enjoying the romantic way he told of their honor code. Being half-Demon, she was naturally drawn to weapons and all their convenient ways of killing things, and eventually convinced Yorimoto to teach her how to use the Naginata. Unfortunately, it was highly un-Geisha like to swing around a “blade on a stick”, as her mother called it, so, under the guise of certain services, they met and trained. Several months passed, and her Samurai was called away to battle, but before he left, Yorimoto gifted her a Naginata all her own, for emergencies, of course.

Even though she was content to stay at her tea house and practice her Naginata in peace until the day when she could afford to open her own business, she also wouldn’t mind a little bit of adventure sneaking in and stirring things up.  

Appearance:

Setsuna stands an intimidating five feet tall at her black ear tips, which has earned her the nickname “Runt”. Thanks to her Demon genetics, despite her small stature, she is sturdily built, muscular and has a curvy frame. She is a milky skinned Hanyou with loosely curled raven black hair that trails down to her rear, and cobalt blue, cat like eyes rimmed in coal eyeliner. Her ears are slightly fluffy, and sport two small silver hoops in each, a gift from her Geisha mother, Kikuya. Her claws are a soft pearl color; however, they are kept at a shorter length due to her kokyū playing and aesthetics for the tea house, but they still remain filed to a point and sharp.

Her only truly intimidating feature is a deep, guttural growl that could easily be mistaken for a much larger demon. Setsuna’s normal attire is that of a typical Geisha, minus the white makeup. Elaborate silk kimonos and obis, along with jeweled hair trinkets and pins. Her hair is never tied up, allowing her ears to remain out in the open. When she is training with the Naginata, she dons a black hakama, with a royal blue sash around her waist. Setsuna is almost always barefoot as she likes the feel of Earth on her skin.

Like all Hanyou, she reverts to a mortal Human form on the night of the new moon. She becomes weaker, as she loses all of her Demon abilities. Her hair fades to a dusty blonde color, and her eyes dull to a pale gray.  

Personality:

Setsuna is usually the center of the party. Having trained with her Geisha mother, she can strike up conversations easily with almost anyone. She has a laid-back demeanor, seeming to just roll with the punches. A smile of some sort is usually found on her face, giving her an easy to approach look. She has an old wisdom about her, and is always available to offer advice or find an answer to a question. She tends to have a soft spot for animals and children, but she prefers both go home with someone else. Her one true weakness is a field of wild flowers, or flowers of any kind. Though she hates to admit it, she’s a sucker for romance and intimate physical touches.

Unfortunately, with a decent amount of Demon blood in her veins, Setsuna is not the quiet, demure creature one would expect when they see her in full Geisha attire. Having been raised by thieves, her mouth is dirtier than a sewer grate, and her mind has been likened to that of a lecherous old man’s. Even with traditionally excitable genetics, she is calm, collected, and calculating, preferring her enemies to either make fools of themselves or to wander right into her trap. Though she has never been in a true battle, the canine in her usually wishes a mother fucker would so she could let her Naginata bathe in blood. Of course, that doesn’t mean she goes looking for a fight, but should one happen to peek around a corner….

Good Habit(s):

She is very understanding, and a good listener. No problem is too dramatic, or small for her ears. She offers honest advice (This could be good or bad) She is fiercely loyal to those who have earned it. Her colorful background and lifestyle have given her a wealth of wisdom and knowledge, both useful and not.  

Bad Habit(s):

Hot headed, she finds a boiling point rather quickly over certain things. Decently excitable, the World is a big adventure to a young Hanyou. Territorial, what’s hers is hers. Cursing bad enough to make perverts blush.

Like(s):

Walking in the forest, feeling the sun on her skin and the Earth on her bare feet. Having her hair done/played with. Food. Training with her Naginata. Playing the kokyū. Listening to stories, mostly battle and war stories. Thunderstorms at night. Wildflower fields.

Special Powers/Abilities:

Aside from the typical Hanyou speed, flexibility and agility, she has a natural ability to hide and camouflage herself due to her small stature. She’s also decently formidable in a fist fight. Intimidating low, guttural growl usually used for intimidation. Rapid healing.

Ambition/Life-long Dream:

Even though she longs for the thrill of battle, a more reasonable ambition would be to finally pay off her debts to Kikuya, and to open her own tea house that specializes in ‘unique’ Geishas like herself.

Love Interest:

Unknown.  

Occupation/Job:

Geisha, entertainer, Hanyou

Notes:

Now, I know y'all who follow the series are looking at me like, "Uh...THAT NAME IS FAMILIAR" And, yeah, I know, trust me. I had a moment when the official announcement was made, but when I created Setsuna, I actually used the name from the manga Angel Sanctuary ( showing my age here ), and this character was never meant to follow any sort of canon story line, ever, she was always strictly AU. With all that being said, please don't come for me. xD I am smol and anxiety ridden. I really just wanted to have her bio published, because I love this little shit of a Hanyou. She was one of my very first creations and holds a pretty special place in my cold black heart. A few more notes: I'm totally up for RP! Feel free to send me a note or whatever. I'm pretty laid-back, and open to most scenarios.

I usually ship Setsuna with Sesshomaru, because it's adorable, but, I’m open to any ship.  

She has no art. Like I said, this has been a long time coming, so I haven't had any art of her commissioned, but maybe in the near future I will. ( -eyeballs the extremely talented @destinyfall) But, I can give you details and photo references if you decide you would like to RP.

[nanoland]

mazikeen/eve/michael fic in progress

title: Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael 

blurb: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet. 

warnings: Spoilers for Season 5. 

0  

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?”

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There’s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.” 

0 

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.” 

0 

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?” 

0

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep. 

0

It was night when he awoke.  

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?”

(to be continued) 

[episodechooseyourpregnant]

THE EPISODE STRIKE DISCOURSE

Sorry about the wait guys I’ve been so tired since I got off work, but here it is the entire sins of Episode laid out in front of you. There’s a lot of stuff to unpack, but you can read the basics at the end. 

- Sunny

Fair Warning

So, this is a long ass post with lot’s of detail regarding Episode Interactive guidelines and the current reason of the strike currently taking place on instagram. 

AKA: People hate episode and here’s why. 

If that doesn’t intrest you then skip this post. \/(0.0)\/

So what’s exactly happening?

Currently, the strike is taking place do to unfair treatment of the content guidelines set on Episode (Well, there’s a bit more detail than that, but that’s the basics of it). 

The guidelines in question are:

Crossovers between two different authors are no longer allowed.  For example: Bad Boy in Town and Zezzy Montero crossover episode would no longer be allowed. Another example: The Teenage Viligante and Matched would no longer fit the guidelines.

You are only allowed 5 punches per story. (No action genre here!)

Using Episode Assets to create custom content is no longer allowed.

There has also been some internal issues with enforcing these guidelines.

Featured Stories have been known to get away with stuff

Allegedly- INK authors have been recieving harsher enforment of the general episode community guidelines while Limelight authors who produce the same content are given the go. 

Popular Authors have also been known to get away with way more while smaller authors get dinged hard.

Episode Official Stories have broken the rules as well. (literally just wait...)

Pretty much all these issues came to a front when this post  (the original forum post is now deleted) was made in the forums on April 19th, 2019 by Mod Melani:

In short: this is basically saying crossovers are no longer permitted on episode because it infringes on copyright.

People were up in arms do to this being a massive change in the rules, and it could potentically effect a large population of already published stories. As people started to feel quite pissed with episode, this was posted by a popular Episode artist, @schittwriter on her story.

It basically goes like this:

Her first cover for her story Bad and Badder get’s approved:

but her second cover for her INK story gets rejected.

Here’s the kicker:

Schittepisode uploaded two OF THE SAME cover to be reviewed for the exact same story (The same story was made for LL and for INK). The Limelight cover  was approved and the rejected one was in INK. The email she recieved for the rejection of the INK cover stated that:

“Please adjust bra strap so it isn’t falling down her arm. Disrobing underwear in a sexual situation  breaks the Episode guidelines”

I asked her basically what happened and she replied by DM:

She’s absolutely right that it’s unfair. 

I haven’t seen the covers because she hasn’t released them, but from the way the DM sounds her the cover had two fully clothed people, but the girl was wearing a tank top with a loose bra strap.

It gets pretty laughable because we’ve seen what the romance section looks like. It’s also quite funny (hypocritical) that one of the most read stories on the platform, Chain Reaction by Miss MJ, has a cover that looks like this:

So, after these two massive bombshells of ‘injustice’ by the episode creators it lead instragram user @bukki.episode  (writer of ‘My Psycho’) to post the infamous ‘strike’ photo.

Sidenote: Is INK treated differently than LL?

Short Answer: Nah. 

Long answer: This is really an issue of the rules not being clear. Episode has stated before that INK is just old and outdated software that is hard to use. They switched to LL to produce content faster. They are obviously going to promote LL because that’s what they’ve been working on for ages. (not a style that they are never going to update again)

But, that doesn’t mean I can’t still hate LL and all it stands for

Read this for more on INK: https://forums.episodeinteractive.com/t/petition-more-ink/2325/122

More on the Guidelines

Basically, after I read about Schittwriters’ situation, I was actually wondering where in the guidelines state half of these things: Particuarly:

Does it say we can’t have disrobing in the Official Community Guidelines?

What are it’s rules on sexual situations?

Is the 5 punches per story rule real?

Is the crossover rule real?

Is using episode assets to create new backgrounds against the rules?

So, after some digging I realized that alot of these ‘new rules’ just flat out don’t exsist or have been miscontrude a bit. Not only that, but there is some SERIOUS miscommunication in the Episode review staff.

So, there’s two sets of guides we can look at: The one on the creator portal (the rules that are (should) be set in stone by Episode), and the guidelines that have been stated by the mods (Rules that have been stated by the mods in the forums, but not in the offical content guidelines). It’s hard to communicate with a large bunch of people who are running your site. It’s natural that rules will be kinda like a game of telephone, and that certain things will become subjective. So, I’m just gonna preface that because just because one mod makes a comment doesn’t make it automatically FACT. 

But here’s what the offical content guidelines in the portal on sexual situations:

“

If stories contain objectionable or offensive content, we may not be able to feature or host them on Episode. Stories must always be appropriate for readers ages 13 or older, which means content would be objectionable if it, among other things:

(...)

+ portrays adult themes, including pornographic content, nudity, or prostitution;

+  includes excessive use of profanity or sexually explicit phrases;

Censor Bar Use, Nudity, and Sexual Content:

Depiction of sex (or anything suggesting that sex is occurring at that moment) in any form, including but not limited to, gyrating bodies, oral sex, or moaning/groaning is not allowed.

 Explicit details of what is happening or has happened off-screen is also not allowed. 

Any nudity on cover art is strictly not allowed. 

Frontal nudity is allowed in a story if it is not excessive, only used in non-sexual situations, and always accompanied with censor bars or scenery to censor. 

Posterior nudity in a story is only allowed in a tasteful and non-sexual context. 

“

Reading these rules posted, there’s no rule stating that a bra strap or any sort of underwear can not be shown on a cover. I’m just a bit confused and where the line is because we have certain Episode employees approving some questionable covers like Chain Reaction’s, and covers like Schittwriters’s that are not being approved.

Is The Five Punch Per Story Rule Real?

No it’s not real. There’s no evidence or screenshots stating that this has ever been a rule.

The only source of evidence is a rumour that there was a screenshot of an episode employee telling a creator this rule on their instagram story. I can pretty much tell you that five punch rule is just wild rumour. 

But after further investigation, I found that the actual rule is FIVE PUNCHES PER SCENE. Five punches per scene is a lot different than five punches per story. You could end up with ten action scenes and five punches per scene, so in theory you could have fifty punches in one chapter to stay within guidelines.

Here’s that screenshot of an episode employee (I redacted for privacy) messaging @bukki.episode on her story:

Using Episode Assets to make Backgrounds / Overlays

This ‘new guideline’ basically states that you can no longer use Episode Official backgrounds or overlays to make new or original backgrounds.

Once again, this is also a rumor that’s not true. In the episode guidelines they say that Episode assets are for non-commercial use only. Now, if an episode user had used episode assets to make backgrounds and sell them- that’s against the rules. This rule is stated in the update on the forums.

“Our Terms of Service indicate that Episode characters, materials and platforms (forum, portal and app) are a free service, and the use of these characters and materials provided are solely for personal and non-commercial use. Selling art or images with Episode assets counts as commercial use. This includes edits of Episode characters, altered renders, and composites. Any art sold must be entirely original artwork and cannot use Episode’s art at all.”

Again, I’ve heard rumours that this rule has been enforced, but I didn’t find a screenshot or any source of this being true.

The Crossover Discourse

Now, this new rule has caused quite a bit of stink do to valid reasons brought up in the forums (I’ll get to that). Now, I’m not gonna post the comments but you can read the thread here if you wish.

The crossover rule basically says that do to copyright laws Episode can no longer allow crossovers because there is no way to prove both parties are consenting to crossovers. Episode makes it very clear that if you publish a story with Episode - you own it. 

“ Who owns my story? In a nutshell, you do! We can't sell the rights to your story to a movie or TV studio, make it into a book, or hire some new writer to write your story for you without your permission. You should review the Terms of Service, however, as we are licensed to promote your story and use it in advertising, among other things. We also own all the animations and art provided by the Episode platform, so you won't be able to take those with you. For more information, please read the Episode Terms of Service. “ 

source - (x)

Since people own the rights to their stories there adds the element copyright to anything people publish. Basically the Episode team is trying to think like this:

How can you prove on Episode that you aren’t stealing someone else’s work?

How can you prove that both parties are consenting to the crossover?

Mod Melani put this concern in her update on the original post:

“What if my friend gives me permission?

Even if your friend gives you permission, Episode has no way of tracking or enforcing this. Because of this, crossovers are not allowed on our platform. This is to ensure that your stories and characters don’t end up being misused! “

source (x)

I’ve heard rumours that there has been issues with stealing ideas, stories, characters from other authors, so this most likely to prevent stuff like that from happening. But, it seems a bit overkill to remove stories because of something that isn’t done with malicious intent. In fact, Episode should only respond to authors that want crossovers taken down, or authors that feel there is possible infringes in their copyright directly. Don’t throw out the whole carton just because there is a couple of bad eggs.

Another issue brought up with the crossover rule is the protection of stories that already have crossovers built into them. Many people brought up the fact that their favourite stories could be taken down because of this rule.

Mod Mel basically posted this:

“There is no deadline to remove stories that feature Episode-centric crossovers.

If authors would prefer to edit or archive these stories on their own schedule, rather than waiting for the possibility that we might ask them to do so in the future, they can do it whenever they want. The only thing that might happen to an author who has written a crossover story is IF we come across it, we may ask you to change or remove it.

We don’t want to “punish” authors who have previously written crossovers.

Authors should be concerned with not writing crossovers moving forward.

I hope this clears things up!”

source (x)

So...

Authors could in theory have their story removed if they did not know about the rule, or Episode could crack down on it before they had a chance to change it. One commenter brought up a good point that creators spend weeks coding crossovers or planning one- only to have it taken down.

Not only that, but these rules are a bit confusing...

We don’t want to punish authors, but we still might take down your story! :)

Episode has been known to take down stories without notice, so this could be a whole new can of worms to unpack.

Using Celebrity or Episode Author likenesses:

Melani3: 

This is a really good question. Based on our content guidelines (below), you also should avoid featuring other authors in your story, as they’re real people. The same guidelines I mentioned above for changes apply if you already have a story that features another author, but please keep this in mind going forward!

“In addition, by publishing your story, you agree that it does not include any content that infringes the intellectual property rights or rights of publicity or privacy of any third party. This may include using any of the following without permission:

any works of authorship of other parties, including excerpts or passages taken from literary works, television or film; any trademarks or references to corporate or business names; or any references to real persons or places.”

source (x)

Episode has also started to enforce no longer using celebrity or episode authors likenesses on the platform. 

I think this issue also stems from the issue of concsent. I think the Episode Team is worried about being liable for slander or online bullying, so that’s why author likenesses will be prohibited.

As for the celebrity likenesses, it’s the same issue of slander and consent. Episode can use the Dolon Twins, Demi Lavato, PPL, because they bought the rights and arranged contracts.

However, that basically means stories like Pregnant with James Charles’ Baby will be removed... (oh god, oh god, oh gOd, it’s already been removed....)

Episode gives Special Treatment (what else is new?)

*Without a doubt, Episode does not enforce their guidelines properly.*

I’m usually a pretty fair person, but Episode totally cherry-pick their rules. They have no concrete set rules, and most of the rules that are enforced are subjective. They need to state exactly what is and what isn’t allowed. I’ve seen and heard of small authors getting their stories removed without notice for swearing, but large authors with massive fallowings have never had to change due to the rules. I’ve also seen featured stories and episode official stories stay break they damn rules as well.

For example: 

Sore Loser stayed up for a longer than it needed to (+All of Noob Loop’s story)

Pregnant by My Student is still top 10 of most viewed stories

(If I remember correctly) Toriah had her story removed / repremanded for excessive swearing???

No rules seem to apply to Gang Leader stories

As much as I love her, Kayla Sloan’s ‘War Dogs’ could promote excessive violence & ‘Adrenaline’ by Evil Ebonni & ‘I Despise You’ by Costa could as well, so why aren’t they removed??.. oh yeah they’re popular :/

Sex scenes are legit all over episode and they are the reason this company is still in business

In My Bed?! was an Episode Official story.

The Bad Boy Stole My Bra has so much sexual nonsense I mean c’mon

POSTIVELY PRINCESS HAS A CROSSOVER IN IT! ROYAL BABY MAKES A CAMEO AND HAS A PLOTLINE

Faking Death has sexual nonsense in it

FORBIDDEN LOVE (AKA THE NAZI STORY) IS STILL UP

Body Tangle 

Off Limits (may I say more...)

Also this:

^ Literally a direct rule violation!

Episode’s Response

So that’s basically all there is to it. Hopefully things will become more clear in the next couple of months, but I highly doubt it...

TLDR; Episode published new guidelines stated that crossover episodes are no longer allowed, a rule with only 5 punches per chapter, and background and assets are no longer allowed. People were super up in arms because Episode has been know to remove stories without warning, so crossovers could possible discontinue a whole bunch of stories. Not only that, but a Episode Creator posted screenshots of her cover for her Limelight Story being accepted, but her INK cover being rejected due to a ‘bra strap’. It madeit seem that INK was being unfairly treated agaisnt LL. People started going strike for those reasons. However, the backround issue and 5 punches per chapter issues were just false rumors. Episode responded, but it’s clear that most of their guidelines are bullshit and there is special treatment going on. We’ll see how the guidelines are written these next couple of days.

[aion-rsa]

The Secret World of Star Wars Toys and Collectibles

https://ift.tt/33yQk6J

This article is part of our Collector’s Digest content series powered by:

Want to know something about world of nerdy collectibles? You ask Brian Volk-Weiss, the prolific producer and creator of Netflix’s The Toys That Made Us and A Toy Story Near You, two must-watch documentary series that track the stories of the coolest, rarest, and most valuable toys and collectibles ever made and where to find them.

Volk-Weiss isn’t just a documentarian, though. He’s spent years chasing collector’s items for his own personal collection, and he’s learned a few secrets and heard quite a few stories about the high-stakes world of collectibles along the way.

Star Wars collectibles are of particular interest to Volk-Weiss, who has previously written about the rarest, most expensive Star Wars action figure for Den of Geek. But did you know about the secret Facebook group that deals almost exclusively in precious Star Wars collectibles that sell for six figures? What about the warehouse where sellers who don’t own their own stores keep and sell their prized collectibles?

On a recent Zoom call, Volk-Weiss took us on a trip through the lesser known corners of Star Wars collecting, and even shared his sacred rules when it comes to curating his own collection. Yes, that includes a collectible contingency plan were his house to burn down.

You can check out the interview below. This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and brevity.

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DEN OF GEEK: How did you spend your May the 4th this year?

Brian Volk-Weiss: I am looking at what I already have, praying that some cool stuff gets announced. I mean, that’s usually what I do on the fourth. Well, I mean, before COVID, I’d go to Toys “R” Us, Walmart, and Target and grab whatever gets put out. This year, I ordered an Ahsoka Tano statue, I think about five or six months ago, maybe even more, that I think is supposed to come tomorrow. So if it does, that is exactly how I’ll be spending the fourth, opening that statue that’s long overdue.

You’re not just some creator and producer who works on the idea, but is not invested. You’re in the trenches. In The Toys That Made Us and A Toy Store Near You, you were actually hitting the aisles. You were going to the stores, finding the collectibles.

I try to sell shows that are hobbies of mine, so that a) I’m getting paid to do my hobby, but b) that passion that you need to make your show, because it takes a long time and a lot of work, you really need to be excited about the show to try and do a good job. So yeah, I buy toys. Quite a few.

Is Ahsoka a new favorite character of yours?

Oh, absolutely not. Since the end of [The Clone Wars] season five … I mean, technically, it would have been the end of season four, but really, there’s a moment in the last episode of season five when she resigns from the Jedi Order. I’ve been obsessed with her ever since that moment.

And I have to give myself credit. I knew for over a year before it was announced that Ahsoka was going to be on TV, and I kept my mouth shut. So I’ve known that was coming for a long time. And I kept my mouth shut, Lucasfilm. You should be very proud of me.

Yeah, but by saying that, that now makes me want to try to pull other stuff out of you, because now I’m sure you know about things that are coming down the road.

No, I really don’t. And it’s because of COVID. The reason that I knew about the Ahsoka of it all was I was at Disney or Lucasfilm all the time, and every now and then, you’d hear something. But I kept my mouth shut. Because of COVID, I didn’t have as much access.

So we spoke back in the spring of, well, I guess almost a year ago, for A Toy Store Near You, and if I recall correctly, you said that the Millennium Falcon was your Holy Grail of Star Wars toys?

That’s right. I used to bite my fingernails and my mom told me if I didn’t bite them for a year, she would get it for me. And I stopped. Very hard. Other than quitting smoking, that’s the second hardest thing I’ve ever quit. I’m not even trying to be funny. And I got my Millennium Falcon and proceeded to obliterate it over the next 10 years.

It lasted 10 years? That’s actually pretty good. But that certainly was not your first Star Wars toy?

No, my first. I still have my original R2-D2 and one of my original stormtroopers. I still have those. And in my collection that is absurdly big now, I do believe those are the two old…I have two mini figs from Lego. Those four toys are tied for the oldest toys in my 2000 plus toy collection.

And what is the current status of that stormtrooper and R2?

It’s funny you asked that, because this is crazy. The R2-D2 and one of those mini figs is in my home collection. The stormtrooper and the other mini fig is at a friend of mine’s house in the insane off chance, this will show you how crazy I am, that…I’ve had to evacuate my house twice in the last two years because of fires. If God forbid anything happens to my home here in LA, my two oldest pieces, I have a backup. That’s how crazy I am.

It’s sort of like, whenever the Congress and president gather in Washington, there has to be the designated survivor, right?

These are my toy designated survivors. I’m going to steal that from you. I love that.

We’re pretty close in age. The R2 unit I had, it’s still around, but man, it’s not in great shape. The dome is loose, the sticker is off. And then my stormtrooper, totally yellowed. Is yours the same thing? Or does it actually look good?

My R2’s dome is great. It still makes that super duper weird noise that, we all know how it was made, but it was still kind of weird. But the stickers are very faded. And my stormtrooper, you can tell it’s 40 years old, but it’s not yellow or anything.

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What are the figures that you think people are kind of getting into now? Because obviously, we’re legacy collectors and nerds, we grew up with the first generation of it, but what are the things that people are attaching themselves to now? Anecdotally. As much as you can say.

Ahsoka Tano, all of her stuff, especially because it was made in limited numbers when it came out in the early aughts, as they say, maybe not early aughts, but like 2008 to 2012, there’s an Ahsoka Tano that’s $2000-3000 now. Not a prototype, not a sample, not a paint test. Literally an Ahsoka Tano that was still in the package. That’s two to three grand now. That’s because a lot of the people that are 10 to 20 years behind us, they’re starting to have money. And the same way you and I wanted to start collecting when we got a little money, now they are too.

Is part of that because of the multi-generational component? I guess maybe the question is, what makes Star Wars collectors different than others? I always kind of wonder if it is this sort of multi-generational element to it that’s maybe not present with other franchises or IP.

The main thing about Star Wars collecting that is different than almost any other kind of toy collecting there is, is the amount of people doing it and the amount of data that exists. There are, and I’m making this up, so please, anyone who sees this that’s offended, I am making these numbers up, I don’t know the real numbers, but there are like 10 types of Luke Skywalker New Hope figures with…You need a scanning electron microscope to see the difference in the hair color changes. There is so much data. Oh, that light hair with a freckle on the cheek? Oh, that came from the Taiwan factory. Brownish hair with no freckle? That came from the British factory.

There’s a private Facebook group called Deal or No Deal. It covers all toys. There’s only 3000 members. I mean, I’ve seen stuff sell in the six figures. Very, very high end general toy group. It’s 85% Star Wars. So that’s what makes Star Wars collecting unique compared to any other toy.

You’re saying that the accumulated data continues to unveil other collectibles that we did not know about?

I’ll be honest with you, I’m not trying to be funny or humble, I don’t consider myself a toy expert. I know more about toys than most people, but most people are toy collectors. But I mean, there’s like 10 to 20 Star Wars collectors who have been doing it almost as a full-time job for 20, 25 years. So those 10 to 20 guys, and I think they’re all guys, I mean, they’re probably embarrassed by me talking about Star Wars. So I learned from them…I mean, I could learn one to five new things a week just from knowing those people.

What’s the craziest Star Wars collectible quest you’ve ever heard of? The epic lengths that someone has gone to to pursue an item? Does anything come to mind?

I think Gus Lopez going to Tunisia with a storage container. That’s probably my favorite. I mean, he literally went all around Tunisia to the sets and was buying stuff off the people that own the land. The sets are still there. I went there for my bachelor party and I was there, I think, 10 years after Gus. So what was still there when I was there in 2012, and I think he was there in 2002, approximately…And I’ve seen a lot of his collection. Almost any question you would ask. Like, ��What’s the best story?” The answer is Gus Lopez.

And you can get really crazy with the collecting, and sometimes you have to establish rules. I mean, I know I’m fortunate to work a lot of comic-cons, and I’m out there, and I’ve established rules for collecting so I don’t spend too much money or go too crazy. Do you have any rules that you apply to yourself?

Well, number one rule? It must go on display. So I will not buy anything to just go into storage, because if I did that, it theoretically violates my whole reason for toy collecting, which is the objects give me some joy. So if I’m putting it in the garage or a storage shed, it doesn’t give me any joy. This is getting harder and harder for two reasons. One, I now have a lot of “insider knowledge.” So I’m not buying things that I know will depreciate in value. So that’s tough. And then the other thing is, it’s kind of a bad theory because it ends up costing me more money in the long run, because I guarantee you, I will have to buy a new house next year because my collection room is already getting too small. But that’s the first rule. Nothing goes to storage.

My second rule. Have you ever heard of this place called Frank & Son? It’s two full-size warehouses where I think they tore the wall down in between them. And I think Monday to Friday, it’s where toy sellers who don’t own a store keep their stuff, and then they sell it online. On Saturdays, it’s open to the public.

So before COVID, my rule was I would go there only once a year for my birthday. So that’s already a rule, because if I went there more than once a year, we’d be bankrupt and living on the streets. And two, I bring a thousand dollars cash and I leave all my credit cards at home. And by the way, dude, I’ve gone in there and spent it in the first 12 minutes I’ve been in there and basically had to walk around like a jackass for two hours and not buy anything else.

The Star Wars Topps cards have very much been part of the collecting within the Star Wars fandom, and you can display those. Did you have them as a kid? Have you ever collected them as an adult?

I had them as a kid. If I had to guess, I had all of them. Right now in my collection, I have one Star Wars pack. My second favorite character is the aforementioned Ahsoka Tano. My favorite character in all of Star Wars is Return of the Jedi Luke, specifically that. And the only Star Wars cards I have is an unopened pack, it’s probably worth five bucks, and it’s him in Jedi Luke attire.

You are working on so many things. I know you’ll have a new season of Toys That Made Us at some point, I know you’re working on this Gates McFadden Star Trek podcast your company is producing. What else is on the way that you can talk about, man?

There’s a lot of stuff I can’t talk about yet, but two things I can talk about. We’re partnered with Dwayne Johnson and his company, Seven Bucks, and we have a show coming out called Behind the Attraction that’s all about the attractions at the various Disney parks. I can’t say when, but that’s coming out this year.

And then we have another show, which I literally cannot even believe is real, called The Center Seat: 55 Years of Star Trek. We’re making that for History Channel, and to the best of my knowledge, it is the deepest dive documentary about all of Star Trek. I think we’re doing the first documentary ever about the animated series. The first one out ever about Voyager.

And then A Toy Store Near You, which is coming out in June, season three. So I’m pretty excited about 2021.

The post The Secret World of Star Wars Toys and Collectibles appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3uFiM30

[kohakuhime]

The Reluctant Guardian, ch. 18

Hello guys! We’ve got another update for you~! Special thanks for @mpuzzlegirl for help with this latest update!

Disclaimer: this takes place post canon, and this refers to events that take place in an alternate verse. Kazuo, Mikomi, and Isabel belongs to @mpuzzlegirl​; Risa and the twins belong to me; and YGO and its associated characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi.

Noa paced through the room anxiously, eyes darting to the computer every few seconds. He let out a soft impatient noise and flopped into the office chair. Isabel had said nine o’clock, and it was nearly ten after. Maybe something happened and Pegasus had been unable to rendezvous after all. He hoped not—after spending so long desperately trying to find a lead, to lose his one chance at gaining something of a clue was too frightening a thought.

For a moment his vision dipped and spun and his eyes closed. God was he tired. Too many nights spent searching the screens, too many nights spent awake and trying frantically to find any information on an enemy who had hidden his tracks. Too many nights where his eyes burned and his head throbbed. This had to lead to something. This conversation with Pegasus had to have a lead.

The screen suddenly shone and flared and Noa snapped to attention. His eyes locked onto the computer registering Pegasus’s name flashing across the screen for the video call. He took a steadying breath. Here we go.

And then he promptly let out a startled bark of laughter.

“Something funny, Noa boy?” Pegasus asked airily.

“The only thing funny is the bunny,” Noa replied, and Pegasus winked at him with his visible eye.

Only Maximillion Pegasus could make himself look poised and dignified while wearing an obnoxiously loud-colored Funny Bunny t-shirt. He was leaning back in an office chair of his own, silver hair pulled up into a loose ponytail at the top of his head; a portion of it remained in front of his left eye.

“You took nearly a week to answer,” Noa added, feeling cross in spite of himself. He felt an eyebrow arch as he registered Pegasus’s clothes. “So what’s with Funny Bunny anyways?”

“The information you were asking about took time to gather. As for the outfit, pay it no mind. After all, this call is just happening to take place before bedtime. Maybe I should call after yours, hm?”

“Never mind me,” Noa said a touch too quickly. “What did you find out?”

“My, aren’t we impatient. I see that it is a trait passed on from dear Kaiba boy,” Pegasus remarked. “I must admit I was surprised to be contacted through practically a third party for a meeting with you.”

Noa let the jab about Seto slide. He knew better than to respond to it. Instead, he continued speaking. “We didn’t have a choice about how we—“

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Pegasus’s smile sharpened and visible eye glinted. “When Kaiba boy didn’t show up to this conference I knew something had to be wrong. Always punctual, that one.”

Noa started. “You’re at the conference Seto was supposed to be at?”

“I am. Frankly it’s been rather dull without your stepbrother’s usual flair for dramatics. I’ve been mostly helping Mokuba boy douse the fires and redirect attention from his absence, as a matter of fact. No, no, no guilty faces,” he added when Noa flinched. “Based on what I’ve heard, you’ve been understandably busy these past few months. Now then, to the point. I am unfortunately on the clock.”

“Right.” Noa straightened in his seat. “Pegasus, who bought Paradius property after Dartz disappeared?”

Pegasus arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you know the answer to that question already, Noa boy? After all, you were once under Dartz’s employ.”

“Believe me, I kept tabs as much as I could. I can’t keep track of everything, though, and I need a different perspective because I’ve hit a wall with the information I have. Let’s face it—you were the one who caught the Orichalcos situation before, and I’m willing to bet you were watching Dartz years before he made his move.”

“Of course I did. Dartz approached me at one point, in the aftermath of losing Cecilia.” Pegasus’s expression was closed and his lips thin. “He came just before I went on a particularly life-changing trip to Egypt, and when I returned I had no interest in what he was offering. Probably for the best, all things considering.”

There was a heavy lull in the conversation, and then Noa cleared his throat. “My earlier question, Pegasus: who bought Paradius properties after it fell?”

Pegasus’s expression cleared and he tented his fingers, elbows perched on crossed legs. “Try everyone, Noa boy. Dartz had substantial amounts of property amassed, including corporate properties, valuable deeds and resources, and real estate. When Paradius was split up and divided, everyone wanted a piece of the pie—even Kaiba boy bought some of the properties Paradius owned. As for the crown jewel of Dartz’s figurative empire in Florida? That was sold to the city and subsequently torn down due to concerns about structure.”

Noa inhaled and blew out a breath through his nose. So much for narrowing it down that way. “Okay then, let me rephrase the question: who was more interested in the arcane aspect of Paradius’s dealings?” he asked then.

Pegasus gained a tight smile, a dangerous light in his eye. “Ah. Now you’re asking the interesting questions.”

“And the answers?”

“Of the acquaintances shared between Kaiba Corporation and I2, there were nine. In that number, one hasn’t shown any recent interest and another passed away. There is of course myself, you, and your stepbrother, although you two are looped in by proxy of Yugi boy’s antics. That numbers five accounted for, with a remaining four in the mix.”

“What about any that we don’t know mutually?”

Pegasus raised an eyebrow. “My dear boy, if they were worth mentioning I would have done so.”

Noa pondered that for a moment and then leaned forward. “So what of the four remaining players in that particular game?”

“One of them is Dartz, of course. As far as I’ve gathered, he’s contented himself with self-imposed isolation and wandering. I’d wager that his activities hasn’t been enough to warrant concern from you.”

Noa frowned. “Now what makes you say that?”

“You asked about anyone interested with the Orichalcos or Dartz’s properties, but you didn’t ask about Dartz himself. Either he’s not a factor—doubtful, since my sources say he’s been more active as of late—or you trust that whatever he is doing isn’t immediately dangerous.”

There was a hidden probe in that last statement and Noa ignored it. “What do you know about the other three?”

Pegasus seemed mildly disappointed that he hadn’t gotten an answer from Noa, but it didn’t appear to last long. “There’s Elric Enterprises, and they show an interest in more alchemic branches and alchemic uses of orichalcum. Yes, the irony of that has not been missed,” he added with a mischievous smile, noticing Noa trying to keep a straight face. “There’s no relation to the brothers of that popular franchise, incidentally.”

“All right, and the other two?”

“Edmund Belmont, in charge of Belmont Industries. His father held no interest and in fact found magic to be a ‘false enterprise of smoke and mirrors’, so Edmund’s forays have been only cursory until his father passed away. He’s held a very general interest in magic, not just the Orichalcos, and there’s rumor he’s trying to integrate magic with technology like Dartz. Interestingly enough, when Paradius was liquidating its assets he bought only the artistic pieces Dartz owned, particularly mosaics. I do believe he also bought a few properties that Dartz owned in Domino.

“The last one would be Olympus, run by a Maxine Zeigler. She’s been interested for more than twenty years in the subject of magic. She’s focused on practical applications with military in thought—turning magic into a weapon. She hasn’t had a lot of fortune with that particular application, however, and she’s not been as active. She’s held a good deal of interest in weaponizing the Orichalcos, so I would not discount her involvement either.”

Noa’s personal phone was buzzing, but Noa ignored it. At last, he had names—something to chase. He had followed Dartz’s paper trail for the better part of a week, and yet names had eluded him no matter how far he had dug into it. Seto likely had names, addresses, and so much more, but with his stepbrother missing and Seto’s computer impossible to access without his stepbrother’s password Noa had been at a dead end. But with at least these three names, Noa could start narrowing down. There was only so long people could hide behind anonymity.

“There is something a touch troubling about all this, Noa,” said Pegasus, and Noa turned his attention back. Pegasus’s visible eye was flinty. “Someone has been so bold as to steal Kaiba boy away. Mokuba has not said as much, nor have you, but I don’t need both eyes to read between the lines.”

Noa’s own expression hardened. “I’ve been working on it—“

“He’s been taken somewhere even you can’t find him, and this person is clearly disguising their electronic trail—something you are acutely familiar with, given your prior history with computers.” Pegasus held up a hand when Noa bristled. “I offer you a piece of advice. There is perhaps a reason you cannot find him. We are all in agreement that this Duel Monsters tournament being hosted is likely where Kaiba boy has been…invited to.”

Noa stayed silent, wondering where Pegasus was going with this.

“The cruise ship seems to be a ghost, as no one can find it. That in part is likely because they are using a cloaking device that blocks GPS, radar, sonar…dare I say even satellite tracking, if someone has evolved the technology enough.”

“Evolved it enough…?” Noa sat up straighter. Pegasus was being oddly specific.

Pegasus’s smile was tight. “It was a prototype electronic jamming device that I used on Duelist Kingdom, to hide both Mokuba and his older brother once they both arrived on the island. After all—people would notice if the youngest and brightest CEO of a generation suddenly vanished. It hid the entire island from the world, up until I dismantled it. It was technology that was developed partially by me…and partially by one Gozaburo Kaiba, whose technology I had access to after our partnership went through.”

Noa’s blood ran cold.

“I haven’t used the technology since then—disabled it, in fact, after Yugi boy defeated me—but four months ago someone broke into Industrial Illusions and stole the prototype from one of my vaults. I had not thought anything of it until Kaiba boy vanished without a trace.” Pegasus’s visible eye flashed. “I do not take kindly to my technology being used without my permission. Find it, Noa, and destroy it.”

Noa’s phone buzzed again and Noa glanced at it. Seconds later he snatched it, eyes widening and features draining of color. “Pegasus, I wish I had more time but I’ve just had a family emergency.”

“Understandable, Noa boy. Do be careful—I don’t need to hear about another Kaiba brother vanishing. I’ll continue watching after Mokuba.”

Noa barely heard him, already rising from his seat as he hurried to the door. His phone was clenched in his hand, the text message from Isabel still visible between his fingers:

Kazuo and Risa are missing.

                                        +++++++++++++++++++

Risa was truly glad that the police impound was outside. If it had been an indoor car impound she wouldn’t have known what to do. It was challenging enough to figure out how to sneak inside without being seen by the guard in the booth at the entrance to the impound.

She leaned back around the corner and took a small breath. It was immeasurably humid at the moment, although it was chilly, and the thick black clothing she wore did not make it better. They were in the alleyway across the street from the car pound, as Kazuo had felt that being in the alley next to the facility would draw too much attention. She was grateful for Kazuo’s level head—she knew she wouldn’t have been able to even get this far without getting caught.

They were on a time crunch at this point. It would only be a matter of time before they were missed back at home. Risa, who was not one for lectures, hoped to be back by the time anyone realized that Risa and Kazuo were gone. The taxi ride had taken at least twenty minutes of their precious time. According to Kazuo, they had about forty-five more minutes before anyone would miss them.

Behind her she heard Kazuo quietly opening up his backpack, pulling out a tablet and a small, thin, portable keyboard. As he typed his eyes were narrowed, gaze focused on his tablet, and after a few tense moments he looked up again. “Cameras are on loop for now,” he said quietly. “The guards won’t see us.”

“You’ve got access to that kind of computer programming from mobile?” Risa was impressed.

He motioned for Risa to come over beside him and she sat down. “My dad and Uncle Seto make programs like this sometimes just because I think they want the flexibility of rule-bending on the go,” he said wryly. “It’s easy to download from Dad’s computer.”

His smile faded and he pulled something up on a separate window of the tablet. “Good news. I was able to find where their car is, and it isn’t that far away from where we are now,” he said, pointing across the street. “It’s about three rows in, if we approach from this direction.”

“What else?”

“The guards inside shouldn’t have a reason to be outside patrolling if we don’t give them a reason to be.” Kazuo pointed to the sky above them. “We’re about to get some rain. As long as we’re quiet and stay out of sight, they won’t think that there’s anything going on with the cameras. At most, the loop I have runs about twenty minutes. After that, we need to get out regardless of what we find. Now,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “how are you planning to even get into their car?”

Risa winked. “I know how to get into a car, Kazuo, trust me. I won’t need keys.”

“And when the alarm goes off?”

“I’ve got a trick for that, no worries,” she said, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. “Actually, two tricks if the first one fails. I like backup plans. Ready to go?”

The two of them slipped the hoods of their jackets over their head, and after taking a moment to gauge if the streets were clear they moved out of the alley and across the street. They kept their approach casual, easy-going, chatting amiably. The police guard who had been returning to the outdoor booth paused and watched as they walked by, the two of them talking and laughing.

The first rumble of thunder sounded overhead and the policeman looked up, startled.

That was when Kazuo neatly spun on his heel, lifting his wrist to his face. Something flashed brightly in the street lamp and there was a soft pft. The guard jumped, a hand going to his neck in surprise. Then he staggered, crumpling into a heap on the ground.  

Kazuo flashed his hand at her, showing the pocket watch on his wrist. “You ever watch Case Closed?” he asked conversationally.

“Oh yeah, watched that once or twice. He’s the kid with the gadgets and the mysteries, right?”

“Yep. Anyways, our friend over there should be asleep for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes.”

They carefully dragged the policeman over to the booth. It took some doing and a few colorful curses from Risa, but they managed to get him into the office chair and position him comfortably in the seat. “With any luck he wakes up and thinks he just dozed off in the chair,” said Kazuo.

“You know, for someone who only just found out what we were doing you seem to have this remarkably thought through,” said Risa, a note of suspicion in her voice.

Kazuo’s responding shrug was on the border of too casual, but he did not further reply. A glance to the watch told them both that they were running out of time—Kazuo’s window created by the virus would soon disappear, and neither of them were keen on being caught by the police.

The two of them kept to the dark parts of the lot, skirting their way past the cars as silently as shadows. They did such a good job of keeping out of sight that they nearly missed the car they had been trying to get to, but they found it in record time and knelt in the shadows cast by a nearby boat.

“Okay, Risa, so what’s your way of getting into the car?” Kazuo asked softly.

Risa pointed to the keypad on the frame of the car, next to the driver’s side. “I watched Ro’s dad once or twice,” she said softly. “It’s been a while, though, so…”

She took a moment to think it over, and then entered the code on the door. Kazuo found himself holding his breath. If Risa got it wrong, it could potentially set off the alarm and alert the police.

He was incredibly relieved when Risa gingerly tested the door and it opened. Some of the tension bled from their shoulders, and Risa turned to Kazuo. “Okay, Kazuo. We don’t have a lot of time. Start in the front and I’ll take the trunk—we’ll meet in the backseat,” she said. She leaned into the car and popped the trunk door open, and after pulling out a flashlight from her backpack she disappeared from view.

Kazuo carefully eased into the driver’s seat and softly shut the door behind him. He pulled out a flashlight of his own. He was not certain what he was trying to find, but he started at the side pockets of the door and the floors, lifting the floormats up and peering underneath the seat.

The two of them worked in silence, light coming from both their flashlights and the occasional flashes of lightning. Kazuo’s search was clinical and methodic, thorough in every aspect—and it yielded nothing. By the time he and Risa made it to the backseat, he already knew their search was futile. Judging by the frustration on Risa’s face, he knew that she had found nothing.

“Risa?” he asked quietly as she pulled the door closed. “Anything?”

“No,” she said, a shadow to her features. She abruptly slammed her fist into the side of passenger seat, startling Kazuo. “I knew it was a long shot. I knew it wouldn’t yield anything—it didn’t when I searched the twin’s apartment, it didn’t when I broke into your uncle’s office at the charity headquarters, so why did I think it would give me anything here?”

A part of Kazuo found himself wondering just when and how Risa had managed to break into both locations without anyone realizing what she was doing. The rest of Kazuo’s attention went to where Risa’s fist had hit on the seat, eyes locked on the opening that had been revealed when Risa’s hand slammed into it. The slit was located in just a spot that was practically hidden from sight. The only reason he had even seen it was because of Risa punching it and disturbing a side of the seat. He saw a button visible on one side, and the edges of the tear were not ragged but sewn.

Kazuo remembered then. It was as if it had been a lifetime ago when he’d overheard his aunt talking about secret pouches in the seats. “You never know what you may need to hide away in the car,” she had said with a laugh.

And though she had sounded as if she had been joking at the time, Aunt Ellie clearly had been serious about the matter.

“Risa, look,” he said quietly. He leaned forward, moving Risa’s hand aside. He pushed the two corners of the seat together to open the gap further and as he did, he felt something firm beneath his palm. His heart started hammering. “Risa, there’s something here.”

Risa shone her flashlight at the tear, and Kazuo saw something glint in the light. Risa reached forward, part of her hand disappearing into the tear. When she pulled her hand out, she was gripping a cell phone.

Kazuo recognized the phone almost instantly, as did Risa. They said nothing for a long moment, and then Risa’s face darkened as she held out the phone. “Kaz, this proves it. This proves it!” she said, her voice a fierce whisper. “What happened was no accident! It couldn’t be!”

Kazuo’s own eyes narrowed. Risa was right. There was no reason for his aunt to put her cell phone in that hidden compartment, not if it had been an accident and if the car had been in the river. There would not have been any time. There was nothing circumstantial about this—Aunt Ellie had deliberately hidden her phone.

There could only be one reason why.

“Risa,” he began, but Risa suddenly turned her flashlight off and grabbed the collar of Kazuo’s shirt, pulling him down to the floor of the car. “What?”

Risa motioned for him to stay quiet. Tension lined her features as she held her finger to her lips. Kazuo was about to protest when he caught sight of a shadow that passed in front of the driver’s side of the window. Muffled voices came through the window, and he froze.

Someone was outside of the car.

“Not cops,” Risa breathed, leaning up enough to peer at the window. “Guys in suits.”

The people watching them. Kazuo felt a chill ride up his spine as his eyes met Risa’s. They had to get out of there, before they were caught. If they were captured…how had these men known they were in the lot?

“Kaz, masks and hoods,” Risa said quietly, and Kazuo pulled up the bandana over his mouth and nose. As he reached for the hood Risa slowly eased out something small and round from her coat pocket. She sat up carefully and looked through the windows before ducking down to mirror Kazuo.  “You know how to get back to the fence?”

“Yeah…are we going to vault it?”

“We’ll have to. It’s got barbed wire on the top of it, Kaz, so just be careful going over the top. I’m pretty sure if they’re sweeping the lot they’re gonna be guarding the entrance—fence is the only option.”

Kazuo heard something matter-of-fact in her voice and he wondered how many other times Risa had done this before. “Risa—“

“They’re circling back. Kazuo, your side of the car’s not being watched. We go out your side. Don’t turn around or wait for me, just go for the fence when I tell you.”

Kazuo slowly opened the door, moving painstakingly slow out of the car. Risa followed him and eased the door shut behind him, crouching beside him. She was about to start speaking when they heard a low voice from the other side of the car and they both stiffened.

“How hard is it to find two kids in a parking lot?” a man’s voice grumbled. Kazuo slowly bent down to peer under the car and saw shoes, motioning for Risa to be quiet. Risa pressed herself to the car, hands gripping the circular object from earlier. “Yo, Turner, where am I supposed to look?”

They did not hear the other voice—it had to be a radio contact. The other man swore and said, “Yeah, I know, the car, but have you seen that I am in a lot full of both cars and police? They could be out here any moment and there’s a lot of charcoal gray cars out here!”

Police. They had forgotten about the police. If they could just get their attention…

Kazuo looked over to Risa just in time to watch her lob something over the back of the car. There was a clatter against the asphalt, a startled cry, and then—

There was an explosive crack and the world filled with the scent of strawberry and pink smoke. Kazuo yelped, choking and coughing—it was one of the twin’s potent smoke bombs. He felt Risa’s hand lock around his wrist as he was dragged away from the car. “Run, Kazuo!”

The two of them sprinted through the smoke, running through the lot even as spotlights came on and shouts filled the air. As they ran the threatening rain finally began to fall, water nearly blinding them as it came down in thick sheets. They did not stop running until they reached the fence, and without missing a beat they climbed.

Kazuo hissed in pain as the barbwire grabbed at his arms and legs, dropping to the ground on the other side of the fence. A few minor scratches were the least of his worries, since his jacket had been thick enough to block the barbs.

There was a sharp cry from above him and he turned. Risa had tried to drop from the fence as well, but her arm was tangled in the wire on the fence. She was dangling by her caught arm from the top of the chain-link fence. She couldn’t pull herself free and couldn’t find purchase on the fence. “Kazuo, go!” she said desperately, her face twisted with pain.

“Not on your life!” Kazuo reached up, arms wrapping around her waist to hold her up. “Pull yourself free!”

Risa squealed in pain as she yanked hard on her arm. He heard the fabric tear before she fell on top of him. There was no time to assess Risa’s arm—there were headlights coming towards them. “Come on!” he urged, and he caught her free arm to run across the street. Risa stumbled, her voice filled with sobs of pain as she ran.

They did not stop running, slipping through alleyways and climbing chain link fences, even weaving through the crowds. Only when Kazuo was certain that they had lost their pursuers did he stop running, taking in heaping gulps of air. For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of desperate gasps. Kazuo caught a movement from the corner of his eye and saw Risa slump against the wall.

“Risa, are you okay?” he asked urgently.

Risa’s face was blanched beneath the flushed color from running. As she cradled her arm Kazuo caught the blood seeping through her fingertips. He moved over to her, gently moving the sleeve away and hissing in sympathy as he saw the deep gouges. Her arm had gotten caught at the elbow and pulling free had torn her arm down to the wrist.

“We can’t go to the doctors,” she said between clenched teeth, seeming to read Kazuo’s mind. “They’ll know we broke in somewhere we shouldn’t have.”

“Risa, it’s been raining since we ran. Chances are high any DNA you left on that fence will have gotten washed away. These are going to need stitches.” Kazuo rose to his feet, eyes locked on the all too familiar sight of Kaiba Corporation’s logo looming above them. “We’ve got an onsite clinic, so we’ll go there.”

Kazuo took her hand again and she didn’t resist as he led her into the crowd. He weaved through the bustle of the sidewalk, his eyes darting through the passing people for any unfriendly eyes. Although it took only ten minutes to make the walk to Kaiba Corporation, it felt like eternity.

“We’ll call Mom when we get in there,” he said as they stepped through the gates. It had finally stopped raining. “We can also look at Aunt Ellie’s phone too and see what’s on it. There had to be something valuable if Aunt Ellie hid the phone.”

Risa followed him mutely, her features pain-filled. Kazuo led her inside the building and hailed one of the security guards in the lobby, and as they escorted Risa to the medical wing he pulled out Aunt Ellie’s phone. He wasn’t expecting it to turn on, since it had been submerged and it would take quite the restorative process, but maybe the SD card would yield something. He checked the slot for the SD card using a small pin to open it, but then felt his heart sink—there wasn’t anything there. Someone had gotten the card before they could.

Still, the phone itself was valuable evidence. It had finally proven that there was a chance of foul play. It probably would not be admissible as evidence, since they had found it after breaking into the car, but for their parents it was confirmation that there was more to the so-called accidental deaths of their loved ones.

Speaking of loved ones…

Kazuo pocketed Aunt Ellie’s phone to pull out his own. He grimaced as he saw the multiple missed calls and texts, all from his parents. Well this was going to be fun. He re-dialed his mother and then held the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Mama,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “I know you’re probably worried, so I’m calling you back. I’ve got a very good explanation for where I’ve been…”

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