#v. he came like the wind ; book canon

[caracarnn]

@stcrforged liked 🐉 for a starter

"Something's wrong and you're not admitting it."

[bookoformon]

Ether Chapter 2, Part 4. "The Waves."

Following are the instructions God gave the Prophet for something that sounds like a submarine for use in crossing the Black Sea to the Promised Land. He calls it a "dish with a tight top." [where do I get one? The Gay Pottery Barn? All that other place had was a floppy].

He warns a flood is coming and these ships, which are not to have windows or use fire are the only way to survive when the rest of the world is washed away. All the contents below are encrypted. Since there is nothing like this in all of the canon, I will jump right into those at the end of this chapter:

16 And the Lord said: Go to work and build, after the manner of abarges which ye have hitherto built. And it came to pass that the brother of Jared did go to work, and also his brethren, and built barges after the manner which they had built, according to the binstructions of the Lord. And they were small, and they were light upon the water, even like unto the lightness of a fowl upon the water.

17 And they were built after a manner that they were exceedingly tight, even that they would hold water like unto a dish; and the bottom thereof was tight like unto a dish; and the sides thereof were tight like unto a dish; and the ends thereof were peaked; and the top thereof was tight like unto a dish; and the length thereof was the length of a tree; and the door thereof, when it was shut, was tight like unto a dish.

18 And it came to pass that the brother of Jared cried unto the Lord, saying: O Lord, I have performed the work which thou hast commanded me, and I have made the barges according as thou hast directed me.

19 And behold, O Lord, in them there is no light; whither shall we steer? And also we shall perish, for in them we cannot breathe, save it is the air which is in them; therefore we shall perish.

20 And the Lord said unto the brother of Jared: Behold, thou shalt make a hole in the top, and also in the bottom; and when thou shalt suffer for air thou shalt unstop the hole and receive air. And if it be so that the water come in upon thee, behold, ye shall stop the hole, that ye may not perish in the flood.

21 And it came to pass that the brother of Jared did so, according as the Lord had commanded.

22 And he cried again unto the Lord saying: O Lord, behold I have done even as thou hast commanded me; and I have prepared the vessels for my people, and behold there is no light in them. Behold, O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness?

23 And the Lord said unto the brother of Jared: What will ye that I should do that ye may have light in your vessels? For behold, ye cannot have windows, for they will be dashed in pieces; neither shall ye take fire with you, for ye shall not go by the light of fire.

24 For behold, ye shall be as a whale in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea; for the bwinds have gone forth cout of my mouth, and also the drains and the floods have I sent forth.

25 And behold, I prepare you against these things; for ye cannot cross this great deep save I prepare you against the waves of the sea, and the winds which have gone forth, and the floods which shall come. Therefore what will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea?

The Values in Gematria are:

And the Lord said: Go to work and build, after the manner of barges which ye have hitherto built:

v. 16a: And it came to pass that the brother of Jared did go to work, and also his brethren, and built barges after the manner which they had built, according to the instructions of the Lord. Instructions refer to the Torah. The Value in Gematria is 8314, חג‎‎אד‎, the Hagad, the Haggadah.

According to Jewish practice, reading the Haggadah at the Seder table is a fulfillment of the mitzvah to each Jew to tell their children the story from the Book of Exodus about God bringing the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, with a strong hand and an outstretched arm.

16b: And they were small, and they were light upon the water, even like unto the lightness of a fowl upon the water.

The Value in Gematria is 9198, ט‎אטח, ttah, "work from under society and build up." As Jesus said, the poor and the meek have to come first. A foul upon the water is the request God made of us to be able to see Himself reflected within us. This is how He wants this done.

Next come specifications for the Dishes. There are many kinds of Dishes named in the Torah and there are preparations specified for each. All of this is found in Terumah:

The Table 23 “Make a table of acacia wood—two cubits long, a cubit wide and a cubit and a half high.[d]  24 Overlay it with pure gold and make a gold molding around it.  25 Also make around it a rim a handbreadth[e] wide and put a gold molding on the rim.  26 Make four gold rings for the table and fasten them to the four corners, where the four legs are.  27 The rings are to be close to the rim to hold the poles used in carrying the table.  28 Make the poles of acacia wood, overlay them with gold and carry the table with them.  29 And make its plates and dishes of pure gold, as well as its pitchers and bowls for the pouring out of offerings.  30 Put the bread of the Presence on this table to be before me at all times. =the Table represents close relationships. These are the ones that provide food of the intellectual and nutritional sort, they are where the bread of life is served. The rings represent marriage to the Table and the acacia "poles" planted as seedlings early in life must be brought to the table to serve and partake, they are the dishes and pitchers of gold, which are invaluable.

A dish we travel within, about the size of a tree found in v. 17 is slightly different. The Rab suggests the holes at the top and the bottom are Keter and Malchut, which control the fire of the intellect and sovereignty over the passions. The Kabbalah says the body is like a tree with various ornamental fires that burn along its branches and the door, the Terumah, is the Mezuzhah, the Invocation, "Baruch Ha Shem, Baruch Adonai".

The preparation of dishes before they are put to use is an exhaustive process involving clean water and specific condition. Anything involving water entails Moses, or freedom from delusion. Obviously then the Prophet is discussing immersion of the Self into a Mikvah , a ritual water bath for the purposes of freedom from any attitude or belief that separates one from a pure analysis of what reflects the Self and which thoughts and passions get in the way:

v. 17a : And they were built after a manner that they were exceedingly tight, even that they would hold water like unto a dish; and the bottom thereof was tight like unto a dish; The Value in Gematria is 11868, יאחוח‎, yahoo, "If God is to save, one will need to rest."

Ya= God

Hoo= Hosanna

We don't praise God during the bad times that is ridiculous. We praise Him during the good times and pray they last. That is how this works. So a real Jewish person hopes and prays and works for as many good times as possible knowing that is how they become the kind of person that is capable of knowing the God the most.

17b: and the sides thereof were tight like unto a dish; and the ends thereof were peaked; and the top thereof was tight like unto a dish; The Value in Gematria is 6379, וג‎זט‎, "And gazette." "Put your foot on the ground."

There are gazelles and gazettes. "Are you going towards the gas? The power?"

17c: and the length thereof was the length of a tree; and the door thereof, when it was shut, was tight like unto a dish. The Value in Gematria is 6931, וטגא‎ ‎‎, and taga, "A moment in a cell."

We have short lives within these bodies the prison cell called the planet earth. The Prophet says we need to grasp the power of the sea instead of a castaway. Dry land is the answer, and that means a world that is free of all delusion about its capacity to wage war and be violent.

v. 18: And it came to pass that the brother of Jared cried unto the Lord, saying: O Lord, I have performed the work which thou hast commanded me, and I have made the barges according as thou hast directed me. The Value in Gematria is 9565, טהו‎ ה‎, taho, "to wander in confusion, that's wrong.

v. 19: And behold, O Lord, in them there is no light; whither shall we steer? And also we shall perish, for in them we cannot breathe, save it is the air which is in them; therefore we shall perish. The Value in Gematria is 10726, א‎אֶפֶסז‎בו‎, apsezbo, "there is an abscess in him."

When we feel like there is no light on the outside, the Prophet says this is a matter of the fact there is no way for it to get in. Without repentance, which requires a healthy conscience the Light of Ha Shem will not enter the Self.

v. 20: And the Lord said make two holes. Everything in Judaism is done twice. It is doubled. Once is for reading comprehension, the other is for practical application. This is why we perform science experiments in high school so we learn not to take what is written in the text books for granted.

The Value in Gematria is 8470, חדזאֶפֶס‎‎, hadzapes, "Then you will grasp things."

v. 22: And he cried again unto the Lord saying: O Lord, behold I have done even as thou hast commanded me; and I have prepared the vessels for my people, and behold there is no light in them. Behold, O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness? The Value in Gematria is 8228, חחבב‎ ‎ , habbab, "the next young sprout."

v. 23a: And the Lord said unto the brother of Jared: What will ye that I should do that ye may have light in your vessels? For behold, ye cannot have windows, for they will be dashed in pieces; The Value in Gematria is 14574, יד‎הז‎ד‎, yad hazed, "the side hand".

= the right hand bound by the Tefillin, "the children above all" which are the Devarim. "In case we become afraid of a particular ruler that is attempting to usurp God's authority, we bind the memory of what the Torah says, God is higher than the earth, and we have the authority to destroy him". This must be done at once, for the sake of the sprouts. Children must not be enslaved, they must not see adults take slaves or oppress others.

23b: Neither shall ye take fire with you, for ye shall not go by the light of fire. The Value in Gematria is 4416, דד‎‎או‎, "dada dead." "A wandering soul will drift until it dies."

v. 24: For behold, ye shall be as a whale in the midst of the sea; for the mountain waves shall dash upon you. Nevertheless, I will bring you up again out of the depths of the sea; for the winds have gone forth out of my mouth, and also the drains (tears) and the floods (despair) have I sent forth.

Whales are "ways to see through the enormity of challenges." Winds blow through the mind and end all slanderous speech and outside propaganda from our thinking (there are Four, which roughly correspond with the process of Chabad). Sans plaguey influences and delusional story telling, God can be known "as above, so below" but even still the Torah is not a self-help guide.

The real problem is the "whale of the desert" the Pharaoh. Pharaohs are problems that are as big as they look, and they need proper enemies. This is why the Law was written, to empower large numbers of people in the act of taking down tyrants and setting fire to their regimes. About this there are no possible delusions.

The Value in Gematria is 12498, יב‎ד‎טח‎ ‎, yvdtach, "your iodine." "Your heel." hey and yod, "hand and foot" persons like the Pharaoh, like Donald Trump, Dick Cheney, and every member of the Republican Party, must be fought. Especially when they are breaking the law out in the open, in public. It's way too tempting not to do something about it.

v. 25a: And behold, I prepare you against these things; for ye cannot cross this great deep save I prepare you against the waves of the sea, and the winds which have gone forth, and the floods which shall come.

The Value in Gematria is 12141, יב‎אדא, yabada, ‎"God will work." Meaning what God says will work out.

25b: Therefore what will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea. The Value in Gematria is 10660, יו‎ואֶפֶס‎, yufess, "You will reset."

A reset is the full accomodation of one's Jewish identity. We would all have one if God as giving us everything we need. Very few persons even know what it is. There are no living persons who understand the entirety of the Tanakh, so when we cavil before God we don't know if we can possibly be a good enough Jew or not we don't even know what it is we are working for. To ask God about this then is asking for something about which we know very little.

The answer to all Jewish problems, especially the crisis about the discovery of one's Jewish Self is Shabbat.

Let us try an Eastern approach to the Torah and perform Gematria on the first and last lines of the Torah and see what happens:

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

Since then, no prophet has risen in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face, 11 who did all those signs and wonders the Lord sent him to do in Egypt—to Pharaoh and to all his officials and to his whole land. 12 For no one has ever shown the mighty power or performed the awesome deeds that Moses did in the sight of all Israel."

The Values in Gematria are 12717, יבזאז‎‎‎‎, "Shame on you, Yabzaz! You will be looted."

and 9062, טאֶפֶסוב‎‎, tapesov, "a settlement."

Finally, For no one has ever shown the mighty power or performed the awesome deeds that Moses did in the sight of all Israel", the Number is 6981, וטחא‎, "And grind."

Grinding, the av melachah of tochen, is forbidden on Shabbat. The purpose of grinding is to break a large object into smaller pieces which can serve a new or better purpose.

="Shame on you! I will not allow this. Let us forge an Agreement. Put a stop to the grind and I will make of you a great nation."

SO until the Jewish people settle and the body of knowledge in the Tanakh is understood, hand and foot, in the mind and in the community, in the courthouse the White House, the shul, the church and the mosque, mankind is damned and doomed to do little more than repent.

God reassures us however, if we keep driving towards this mysterious state of being called Shabbat, a transgression free world, our communal and individual experiences of bliss will be finish the deal God made with Abraham for the onset of a proper human civilization on this world.

[aebbeswriting]

Her heart started to calm, although excitement still thrilled through her. James flew low, and not too fast, over the dunes towards the mouth of the river, and Hazel leaned back into him. She was glad of his arm round her waist, but she thought she'd be safe even without it. The wind blew her hair back from her face, and enjoyment set in. She was flying. Actually flying on a broom, and the realisation made her laugh out loud. ‘This is so weird!’ she called. ‘Good weird or bad weird? You want to land?’ His voice came from near her ear. ‘No!’ she said. ‘It's great!’ James laughed. ‘Want to go a bit higher then?’ Hazel looked down at the ground, which already seemed quite far away, and swallowed. ‘Yes, okay,’ she said. It was safe. Nothing could happen. He did this all the time.

Chapter V.

Hazel finds out what it feels like to fly.

james sirius potter x oc

hp next generation, book-canon compliant, rated t, chapter 5 of 20.

things get a little bit steamier in this chapter, but not enough to change the rating.

[tsukishimas-shortcake]

Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

[caracarnn]

He glanced at her hand and then reached out to take it casually, gently shaking it in turn. A small smile marking his lips, it was tense. Something about strangers unnerved him but he managed to be easy about it just then, quelling his paranoia for this stranger. He had good instincts, didn't he?

"Rand. Rand al'Thor." he answered with a small nod of his head in response once she had prompted him for his name. "Maybe we can go and look at some maps?" He suggested to her. "Then we can figure out how to get you home." Being out of place was never a good feeling."

She was glad that his first instinct wasn't to be aggressive about the situation, but she was still in a strange place. This world wasn't hers, and she didn't know what she was doing, but at least this young man wasn't trying to bring her any harm. If anything, he seemed as curious about her as she was about him. At the same time, of course he was, right? She did not belong here.

"I'm Eve," she offered, holding her hand out for him to shake, though it dawned on her as she did that, that perhaps that wasn't the custom here. There was a lot that she was going to have to get used to and quickly, so that she could figure out how to return home. "I'm from someplace very far from here I'm afraid, but I'm honored to make your acquaintance...?" she trailed off, hoping that it would prompt him for his name as well.

[caracarnn]

@forwardlion liked 🐉 for a starter

"I know that after...after you came for me you and I didn't agree on much but I really need to know that you still trust me."

[raymondebidochonlifechoices]

Are you confident Bughead will be endgame on this show? That’s literally the last strand I’ve been holding onto, but the thread is weakening. I really can’t believe that they would take this ship, their absolute most popular and loved one, and just end it like this forever. I am so angry with the writing!!

Hey there, anon! It is unbelievable, isn’t it?

What a tricky question you ask! confidence + prediction + the Riverdale writers ... As Jughead would say: yikes!

The thing with these writers is that they use a lot of words without knowing their meaning. “Endgame” is one of them. “New” is another. “Exciting”. “Darkness”™. “Adult stories”. “The message”…

Dangling the bughead “endgame” carrot at the end of one or two seasons of no bughead or -worse- of b*rchie and j*bitha f.e. is not an endgame. The general definition of endgame -outside of chess- is: the last stage of a process. If the process (i.e. the season’s content) isn’t about bughead, then bughead coming together at the very end is not an endgame, it's a peripeteia i.e. a sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances.

In shipping, endgame is a couple that will inevitably end together (for ever and ever and ever). In order for something to be inevitable, you have to create that sentiment, you have to build the couple up.

There’s an article about the misappropriation of the word “endagame” that I find particularly funny, as it starts by mentioning Riverdale!

Anyway, this is a long-winded way to say that, yes, I do believe that the show will end with bughead and varchie as their main canon couples. It’s just that, like you, I’m so very tired with these story lines. There is satisfaction to be had at the notion of endgame but a seasonful of investigative bughead would be infinitely preferable. For me (and I can only speak of myself) the journey is more important than the destination -even if for the simple reason that -in TV show time- it lasts longer!

Why do I think bughead is still … that word? Everything’s under the cut, so as not to clutter your dash!

1. A lot of people have been theorising that what happened in 5x18 was not the original plot. I agree.

Let’s start with 5x18 varchie.

Their break up came completely out of left field. Its unexpectedness is reminiscent of 4x17. I make fun of how s5 is a reboot of s1+s2’s leftover ideas, so another copy-paste shouldn’t feel out of place, and yet … really? Another repetition? To what end? If the season’s goal was not varchie, b*rchie was already there waiting at the beginning of the time jump! Why abandon that plot? In terms of romantic varchie time, that was extremely limited, since after their kiss in 5x7, Veronica’s divorce kept them apart until 5x17 … Why have Archie being extremely jealous of Chad, Veronica getting involved in all of Archie’s schemes (firefighters, bulldogs), Archie getting involved in Ronnie’s (rescuing daddykins) or Veronica telling her father she chooses Archie over him in 5x17? Also, for those who remember, there was this by the-writer-who-shall-not-be-named.

The reason of the break up is as ludicrous as Veronica moving into Archie’s childhood bedroom (with its effing slanted roof!) on the premise that long term the Andrews’ residence has more room! (By the way, I don’t know what surprised me more: that Veronica thought that Archie and uncle Frank would know who Ina Garten is or that Jughead didn’t.) Why is Veronica astounded by Archie’s involvement in the same activities he has been involved in all through the season?! For f***’s sake, she’s the one that gifted him the fire truck!

Ok. Now let’s give 5x18 j*bitha a try.

For me, 5x18 could either have gone bugheadwards or j*bithawards. J*bitha had some heartfelt talks, a hand touch, a hallucination and a kiss. Bughead had one unfinished heartfelt talk (the only one in the whole season for Betty), two shoulder touches, two hallucinations and Jughead attempting to reconnect with Betty (without specifying what his intent was, it's true).

While I do think that j*bitha is a ship that has been adequately teased, the way they were explored in 5x18 was … not underwhelming exactly (after all, they’re not my ship, so I didn’t have any expectations about them) but … maybe lukewarm is the word? They had but minimal dialogue, only enough to establish that Tabitha’s parents were in town. Then a song where Tabitha initially rejects Jughead, although she had been supportive before. Then another song, where the lyrics were heavily altered and didn’t make much sense anyway (we hadn’t been properly introduced to the Tates) but where the original lyrics were very compatible with Bughead’s history and state of being as of 5x17. The kisses were ok, I have no problem with the actors’ chemistry. But -and this is strictly a personal opinion- Jughead’s flirting scenes (not the make-out ones, you perverts!) with Cora were better and so was the j*bitha kiss in 5x10. For the 5x18 j*bitha to flow, more dialogue and more flirting was necessary (always a persona opinion). So, no, I don’t think j*bitha were supposed to sing what they sang in 5x18.

Production for s5 wrapped up one week after the official announcement of the 5 special episodes for Riverdale and The Flash: “we expect it will take us until Fall 2022 to get back to a regular schedule” was the official quote. Re-organising the cw’s overall schedule didn’t happen overnight. Yes, more likely than not, the writers knew about the specifics of s6a before shooting 5x18-5x19 and had time to re-write them.

2. The couples spoilers for s6 do not make sense plot-wise.

If the end-goal for 5x19-6x1 had been b*rchie, j*bitha and v*ggie all along, these were pairs already happening (except from v*ggie) at the beginning of the time-jump. As for v*ggie, last time we saw them, Veronica pulled a face when she heard that he had had (still has?) an affair with Hermosa. And what about Nana Rose?! (ok, that was a joke! ... or was it? 👀)

The majority of both the fans and the general audience are bugvarchie shippers. Teasing b*rchie and j*bitha as a means of maintaining the viewers’ interest in a will they/won’t they way, only works if the audience finally gets what they want. In this season. Not the next one! There is so much trolling one can take after all. In the space of 1.5 year (4x17-5x19) b*rchie will have been teased ... THREE times (and still lacking build-up)!

I cannot myself see b*rchie, j*bitha and v*ggie as endgame couples. For the audience to invest in them after 4 years of bugvarchie, the writers have to a) give j*bitha an absolutely incredible development that will surpass bughead and the cinematography to go with it (good luck with that) and b) undo Archie’s character (highly unlikely) and/or give Betty a lobotomy (at which point a lot of people will quit en masse, because Archie as The One All The Girls Want just doesn't resonate with the majority).

I have no idea if s6a is an AU or not. But if it’s not, no one will be left to watch 6b.

Can I guarantee a bughead endgame? Of course not. I have no idea how the minds of the Riverdale writers work. But I do think that Jughead and Betty getting back together is more than wishful thinking.

Fervently shipping Jughead/Betty, Jughead/his book and Betty/therapy, sincerely yours, @raymondebidochonlifechoices

I hope you have fun with the Riverdale universe regardless, dear anon. Riverdale has given us one of the most beautiful getting-together stories in s1 and lots and lots of beautiful canon bughead afterwards. Here's to many more! Much love to you!

[dontbipanicjonsa]

A confusing clusterfuck of thoughts re: Jonsa

Or: why the fuck are Jon and Sansa so compatible if they're not canon, huh?

He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. - Bran III AGOT

So....Jon is going to lose memory of all warmth? I'm going to separate the changes brought about in post-resurrection!Jon here as changes caused by death and changes caused by Ghost. This post is only speculating about the changes caused by death i.e. loss of memory of all warmth.

More foreshadowing for that-

Chunks of coal burned in iron braziers at either end of the long room, but Jon found himself shivering. The chill was always with him here. In a few years he would forget what it felt like to be warm. - Jon III AGOT

"It was. The fort is in a sorry state, admittedly. You will restore it as best you can..." ... You'll sleep on stone, too exhausted to complain or plot, and soon you'll forget what it was like to be warm, but you might remember what it was to be a man. - Jon II ADWD

So, I did a word search for warm and memory and I found some interesting stuff. Read under the cut.

1. Home

Jon- warmth and memory of home

The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. - Jon II AGOT (thinking about Arya)

The weariness came on him suddenly... So cold, he thought, remembering the warm halls of Winterfell, where the hot waters ran through the walls like blood through a man's body. There was scant warmth to be found in Castle Black... - Jon III AGOT

...Iron Emmett was still urging on his charges in the yard. The song of steel on steel woke a hunger in Jon. It reminded him of warmer, simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel. Ser Rodrik too had fallen, slain by Theon Turncloak... All my memories are poisoned. - Jon VI ADWD

The warmth took some of the ache from his muscles and made him think of Winterfell's muddy pools, steaming and bubbling in the godswood. Winterfell, he thought. Theon left it burned and broken, but I could restore it.-Jon XII ASOS

So, these are the memories of warmth he'll lose? This warmth, that he associates with Winterfell (and the Starks), is the first memory of warmth Jon has.

Dany- memory of home

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind... and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door.

"… the dragon …" - Daenerys IX AGOT

Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door … was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? - Daenerys VI AGOT

..."What shall we talk of?"

"Home," said Dany. "Naath. Butterflies and brothers. Tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. Remind me that there is still good in the world."

Missandei did her best. She was still talking when Dany finally fell to sleep, to dream queer, half-formed dreams of smoke and fire. - Daenerys VIII ADWD

Dany's idea of 'home' changes over the course of the books. In the beginning she uses home for Illyrio's house, or the house with the red door. She very clearly doesn't think of Westeros as her home. After Viserys's death however, there's a sudden shift. Now, Westeros is her long lost home that she must return to someday. It's jarring. Interestingly enough, she pretty clearly rejects the idea of Dothraki khalasars as home, and the only time she calls Meereen home is in her last chapter of ADWD where she's trying to convince herself to return there. But we know that she ultimately rejects that too, in the same chapter.

Sansa- memory of home

Snow was falling on the Eyrie.

Outside the flakes drifted down as soft and silent as memory. Was this what woke me? Already the snowfall lay thick... The sight took Sansa back to cold nights long ago, in the long summer of her childhood. - Sansa VII ASOS

Last of all came the Royces, Lord Nestor and Bronze Yohn... Though his hair was grey and his face lined, Lord Yohn still looked as though he could break most younger men like twigs in those huge gnarled hands. His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa's memories of his time at Winterfell. - Alayne I AFFC

She missed Septa Mordane, and even more Jeyne Poole, her truest friend... She tried not to think of them too often, yet sometimes the memories came unbidden, and then it was hard to hold back the tears. Once in a while, Sansa even missed her sister. By now Arya was safe back in Winterfell... - Sansa II ACOK

Arya coz why not

"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths.… Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you …" - Arya II AGOT

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. - Arya II AFFC

Again, all this (and much more) is stuff that reminds Sansa (and Arya) of home. This is, presumably, shit that Jon is gonna forget. Or maybe he'll retain the memories and only lose the emotions (warmth) associated with it?

2. Suitors or romantic/sexual partners (+Ben Plumm)

Jon

Many a night he lay with Ygritte warm beside him,... - Jon V ASOS

So, Ygritte becomes his second memory of warmth.

When he turned he saw Ygritte.

...cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon's heart leapt into his mouth. "Ygritte," he said.

"Lord Snow." The voice was Melisandre's.

Surprise made him recoil from her. "Lady Melisandre." He took a step backwards. "I mistook you for someone else." At night all robes are grey. - Jon VI ADWD

AT NIGHT ALL ROBES ARE GREY...yea I know, this is a well established connection between the Girl in Grey and Ygritte. Since Jon associates Ygritte with warmth so strongly, I think it's safe to assume that the Girl in Grey might play a role in warming him too (hehe).

… one hears queer talk of dragons."

"Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a bit."

"My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons." - Jon IX ADWD

Yikes.

Dany

"If my queen commands," he (Jorah) said, curt and cold.

Dany was warm enough for both of them. "She does," she said. "She commands...

When he was gone, Dany threw herself down on her pillows beside her dragons. She had not meant to be so sharp with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally woken her dragon. - Daenerys IV ASOS

So, here the warmth is because of anger (woken the dragon).

Dany could feel the warmth of his fingers. He was warm in Qarth as well, she recalled, until the day he had no more use for me. She rose to her feet. "Come," she said, and Xaro followed her through the pillars... - Daenerys III ADWD

She remembered Ben's face the last time she had seen it. It was a warm face, a face I trusted... Even the dragons had been fond of old Brown Ben, who liked to boast that he had a drop of dragon blood himself. Three treasons will you know. Once for gold and once for blood and once for love. Was Plumm the third treason, or the second? And what did that make Ser Jorah, her gruff old bear? Would she never have a friend that she could trust?- Daenerys VI ADWD

This is twice that Dany associates warmth with people who use/betray her.

"You're hurt," she gasped.

"This?" Daario touched his temple. "A crossbowman tried to put a quarrel through my eye, but I outrode it. I was hurrying home to my queen, to bask in the warmth of her smile." He shook his sleeve, spattering red droplets. - Daenerys VI ADWD

Dawn always came too soon.

...If only she had the power, she would have made their nights go on forever, but the best that she could do was stay awake to try and savor every last sweet moment before daybreak turned them into no more than fading memories....

Dany wrapped her arms around her captain and pressed herself against his back. She drank in the scent of him, savoring the warmth of his flesh, the feel of his skin against her own. Remember, she told herself. Remember how he felt. - Daenerys VII ADWD

Ok, I forgot how smitten Dany was with Daario. It would be cute if Daario wasn't so horrifying. Girl has some seriously questionable taste.

Interestingly, the phrase 'fading memory' is used four times in the text (as far as I can find) and three of those times are in Daenerys's POV. One is in the above quote, where she's commanding herself to remember her time with Daario before her marriage to Hizdahr, and the other time is while thinking about the red door. Both these are memories that are important to her, that connect her to the hopeful/little/not-dark girl she once was.

Sansa

Gently, he spoke of Braavos, and met a wall of sullen courtesy as icy and unyielding as the Wall he had walked once in the north. - Tyrion VIII ASOS

"I am composing a new song, you should know. A song so sweet and sad it will melt even your frozen heart. 'The Roadside Rose,' I mean to call it. About a baseborn girl so beautiful she bewitched every man who laid eyes upon her." - Sansa VII ASOS

"Alayne." Her aunt's singer stood over her. "Sweet Alayne. I am Marillion. I saw you come in from the rain. The night is chill and wet. Let me warm you." - Sansa VI ASOS

You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. Take off those gloves, give me your hands." - Sansa VII ASOS

Yea no. Sansa has not had a good experience with people offering to warm her (unfreeze her? melt her?)

Looks like in TWOW there's going to be two people in desperate need of some warming.

It's pretty neat actually. Jon associates memories of warmth with two things primarily: Winterfell/the Starks, and Ygritte. Sansa is both a Stark, and a much (much) improved Ygritte.

Sansa's iciness-wall-armour is a form of protection that she employs against predatory men. The only person who can melt her frozen heart...is someone who is not predatory. Someone who cares for her. Jon.

It fits perfectly. They fit perfectly.

[in-tua-deep]

Angsty au idea, five makes it back except he arrives dead and only Klaus and Ben can see him. (What happened to his body? Could be that his body got stuck between space time or he drops off as his thirteen year old sib and thats gonna traumatize the sibs probably) (Ig he could have also either died from wounds because the commision figured that he'd be turning and got strained from the time travel or an error in equations)

me, resurrecting myself over here

okay okay okay i’m going to take your idea and tweak it just a teeny tiny bit and produce:

Time travel isn’t viable.

Not the way five travels. Not without a conduit. Not when he’s essentially harnessing all of time, all of those endless possibilities, within the heart of a human being. It’s so much. It’s too much. Five died the moment he blinked away on that street outside of the Hargreeves mansion. 

But Five doesn’t know that. 

He doesn’t notice that no one gives him a second glance when he appears out of nowhere on those bustling streets. He just jumps again, because why not! He’s excited, he’s proving his father wrong, he’s liberated! And then.

And then.

He’s in the apocalypse.

He doesn’t notice that he can’t interact with anything until he touches his Luther’s corpse and his hand goes right through. And then, his first thought isn’t - I died. It’s - something went wrong with the last jump.

Which makes sense to him. He’s managed to get himself trapped on some kind of in-between plane. And that’s why his time travel powers aren’t working! Because they don’t work right on this plane! 

Five wanders the apocalypse, and it’s a little better than in canon because he doesn’t need to eat.

(Oh, he misses eating.)

He’s a smart boy. A brilliant boy. He’s thirteen, and he thinks he’s invincible. But his powers are jumping, and he can take himself apart molecule by molecule, and eventually eventually after years and years have passed he manages to solidify his hand enough to pick something up.

The first time he turns a page in a book feels like victory. 

He camps out in the destroyed remains of a library. Being solid enough to pick something up is... exhausting. He can’t do it for long periods of time. But he has a little stack of useful books, a little pile of chalk, the store mannequin he likes to talk to (he named her Dolores), and a blanket that has seen better days. He can’t exactly feel the ground when he curls up on it, and he can’t really sleep in this messed up pocket dimension or wherever he’s stuck, but he closes his eyes and pretends with all the power of the child he isn’t.

He’s in the apocalypse for a long time, trying to figure out a two-fold problem: how to get out of his pocket dimension and back into the ‘real world’ and also how to get back to his siblings when he does. He isn’t stupid. Time travel when he was capable of it was a crapshoot, he needs a way to get more exact.

And then the woman comes. Pristine and blond and carrying a suitcase. She frowns when she steps over the rubble in heels that click click click and frowns harder when she presses gloved fingers against Five’s equations written in chalk.

Five hides behind some rubble, but gets brave. Gets curious.

(Curiosity killed the cat.)

He comes out, he says “Hello?” and isn’t sure what he expected when she doesn’t even turn around. Five goes towards her with silent footsteps, footsteps that don’t disturb the dirt and chalk dust of the apocalypse because they don’t exist. 

He doesn’t know who she is, but he’s curious what’s in her suitcase, and waits patiently for her to open it. He’s also planning on following her back to whatever settlement she came from? He hadn’t thought there were any people alive, but clearly she is proving him wrong. 

So when she walks away, he puts his hand on her suitcase so that he doesn’t lose her, because even if she wouldn’t feel it putting his hand on her and watching it go through would be... demoralizing. 

And then she opens the suitcase, and suddenly they’re somewhere else. Except not somewhere else. Its bustling with people and the woman’s heels click loudly against the tile floor and someone walks right through Five and he trails after the woman because everyone seems to give her a wide berth and being walked through sucks. 

Someone addresses her. The Handler. That’s not - that’s not a people name, Five is pretty sure. That’s a title. But no one addresses the woman by name, so the Handler it is. 

Five doesn’t know how old he is, but he still looks thirteen. (He doesn’t feel any different, because he isn’t. His growth is permanently stunted, he will always have died at thirteen-years-one-month-and-nine-days-old.)

So he lives at the Commission headquarters for a few years, invisible and a tiny bit mischievous. He can travel through the walls if he wants, so no door is locked to him. He makes himself a little den in one of the vents where he gets a small collection of office supplies that he steals from the assholes as punishment. He doesn’t do anything major. 

He finds out what the commission does. He tags along with some assassins on occasion. He once distracted Cha-Cha by shoving a glass off a counter and breaking it to try and give a child witness time to flee.

(Hazel found her in the closet, terrified and silent with huge glassy brown eyes. He lifted a finger to his lips and quietly closed the closet door. He yelled “Clear!” to Cha-Cha, and then he and cha-cha and Five all left. Five looks at Hazel differently, after that.)

(Hazel has a soft spot for kids and bird-watching diner owners. This is important.)

Five scribbles equations on the walls of the vents. He gets more data every time he travels with the agents so he starts traveling with them a lot, even though he hates it, even though he sees so much death and destruction and he can’t stop it. He helps, sometimes. As much as he can. It’s not enough.

Five finds something, one day, when he’s wandering around. He finds a picture of Vanya, framed. He recognizes her immediately, from the back of Vanya’s book that he found in the apocalypse. They have lots of pictures of famous people around the commission, and lots of pictures of ordinary people. All of them significant in some way to the ‘preservation of the timeline’.

He goes to the Handler’s office, and among her many souvenirs he finds a cracked violin, and he remembers the background music that made up his entire childhood. 

(He steals the violin and puts it in his vent nook. He flips it over and traces the tiny V that’s shallowly carved shyly into the bottom, the same one Vanya has been putting on every violin she’s ever had since she was seven-years-old, after Diego and Luther broke hers and tried to claim that it was just a random violin, not her violin and it wasn’t their fault she didn’t take care of her possessions -)

(Why is Vanya’s violin in the Handler’s collection of weapons?)

Five is aware of something. He thinks the commission has something to do with the apocalypse. They protect the timeline of whatever, right? And yet the apocalypse happened. Which means it must be planned. 

Five has been trained to fight ‘villains’ since he was tiny, and he recognizes a villain when he looks at the Handler’s shiny smile and too long nails. 

Vanya has to have something to do with it. Do the commission kidnap her? Do they kill her? She’s important, somehow.

(Maybe before he traveled he would have doubted that. Vanya was ordinary. Why would she be important? But Five has tagged along on so many missions where they killed perfectly ordinary people in order to spark a chain of events. In fact, it’s almost always ordinary people.)

Five solves one of his equations on a regular, ordinary day. It’s the time travel one. Not the one about his... unfortunate circumstances.

So Five finds a nice empty room, and he gives it a try. He’s not expecting much, since the pocket dimension bullshit fucks up his time travel anyway (though he can still spatial jump curiously enough) except - it works. He splits the world apart, and it’s hard. Way harder than he remembers it being. 

He chalks that up to the whole pocket dimension effect.

He pushes and pushes and then - something breaks. Like ice shattering for a spring thaw, and he’s through. He’s on the ground, winded. He looks up and - it’s them. His siblings. Older than he remembers, clearly the equation wasn’t exactly right, but they’re here and they’re alive and Five can feel himself tearing up and he lets it happen because none of them can see him anyway and - 

“Five?” 

Two voices, overlapping. Five’s head snaps over, eyes wide with shock and alarm and - 

It’s Klaus and Ben. Both staring at him, equal alarm and shock in their eyes.

“You can see me?” Five demands loudly, patting at his body frantically. Is this it? Did he kill two birds with one stone? Did coming back undo whatever bullshit he put his body through - ?

“Klaus, why would you say that.” Allison scolds automatically, “That was in poor taste.”

Five looks at her, and her eyes scan straight over him, in the way that’s been familiar for - for - 

(Five didn’t bother to keep track of the years. Not when he was unaffected by time, by seasons, by weather. What was the point?)

Five’s eyes snap back to Klaus’s, who hasn’t taken his eyes away. It’s weird, Five thinks absently. His skin crawls under the attention, not used to it.

(Isn’t that strange, in a boy who used to demand attention with every breath he took? Isn’t that odd?)

There’s a hand on his arm and Five just about jumps out of his skin, whirling around and flailing and - oh look, that’s Ben on the ground, looking absolutely shocked. Five is also shocked, because he hasn’t been touched in - in forever. 

“Ben?” Five half-asks, voice smaller than he’d like with a tremble that he kind of wants to kick in the gut. 

“Five.” Ben responds, kind of sounding like he’s been punched in the chest. Actually he might have been, Five was never very gentle when it came to removing his limbs from others grasps.

“Well!” Klaus says loudly, making Five and Ben look over. “If the crisis is over, and we’ve lost a perfectly good fire extinguisher to the void, i’m going back inside!”

Klaus gives Ben a significant look as he turns on his heel and marches back in, and Ben winces. “Come on,” He whispers to Five, getting up and brushing himself off. “It’s better to talk when no one else is around.”

Ben hesitates, and Five hasn’t spoken to anyone but himself in a very long time. It’s been even longer since - well. And Ben looks so lost all of a sudden, that it’s really for Ben’s benefit when Five takes Ben’s hand in his own and tugs him in the direction of the mansion, “Well get a move on.”

Ben looks like he’s about to cry, looking at their joined grip, but nods and leads Five into the building. He gives Five’s hand a squeeze, as though making sure he’s real, and Five allows it gracefully.

Finally, they’re tucked into Klaus’s bedroom, Klaus sprawled across the bed and staring at Five like he’s something entirely alien.

“I don’t understand.” Five says, because the silence is getting awkward. “How come you guys can see me, but the others can’t?”

And Five is very confused when Ben’s face just - crumples. He looks like he’s about to cry. And Klaus, the contrary bastard, starts laughing, just a tiny bit hysterically.

“Take a guess shortstack.” Klaus wheezes out, “What’s my power?”

It’s seeing the dead, of course. But Five isn’t dead he’s just - in between. Right?

Besides, there’s a glaring flaw in Klaus’s theory.

“Uh, Ben can see me.” Five points out, lifting his and Ben’s conjoined hands where Ben’s grip is actually getting a little bit painful.

But isn’t a good kind of pain. Five hasn’t felt pain in - equally long. 

Klaus’s laughter cuts off and Ben makes a noise like a squeaky toy that’s been stepped on. “Yeah,” Klaus says, uncharacteristically serious, “Well. You missed a lot, kiddo.”

“Ben’s not dead.” Five protests, because he’s not. Five can see him. He’s right there, and he’s never had Klaus’s powers. He turns to Ben and - 

Ben envelops him in a hug, a tight one. The kind that Five would never have allowed unless absolutely necessary before he’s left, but now just sort of - melts into. It’s the pressure of it, honestly. Ben’s a good hugger.

“Five I’m so sorry.” Ben whispers, pressing his face against Five’s hair. It tickles a little, where Ben breathes out. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He pulls back, and brushes trembling fingers against Five’s hair. “Five, Five. Haven’t you - haven’t you wondered why you can’t - Five. You’re still - it’s been so long and you’ve been alone and - ” Ben breaks into sniffles.

“I’m just stuck.” Five says blankly, trying his best to process, “I’m just - I jumped wrong, and I got - I got stuck in between. I’m not - I’m not dead.”

“You’re deader than a doornail, kiddo.” Klaus interjects loudly.

Five, never one to take that lying down, untangles himself from Ben just enough to pick up a knicknack and hurls it at Klaus’s head with a scowl. “I’m not a kid.”

Except now they’re both staring at Five again, even as Klaus presses a hand against his forehead where Five had whalloped him (his aim was a good as ever, clearly).

“How -” Ben stutters, staring between Klaus and Five with alarm.

Klaus sputters as well, “What the fuck! How did you do that!”

“Well you see, Klaus.” Five says, voice toxic with the sweetness he exuded, “When someone leans down, and picks something up, they can exert a force on it. This force interacts with other forces to form the trajectory of an object - ”

“Not that!” Klaus sputters, “You picked something up!”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.” Five says dryly.

Ben prods him in the side, making Five look over (up, if we’re being technical. Grown-up Ben is... kind of tall, actually. Compared to Five.) “How did you do that?”

And Five isn’t dead. He isn’t. But - he remembers the early days. How terrifying they were. How he couldn’t interact with the world around him at all. And if Ben is going through the same thing - “It... it took me a while to figure out. Um. It’s - it’s kind of hard to explain? Because like, when I jump it’s - it’s kind of like taking myself apart and then putting myself together somewhere else. And it’s like, like taking that feeling, except instead of putting yourself together somewhere else you like, layer it over yourself as you are? Like, making yourself denser somehow, I dunno.”

“If you can do it, then I can, too.” Ben says ferociously, a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll finally be able to throw things at Klaus when he’s being an idiot.”

“Hey!” Klaus protests, looking very offended.

This is all very nice, but Five did come here with a mission... so he tugs at Ben’s arm. “Ben, what’s the date?”

Ben shrugs, because why should the dead care about the date? He looks at Klaus. Klaus looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Um.” Then he brightens, “Right!” He grabs something from his pocket, it’s rectangular and flat. There were lots in the apocalypse, though Five has never figured out their functions. Except when Klaus clicks his, it lights up. 

“Uh, March 24th.” Klaus says, squinting at the screen.

“What year?” Five asks, leaning forward.

“2019.” Klaus says.

“Fuck,” Five says, with feeling. “A week.”

“What’s a week?” Ben asks warily as Five flails and untangles himself from his grasp to stand up and pace.

“You don’t understand.” Five says, turning to them both, “I haven’t just - just been traveling the world as a fucking ghost. I time traveled. It worked. But - the future - ”

“Five?” Ben asks, all concern and love and it’s painful.

“The world ends in seven days.” Five tells them both, voice cracking, “There’s nothing but - but rubble and ruin and - and - ”

He remembers their bodies, remembers them splayed out in the rubble. 

“You died.” Five told Klaus, “You all died. The whole world died. Everything was - ash everywhere. I was there for - for...”

“The courtyard scene.” Ben realizes, reaching out as something like comprehension dawns on his face. Five dances back a few steps, his breaths coming in funny little pants. “You came back from - the future?”

“Breath, Five.” Klaus advises, sounding a little bit worries himself.

“If I’m dead why do I need to breath?” Five snarls, and Klaus’s face drops and he curls in on himself a little looking pathetic. It’s enough for Five to toss out a mildly panicked “Sorry” because? That’s what you do right?

(Five hasn’t interacted with people who can talk back in decades and it shows.)

And Five tells them everything, in halting uncertain breaths. He winds up curled up on the bed with Ben’s arms around him, steady as a rock, while Klaus manages to somehow sit in the desk chair in a manner that makes Five a little uncertain that his brother possesses bones and ligaments. 

He tells them about the future, about finding their bodies, about learning to - to condense himself just enough to interact with the world. He tells them about the woman, about the suitcase, about following her. He tells them about the Commission, and how he’s sure they have something to do with it - the Handler had Vanya’s violin - 

By the time Five is finished talking, he’s exhausted. The sun has slipped below the horizon already, and he feels like dead weight in his brother’s arms. At some point, Ben had started running a hand through Five’s hair, and the repetitive motion is soothing.

“That’s - that’s a lot.” Klaus says, and something must have shocked him a little bit out of his goofy persona. 

“I just wanted to go home.” Five mumbles.

“You are home.” Ben tells him, squeezing him tightly, “And we’re going to make sure the apocalypse doesn’t happen. Right, Klaus?”

Klaus shuffles, awkwardly. “I mean. I’m not exactly uh, number one choice for team apocalypse you know?”

“Ben’s number one choice for team apocalypse.” Five points out, flopping his head against Ben’s arm. “You’re an okay second choice though, I guess.”

It makes Klaus bark out a laugh, and Five can feel Ben’s snicker through his chest.

“Vanya’s gotta be on the team.” Five mumbles, loud enough for them to hear. “She’s important. Gotta make sure, make sure no one uh, no one kills her or anything.”

Ben and Klaus exchange a look over his head that he doesn’t see.

“We’ll plan everything tomorrow.” Ben tells him gently, “In the morning, okay?”

“Mmkay.” Five agrees absently.

The dead don’t sleep, but they can get - tired. Being in the living world is exhausting, and Five closes his eyes and just. Ignores the world. Just for a little while. The dead don’t dream, but that’s okay, because Five’s dreams have never been anything approaching peaceful.

Five made it back. He might be a ghost, but he made it back. An impossible goal, and he accomplished it. After that, taking on the apocalypse will be a piece of cake. 

(And if Ben and Klaus think Five is going to give up on his idea to un-dead himself, they have another thing coming.)

[aminiatureworld]

Storms

Ship: RFA + Minor Trio and GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5,431 words total; about 700 per person

Premise: A rewrite of an old request I wrote back in 2017 (link here).

Author’s Note: These are less headcanons and more fics outlines lmao but hope you like this rewrite. I do considering I can barely stand reading the original, my writing has thankfully improved, and I hope it will continue to do so. I haven’t written in 2nd person in literal years (3rd person ftw) so I hope it doesn’t come off too strange. 

Two notes. Firstly I’ve done my best to make the reader gender neutral. If you catch any gendered terms feel free to tell me so I can fix it. Secondly, I haven’t played Another Story yet, rip my broke ass, so if V and Saeran are a bit out of character, that’s definitely why. I’m working on it haha. In regards to V I simply know almost nothing about his route, and in regards to Saeran I’ve decided to ignore what I know about his route, mostly because this was hitting 4,000 words at that point and an in depth HC involving canonical thing would probably be about that length. Sorry this is so long and thus the final HCs a bit rushed. Thanks for putting up with me! Hope you enjoy!

Ao3 link in reblog

Zen

Having a fear of thunderstorms was one of the most obnoxious fears on the planet sometimes. Especially when one is surround by 60 mph gusts of wind and the house one lives in feels like 80% glass.

This was the predicament you were left in when a series of storms passed through the first week you and Zen were officially dating. Oh joy.

Despite how in love you were with Zen, revealing one’s fears, especially when they seem vaguely irrational, is a difficult thing to do, so you teetered towards Option B

That being: Don’t tell anyone, keep calm, if you need to take a break go to the bathroom or say you forgot something in the bedroom. Okay? Okay.

However this flawless plan of attack lasted only about five minutes, and the first clap of thunder had you ready to bolt under the bed.

Zen, bless him, was utterly oblivious, listening to the backtrack of a song he was working on and occasionally making such benign comments as “that’s a lot of rain” or “wow that was loud”

Yeah. That was loud. Help me.

Eventually it got a bit… much, and you had to make your excuses about getting a book from the television/living room. Since it was in the “basement” part of the complex you’d figured that it’d be easier to hide out there. Just turn off all the lights, try to find earplugs, then count down the time until the storms were over.

Unfortunately the weather wasn’t adhering to this plan very well, how typical of it, as the storms were supposed to last until the early hours of the morning. And it wouldn’t exactly be unobtrusive to not eat.

So after ten minutes in the dark you went out to help Zen prepare dinner. At least no one needed to go to the grocery store. And today’s menu included Japchae, so always a treat! It was going to be okay, nothing was going to happen. It’s fine.

At least that’s what you told yourself until a particular bright flash of lightning streaked the sky and you promptly jumped and dropped the sweet potato noodles on the ground.

At this point Zen switched from oblivious to overly concerned. Say what you will about him but he was truly a sweetheart when he noticed something was wrong. As he helped you pick up the spilled noodles, assuring you that there was enough still in the package to use, he asked what was wrong

You explained that when you were little your grandparents had a house in a village in the countryside and one summer day lightning struck a powerline, causing it as well as two houses close to yours to burn down.

Zen responded with such concern. “Oh MC I’m so sorry to hear that! Was anyone hurt? No wonder you’re uncomfortable around storms now.”

“It was such a long time ago, and it’s so unlikely to happen again my lifetime… I don’t know why I’m still so afraid, it’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to be afraid of something. You don’t have to hide your fears around me sweetheart. There’s no shame in it.”

Unfortunately words usually cannot make fears go away, but safe to say you were touched. Picking up the rest of the noodles and disposing them you and Zen shared a sweet series of hugs, and maybe you wouldn’t continued down that route if the water hadn’t begun to boil and dinner was once more brought back into stark focus.

Afterwards you guys ate in front of the tv, turning on a random crappy show and making fun of the announcer.

You could still hear the thunder every once in a while, but Zen made sure you felt safe and happy, cuddling you, doing something to draw your attention to him at the beginning of each clap of thunder, and keeping up a steady stream of conversation, even about the most mundane of things.

Your fear still wasn’t gone, and you still weren’t excited for the rest of the week, but at least you had someone with you who truly cared and was actively trying to make you feel better. You knew Zen would always be there for you, and that knowledge would carry you through the most anxious of times, to the other side.

You truly loved him so much.

Yoosung

Sometimes you wished that you could disappear into something as easily as Yoosung did, both with his games and with his studying.

Yoosung was in his first year of veterinarian medical school and, having just passed the first series of exams, had invited you over to the apartment he was leasing, for an evening of games, television, and overall hanging out. It would’ve been more of a date, but the weather was impressively stormy and, much to your relief, it was decided that staying inside was the better option.

Yoosung was loading up a game on the tv and you were checking to see what remained in the fridge, when a bolt of lightning raced across the sky; suddenly you became aware of just how very high up apartment buildings tended to be, and, much like usual, the logical part of your brain repeating Googled information about lightning rods was replaced by a static of anxiety floating around in your brain.

Returning to the TV room you nervously picked up the controller, hoping that Yoosung wouldn’t notice. Not that you didn’t trust him to understand, indeed you’d hardly met anyone as understanding as Yoosung, but it was more that years of being told “it’s just rain” had kinda gotten to your system.

The first half an hour or so was alright, the quiet mental notes you were taking told you that the storm was still far enough away, although there was no doubt it was getting closer; something reinforced by your, hopefully, discreet checking of the weather app.

When the storm arrived, oh boy did it arrive.

The winds felt unbearable, screaming terribly, rattling the windowpanes with fast, stinging rain, so much so the outside looked less like the outside and more like the middle of a whirlpool. A whirlpool that occasionally set itself on fire, the lightning dispersed by the odd shadows of the rain.

At this point all pretense fell out the window.

“MC?” Yoosung looked over as you’d dropped the remote and drawn your legs up to your chest, burying your face in your knees, all thoughts blocked out. “MC.” Yoosung said a little louder, putting his own remote down on the coffee table and scooting over to where you were sitting on the couch. “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, something vaguely uncomfortable considering the position you both were sitting in, but still a welcome presence, a bit of comfort making its way past your wall of fear.

“Not a huge fan of thunderstorms I see.” He said when the storm had calmed down a bit. You let out a shaky sort of laugh. Understatement of the century, wouldn’t you think?

“I have an idea!” Yoosung ran out of the room, leaving you to curl yourself up again, until he came back, a pair of headphones in hand.

“These are the best noise cancelling headphones I own, and they cost a fortune so they’d better work.” He placed them over your ears, and immediately you noticed how muffled the sound became. Evidently it must’ve shown on your face, because Yoosung smiled even wider, nodding gently before picking up his remote again.

As the storm continued so did the gaming. At some point you guys ended up thrown about the couch, cuddling each other, and occasionally knocking elbows when the gaming got intense. When things were finally over you two lay there a little longer, although you’d taken the headphones off.

“Thank you.” You whispered, content.

“For what?” Yoosung smiled. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

“Not all boyfriends.” You countered “You’re special. The best boyfriend one could ask for.”

And you meant it.

Jaehee

I imagine both you and Jaehee not being huge fans of thunderstorms. They frightened you, and to Jaehee the volume gave her a headache, not to mention the fact you were both living in a cheap apartment on the ground floor while the coffee shop’s purchase was still new; and the whole structure had this obnoxious habit of vibrating with both the lightning and thunder, leaving everything a bit discombobulated and very unpleasant.

The coffee shop wasn’t much better really, open as it was, the whole front being 85% glass and only 15% brick.

So when you both checked your phones and saw that storms were on their way it was all about planning.

Since you couldn’t afford to close the shop for the week you instead put a large display in the windows, putting up cardboard trees, birds, and whatever else would block most of the view.

You went through the store, making sure everything unnecessary was unplugged.

Really it was probably a bit overkill, or at least Jumin and Seven certainly thought it was, but hey better safe than sorry.

The apartment was given the same treatment, blinds and shutters were closed, toasters and charging cords were unplugged, and Aspirin and earplugs were stocked up.

The week of the storms was really incredibly unpleasant, with you two sneaking in hugs and kisses whenever the line of customers was small, squeezing each other’s hands when a particularly bright streak of lightning flashed, or when the thunder seemed to become unbearable.

No dawdling home this week, much to the chagrin of both of you, who’d taking to park exploring and other such mundane things that both you and Jaehee had missed out on, her due to work and you due to being shut up in Rika’s apartment for eleven days.

Nevertheless neither of you were particularly keen to venture out in the middle of a storm, so instead you two headed home, a night’s worth of musicals and cuddling ahead of you.

Dinner was spent in front of the tv, although usually you two usually made a point to eat at the dining table it was in the most windowed room in the house and thus not meant to be.

Zen’s beautiful tenor might not have been enough to completely drown out the storms, but it was certainly a help, not to mention the large doses of cuddles you were giving one another.

But really the best part about it was just being able to talk freely about your fears, you both having the reference that those who don’t suffer with what’s widely considered an irrational fear in modern times don’t understand.

And that was really what kept it together for you two. You’ll always be there for one another, you’ll always understand one another.

Eventually the clock struck the hour and you both realized that not only would there be work tomorrow, but musicals can’t much be enjoyed when you’re only paying half attention.

You got ready for bed, both making a final sweep for plugged in appliances that might burn out if there should be an energy surge.

Right before you two drifted off to sleep you gave Jaehee a small kiss. “What was that for?” She whispered. Everything was so beautifully comfortable, so cozy and intimate, and your happiness in that moment overpowered all fear.

“I just love you, I love you so much.” You replied. Jaehee blushed, but returned the kiss.

“I love you too. Forever.”

Jumin

It’s not that you hid it from him because you were embarrassed, well at least that wasn’t the main reason. It was more Jumin’s habit of blowing everything out of proportion, to the point of hindrance. That was really what you were afraid of, you just needed calm, need comfort, not yoga or whatever was to be the cure. And not that Jumin couldn’t or wouldn’t give you comfort, but the likelihood of him giving you calm was maybe a bit more debatable.

So you tried to keep it hidden, mentioned nothing of it on your way out the door in the morning, avoiding the topic in the messenger, even when Seven started to go on and on about windspeed – did the bastard know something?

Things seemed to be going… okay? I mean they weren’t great, you were constantly pushing down the urge to hide in a closet or something, but hey Jumin wasn’t aware yet. Success?

The trip home was certainly unpleasant, and the text that your husband was working late again certainly didn’t seem promising, but hey there’d be Elizabeth, and the bedroom had amazing blackout curtains. So, yeah, it’d be fineeee.

At least it would be if the damn penthouse didn’t have windows for walls. Something that certainly wasn’t normal or part of the regular plan.

Nor was it really possible to take a nap with the thunder so loud and your thoughts running high, really it’d probably be better on the lower floors if you weren’t so sure of people being there.

At this point the plan became less of “don’t let Jumin know, play it cool” to “survive whatever the cost”, which yes perhaps was also an overreaction on your part, but you knew damn well that all rationality had long fled, and you weren’t about to go chasing after it, that wasn’t what you needed right now. Rationality was also what had you go into a google wormhole about terrifying lightning related accident. Need one say more?

So you picked up a perhaps a bit disgruntled Elizabeth the 3rd, and buried yourself under the covers, stroking her fur at regulated intervals, trying desperately to pay attention to the video you’d loaded on your phone, to less than perfect success.

You wouldn’t say that you were dozing when Jumin came home, it was more like you were so deep in your fears that you really didn’t have room to pay attention to anything else.

“MC?” Jumin was instantly alert when you didn’t run to greet him at the door, something that had really become tradition between the two of you. Him being also a bit of a worrier – and a bit being perhaps a gracious way of saying it, lovely though it can be – his first thoughts were that you’d hit your head and passed out somewhere, but the fact that Elizabeth had also not come to greet him clued him in that you two were most likely holed up somewhere, perhaps napping, as had happened a few times before.

His surprise then when you turned out to be in bed, distinctly not unconscious or asleep, holding onto Elizabeth like a vice, was really immense.

“Darling, is something wrong?” You knew he meant something rather more akin to “Something is definitely wrong and I’m very worried and hope you tell me, if not I might become a horrendous paranoiac and never stop bugging you but I also want to be polite about it.”

You folded quite quickly, deciding that it really wasn’t worth it, you were in such a state, and the anxiety was still in complete control of your brain, excuses weren’t about to be made.

In a moment Jumin had enveloped you in a hug, which you were glad to accept, discreetly kicking his phone away hoping that he’d not notice it and get it in his head to send for a meditative trainer or some such thing, since that wasn’t what you were looking for, at least not at the moment.

Thankfully though he seemed more focused on your wellbeing, asking you to talk through your anxiety, gently drawing circles on your back in an attempt to get rid of excess tension. It felt good to be able to release your stream of consciousness, even if it was a bit embarrassing. Every time you started feeling a bit overwhelming you’d insert an apology here and there but Jumin would simply shake his head and assure you it was fine

“After all, you were so patient and understanding when I went through a crisis of consciousness, when all my emotions were suddenly flooding my mind. You listened to me then, the least I can do is listen to you now.”

After you’d exhausted your thoughts and you two had laid there a bit, cuddled together, basking in each other’s presence, you two went to the kitchen, where Jumin insisted he’d make dinner himself.

You weren’t happy to be in the windowed room again, but one flick of a discreet switch and they were suddenly shuttered closed.

“You can do that?!”

“Of course?”

“Ugh, the idle rich.” You shook your head and Jumin feigned horror. This act went on throughout dinnertime, another thing to help soothe your nerves, as well as Elizabeth, who was being awfully nice, curled up in your lap.

Every clap of thunder and Jumin would hold your hand or give you a kiss or hug, again trying to distract you.

Afterwards it was watching trashy soap operas – really you couldn’t understand why Jumin adored these shows so much, he really did secretly have a flare for the dramatics – and more cuddling.

As the night got later and you got sleepier you realized that, though the anxiety wasn’t completely gone, you really were quite content.

“Ah, I wouldn’t mind this every time it stormed.”

Jumin chuckled at that. “Why not? Anything to make you comfortable and happy.”

“You’re going to spoil me terribly you know.”

“Again, why not? Comfort isn’t spoiling someone, and if it was I’d spoil you rotten. You deserve the universe, I’m just giving what I can.”

And really the comfort he gave you was worth five universes at that moment, but wasn’t he always worth that much?

Saeyoung

Saeyoung’s reaction to your fear would probably initially be teasing.

Not because he thought it was funny, more his brain still found sincerity a hard thing to grapple with, and he found his knee jerking reaction be to try and make fun, enough fun for you to forget about everything.

You knew this of course, had long ago learned his patterns, his mannerisms and habits, and initially you tried to play along with it, after all the only reason he knew you were afraid of thunderstorms was because he’d caught you running into the closet on the CCTV in Rika’s apartment. If it weren’t for that you would’ve been perfectly happy with him never finding out. Surely you could humor him a bit.

Well anxiety has a funny way of sharpening one’s nerves, and by the sixth joke you were ready to pull your hair out, both from Saeyoung and from the storm.

“Hey Saeyoung? I really do appreciate what you’re doing, don’t get me wrong, but I… I don’t think this is going to be the way to sort it out.”

“Oh… I see.” Saeyoung faltered. Saeran, who was also not a fan and was thus gaming, probably with the volume at unhealthy rates, still managed to snort out a “I could’ve told you that.” Saeyoung shook his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry MC… I, uhm. Yeah…” For a moment you both sat on his horrifically battered couch, the tension rising. Saeyoung screwed his face up in thought, before launching himself towards you, wrapping you up in a huge hug.

“I.. Saeyoung-?”

“Cuddles are a miracle cure.” He said, kissing you on the forehead. “They’ll chase away the storms, just you wait, and in the meantime, how about you teach me how to make something other than sandwiches.”

“I know you know how to cook.” You pointed out, at least happier with this approach, but Saeyoung shook his head.

“I forgot. I can now only make ham sandwiches, and that is truly a sad fate. Won’t you help me? Oh cook in shining armor.”

You rolled your eyes at that “Isn’t being the hero more of your route?” But agreed to make something with him.

Saeyoung really put everything into the “I forgot act”, and you soon found yourself distracted by his antics, peeling onions with a vegetable peeler, “accidentally” getting flour in your hair, tackling you with hugs and kisses the minute thunder or lightning even attempted an interruption. You found yourself either laughing or breathless from his attention, and when your anxiety was too difficult to ignore you allowed Seven to wrap you in a hug as you buried your head in his shoulder, his arms acting as a barrier for the sound.

Dinner took a horrendously long time to cook, something Saeran was sure to point out, but it really did help. As you two were cleaning up dishes Saeyoung paused for a moment.

“Being a hero really isn’t my thing you know.”

“Huh?” You’d sorta forgotten the earlier conversation amidst all the antics.

“You saved me MC, from myself, my own destruction. The least I could is chase away a few thunderstorms. I’d do anything to make you happy. So, I hope that you can be happy.

“What a silly thing to say.” You said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “I’m already so very happy, so incredibly glad to have you in my life. Indeed, if this isn’t happiness then there is no such thing.”

He really was your hero, your knight in peculiar armor. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

V/Jihyun Kim

V hated thunderstorms. Although he’d agreed to get his vision fixed, the date of the surgery was still some months off, and in the meantime every storm sent him in disarray, the sudden loudness of the thunder a disconcerting reminder of his own vulnerability, the fact that if even one thing in his life shifted he was likely to run right into it.

Being someone who had such a visceral hate, he was quick to become aware of your anxiety as well. It was something he just picked up on, before you had the chance to even think about hiding it from him.

“I see I’m not the only one who hates when it storms.”

You weren’t really surprised by his fear, he’d made it quite clear how he disliked to be reminded of the vulnerability that came from being blind, his eyes were already an ever present reminder of his past, a reminder of the feelings that had rotted inside him, which were so difficult to reconcile with.

So during the storms he ended up focusing most of his nervous energy on you, preferring that to morbid thoughts about the path his life had taken.

Coincidentally you tended to have the same reaction, and thus stormy days, though far from pleasant, became a semi-pleasant ritual, full of affection and comfort.

You pointed out the lightning and counted the miles out loud for him, something that helped him ground himself in the world, feel a little more in control of the situation, and in return he kept up a steady stream of conversation, telling you how your fears weren’t silly, how much it mattered to him that you were happy, and all the things you’d do together when the storms passed.

Sometimes you two turned on a podcast, or a video whose audio V had heard multiple times before, another exercise in familiarity that helped comfort you two. He also didn’t mind whether you kept the lights on or turned them off, only wishing to keep at least one window open, to keep track of the storm’s progress.

He also was in the habit of singing or humming at random intervals, his voice kept you in the moment, rather than in an endless loop of “what ifs”.

By the end of the storm you two were often exhausted, which is why they so often ended with you two tangled together, already half asleep.

One such time you were about to sleep, only barely awake to nod when V said the storm had passed.

“Jihyun,” you mumbled, hearing a hum in return. “I love you.”

V smiled, hearing that from you always felt like a moment of rejuvenation, of sudden clarity.

Kissing your forehead he hugged you a little tighter.

“I love you too.”

Saeran

Saeran loved storms. Loved the sheer, raw, uninhibited power they exuded, the proof of how natural ruled above all.

You knew that. You also knew that storms were, in fact, the bane of your existence, and that you’re rather die than sit up and watch them with him.

But you also didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to be a source of unhappiness in his life, so when Saeran eagerly looked out the window and called out “MC! It’s thundering!” You reluctantly dragged yourself over to watch with him.

At first it was alright if you focused on him more than on the outside, the awe and glee he took in watching the rain was endearing, the happiness marked so clearly and without inhibition. It was something that almost took your breath away in how beautiful it was, the joy of somehow who’d had so little of it.

Then the first clap of thunder arrived and you’d nearly sprained your wrist, slipping on the counter and banging your arm.

Saeran’s attention was immediately turned away from the thunderstorm and he looked at you curiously.

“Are you alright MC?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just, I’m fine.” You didn’t want him to know. It made him so happy, how could you ever take away from that, holding you bruised elbow you excused yourself to the bathroom for a moment, saying you needed make sure nothing was serious.

Of course that excuses could only last for so long, but the bathroom seemed such a comfort compared to the windowed rooms, and you lost track of all sense of time or space, curled up in a ball, leaning against the cold wall, the linoleum tiling keeping you grounded.

Eventually however it came to an end, and there was a short knock before Saeran turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Something wrong?” He asked, immediately realizing the answer to that question after looking at your position. Kneeling down to face you he cupped your cheek. “Thunderstorms?”

You nodded, despite yourself. You really didn’t want to take this from him. But he didn’t seem to have felt like anything was taken, instead kissing you on the forehead and opening his arms for you to envelope yourself in them, something you did gratefully.

He held you, rocking you slightly, whispering random bits of words, random pieces of song, anything to keep your anxiety lower. Nudging the door shut once more you two stayed there for a while, and you finally felt yourself calm down.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“For what?” His tone was that of genuine confusion.

“For taking away watching thunderstorms from you. I don’t want to take anything away from you of course, I really don’t. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh MC…” Saeran peppered your face with kisses. “You haven’t taken anything away from me. I can still watch the thunderstorms, can still love them. Your fear isn’t something to be ashamed of, we all fear things in our lives, all have things we’d rather throw aside. I’m always here for you, always. It’s something I chose, and would choose over and over again. And that choice doesn’t mean I cannot chose to love thunderstorms, or watch them. It just means I have to make sure you’re comfortable as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to do something that made you uncomfortable, not if I could do something about it. So don’t talk like that anymore, okay?”

You nodded, feeling reassured and slightly sheepish. He really was too good for words.

You two stayed in the bathroom until it became too uncomfortable, when you moved to the bed. It was a lovely evening, the storms having mellowed into a gentle rain.

Wrapped in Saeran’s arms you suddenly felt such a rush of emotions overcome you, contentment, bashfulness, love. Especially love.

You loved Saeran so much. And you always would.

Vanderwood

You’d really rather not tell Vanderwood.

You two were the cynics of the group, sarcastic, unfazed, or rather you hid your general emotions to the larger group in a swath of wit and humor. You really didn’t want to tell him that you were afraid of what was essentially a fear that had outlived its purpose.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Vanderwood with your true feelings, indeed sometimes you felt as if Vanderwood was the only person you could trust with your true feelings, a sentiment they had reciprocated multiple times.

It was moreso you already knew how much people saw your fear as overreacting. Didn’t need your partner to join the bandwagon of slight bafflement and bemusement, even if they couldn’t help themselves.

So there you were, sitting on the couch, storm on full display, trying not to dig your head into the side of the lazyboy as Vanderwood sat typing away on their computer.

Unfortunately the storm grew more and more violent, and you quickly grew more and more uncomfortable, your plans of nonchalance having really taken a critical hit.

Before you could think of a proper excuse to go into the bedroom closet and have a bit of a scream a huge clap of thunder shook the complex and the book you’d held in your hands plummeted to the ground.

Vanderwood immediately got up and shut the blinds. “I forgot you don’t like storms.” They said, closing the last of the blinds before turning around to your startled face.

“You know I don’t like thunderstorms?!”

“Was I not supposed to?” They looked vaguely confused, and not a bit amused.

“No.” You buried your hands in your palms.

“No I was or no I wasn’t?”

“You weren’t.” You groaned. “It’s embaraassing.”

“Why should it be embarrassing? Look, MC.” They walked over to you, taking your hands in theirs. “There are a lot of embarrassing things people are in life. Of which I’m at least half of them. I cannot say a lot of things with great confidence, but I can say this. You aren’t the least bit embarrassing for having an incredibly common and practical fear.”

“A fear that should’ve died out with the invention of bricks.” You muttered.

“Perhaps. But we both know that’s not how it works.” They replied. “So don’t feel the need to hide something like that. Okay?”

You nodded and Vanderwood smiled, before giving you a hug, something which you gladly reciprocated.

It was a quiet evening, one of easy cooking and laughing at miscellaneous videos, of making fun of spy shows and swapping stories.

In the end you probably shouldn’t’ve been so surprised.

Vanderwood was an amazing partner, caring, funny, observant, loving.

Perhaps it was okay to have such a fear around them. And if it was okay with Vanderwood than everyone else would have to suck it up, because really two people’s opinions mattered to you on the fact, yours and theirs. And in this instance you’d found yourselves completely in accord.

[caracarnn]

It caves inside of him, her response. She could have anything at all in the world. She could have freedom from all of this. She could have a normal life, traveling from city to city or she could marry some random man and have children. That would be a full life that would be worthy of someone like her, of the love that she had shown to him. But she had answered for him and he almost crumbled at the thought. Would he do it? If he had the Weave? Would he erase all presence of himself in her memories so that she might be free of him entirely? But the pressing question was whether or not he would be able to make it to The Last Battle without her at his side?

"That's cheating." He told her as though chiding her the answer that she had given him. He started on brushing his fingers through the length of her hair, caressing down her arm so that he could look down at her. In the dim light around him she's so beautiful, her wide eyes so genuine, and he felt his heart lurch at the thought of the complications that he had brought into her life. "Fine. You take me away from all of this...where do we go? Surely there's somewhere that you want to see."

but she liked making decisions based on him. being where he was, being near to him, always having him near to him. she liked knowing that he was right there next to her. she liked opening her eyes and knowing that he wouldn't be gone. she hated when he left her. she hated everything that drew him from her side. she liked being near to him, clinging to him so that she could be sure that he was okay. but it seemed that he never was. a little farm, she wondered if he could be okay out there. but then there was the madness, there was the pain, there was no way for her to level him out. she was going to lose him and there was nothing she could do about it.

there was nothing that he would do about it! she wanted to shake him, hit him even just to make him clear headed enough so he could see that he was slowly destroying himself. but the worst thing about the whole thing was that he knew. he knew that he was. and even if she were to do that now he wouldn't stop. he always managed to get under her skin, to make her so angry with him! and yet - now he asks her this as if this little dream is possible. she smiles though, in spite of the torrent of feelings that are raging inside of her. she sighs at his light touch and she wants nothing more than to sink into him. "anywhere, that's the thing. anywhere that would take you away from being that."

[brittledame]

Pairing: Semi Eita/Reader 

Tags: Teen and up audience, Post-timeskip, Canon divergence, Coffee Shops, Meet-cute, Fluff, Musician Semi, University student reader, POV changes

Word Count: 6.6K

Summary: In which a broken coffee machine leads you to meet an attractive musician also inhabiting the only coffee shop near campus open at an ungodly hour. The lack of sleep and the stress of your assignment are eased by the nonsensical tunes the unknown musician struggles to compose a significant song. Unknowingly, you both indirectly help each other through mental roadblocks and inspire him to write a hit song. It wasn't until your next fateful meeting that you were able to thank each other.

Current situation aside, you were usually a diligent student. You preferred to finish an assignment at least a full 24 hours before editing and submitting it, rather than leaving it to the last minute and handing in a half-assed attempt. However, this one particular assignment that had crawled from the bowels of hell was the exception to your characteristic conscientiousness. The assignment had blindsided you, slipping under your radar as other more pressing assignments drew your attention away from it. Much like an ignored weed problem, under your wilful neglect it compiled into an unimaginable mess. There was no possible way for you to get this done without pulling a soul-sucking all-nighter.

Another exception to your quickly spiralling out-of-control life was the fact that your prized coffee marker in all its shiny black plastic glory after five long years has finally turned in its resignation of being used and abused by you. So not only were you frantically rushing this twenty-one-page report due in not even eight hours, your one source of liquid determination is completely off the books.

Standing before the hunk of useless machinery refusing to even turn on, you stood there in silence as you mourned the loss of a good friend and an alright cup of coffee every morning. This did not help your current situation and you knew that you would not make it without some form of caffeine and you refuse to take the final dive into the uni student life and take no-doze tablets.

No, you refuse go that low just yet.

Although they are starting to sound tempting as the harsh wind tugs at your clothing and nips at your skin like you weren’t wearing two layers in the middle of normally warm Spring night to make a trip to the only local coffee shop you knew of open at this ungodly hour of 2 am. A faint orange glow grows steadily larger with each hurried step. You rushed to both get out of the wind and continue the futile act of completing your assignment to a decent enough standard to pass the subject.

The high expectations you entered the semester with had all but been eviscerated at this point. You would be outrageously thankful to pass at this stage in the semester.

As you push through the door, you crush the unwanted thought of your academic score plummeting. Oh well. Que sera, sera.

Glancing around the small and dimly lit establishment, you were surprised to note that it wasn’t deserted. In total, there were three people inside, excluding yourself. Two being workers and the other being a figure sequestered to the distant corner of the small cosy shop.

Behind the counter sat a bored-looking barista scrolling on his phone and a person with a very familiar face wiping down the benches.

“Jin! I didn’t expect to see you at this hour.” You exclaim while walking up to the counter while simultaneously fishing out your purse from your bag.

Said brunette turned at your voice, smiling when he sees that his ears didn’t deceive them.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you right now, either.” He grins amiably.

You had to give it to him, even at 2 am, his friendly smile put your stressed heart at ease. That was the true power of one Jin Soekawa, asides from the heavenly caffeinated ambrosia he concocted.

“Yeah, well if my coffee machine didn’t abandon me in my darkest hour, believe me when I say I’d be at home in my pajamas.”

Jin laughs as he rings your total up without question and starts the process of making your usual order. A perk of visiting at least three times a week was getting to know the friendly day baristas. Placing the exact amount of change on the counter, you move down the counter to catch Jin’s words.

“I never took you for a night-owl.” You scoff and shake you head at him, noting the teasing glint in his dark eyes.

“I’m not,” you bemoan, “this is punishment for putting off a big assessment and thinking it wouldn’t take long to finish. And to top it all off, my main source of night-late fuel ditched me.”

Jin nods sympathetically at your whining, not wanting to disturb the other regular shop patron in his also stressed-fueled all-nighter.

“No one with sense would be up at this hour working.” The angry-looking brunette you’ve never seen before mutters loudly.

Jin looks at the male, thick eyebrows furrowed reproachfully. You raise your eyebrow at Jin, wondering if he always had to burn the midnight oil with someone that looked like they were ready to quit and walk out at any second.

“Don’t mind Yunohama, he’s just pissed that he got tricked into the graveyard shift by the manager along with me.”

His cheery tone contrasted greatly to the gloom surrounding Yunohama. Smothering the laugh that wanted to come out at their polar opposite personalities, you instead turn to cough quietly into your hand.

Your gaze locked with chocolate brown irises that even at this distance, you could tell were mesmerising. The male’s eyes widen as he realises he was caught staring at you and quickly turns away and busies himself with the papers littering the table.

Well that was odd.

You stared at the back of his head full of shoulder-length ash-blond hair, waiting for him to turn back around. After a beat, you shrug to yourself and turn back to a busy Jin.

“Do you mind if I grab a seat and start on my work?” You point a thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the seating area.

Jin nods his head and gives a cheery smile that didn’t fit the sleepy night-time atmosphere.

“Sure! I’ll bring it over when it’s done. It shouldn’t be much longer now.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, you hike the bag strap further up your shoulder and select a table to slowly lose your mind at. You end up choosing one that was about three tables away from the stranger, not wanting to intrude upon his stressed-out vibes. From the short glimpse you caught of his face, he seemed quite attractive. If you weren’t as tired or stressed as you currently were, you might have had the guts to sit closer and sneak subtle glances, but the sword of Damocles currently swung menacingly above your head.

As you walk over, you notice a dark blue Ashton-branded acoustic guitar leaning against the chair on his lap. You also notice him frantically scribbling down on paper, pausing and then staring at the paper like it insulted him. You file this in the back of your mind, saving it for a later time.

You almost felt sorry for the odd guy. If it weren’t for the burden of your laptop holding an unfinished assignment due in exactly seven hours now, you would spare some sympathy. Sighing, you plop yourself in the seat and quietly go about setting yourself up. Logging into your laptop, the not even half-filled word document met your weary gaze. God, even with the smell of coffee and warmth surrounding you, no motivation welled up like you hoped it would. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for a long night-slash-morning.

Focused on your work, you failed to notice Jin coming over with your order, sitting it out of the way of your work with a quiet “good luck” . The cup of hot coffee was left forgotten as a decent-sounding ideas flashed through your mind unprompted. It was safe to say that by the time you did notice and started drinking it, it was lukewarm.

Grimacing after taking the first sip, you lean back in your chair and look at the ceiling to give your eyes a break. A soothing tune of random string plucking fills the air. For a brief second, you were confused as to when background music started playing, only to realise it was coming from the hot guy you caught staring at you earlier.

Attracting your attention, you glance over to his table. The guitar was now propped against his lap and lovingly cradled in his arms. The position accentuated his biceps partially concealed by white cotton V-neck tee, not that it stopped your appreciative looks. Fluorescent pink guitar pick in hand, the ash-blond musician continues to strum a few nonsensical tunes that your stress-filled mind failed to name.

As if remembering your existence, he whips his head around to meet your interested gaze. Flustered at finding you already staring at him, the male holds his hands out in a placating gesture.

“I’m so sorry! I should have asked if you were okay with me playing. I mean the baristas said it was okay but that was before you came in…” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head.

Giving him a friendly smile, you shake your head.

“No, don't apologise. It’s fine.” You assure him. Immediately, the tension drains from his features. Man, the poor guy must have dealt with his fair share of assholes to respond so visibly at the prospect of pissing people off by playing out loud. That had to suck.

“Besides, who am I to deny the arts?” You continue, lazily waving your hand in the air.

He laughs at your unusual response, hands settling back into their designated positions on the instrument. The sound was completely unexpected. You sat there in shock as the rich-sounding rumble rolls through the air. Sure he was good-looking but damn, to have a nice deep voice on top of all that? He was truly blessed. To top it off, he gives you a smile that should be outlawed for how attractive he is.

Damn, awkward music guy was hot.

The belated thought had you flustered. Hiding behind your hand as you brush back hair out of the way, you recompose yourself. Meeting his gaze once again, you notice a twinkle that you didn’t spot before, confirming your initial suspicion of his eyes being mesmerising.

Blinking yourself out of the stupor, you inwardly scold yourself for staring at the poor dude that didn’t come here to get stared at by someone dressed in comfy clothes and a whole collection of lilac bags under their eyes.

Ignoring the questioning look you receive at your odd facial expression you unintentionally made, you turn back to your laptop and dive head-first into the report. It was a nice escape from the embarrassment that wanted to choke you at acting like you’ve never seen an attractive person before.

God your tired self was an embarrassment.

He continues on playing the guitar, now strumming out a soft lingering song that soothed your frazzled mind and weirdly energised you to keep going.

From the very moment that you stepped across the threshold, bringing with you a wisp of chilled air that nipped at his nose, Eita could pick that you were an overworked university student.

Your lilting voice filled his ears as you had a friendly chat with the amicable barista. He ignored the noise as he stared at the blank manuscript paper before him, frustration bubbling within him. This was the seventh attempt at writing the final song for their break-out album in just as many days. An invisible clock hovered over his head as the hours tick by, closer and closer to the deadline their production manager had set.

The other songs came so freely to him - serving as an outlet for the experiences he’s had or heard about from close friends and family. But this last song? It fought against him tooth and nail, refusing to be put on paper. Eita had a vague concept and a tune, but the words evaded him. That was the most frustrating part really, but it happened to the best musicians so it shouldn’t surprise him that writer’s block finally hit him like a truck on a foggy night. Hard and seemingly out of nowhere.

Eita wanted the final song on their first album to be about his last relationship, as conceited as it may sound to some. He found it was the best way to close that messy chapter of his life. It was never fun to be strung along whilst your partner was looking at - loving - another, and yet refusing to let him go. Plus, people love break-up songs and their up-and-coming band needed something to round out the alternative rock songs they usually played.

Fragmented and incomplete thoughts filled his mind as you continued chatting, now with the mean-looking barista joining in. Easily pulling his attention from the anger-inducing blank white space, Eita gets a good look at you now that you're standing closer. Wearing comfy-looking clothes and a tired expression, you looked like the poster child for the average student and yet Eita felt inexplicably drawn towards you like a magnet to its opposing pole.

Unexpectedly, you turn towards him, catching him in the act of checking you out. Eyes clear despite the tired lines etching into your face, lips pulled into a slight smile that had his heart miss a beat. Okay, wow. Maybe he’s been out of the dating scene for far too long to react like that. Breaking the eye contact, Eita whirls back around in his seat and starts messing with the papers spread before him to feign being busy.

A hot blush seared across his cheeks as he mentally groans at his inappropriate behaviour. The cute university student probably thought that he was a creep now, great. While Eita wanted to do nothing but bury his head into his hands and scream until his throat was raw, the blank page laying innocently there taunted him.

God damn it. He hadn’t felt this frustrated and inadequate since high school. No one wanted to revert to their high school selves. Scrubbing at his eyes, all Eita wanted from tonight was a simple song, that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less. Yet it still felt like a herculean task. The picture of his ex with a fake expression of hurt rises to forefront of his mind unbidden.

Ah yes, there were other times he'd experienced this intense frustration. It hurt to walk away from the first real relationship he’d been in, but she was bad for him in a lot of ways that he was blind. That was until his friends lifted the rose-tinted love goggles and pointed out each and every red flag he had missed.

Suddenly, Eita was struck with the perfect words to encompass the maelstrom of emotions within him, namely bitterness and helplessness.

Not wanting the words escape him , Eita captures them with frantic hands. Scared of their ephemeral nature, here one second and gone the next. Those few words grew into a verse, much to Eita’s elation. He still needed a chorus and an outro, but the intro was looking fine and Eita knew not to push his luck.

Reaching for his guitar and pulling a pick from his jean pocket, he gives his prized possession a quick strum. Judging it in-tune, a few warm-up melodies are played as his hands move without much thought.

Looking back at the sheet of paper sitting before him, incomplete but much better than before, he suddenly notices that the sound of your rapid typing in the background has stopped. Panicked at annoying yet another person angry at the world, Eita turns around quick enough to instill the fear of whiplash.

Met with your inquisitive look, he’s glad to see that you’re not frothing with rage like how some of the less-forgiving people get with his playing. After awkwardly apologising, he concludes you’re not mad in the slightest, instead giving him a weird response and shrugging off his disjointed apology.

There was definitely more than meets the eye with you. Even while being obviously exhausted, you were still kind to him, a stranger, while rushing to complete what he can only assume to be an assignment of some sort. From the short conversation, he couldn’t get a proper gauge for your personality, although he somehow just knew that you would have the most fascinating stories to share.

Eita fails to notice your flushed cheeks due to his laughter, instead he was admiring how your eyes wrinkled at the corners as a smile lit up your entire face. It was entirely too cute for him.

Abruptly, you turn away from him and return to your work, eyes fixed on the screen and furiously typing and clicking away across the room. Bewildered at your sudden change in mood, Eita leaves you be. Following your example, Eita turns back to his own business. There was a reason that he was in a deserted coffee shop in the dead of night, or more like morning at this point. He had work to do and a lot of it.

Despite that, he couldn’t help his eyes straying towards your figure as he strums out one of the first songs he learnt on guitar. From the corner of his eye, Eita notices at how the harsh light of your laptop highlights the exhaustion the soft lights of the shop smoothed out. Concerned at how tired your eyes looked, Eita knew that the coffee you sipped at was not doing its job to chase away the threads of tiredness that threatened to pull you under.

His examining looks go unnoticed by you, surprise, surprise. From what he overheard earlier, it’d make sense that a final assessment would take precedence over one’s self-awareness, not that he knew what that felt like. From how exhausted and slightly panicked you looked, he was glad he didn’t submit to his parents pestering, instead filing straight into the work force while he worked on his aspiring music career.

A sudden scene took his mind hostage, not letting him go until he payed it attention. Muses were odd like that, one minute he was daydreaming about his life’s choices and the next he sees you physically deflate in your chair as you hit a mental roadblock as he blows past his.

Hand possessed with words that filtered so fast through his mind, he couldn’t afford to process them as he messily tries to immortalise them onto paper before they leave him forever. Like the opening of flood gates, abstract scenes flash before his mind’s eye, constructing an intricate life for the unknown person before him and likening them to moments in his own life. You looked tired, overworked and under pressure to complete whatever you were toiling over.

Eita vaguely wonders what brought you to this coffee shop at this god forsaken hour. Was your roommate being too loud? Were you working through a bout of insomnia? Maybe you wanted to get some decent coffee while getting ahead in your course?

Whatever the reason, Eita is thankful for the pure happenstance it was for fate to place you before him. Before you showed up, exasperation was clouding his mind and creating minute tremors his hand. It was never a good mindset to have when puzzling together a significant song for both his band and his own closure.

Slowly, the disjointed verses and chords became stanzas and melodies, forming a fully-fleshed out song before his eyes in what seemed like a blink of an eye, but was most likely a few hours. Reading over the words and chords, Eita mentally sings the verses and then hums the chords out loud, checking that it flowed and it wasn’t a chaotic mess like the last iterations turned out to be.

Smiling at the fruits of his labour, Eita mentally pat himself on the back for persevering and not caving into his band mate’s insistent offers of assistance. They were all versatile in this industry and each had multiple roles within their rag-tag group. The least Eita could do was offer to compose the songs for them to play. Writing them was also a good outlet, he found. Since high school, he’d composed a few short jams, not that they would ever see the light if he could help it.

Pushing his joy back to regain focus, his eyes flit over to your hunched over figure. Even after all the hours that have passed, your fingers still tirelessly flew across your keyboard before pausing and correcting a few spelling and grammar mistakes as you go. Sending you a telepathic “good luck”, Eita once again picks up the instrument with the intent of playing what hopefully will be the final version of this song.

Now knowing that you wouldn’t mind his playing, he went ahead without holding back. Eyes following along with the keys written down, fingers plucking and strumming away at the strings. The notes blend together and softly swells and peaks with each repetition of the chorus. While he knew that you didn’t mind his playing, he didn’t want to distract you, so he mouthed the lyrics as he played.

The last chord hung in the air before fading into nothing. There were a few places that could use a few alterations, either a change in pitch or pace, but all in all it was a decent song accounting for the fact that it was written in less than a night. Now all it needed was a name.

Coming up with an appropriate name was always the hardest part of the process, Eita thought. Typically, if an artist wanted their song to be found easily, it was best to name it after the chorus. Scanning over verses and chorus, he pauses over the words ‘honey go home’.

Eita didn’t even have to turn around to know that you were running on fumes. If he had the confidence to strike up a proper conversation, he knew he would voice this sentiment to you. Pushing aside the thought, he writes the potential name in the top margin with a query next to it.

The song itself needed approval by the rest of the group and by their production manager, but he was overall very proud at completing it under the pressure of a dreadfully close deadline and the absence of a muse. That was, until you walked in.

Without even realising it, you served as the catalyst to the intense emotions that Eita felt in that futile relationship.

That wasn't to say that you reminded him of her. From what he could tell, you weren’t like his ex in the slightest. In fact, he was tempted to say from your short interaction and mannerisms that you were the polar opposite to the stiff and stand-offish demeanour his ex possessed. Still, you somehow triggered a part of him that he’d been unknowingly out of touch with since his break up. it was freeing in a sense, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Calling it a night, Eita begins to pack up his mess of papers and stack dirty coffee mugs. Organising the sheet music into neat piles, he tucked the newly composed song in a sleeve separate to the half-baked songs written earlier on in the night. Throwing the folder and other miscellaneous items into his tote, he briefly wonders about when would be an appropriate time to message the team and notify them of his success. Checking his phone, Eita was not surprised to see that he stayed up so late from how groggy he felt. It definitely feels like almost six in the morning.

Tucking his phone away in his pocket, he grabs the bag and slings his guitar strap over his shoulder. Without even realising it, Eita looks back over to your table. Still in the exact same position, now with a half-empty cup of coffee cooling by your elbow as your emptily stare drills into the word document before you click something and fix whatever mistake you could find. From your unhurried pace, Eita assumed you were in the editing phase of the assignment, close to the end.

He was tempted to walk over to your table, to both say thanks and to get your name. You didn’t know how thankful he was of your presence obliterating his two-week long writer’s block and he wanted to make you aware of it. If he just so happens to offer to thank you over a drink or dinner and you accept, then that'd be a bonus of getting to know you.

As Eita walks towards the exit, he still tosses up whether to approach you or not. As he nears, you sigh heavily and message your temples, signalling that maybe you weren’t in the best of moods to make friendly conversation. That’s alright, Eita thinks as he bypasses your table at the last second. He really didn’t want to be the cause of breaking your focus, especially when you looked so done with life right now.

Like a fool, Eita lets the opportunity slip trough his fingers. Sparing you once last look over his shoulder, he pushes the door open and leaves the shop just as the sun kisses the horizon with her golden rays.

As he makes his way home, in the back of his mind he hopes that you get to go home soon to get some well-deserved rest.

Watching the monster document upload slowly on the café’s slow wifi was torture in and of itself. Sipping the last dredges of the cold coffee, you stare unblinkingly at the loading bar, hoping that it wouldn’t pop up with an error and terminate the upload. If that happened, you were going to scream. And maybe break something. You’re sure Jin wouldn’t mind so much. He knew you would pay for whatever damages you caused in your hysteria.

A small green notification confirms the upload and gives a receipt of your submission. The time stamp was enough for a cold sweat to break out along your skin. Ten minutes longer and it would’ve been late and you would've receive a big fat zero for it. The professor was an asshole to have that stipulation, but you were well and truly too exhausted to be angry at this point.

Shutting down the device, you recline back in the chair and swivel your neck that was stiff from holding it in a weird position for hours on end. God, your whole body was aching from unconsciously holding tension for the entire night.

The faint sunlight filtering through the windows suggest that it was time to pack up and get some much-needed sleep before your class today. Mid-day classes were the best, you cheered. Thankfully you’d be able to get at least a few hours before having to survive the rest of the day. You still had other assignments and module quizzes after all.

After neatly placing all your stuff away, you turn to seek out the attractive musician. At the sight of the empty chair he once inhabited, your heart sinks. You hadn’t even seen him leave, too wrapped up in rushing to submit before the rapidly approaching deadline.

Dismayed at the musician’s absence, you crush the unwarranted thought of being lonelier than you thought to fall for a stranger after a short conversation. If it could even be called a conversation since it was mostly him apologising.

Sighing out loud, you grab your bag and wave at Jin as you stand.

“Thanks for the coffee. You’re a miracle worker I swear.” Your compliment made him smile as he continued to sweep behind the counter.

“Good to hear that you enjoyed my coffee even though they were probably cold when you drank them.”

You chuckle at that and give a good bye as you leave the shop. The trip home was a blur in your mind. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow. As blissful unconsciousness enveloped you, the image of the ash-blond musician pops in your mind.

Eita was torn between cursing ever meeting you or thanking every god that existed. No that was a lie. He definitely didn’t regret meeting you. What he did regret was telling his prying room mate about the unexpected form his muse appeared as, after being asked how he pumped out a song so quickly.

Satori had a field day about his incompetence in asking for a someone's name.

“You have the looks and charisma of a modern day Adonis and yet you are the most awkward person I know when it comes to flirting.”

Eita had no grounds to defend himself. He knew he was hopeless when it came to dating. That was probably why he stayed so long in his last one, knowing how hard it is to put himself back on the dating scene.

“Yeah. I know.” He replied, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It did nothing to alleviate the headache he felt coming on.

“Have you tried going back there to meet them again?” Satori looked at him questioningly while upside down from where he had his head thrown over the back of the lounge.

Yeah, Eita has tried going back there. All at varying times that he was out and about and had succumbed to the urge to go back there and see if maybe you were there. On his tenth visit there, he was sorely tempted to ask the barista with the thick eyebrows that you spoke to on that fateful night for your name. Common sense was quick to convince him out of that idea, he really didn’t want to come across as a creep.

Satori didn’t have to know all of that, though, so he stayed vague with his answer.

“Yeah I have, but they weren’t there.”

“Well,” Satori dragged the word out for longer then necessary and Eita felt his eyebrow tick in irritation. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet but with less death.”

Shaking his head at the analogy, Eita silently agrees with the flamboyant red-head. Maybe meeting you once was enough of a miracle that he should be thankful for and just accept his star-crossed meeting with you.

Still, he had a lot to thank you for. You served as a catalyst for became the most popular song in their first album, 'Honey Go Home' shooting up in the charts every passing day. Since then, they’ve been booking gigs left and right. Not that you ever knew it, nor would you ever since he hadn’t seen you since that fateful night.

A text from their manager pulls him out of the bittersweet reverie, notifying him of an impromptu meeting to cover the packed schedule for the next month. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplates if he had enough time to get dressed and grab something to eat along the way.

Judging that he could, but it’d be a tight fit, Eita shoots off into his room to chuck on random articles of clothing before heading out. He hears Satori snort at his outfit combination and ignores it in favour of beating the lunch-time rush.

By the time he makes it into the business district, Semi had a handful of minutes to spare to grab lunch before what he assumes is going to be a long meeting. Spotting a takoyaki stall not far from him, he was soon waiting in line with others that were won over by the delicious savoury smells permeating from the stall.

The order turnover was pretty quick, still he eyed the time on his phone’s home screen with worry. His band mates wouldn’t let himself live it down, hell he himself wouldn’t let it go. No one wanted to be that guy holding everyone up from going home to their lives. Generally, they all got along like a house on fire but with their recent schedule, it was hard not to want to spend lost time with friends and family.

Hearing his order called out, he rushed to collect the bag. There was no time to eat it now, so he’s have to eat during it, which wasn’t the worse thing to ever happen. Picking up his pace whilst answering a text, he doesn’t see the person he ends up crashing into, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

They gasp as he slams against their back and start to tilt forward before he reaches out and pulls them by their shoulder to get back their footing.

“Sorry! Are you okay?” His eyes sweep down the person’s body, ensuring he caused no physical damage. As the person turned around to face him, Eita met the  face he'd least expected to see. Taken aback, Eita stared at you in shock as you mimicked him.

It was a humorous twist of fate that he would quite literally come crashing back into your life, after trying to find you for entire week.

It took you a moment to recognise him, trying to place his face to someone you met while his eyes roam your face. Once you do remember, you flushed at the close proximity of your bodies, his hand still clasped on your shoulder.

You both stared at one another as the world passes by, unknowing of the second fortuitous second meeting of the pair. Shock was the predominant emotion reigning inside of Eita, followed by gratefulness.

He suffered a full week of teasing from Satori and his band for acting like a hapless fool in love with some nameless person. There was no way in hell he was going to let you slip through his fingers again without at least getting a name.

“Hey, I know this sounds weird, but can I ask for your name?” He cursed the way his voice cracked at the greeting, wanting to scream at how awkward he was being again.

For whatever reason, it seemed that you were charmed by his latent charisma trumping his stiff question and you respond with your name. Testing it, he says it back to you and you respond with a nod at his pronunciation.

“What’s yours? I can’t keep calling you hot music guy.” You query in kind.

A light blush covers his cheeks at the compliment. He knew he looked good, people never failed to remind him, but it was always an ego boost when someone that made his heart flutter gave a compliment.

“I’m Semi Eita.”

He realises he was still holding your shoulder as they jump up as you silently laugh at his adorable blush. As if you burned him, he snatches away his hand as the blush intensifies. Eita was sure his face was bright red now.

“Well, hi Semi. I’m glad I got to meet you again. I wanted to thank you for playing that night, it really pushed me to keep working.” You glance off to the side, not meeting his surprised expression.

A soft, warm feeling fills him at your words. The power music possessed was a mysterious thing. To know that his playing had such an effect on you was incredible. It was extremely flattering.

“That's funny, because I actually wanted to thank you.” The words pour out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

A curious look lights up your face and urges him to continue.

“In a round-about way, you inspired me –“ The shrill ring tone of his phone cut off his explanation.

Giving you an apologetic look, he looks at the screen and grimaces when he sees the contact name of his manager paired with the time. He was late already, so what was a few more minutes? He might as well shoot his shot, Eita concludes as he denies the call and meets your beautiful gaze.

Under the sunlight in light clothing for the warm spring-time weather, you looked stunning. The lack of tired lines etching your face and eye-bags soothes his heart, knowing that you got some decent sleep last night. It was weird how he barely knew you and yet he wanted to know if you got some sleep. Eita barely knew you and he craved being able to take care of you on those long nights when you were unable to do so yourself.

“Was that important?” You tilt your head at him and Eita had to refrain himself from visibly showing how much the cute action affected him.

“Ah, yeah, it kind of was,” Came his stilted reply. You bit at your cheek as Eita wanted to bang his head against a wall. What was it with him losing his cool with you around? Usually he was pretty good with small talk, or so he was told. His phone starts ringing again in his hand and he doesn't even bother to look at it.

Time had run out, it was now or never.

“Can I have your number? I’d really like to thank you when I’m not being rushed.” The words rushed out of him in a single breath, the split second of courage proving to be his downfall. As he regained that breath, he realised how fast he spoke. It was highly likely that you might’ve not caught them. Okay, now he was ready to bury himself alive.

R.I.P. Semi Eita.

Cause of death: trying and failing to ask for your number.

You stared at him blankly, mind taking a moment to process the word vomit, unknowingly watching him as he has an internal melt-down. His question suddenly hits you and it takes everything in you to not blush at the thought of a kind and talented musician asking for your number.

“Oh! You want my number?” You ask, pulling out your phone and pointing at it in question.

Relief sweeps away the embarrassment that threatened to surpass all logic and just leg it away from you and forget about ever meeting you entirely.

Not trusting himself, Eita nods. Pulling up a new contact and handing over his phone, you wordlessly do the same. Standing there filling out contact details, his accomplishment didn’t strike him until he thanked you and promised to text you soon after you urged him to get where he was needed.

While it wasn’t exactly the way he envisioned your first proper conversation to go, it did end with your name, number and a promise of a future meet-up. It was hard to keep the grin off of his face as he enters the room filed with unimpressed people. Once he explained his tardiness, the mood turned on its head as they gave him encouraging pats on the back and a few hair-ruffles that he batted away.

The entire time he sat there, his phone felt like a lead weight in his pocket. It took all his self-restraint to not text you right then and there.

In the end, it turned out you were the one to send the first text. If anyone saw the way he reacted to receiving that text as he walked out the building, he would refute any and all claims of him lighting up like a Christmas tree until the day he died.

Unlike asking for your number, it took a while for him to gather the courage to ask you out after a few easy-flowing conversations. With your enthusiastic response, he felt on top of the world.

Eita never made a habit of looking back at the past, arguing there was nothing one could possibly gain from doing so. Although, after the short few months since meeting and consequently dating you, he found himself often looking back to that quite night in the dimly-lit coffee shop. By all means, that stress-filled night should not have lead to him finding his other half. But as Eita had come to learn, even the mundane becomes extraordinary with you by his side.

Notes: I wrote this in a night and had to stop myself from posting it without editing because I have no self-restraint sometimes. Critiques, Comments & Notes are always welcomed!

[caracarnn]

@bu11seye: [ jessie holds up a plant in front of him ] " apology gift . for bein' an asshole , and for also makin' fun of you a lil bit . two separate occasions , one big apology in a pot . "

He takes the plant from her hands, a half smile written across his face as he looks it over. "Thanks." He said, trying not to sound overly amused and maybe more grateful than anything. "I'll try to water it everyday." The amusement turns into a full smile. "You know, you really don't have to apologize. It wasn't a big deal." Maybe it was even a good thing. It was always a bit maddening whenever people fell to their feet with reverence given his title - the sort of thing that usually rang false. At least she seemed honest.

[caracarnn]

He didn't look back at where Mat was standing. There was no reason to. A small breath was exhaled as he flipped a page in the book he was holding, not reading just holding. "Is it meant to be interesting?"

"how long are you going to be holed up in here?" he asks, leaning against the wall by the door. he looks around the room, it's dark, a little stale even. he crosses his arms over his chest. "seems pretty boring." @caracarnn

[rcbirth]

[ CHELLA MAN, TRANS & GENDERQUEER, HE/HIM ] shh ! FISCHEL “FISH” ABRAMS, the ( TWENTY-TWO ) year old THIRD year SOCIOLOGY & PUBLIC POLICY major from CHICAGO, IL is known as an EMERALD around here. HE was invited to join because HIS TED TALK ON THE COMMUNITY ORGANIZATION & RESTAURANT HE COFOUNDED HIT OVER 500MILL VIEWS, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE SMELL OF DINNER COOKING FROM THE NEXT ROOM OVER, SWIMMING ON A SUMMER NIGHT, RUNNER’S HIGH AT THE END OF A RACE. // @opalsmedia

howdy pals! my name is del ( she/they ), and i am jazzed to be here! i’ve been peaking at this rp since it showed up in the tags, so to say i’m excited about bringin my kiddo fish in is an understatement. a lil about me before i get into some basics and links for more info about fish... i’m twenty-three from the cst timezone. i work full-time, but my hours are funky, so you may see me at random hours of the day. big music fan, lover of public health things, over-using kermit the frog memes, & thriller shows and books ( anyone else almost lose it during the season finale of the undoing ??? )! warning: i rant a lot.... and am.... so long winded.... pls forgive me.

now for the fun part.... bby fish! i’m just going to give you basics to reference here, because the link ‘extended info’ has much more extensive head canons, wanted plots, stats, and his full bio.

born into a really well off & successful family ( dad = doctor & professor at UC’s med school, mom = big wig in dem establishment & advisor to ... oop! state senator obama ), fish had just about everything that he could ever need growing up. fish was super eager to please his parents and really ??? everyone. 

his grandma was and still is his favorite person to have ever walked this earth. probably has a tattoo for that woman but like ... she’s a peach 1/2 so rightfully so. 

two things about his grandma.... first! her maiden name was fischel, and when fish was growing up, she’d always call him her little fish. it just stuck, and that was that! he would forever be known fischel for business™ and fish for the pals. second! she was his biggest advocate and always believed in him. ( food tw ): she helped encourage his love and interest in cooking, food, food soc, etc. they were big julia child fans. a lot of grandma/fish time was literally just them goofing around in the kitchen and trying to recreate things they saw her make. also.... chicago just has a phenomenal food scene in general, and those two really soaked it in, trying out the various signature dishes of the various neighborhoods, and learning about the history behind them. ( tw end )

he loves anthony bourdain & samin nosrat. big fan.

( divorce tw ) parents got divorced and didn’t really say much other than that he would stay with his father in chicago and visit his mom on alternating holidays and summers. there wasn’t like The Discussion ( tw end )

while he was doing a lil medical internship and staying out with his mom ( cancer, death of a loved one tw ) he got the news that his grandmother’s cancer had gotten to the point where she had been put on life support. his father made the decision that it was in her best interest and fish’s to end her support. fish found out after she had already passed. he tried to claim that it was in his best interest since fish had always been too emotional and the family’s so there wouldn’t be this massive fight.... ( tw end ) cue beginning of resentment of the fam & realization that he’s got no one in his corner except himself

our table <3333 ( food tw ) okay so taking inspiration from his time touring chicago neighborhoods with his grandma & idolizing bourdain and nosrat, fish created what began as an after school club with some of his pals. the idea was to learn about food accessibility, urban farming, food sociology, & cooking from peers, but fish had Big Big plans & wanted it to turn into a bit of a safe haven for kids & young adults on the southside. ( tw end ) utilizing both support from partnerships with other chicago based non profits, school, and locals in the food scene, he helped start the building process for an actual brick and mortar place for our table. 

this got some buzz, and when a journalist came to interview fish and the other co founders they even received national attention... leading to what would be a ted talk appearance in the future, but back to entering strathmore...

fish hopes to utilize both sociology and public policy degrees to help him become a policy advocate and researcher. he hates how slow moving and formal things always were with his mom’s work. his goal is to utilize research about community based efforts and organizations ( like our table ) and science, to create substantial and sustainable policy for politicians that aren’t scared of being seen as “””too radical””.

his invitation into the society came months later after his ted talk reached over 500 million views. although, he’ll tell you it's because word got around to the members who heard about how good of a chef he is .... he loves it. he literally longs ... yearns some might say .... for community and is very committed and protective over his circlet. 

grief, guilt tw: poppy’s disappearance has him borderline unhinged a bit. she was one of the people he considered himself closer too, and it’s just an unearthing of some of the feelings he had right after his grandmother’s death of anger, confusion, guilt etc. he won’t openly express that or talk about it, but it definetely manifests itself physically. tw end

inspiration-wise, he is a mix of laurel castillo from how to get away with murder, pope heyward from outer banks, grizz from the society, dani clayton from bly manor, emily prentiss from criminal minds, and a bit of payton hobart from the politican. 

music inspiration: willow tree by tash sultana & jerome farah, ain’t it fun by paramore, barefoot in the park by james blake, bad bad news by leon bridges

his personality is that he’s a sociable guy for the most part, but he’s definetely an introvert really enjoying his time for himself. he’s very methodical despite how emotional he is and can be. very creative, protective, blunt .... this can run him into issues even if he just means it as a joke.... many times its not though, he’s pretty critical of others and esp himself, but also v loyal and thoughtful when it comes down to the pals.... will be dropping off some homemade soup and crackers if he knows you’re fighting a lil cold.

BIG THINGS: a lot of his character is based around the subtle, warm intimacy of small dinners with loved ones??? this is what he longs for more than anything and always has??? it’s not super overstated or in your face, but you know its there because you can feel it. in the past you saw him being more passive, kinda allowing himself to float in the background, but now he really is his own advocate and creates community wherever he can. he’s v intentional in his relationships and conversations, not wanting to have just surface level connections or chats. he is v much a Scorpio™.

see more. pinterest. plots. template credit.

[lordjohngreyreadingnook]

Meet a Curator: Angstosaur

Hi there, 

I’m Angstosaur (Angsty to my friends). I’ve been involved in writing fan fiction for a couple of decades or so. I got into Outlander when the series first aired in 2015 in the UK, then got into the books... then, once David Berry took on the role of Lord John Grey in S3, I was distracted from Jamie and Claire’s romance by this beautifully tragic figure, in love with Jamie and rejected. That’s when I downloaded all the LJG books onto my Kindle to consume, making me love the character all the more. [I also fell for David Berry and watched all of A Place to Call Home, in which he is brilliant]

I then began seeking fanfic to feed my addiction and found some wonderful John Grey stories that need to be shared more - they kept me going once lock down began. From there I got to know the other curators here, they are not only incredibly talented writers (I urge you all to check out their AO3 accounts and feast on the wondrous fics they have served up there!), but also, truly delightful, kind and friendly people - I’ve not known them long, but value their acceptance and friendship enormously. 

I started writing Outlander fiction earlier this year when I saw gaps in the books that I wanted to fill - I now have an Outlander Bingo card that my plot bunnies are drooling over, so hopefully will post more soon. 

There were 3 questions set for me by the talented @narastories​ and here they are with my rambling answers:

1. If it were up to you, how would Lord John’s story play out in canon?

Last seen in book canon, I believe Claire was warning John that Richardson was aiming to ruin him and use his knowledge of John’s sexuality against him. But, as not everyone may have read all the Outlander books, I shall try to avoid spoilers, although I will say that if I was writing what comes next, Jamie would do something nice for John to make up for what he did. However, the TV series seems to be drifting away from canon, sending John and William back to Helwater, so there is already a dichotomy – two paths to pursue to get John some happiness that he deserves so badly.

If John had stayed in Virginia, essentially on the wrong side, I would like for him and William to be given refuge by the Frasers and Mackenzie’s (after all John has done for them). John needs a lover and although I enjoy reading stories where Claire and Jamie welcome John into their bed and their lives, I see them both caring for him and loving him a great deal, but wanting him to have what they have, someone who loves him with all their heart. John has suffered tragedy and rejection, injury and heartbreak… My plot bunnies keep whispering possible scenarios for John’s future… but they have sharp teeth and are doom-mongers, so I shall ignore them. 

Ideal future for John- Hal dies, and then John becomes Earl and has Argus House to himself. He becomes a well-respected, successful diplomat. His devoted Tom Byrd stays with him and helps him to host fabulous soirees. Jamie and Claire visit and spend some time in London with John – Jamie wistfully wonders what might have been. There is a new man in John’s life – someone as ruggedly handsome as Jamie, as decadent as Percy and as masterful as Stephan – whilst being as adorable as Hector.

2. Do you have a dedicated place to write? If so, where is it?

The place is fixed – I type my stories on my pc which is on a table at the end of our open plan living room. It’s the time that is dedicated – early in the morning, while I have the house to myself and no distractions. I like it when I can hear rain on the conservatory roof and the wind in the branches of trees nearby.

3. Share your current favorite song with us.

Tricky – it varies from day to day. Currently a very angsty song from Blue Oyster Cult, it’s a tragic story, but there is beautiful guitar work on it described by one reviewer like this: ‘Roeser's guitar solos all through the song are dripping with soul and menace.’

‘Then came the last days of May’  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyLMgIR69G4