#we need like a text box next to him every time he de-ages so we know how old he is

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[sope-and-shine]

The Right of a King: Pt. 1

-> SFW // Soulmate!AU // fluff, angst // mummy!Namjoon -> Pairing: Namjoon x Reader -> Word Count: 15.1k  -> Summary: Life as the night guard for your local high-end museum was supposed to be simple and easy. The most dangerous part of your job was only supposed to be the middle-aged patrons who insisted they get a discount for a line being too long. Nowhere in your contract did it say you’d be taking care of a 1,000 year old king that had been mummified. Thankfully, for you he’s harmless, but the storm that comes with him is not as welcoming. -> Warning(s): mild language, brief crude humor, Namjoon is kind of a jerk but he gets better...kinda, also a bit of a misogynist, technology abuse RIP the museum equipment, Jimin IS that salesman that uses his charm to steal your money - but will anyone complain? no.  

A/N: This whole fic is a BEAST i sWEAR! I am however really excited to share this fic with everyone! This was originally for a collab that never got to happen -RIP - but I liked the idea too much to just throw her away!

I do want to give a huge shout out to @sakuraguks-main​ for beta reading this as well as my squad for their constant encouragement throughout the writing process.

Now if you excuse me, I need to get back to writing part 2 

Masterlist

* * *

“Just the lunch box and the banana milk this time?” 

“Uh…” You look up from your wallet to view your items on the counter. It was just one prepackaged lunch and a few banana milks, much less than you usually buy on your routine dinner stop. You don’t want to buy too much, but you’d need something for later in the morning too. 

You settle for grabbing a few bags of chips off the rack next to you and set them on the counter, “I’ll take those too.”  

He nods and rings them up, bagging them while you pay with your card. He grabs your receipt and tucks it in the bag, handing them to you as you slide your wallet back into your bag, “Have a good evening, (Y/n)!”

You nod, “Thank you! See you tomorrow, Gyu!” You wave to him as you exit the convenience store and step back into the bustling city.  

Stopping for food is always a must for you before every shift with it being smack in the middle of your route. If you were to spend 10:00p.m. to 8a.m. by yourself with no food, you would probably go insane. It wasn’t like you couldn’t bring them from home, but it was much more convenient to stop on your way there. Occasionally, you’ll attempt to pull back on your snack intake, but Gyu never makes it easy on you when you do. He just makes it another typical day for you.

Wake up at 2:30, take a shower, do your school work, get ready for work, leave the house, stop to buy food from Gyu, and then arrive at the grand entrance to the Seoul Museum of History and Art.

The building itself is 4 stories high - not including the lower level storage it sits on top of - and 1 city block in length and width. It’s exterior is grand and extravagant with 3 large pillars that encase the 4 doorways that lead into the lobby. A large staircase greets you at the sidewalk, flower beds decorating the front along the brick railing on either side of the stairs. You never take the stairs on your way in, choosing to take the ramp hidden in the flowers up to the entrance instead. You’d have enough problems walking around the entire museum, adding more stairs to the mix would only ruin your mood.

Thankfully, Jin is always there to greet you on your way in. He never fails to brighten your day when you see him. Dressed sharp in a white button down tucked into fitted black dress pants with a grey suit jacket on top, he stands with his hands together in front of him and a large welcoming smile. His hair is parted just off center, not losing shape even as he nods to the patron in front of him.

You wait for him to finish his conversation before you greet him, “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Worldwide Handsome himself.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Jin chuckles. He lets his shoulders relax, moving his neck from side to side before looking at his watch. He looks impressed, “Wow, you’re earlier than usual.”

You shrug, “Yeah, Hoseok said he needed to talk to me about the exhibit pieces that are coming in.” 

“Say no more,” Jin raises his hands in front of him and shakes his head, “I’ve heard all I need to.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” You laugh. You shake your head and sigh, “I should get going so I can get ready to clear the last minute rush.”

“Don’t work too hard, night guard.” He gives you a mock salute and you turn away, waving goodbye to him as you continue down the corridor into a sea of people.

Most people would think a museum wouldn’t be so popular, but your crowds never seemed to dwindle. You suppose you’d have Yoongi to thank for that. He ran the museum so smoothly it was almost like clockwork. Doors opened at 9 and they closed at 9, new exhibits rotate in and out every 7 ½ months to the day, and employees were put through severe background checks and training just to make sure they’d be competent enough to work in his museum. Everyone that works in the museum was handpicked by Yoongi himself, and everyone chosen contributes everything they have to be here.

You pass by the gift shop, spying Jimin at the counter helping a few kids pick out candies. He notices you passing and smiles, giving you a quick wave that you return before he gives his attention to the children in front of him.

You continue on down the hall, passing the cafe and the restrooms. The walls begin to lose their decor the farther you go, becoming planer and planer until you reach the break room doors. 

“He was like, ‘do you think toys for cavemen were any different from present day? Like that shit must be wild bro’ and then they all started laughing at me when I said they didn’t have a Toys R Us, so yeah, they were different from now.” Jeongguk says as you enter the room. His impeccable timing for ‘strange conversation’ never ceases to amaze you every time you walk through the door.

Jeongguk’s a great guy, always very respectful and eager to learn more, but he’s been working as a tour guide in the museum for about a year now and he still hasn’t seemed to pick up on anything. You’re pretty sure Yoongi only hired him to keep the single ladies coming back. It was hard to correct someone with such a cute, bunny smile and such remarkable enthusiasm in the work place.

“Do you think it was an inside joke?” He proceeds to ask, his attention trained on Johnny who stands at the locker to the right of yours.

The man in question can’t stop himself from giving the younger a disappointed frown, “Dude...you’re the joke…”

Jeongguk tilts his head in confusion and you jump into the conversation, “I’m sure they’re just being teenagers, Guk. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” You turn to briefly glare at your locker mate as you open it, turning your frown into a smile when you face Jeongguk again, “Tomorrow is another day!”

“You’re right!” He closes his locker and throws his bag over his shoulder, his confidence already returning, “I’ll learn everything I can about cavemen toys and come back tomorrow prepared to tell all of my tours about them!”

He leaves before you can say anything back, off to do whatever it is he usually does after work. You don’t mind though, it’s a little hard to understand the college sophomore anyways. At least with him leaving you can relax before your shift starts.

Johnny sighs next to you, “You mother him too much.”

“I don’t mother him. I just don’t want to explain to him what they’re actually talking about.” You argue, placing your bags on the hooks in your locker. You take off your overcoat and replace it with your black security jacket, fixing the collar, “Besides, he’ll figure it out by this weekend and then he won’t make eye contact with either one of us for the next week.”

“Whatever you say.” He pulls out a lint roller and hands it to you before closing his locker, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Waving behind you with the roller in hand, you say, “Have a good night!” You hear the door open and close behind you, leaving you alone in the room to sort yourself out. 

You make quick work to de-lint your black work pants, setting the roller at the top of your locker. Then you take the bags you set down and pull them over to the table at the center of the room, leaving your locker open while you take out your food to be refrigerated. When you have everything you need, you place the leftover snacks back on the hook and shut the door. 

The door opens on your way to the fridge, Hoseok walking in with a folder in his hands. He looks up from whatever he’s reading and his eyes widen in surprise, “You’re here!”

You open the fridge, “Yeah, you told me to come in a little early.” You set your bag on the top shelf, close the door, and turn to him, “You wanted to talk to me about tomorrow?”

“Right.” He approaches the table and sets his stuff down, sorting through a few papers before he pulls one from his stack. He extends it to you,  “This is all the information about who we’ll be meeting with tomorrow. It has times, names, and a manifest.”

“Everything is the same from the texts you sent me, right?” You ask, eyes skimming over the sheet for anything new.

“Yes! Each artifact was individually packed, so we should only have 12 new pieces coming in tomorrow.” 

“Okay, so we just need to keep an eye on what they bring in.” You say, more to yourself than to him. You take a moment to let the information sink in, nodding in understanding when you’re sure you have it all down. You look back up to Hoseok who’s already discarding his security jacket, “Did you have any luck on new night guard help?”

“Ah-...no,” Hoseok sets his jacket over the back of the chair in front of him. He’d been searching for new help ever since Chanyeol left, leaving you to run the night shift alone. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t ideal for a museum in the middle of the city. You knew that and so did Hoseok. “I’ve been working on it, but it’s been hard with the new arrivals. Besides, you know how Yoongi is when he’s hiring new employees.”

You nod, knowing exactly how anal the museum director could truly be, “Yeah, I know. Just keep me updated though?” 

You don’t really mind working by yourself, but you could only go so many days without a single day off. Thankfully, Hoseok was understanding of this, “I will! I’ll work something out, I promise!”

“Thank you,” You smile. You grab your bag off the table and hoist it over your shoulder, “I’m gonna go clock in and see about ushering the night crowd out.” 

“Hyuk should be starting on level 1.” He informs you. 

“I’ll take level 4 then.” You bid Hoseok goodbye and head across the hall to the security room, setting your stuff down in your chair and clocking in at the main computer. You take a moment to check the camera’s, looking for the most populated areas to look out for and which exhibits you could close as you go through.

This was something you did everyday. You’d find the unpopulated areas first so you could sweep the rooms and lock the exhibits behind you. One by one, you make sure to clear the floor before you move to the next level.

The third level is much busier than the other levels, having had the most change to it’s layout since the new exhibit was brought in 2 weeks prior. Families make their way to the stairs while couples try to catch one last look at exhibits they missed in favor for another.

Walking into the Ancient Dynasties Exhibit, you nod to the partons that you pass on their way out, stopping by the occasional straggler to let them know it’s time to go. You rarely ever have problems with getting someone to leave - maybe once or twice you’ve had to get physical with someone or call the police to escort them out of the museum - but the number of times is so small you could count them on one hand. There’s only one person you have to repeatedly kick out of the exhibit, and he’s worse than any patron you’ve ever dealt with.

“Taehyung, I need you to leave.” You tell him, approaching him from behind. His green, 3 piece suit is only slightly wrinkled from his work throughout the day, his jacket discarded and set off to his side.

The bubbly curator turns his head over his shoulder, dirty blonde locks still kept in a perfect side-sweep thanks to his “very essential” hair gel. His smile is almost a tease as he says, “Just a few more minutes.”

You cross your arms and sigh, “I’m counting.”

The saying “Just a few more minutes” has lost all meaning with Taehyung. You haven’t believed him since your third day of working together. He’s never been good at leaving his exhibits, wanting to take pride in his work. Despite having the ability to take pictures of the area as it’s curator, he insists on committing them all to memory. In hindsight, it’s very endearing. However, his wants tend to put you behind your own schedule.

He turns back around and you take a seat next to him on the bench. You take an obligatory look around the section he sits in, glancing over each artifact that decorates the walls. From tapestries or writing displays that hang on the walls, to small podiums with items far more fragile encased in glass. In front of you - roped off and on a placed on a small stage - is a large sarcophagus covered in gold with two lit candle placed beside it. Behind it is a wall of flowers, all apparently favorites from when the King was alive. 

“Have I told you about Namjoon hyung?” He asks, referencing the mummy in front of you.

King Kim Namjoon of the Kim Dynasty. The only king of Korea to be mummified. Of all the exhibits you’ve been through with Taehyung, this one was his favorite. You could really say he’s obsessed with the dead King! Even with 6 more exhibits to his name. Taehyung spent almost all of his time in this section.

“I think I could talk about this guy in my sleep!” You laugh, nudging his side playfully, “And should you really be calling him ‘hyung’? If anything, he’s an ‘ahjussi’ to you.”

“Yes, but I know so much about him that he feels like a hyung to me!” He argues with a certain admiration in his eyes, “I’ve spent years waiting for this moment to have him in one of my exhibits, and now he’s right at my fingertips!”

He really isn’t exaggerating either. Before the king arrived, Taehyung would show you continuous updates about his uncovering and the updates on how his body was kept. The day his exhibit was approved, you thought he was going to explode. Of all the curators and all of the possible museums, he got King Namjoon. Anyone who didn’t know would’ve thought he won the lottery. In a way, he did.

“His exhibit here is a permanent one, Tae. He’s not going anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about him leaving anytime soon.” You assure him, placing a hand on his arm. Your smile turns into a grin, “What I am worried about is you leaving soon. Get out of my museum before I go find Yoongi.”

“I’m not afraid of Yoongi.” You raise an eyebrow at him and his shoulders drop, “Okay, so maybe I’m terrified of Yoongi, but that’s not important right now!”

You give his shoulder a light nudge, “Go home, Taehyung. The rest of your hyung will be here tomorrow.” You tease.

He sighs and leans his head back, “You say that like he didn’t arrive all put together. He’s a mummy, not Frankenstein.”

You hit his arm, “Get out of here.”

“Okay!” He stands up and turns to you with a boxy grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t work too hard.”

“I never do.” You wave him off, watching him saunter out of the exhibit with a little jump in his step. Even after 14 hours on the clock of rounding the museum to look at his works, he’s still running like he just woke up. Some days you wish you could be as happy with your job as Taehyung is, but how many people truly loved working the night shift in a dark, quiet museum?

* * *

“Alright, let’s make this fast and efficient everyone!” Yoongi barks, walking up to the loading dock where you and Hoseok stand on opposite sides of the doors. He eyes the unloading crew unlocking the truck and sends them a warning glare, “It’s a full moon tonight, and I will not be out at 3am like last time.”

“You need to relax, Yoongi,” Hoseok warns him, still standing across from you, “It’s just a few small pieces and then we’ll be out of here before your ‘witching hour’ is here.”

Hoseok wiggles his fingers for a “spooky emphasis” and you stifle a chuckle. Yoongi is not as amused, “Laugh all you want, but at least I won’t be dead.”

“Is that a threat? Can I file an HR complaint?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi sighs, “Just do your job while they unload so we can leave.”

You offer a teasing grin and a nod, “Yes sir~”

Yoongi walks away and Taehyung replaces him, standing next to you instead of in the way of the workers. He rolls back and forth on his feet, watching happily as if he were a child at Christmas.

“Did I tell you what’s coming today?” He asks.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure you may have mentioned it here or there.”

Of course, you know what was coming in. Your job is to protect it with your life. Hoseok gave you the run down via text on your last 5 shifts and again today as soon as you walked through the doors. More paintings, a chair, a dusty old book, and the shining jewel of the King’s tomb.

“His lover’s necklace!” Taehyung beams, “According to what we know, this necklace was used by the King to find his soulmate. We believe that because he didn’t take a queen, he never found his other half.”

You shrug, “Maybe he wasn’t really looking.”

“Maybe...maybe not. Most historians believe he mummified himself so when fate brings his soulmate to him, he’d wake again and they’d spend eternity together.” He turns to you and flicks your forehead, “You would know if you actually paid attention to me.”

You push him back, “Well, excuse me if I can’t listen to you talk about his majesty for more than 10 minutes a week.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and turns back to the movers. His annoyance quickly turns to excitement as he catches sight on the last box being carried in, “Is that the necklace?”

“Uh…” The man carrying the box looks at the label on the side, nodding to Taehyung in confirmation, “Yes sir.”

“Oh! Follow me!” Taehyung grabs your arm and pulls you after him. You turn your head back to Hoseok for help but he’s already waving you off while he closes the loading doors. You both follow the crew member to the table where a few other small items are being opened already, waiting long enough for the man to open the box for you. You can’t see the inside of the crate with Taehyung in your way, but he gets the first look at whatever dingy piece of jewelry is inside. He flails in excitement, “Look at this!”

Taehyung rushes forward, pushing the man helping him out of the way to reach into the box. When he turns around, he holds a smaller box in his hand, “It’s right here!”

“That’s another box…” You point out, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“It’s not just another box!” He argues. He undoes the latch and pulls the lid back towards him, revealing the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. A delicate string of silver stones bedazzled with small fuschia gems all laced together with a golden band weaving under and over. It glistens in the shine of the storage room work lights, drawing you in with every hypnotizing twinkle. 

Taehyung smiles knowingly, enjoying your sudden engrossment in the artifact, “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch the delicate jewel. It takes a surprising amount of restraint from you just to pull away, “It’s definitely pretty.”

Yoongi claps his hands from the table beside you, “Let’s get these up to the Ancient Dynasties exhibit and in their places so we can get out of here.”

Everyone takes a box and begins to move upstairs, you and Hoseok helping the men with the old chair to ensure it doesn’t get stuck on anything. With the few items left to be brought into the exhibit, it didn’t take long at all for everything to be settled into their rightful places. 

“Perfect! It’s all perfect!” Taehyung cheers, clapping his hands and squeezing them together. His excitement for this event was unmatched, and you know that in the morning when you see him next, he’ll be bouncing up and down just as he is now.

Hoseok nods to you, “Let’s lock them up.”

“Right.” You pull out your keyring and begin the process of going case to case while Hoseok sets their alarms after you. You make it all the way around the room until you stand in front of the necklace again. It’s beauty draws you in, having never seen something like this before. Many would think it too bulky and busy for someone to wear everyday, but a part of you could see it’s appeal.

A part of you wouldn’t mind wearing it at all. 

Taehyung walks over to where you stand locking the cases and audibly gasps behind you, “Fix it!”

You jump, “Fix what?”

“The necklace! It’s not straight!” He points at the case and you turn your attention back to the object beneath the glass. Staring at with a clearer mind, it is indeed tilted just slightly to the left. If you were to just glance at it, you probably would have never noticed. But nothing could get past a perfectionist like Taehyung, “We have to fix it now!”

“Okay!” To appease the overly attentive curator, you unlock the case and adjust the necklace yourself. You pull the delicate string of stone and gem into place, locking it back up when you’re done. It glimmers in the corner of your eye as you turn back to Taehyung, “Better?”

He grins, knowing fully well that you’re more than annoyed with him, “Perfect.”

“Alright, now that we’re all done, everyone needs to leave so I can go home.” Yoongi announces.

Hoseok chuckles, “You really don’t want to be up past midnight do you?”

“I don’t care about being up past midnight. I don’t want to be out past midnight.” The older man grumbles, most likely cursing the other in the back of his mind, “There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” Hoseok teases, making Yoongi glare at him even harder than before. He turns to the movers and waves for them to follow him, “Gentlemen, let me show you back to your truck. We wouldn’t want the grump over here to bite your head off.”

The group follows after Hoseok and so does Yoongi, “You’re so lucky you’re my friend, Hoseok, or I would fire you so fast.”

Hoseok only laughs at his loose threat, “Well, if you’d like to take the bus then be my guest.”

They all leave the exhibit and you turn to Taehyung who still stands in front of the case admiring the necklace inside, “So, I’ll see you early tomorrow, Tae?”

He turns back to you and gives you a large, reassuring smile, “Bright and early.” 

“Go and get some rest for your big day then.” You say, placing a hand on his back and nudging him towards the door.

You watch him leave the exhibit, laughing at the way he dances to the music playing in his head. You take the responsibility of closing the gate, glancing over the exhibits contents between the bars before following Taehyung yourself. You say goodbye to Yoongi and Hoseok at the front door, ensuring the door gets locked behind them before getting to your own duties that were halted because of the shipment.

---

It’s later in the evening when you finally get to make your rounds through the empty halls of the museum. You’d checked every camera in the building twice, filling out your night paperwork as well as the visitor log for Hoseok to look over in the morning as you went. All you really had to do was roam the halls every now and then, keeping an eye on the monitors for anything suspicious.

The night shift was never quite as tiring as the day shift. Your interaction with patrons or real people was always far below what Hoseok and the dayshift would have to deal with - that was part of the reason you chose to take over the night shift. It was a bit more time consuming with just you, but hopefully Hoseok will find someone to replace Chanyeol before the New Year.

You hear a faint bang down the corridor and you pause. You’ve heard bumps like this before, mostly when it would rain and the tree by the ramp outside would hit the window. Rain wasn’t on the forecast for the evening, but that had never stopped it before. Not so easily scared, you continue on down the hall, stopping at the end of the hall when you hear it again.

“What the fuck…?” You say to yourself, a slight shake in your voice. The bang sounds again and you reach for your flashlight, it being the only protection against intruders. 

In the three years you’ve worked as a security guard, you’ve never had a break in. Even before you, there had never once been an attempt by anyone to steal anything. In reality, the alarms should’ve gone off by now if someone had made their way into the museum. That meant that someone was smart enough to get past the security system, or you were going crazy.

You really hope you’re going crazy.

You make your way down the hallway, following the bumps and bangs into the Ancient Dynasties exhibit. The gate is locked - it hasn’t been unlocked since you left the room at midnight - but the noise isn’t one easily mistaken. 

Against your better judgement you unlock the gate, stepping in and leaving the gate cracked behind you. If you needed a quick escape, then you wanted to be able to yank it closed as well. The noises cease as soon as you’re completely past the gate, sending an ominous chill up your spine. At a glance, nothing in the room seems out of place. Nothing looks to have been moved or damaged, but that does little to settle your unease.

“This is normal...everything is normal.” You say to yourself, trying to trick yourself into having the courage to move forward.

You spot the necklace in it’s spot close to the sarcophagus. It’s glass remains intact, just like every other item within the exhibit’s walls. It would make sense for someone to come after it considering it’s value, yet there it remains untouched.

“So where did the banging come fr-Agh!” You scream as the sarcophagus lid bursts open, falling to the floor in front of it and ripping the ropes connected to the wall right out.  

Inside the now open casket, the ancient king covered in tattered, dusty cloth rolls his head. You can see his mouth move from underneath the dirt as he yawns. His arms raise to stretch in front of him, the mummy taking one step out of his box.

You can only stand in shock as you watch what happens in front of you. You had to be dreaming. There was no way you were actually awake witnessing a dead king coming to life in front of you. This had to be some sort of sick joke from Yoongi for calling him short. Maybe Johnny for calling him out in front of that group of fourth graders. Someone has to be messing with you. 

The mummy turns his head to you and your breath hitches. You’ve never wanted to have seen The Mummy so much in one moment than this one, wishing you knew what exactly to do in this situation. You wish your feet would move, but they’re planted so firmly to the ground that they feel more like cement than limbs.

The monster before you takes a step in your direction, and you scream. You will yourself to move back, but you can’t stop yourself from stumbling over your own feet. You trip and land on your bottom, your body not even registering the pain as you attempt to scoot back away from the danger that continues to follow after you.

Every step he takes is another scream that releases from your lungs, your fear getting the best of you. It isn’t until your back hits the large display case that helps to divide the room that you realize you have nowhere else to go. You turn your head away, preparing yourself for whatever is about to come.

But nothing does.

You take a peek at the tall being before you and notice that he’s stopped moving, towering over your cowering form with his head tilted. His mouth opens and sounds come out, but his speech is muffled by the bandages. He seems to realize this though as his bandaged hands fly to his face.

You watch him pat around his face and neck until he finds a loose cloth, pulling it out and beginning the process of unwrapping his face. You watch in horror, unsure if the image before you will haunt you forever or not. To see what’s left of a 1,000 year old decomposed body that’s been “preserved” was something you never thought you would ever have to bear witness to. Hopefully, your therapist for this experience will understand.

If you get that far.

However, you weren’t expecting to see a full head of healthy brown hair appear as he went, nor did you expect to see healthy, tanned skin be freed from the confines as well. Brown eyes meet yours and a smile is uncovered, “Hello.” 

“Hi...” You blink rapidly, hoping if you do it enough times your vision will clear, but the man in front of you still half-covered in gauze doesn’t disappear. You shake your head, “Am I awake?”

“You are as awake as I am.” He says with a pleasant smile.

“That’s not a very reassuring answer...” You can’t help but stare at him in awe and wonder just how this was happening. Of course, Taehyung had told you countless times about this supposed curse or whatever it was, but you thought it was all just a hoax your ancestors believed in. There is no possible way that you are actually awake and experiencing reincarnation or rebirth or whatever this is firsthand.

“Ow!” You feel a pinch on your calf, pulling you from your thoughts and back to the matter at hand. Or more specifically, the person before you. 

“Well, did you feel that?” He asks. In your dazed state, you hadn’t noticed the man bend to your level and reach out to pinch you with rag covered fingers. The dust and mold leave a stain on your work pants and you can’t help but frown in disgust, “Yeah. Yeah, unfortunately I did.”

“You must be frightened and confused. Allow me to introduce myself-” He bows his head to you from where he kneels on the floor, “-I am King Kim Namjoon of Korea.” He looks back up and smiles bright, showcasing his dimples, “It is my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” 

You tilt your head in confusion at his choice of words, “I’m sorry, you’ve been waiting for me? I don’t understand.”

“Are you not aware of our bond?” He asks, tilting his own head to the side.

Of course you know about his bond, it’s all that Taehyung has ever told you about! His necklace was gifted by the moon goddess so that when his soulmate touches it, he’ll wake up and they’l-

It takes you a moment to realize that he believes you to be his long lost soulmate, and you’re ready to spiral into another frenzy when you do, “No…” 

Soulmates aren’t real. Nobody just walks around and bumps into their soulmate on the street. They don’t hear their voice in the back of their heads. They don’t wait over 1,000 years to be matched with a fucking dead guy.

“No.” You repeat, more confident in yourself. 

“I understand you may be confused as to what this all must mean, but I’ll explain it to you-” Namjoon tries to reach out to you again, but you’re quick to push him away this time.

You stand from the floor in a rush and take two steps towards the center of the room where the two display cases separate and show a clear path to the exhibit’s only exit, “No, you won’t. Please return to your box.” 

He stands up after you but stops when he sees you step back again, “But we’re destined to be together!”

“Destiny isn’t real! This-” You gesture with both hands from you to him, “-isn’t real!”

“Our bond is as real as you and I!” He argues. You can feel the want and passion dripping from his voice. It isn’t hard to tell how much he truly believes you’re his soulmate, but he’s dead wrong - no pun intended. “I’ve spent so long waiting for you.”

“Nope.” It didn’t matter how many times he flashes you that lovestruck look. Soulmates weren’t real, and whatever is going on in front of you isn’t real either, “This isn’t happening.” You turn away from him, resorting to pacing out your frustrations instead of voicing them. 

Namjoon watches you with a disappointed frown and slumped shoulders, “Well, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen.” He mumbles.

You attempt to calm your breathing, pleading with your rationale to find some way - any way - to explain what’s happening. The whole interaction felt like a crazy fever dream that manifested on the worst day of a cold. They’re always weird, but they’re never this realistic. 

You turn back around to address the not-so-dead king and yelp when you see him pulling at his wrap, “What are you doing?!” You ask as he tugs and pulls at the rotten fabric.

Namjoon looks up, pausing his ministrations to give you an answer, “I’m removing these incessant wrappings.”

He returns to his unwrapping, leaving you to watch him as he goes. He wasn’t naked - thankfully - but you weren’t prepared for him to immediately unwrap himself. In all honesty, you wanted him to wrap himself back up and return to his box. Fortunately for you, under his wrappings he wears a loose white shirt and loose tan pants, his shoes long forgotten. 

When he finally frees himself, he takes a moment to look around the room. His gaze trails over the walls, “What is this place? Why are we not in my tomb?”

“You’re in a museum.” You explain, watching closely to gauge his reaction. In a way, he wasn’t really that old in retrospect, but you doubt he’d seen a museum before.

He turns to look at you, just as confused as you expected him to be, “What is that?”

You shrug, “It’s a place where people go to see old things and art.”

Namjoon breaks into a smile, a red tint coloring his cheeks, “I wouldn’t say I’m art.”

“I didn’t.” You say, causing Namjoon’s face to drop just the slightest.

He’s quick to mask his disappointment with a polite smile. Turning to the side of the case he stands on, he looks back to the exhibit around him. He looks up and his eyes trail over the lights above him, “What dynasty is this?” He asks. 

“Uh...the capitalist dynasty?” You reply, unsure of what you would call this era of time. Namjoon looks confused and you sigh, “You’re in the 21st century.”

“Fascinating…” He takes a long look over the glass case a few feet in front of him - the one that holds the crown made for his queen - before he moves forward, reaches out, and swipes a hand over top of it, collecting a thin sheen of dust on his fingertips.

“Don’t do that!” You rush forward and grab his wrist, pulling it away in fear of the alarm going off. Anybody who even got too close to it should set it off, yet no siren wails at his touch. The alarms had been set by Hoseok himself, so they have to be broken if neither of you were setting it off, “What…?”

“Can I have my arm back, or is this a new rude custom I’m unaware of?” Namjoon asks, staring at the place on his wrist your hand holds hostage. 

“No, just-...” You release his arm and take a breath as a poor attempt to remain calm, “-just don’t touch anything.”

“We’ll need to touch the case to get your necklace so we can return to my home together.” He says as if what he suggested was completely normal for him.

You’re once again taken aback by his words, unsure if you heard him correctly or not, “I’m sorry?” You ask.

“We’re soulmates,” He explains, “It’s only natural for you to come live with me, so we can spend our days together.”

“We will not be going anywhere together!” You tell him. You step forward and grab him by the shoulders, turning him around so he faces his sarcophagus. You attempt to push him, “You will be staying here in your box, and you’re going to go back to sleep.”

Namjoon fights against your attempts, digging his feet into the hardwood floor beneath him. He scowls at the realization of what you’re trying to do, “Did you not hear what I said earlier? You are my destined lover. That’s how this is supposed to work!”

“And I told you that destiny isn’t real!” You argue, now using your shoulder to push all of your weight against him.

Namjoon turns to face you, causing you to lose your balance and fall forward. Namjoon grabs your arms before you can fall to the floor, using this opportunity to hold you close, “Is my life not enough proof for you?”

Dark brown eyes bore into your own, his sincerity written all over his features. You can tell he’s hurt, but you can’t help but continue to fight against him, “I don’t know! I’m still trying to process everything that’s happening right now!” 

“As soon as we leave, I will explain everything to you in much greater detail.” He says, now offering a smile. However, leaving with him is the last thing you wish to do.

You push away from him and take a few steps back towards the exhibit's entrance, “We are not leaving.”

“I am a king, I have wealth beyond your wildest dreams! I can take care of you and it is my job to do so.” He reaches out and takes you by your wrist, “We’re going!”

“I don’t even know you!” You yell, pulling your arm away from him once more and stepping closer towards the exit behind you.

Namjoon looks annoyed, but he takes a deep breath before he continues to try and pursued you, “Why don’t you allow us to get to know each other then? At least tell me your name.”

“Just-” You pause, unsure of what you should even do. You take a few more steps back and he follows, “Stay there!” You demand, raising a finger to him. He does as told - whether he wishes to or not - and allows you to take a few more steps back until you catch sight of the gate in your peripherals. As long as he stays where he is, you could slip out without him, “Good.”

Namjoon, however, takes offense to you keeping your distance from him. This was no way to treat a king, especially ‘your’ king nonetheless, “Do not speak to me as if I am a child! I am a king, may I remind you.”

“You may. But may I also remind you that your rule ended over 1,000 years ago and you no longer hold any power.” You say, watching the frown on his features deepen into a scowl. With every minute that passes, his calm exterior continues to break, showing you his true nature. You take this moment of weakness against him and reach for his exhibit key on your belt, “I, however, am in charge of this museum after hours, so you have to listen to me.”

“I am a man-” He tries to argue, but you’re quick to shut his misogyny down.

“-And I am a woman,” You retort, thumbing through the labeled keys. Hoseok always made fun of you for trying to organize them, but it looks like the jokes on him. Not that he would really believe you if you told him. 

“Your man card doesn’t work in this age, so try something else, your highness~” You tease.

Namjoon crosses his arms over his chest and glares, “You have quite the tongue when you’re not screaming.”

“Thank you, I get it from my grandmother. Now-” You slip through the crack you left in the gate and pull it close, pulling his key from it’s retractable clip and locking him in, “-go back to sleep.”

He blinks a few times before he moves towards you. He places his hands on the bars and pulls at them, but they don’t budge under him. His eyes widen in shock and he turns to you, “Did you just lock me in here?”

“I did.” You nod, smug smile and all.

“Unlock it. Now.” He demands, tightening his hold on the bars.

“Hm…” You pretend to contemplate his request, tapping a finger against your chin before you come to a fake decision, “No.” 

“You insolent girl!” Namjoon yells, banging his fists against the gate that holds him.

You step back with wide eyes, stunned by his sudden outburst. You knew you were making him angry, but not this angry, “Wow, that’s one way to talk to your apparent soulmate.”

“I’ve been pleasant long enough! It’s time for you to accept the truth and let. Me. Out!” He demands.

You shake your head, “I don’t think I will.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” He huffs. 

Staring at him through the bars, you take in his features. He’s angry, that much is clear. But there’s something else about him that just seems more hurt than anything. You don’t want to feel bad for him, but you have to give him credit where it’s due.

You release an exasperated sigh, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? This is probably hard for you and...a fever dream for me-” Fever dream is perhaps the most lax way to describe this experience, “-but I think your necklace chose the wrong person.”

Namjoon stiffens and he almost looks offended at your assumption, “The moon goddess is never wrong.”

“Well, this time she is,” You insist.

“So what do you expect me to do?” He asks.

You shrug, “I’d prefer it if you went back into your box.”

“You want me to live my life in a box? After I’ve already spent so much time in it?!” He asks.

“Yes! No...I-” You’re unsure of what to say. On one hand, you feel a bit guilty asking him to return to a box he’s spent 1,000 years in. He died once, believing that when he woke he’d be greeted by his one true love. Instead he woke up to you screaming at him. 

But on the other hand, he was supposed to be dead. 

You sigh, “I don’t know what I want, but I can’t deal with-...” You raise your hands, grasping at the air before gesturing to him, “-this.”

The king looks offended, but he holds his tongue. Instead he crosses his arms and straightens his posture, “Well, I will not be going back in that box.”

“Wha-?” You cut yourself off, in disbelief of this man’s stubbornness. You huff, “Then go find your palace or wherever you lived before!”

He shakes his head, “I won’t leave if you refuse to leave with me.”

“Then you better get used to your view, because this is all you’ll be seeing!” You state, finally having enough of him. You turn on your heel and begin to walk away, something you should have done when you first came up to the exhibit.

“You’ll come to realize that our intertwined fates will not go away just because you wish them to!” He calls after you, his voice echoing off the walls around you, “And then you’ll be crawling back to me!”

When you continue walking and refuse to answer him, he yells again, “At least let me explore!”

“Not happening!” You call over your shoulder.

“This is humiliating! You can’t do this!” You hear him rattling the gate again, but you pay him no mind. “Come back here, you insolent child!”

You bypass every other exhibit that you were supposed to check, instead rushing back to the safety of your office. Once you’re in you bolt the door behind you, just in case anything else in the building decided it needed to come to life as well. You drop yourself in your office chair and take a moment to yourself, giving yourself time to take in all of the events that just transpired.

The mummy from the new exhibit just came to life, you were somehow able to talk to him without passing out, he thinks you’re his soulmate, and now he’s upset with you because you locked him in his exhibit that he shouldn’t be freely roaming in. 

You turn to your monitor and switch through feeds until you find Namjoon’s exhibit. He’s still standing by the closed gate, his hands slipped through the bars to try and fiddle with the lock. His posture that he once held with you is lacking, not as pristine as it was before. You can’t help but watch him with pity as his attempts to get out continue to fail.

But you can’t bring yourself to go back before the night ends.

30 minutes before the morning shift was due to come in, you use the intercom to tell Namjoon he’d have to return to his sarcophagus for the day. You couldn’t hear him, but you didn’t need a microphone to know he was not only confused but also very unhappy about that. You managed to convince him by informing him they would take him away to rot in a cell without you if he didn’t, and that seemed to kick him into gear. 

Thankfully, he didn’t need your help making it back to his bed or putting the cover on top. You were not about to go down to his exhibit. Especially when the room itself looked completely untouched on the camera. The ropes that had been torn from the wall were back in their place as if nothing had ever happened, and the wrappings the King decided to discard were nowhere to be seen.

After that, you sat and waited for the morning shift to come and take over for you. You said good morning to all of your coworkers, and then you left. You went home and you went to bed, but waking again didn’t feel like a new experience. The looming feeling of knowing what awaits when you get to work again haunts you until your once again clearing the exhibits for the night. 

You make it to the exhibit that has weighed you down for the past 12 hours and you hesitate to step inside. Clearing the room and locking it up will start the night, and then you’re left with the chances of seeing him again. Seeing him again means that everything you saw last night wasn’t a joke, and that you really have a living mummy in your museum.

What’s worse is he thinks you're his true love. 

You come across Taehyung, once again sitting on the bench in front of the king’s sarcophagus. He wears a loose white button down and a pair of black dress pants, balancing a sketch pad on his thigh. He attempts to draw the exhibits main attraction with the altar that took weeks to create. If only he knew the object of his affections was alive and well only 15 feet away from him.

“Having fun there?” You ask, sitting next to the fashionable curator.

He takes a moment to answer, defining a line on his paper before he acknowledges you, “I always do when I’m here with Namjoon-hyung.” You roll your eyes at his use of ‘hyung’ and he chuckles. He turns his attention back to his paper, “Did you have a good rest of your night?”

You feel every bone in your body tense at the mention of the previous night. Last night was almost an out of body experience for you, and there was no real way to describe what you went through.

You shrug, “It was okay, same old same old.”

“That’s good! I’m glad you’re doing well here on your own at night.” He looks up from his shading and sets his pencil down, his expression becoming somber, “It must be hard without Chanyeol.”

“Yeah, it can be...” Working without Chanyeol really wasn’t any worse than working together. The only thing is now your new coworker is a 1,000 year old un-dead guy, but that’s a little much to explain, “But it’s fine! It really isn’t that strenuous on me at all.”

He smiles at your response and turns to look at his drawing, “I guess I’m holding you up aren’t I?” 

You want to tell him more than anything that today you want him to stay just a little longer. Today is the day you want to hear all about every exhibit in the museum. More than anything, you just don’t want to face Namjoon alone, but no one would believe you if you told them the truth. So instead, you hum in agreement.

“Alright, I’ll get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Once again, you watch him pack up and dance his way out of the exhibit. Only today you follow close behind, locking the king’s exhibit and rushing to the next - much more normal - exhibit.

 ---

It’s surreal to watch Namjoon through a screen. Sure, seeing him the other night was an experience, but to see that your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you is another trip entirely! With Namjoon truly existing, that leads you to really question his claims. You did touch the necklace, but so had plenty of others. Not to mention, it took him almost 3 hours after you’d touched it to wake up, so who’s to say that Taehyung isn’t his true soulmate? Even Yoongi could be!

Anyone but you.

He’s much more different now that he’s ‘chilled out’ from last night’s events. He’s no longer pacing back and forth or banging on his exhibit’s gate - though he has tried to pull it open once or twice. Now, he just sits on the bench where you had sat with Taehyung, only he sits facing away from his final resting place. 

He looks to be in deep thought, as if he’s contemplating something as he stares ahead of him. You like him better this way, calm and quiet instead of trying too hard to convince you to run away with him. This king you could babysit until he fell back asleep as he should’ve been in the first place.

With him seemingly content, you allow yourself to work on other things you’d normally do throughout the night. You mainly focus on the online coursework you didn’t get done due to the distraction on the screen in front of you, organizing your office in between assignments. You don’t really pay any mind to your cameras until you catch movement coming from Namjoon’s.

On the screen, he appears to be waving his arms and yelling, resembling those people you see on TV when someone gets injured. You can’t help but sigh. You’ve been putting off your rounds just so you wouldn’t have to go by his exhibit for him to accost you, now you didn’t have a choice but to go see what was troubling him before he broke something.

You grab your flashlight and tuck it into its place on your belt clip, leaving the safety of your office to see what his majesty so desperately needs from you. It must be desperate if he’s yelling for the entire city to hear. You quicken your pace to get there faster, hopefully before anybody besides you has the chance to hear his cries.

“Soulmate!” He yells, his voice clear as day as you reach level 3, “Come here! I demand your presence!” 

“If you don’t stop yelling for everyone to hear you, then I’m going to turn around and leave you alone!” You yell back, assuming he hears you when the yelling doesn’t continue. You make it to the gate of his exhibit and find him waiting for you with his arms crossed, no longer as relaxed as he was when the night began. 

“What?” You ask, stopping in front of him.

He doesn’t give you the pleasure of knowing right away. Instead, he looks you up and down with a hard glare, “You didn’t bring me food.”

“That’s what you’re yelling about?” You ask in disbelief.

Namjoon takes offense to your indifference, “Yes! For your information, I am very hungry for someone who hasn’t eaten in over 1,000 years.”

In hindsight, you’d most likely be a little angry too if you hadn’t eaten in so long as well - though it’s not really an excuse for his behavior last night. But explaining why an unconscious guy was chilling on the floor of a locked exhibit with security footage showing him coming out of the sarcophagus would not be fun for anyone involved. 

“I’ll be right back.” You leave him to run back to the break room, grabbing the prepackaged lunch you had bought for yourself, a pair of disposable chopsticks, and a banana milk that you kept stashed behind Hoseok’s forgotten lunchbox before heading back up. 

Namjoon gives you a strange look when you come back, his eyes trained on the box in your hand, “What is that?”

“It was my lunch, but you probably need this more than me.” You look for the key to his exhibit on your belt, sifting through until you find the right label and pull it up to unlock the gate. You pause before turning the lock, “Move back to the case.”

“Really?” Namjoon asks, his eyes narrowed in a glare. You return your own glare until he finally gives in and takes the steps back to the case as you asked him to, “Happy?”

You nod and turn the lock over, opening the gate and slipping inside with the food you brought for him. You hand him the lunchbox and the milk before you reach into your back pocket for the chopsticks, “Sorry if it’s not what you’re used to, but this is all I’ve got-”

“-There’s no need.” He raises a hand to stop you - an action that irks you to no end - and sits on the floor with the food you’ve given him. You watch as he struggles with the tape that holds it together, holding back your laughter when he manages to get it off the box and stuck to his fingers instead. He seems to relax when he rubs it off on the floor, but his next challenge comes when he opens the packet of chopsticks and there’s only one inside, “What this?!”

“I’m going to assume you’ve never seen this before.” You bend down to his level to take the chopsticks from him, holding each one and pulling them apart to create two, perfectly good chopsticks. You bite back a laugh when you see the amazement written across Namjoon’s face, “Pretty cool, yeah?”

“Very…” He says. You hand him the chopsticks, watching with amusement as he tries to fit them back together. One drops and he fumbles to catch it before he realizes you’re still watching him, quickly using the utensils to shove food in his mouth as a distraction. 

“Here.” Not wanting him to embarrass himself further, you take his banana milk and open it for him, setting it beside him while he eats. He takes a moment to take a sip and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What is this?” He asks, holding the bottle close to his face to inspect the label.

You shrug, “It’s just banana milk.” 

“Well, it tastes fantastic!” He tilts his head back and chugs the rest of it, wiping his mouth before turning back to you with the same expression of a puppy ready to play, “Is there more?”

“Uh…” You hesitate to answer, afraid he’ll try to boss you around again, “Yeah, we do.”

“Bring me-!” He stops when he sees your expression sour. Instead, he clears his throat and bows his head, “If you wouldn’t mind, could I please have another?”

“Sure thing.” You smile, and he smiles back. It wasn’t much, but it felt like an understanding after the fiasco that happened the night before. 

So, you rush back while he continues eating, grabbing two more banana milks and a bag of chips for you to munch on yourself. When you come back, you’re not surprised to see that he’s finished his food and left the box laying on the floor with the empty milk container. You want to be upset with him for just leaving his trash lying around, but it’s hard to be mad at him when he’s trying so hard to work the kiosk.

“This infernal contraption doesn’t work!” He yells, hitting the top of it as if that would somehow make it work. Of course, he’s not the only person to try this - you’ve seen many middle aged men try to do the same thing when you close - but it would only prove to break if he didn’t dial it back.

“Don’t do that!” You rush to his side and push his hands away, blocking him from touching the kiosk any more. “You can’t just hit things and expect them to work. That’s not how people solve their problems.”

“Well, it doesn’t have a mouth, so how am I supposed to talk to it?” He questions.

“Okay…” You heave a sigh and grab the headphones that rest on the kiosk’s base, a pair for you and a pair for Namjoon. You place yours on your head and then move to place Namjoon’s over his ears. He flinches away from your touch and you pull back a bit, “It’s okay, I’m just going to show you how this works.”

He relaxes, bowing his head so you can place the headphones over his ears. Once they’re well adjusted, you tap the screen of the kiosk to bring it to life. You read through the options designed for the exhibit, choosing to let it read through information about Namjoon himself.

“The Kim Dynasty-” The woman’s voice fills both of your ears, scaring Namjoon so much that he jumps back and his headphones clang to the floor.

His scared expression is priceless, eyes wide and hands raised to defend himself. You laugh, picking up his headphones and extending them to him, “That’s supposed to happen.”

“How is it doing that? Is there a woman trapped in each of these?” He asks, eyeing the other kiosks that line the wall beside the one you share.

You shake your head, “It’s called a recording. They made a copy of her voice and put it in here so the people that come here can learn more about you.”

“Oh…” He accepts your answer and the headphones in your hand, “I see the moon goddess has been very busy.”

“Here.” You grab his hand and fix it so his pointer finger sticks out, guiding his hand so it presses lightly against the glass to select a different option. A new section of Namjoon’s life begins to play and Namjoon seems impressed by the ‘power’ he holds in one appendage. “This is called a touch-screen. You just have to tap the buttons on the screen and it’ll change.”

He nods, staring intently at the screen before him. He tilts his head and taps the little home button at the top left, surprised when the screen changes from a video to the screen it started on. He smiles, his dimples popping out as he chooses another option, “This is amazing!”

His smile is infectious, as well as his eagerness to learn more about the technology in front of him, “I’ll just leave you to play with that for a bit, I have a job to do.”

“Yes! Okay.” He waves you off, paying more attention to the kiosk than to you. 

You lock the gate behind you when you leave, though it doesn’t seem like Namjoon even took notice of either action. Even after you rush through your duties to come back to him sooner, he’s still playing with the same kiosk with a child’s enthusiasm.

“You’re really enjoying yourself.” You muse, standing off to the side behind him.

Namjoon nods, his fingers still dancing across the screen, “This technology is amazing! If only we had this in my dynasty. I can only imagine the advantages we would have had.”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah, it definitely comes in handy. Though, a lot of people believe it’s made us weaker as a society.”

“I can see why. Everything I could ever want to know about myself is right here at my fingertips,” He says, scrolling through the different options he could look through. He comes across a picture of himself and grimaces, “I wish they would have used a different portrait.”

You chuckle in amusement, “Well, if you’re not having my trouble, then I‘m going to get back to my office.” You go to leave the room again when Namjoon grabs you by the arm.

“Wait!” He yells, pulling you back to him. It takes him a second to realize what he did before he let’s go, “Sorry!” 

“It’s fine.” You mumble. 

“I just-...” The king pauses, taking a moment to collect himself, “I wanted to know if I could look at more exhibits tomorrow?”

His eyes look down into yours, so hopeful for a good answer. You’re unsure, “I don’t know…” You want to say yes to him, but there’s so much at stake if you were to let him walk around on his own. Granted, he couldn’t trip the alarms, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t break anything. 

“I won’t touch anything, I swear!” He promises, both of his hands reaching out to take your own. He holds them to his chest, lightly cradling against the fabric of his shirt as he begs you, “I just don’t want to spend the rest of my time sitting in this room when there’s so much more around me.”

That gets you.

If there was one thing you could understand, it was being somewhere new with so much knowledge that you just had to know more. For someone like Namjoon, this was more than that. He had a whole world to try to come to terms with, and he was standing in the best place to do so. If you denied him that, then would you be able to deal with it?

“Tomorrow.” You say, “I’ll let you explore the museum tomorrow.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up and it looks like a weight is lifted right off of his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate to bow to you, “Thank you, soulmate.”

“It’s not the whole museum!” You add quickly, “And my name is (Y/n).” He seems unhappy at first, but he does eventually nod to give his thanks where it was due. You give a polite bow back, “You’re welcome.”

The next night comes all too quickly for you. Leaving him alone to explore was more than nerve wracking. You were probably out of your mind for even considering letting him out on his own, let alone trusting him in the first place. Sitting in your office you’d check the camera’s every few minutes just to be sure he was still in the hall, or you’d pinpoint his last location and make your final round of the museum according to how he’d walk through the halls.

That first night, Namjoon only went through his exhibit and the rest of level 3. Occasionally you’d catch him playing with a water fountain on the camera’s in front of the bathroom. Another time you caught him turning towards a planter and you quickly changed screens, reminding yourself to open a bathroom for him for the next night. 

As two more nights pass, you notice his want to get closer to the exhibits than to just sit on the outside. More often than not, you caught him with his face pressed against the metal bars trying to get a closer look at everything. It wasn’t hard to tell that he wanted to be in the room with the art itself, but a part of you is still worried to let him have that extra inch.

It’s only on the 5th night when Taehyung takes notice of your woes that you change your mind.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, leaning over himself on the bench to look at you. You sit with your hands in your lap just staring at Namjoon in front of you, wondering if you can really trust him to continue keeping his word. You don’t notice Taehyung, nor do you hear his question. He rolls his eyes and taps your knee twice, “Hey!”

“Huh?” You blink away your thoughts and turn your attention to him. Unaware of what he asked, you tilt your head in confusion, “What?”

Taehyung hums to himself and nods, “I’m right, something is wrong with you.”

“What do you mean something’s wrong with me?” You ask defensively.

Taehyung sighs and shows you his watch, showing you that it’s 5 minutes past weekday closing time, “This is the longest you’ve let me sit here rambling to myself. 10 minutes past our normal time!”

You shake your head, content to push him away, “I’m just a bit distracted, that’s all.”

“By what? Is it a work problem? Family troubles? You can tell me, I’ll listen!” He assures you. 

You have no doubt in your mind that he will listen to you, but how do you explain your situation is the real problem at hand. There were only so many excuses in the world, and if you weren’t careful you might get yourself fired just for using a bad analogy.

You weigh your options and sigh, “My niece - she’s really little and way too rambunctious to come here - really wants to come and see the art on display. I want her to come see where I work because I know she likes the art, but I know my sister is worried about her breaking something or causing a scene.”

“Hmm...I see.” Taehyung hums, not showing any sign of suspicion against you. He really thinks about your ‘concern’ before he comes to a conclusion. “I think she should come and see.”

“Really?” You ask.

He nods, “Yeah! It’s best to let children experience art and it’s creativity for themselves! Even young children have an eye for art, and those who truly appreciate it only want to see it up close to see every detail.”

“I guess that does make sense…” Thinking about it, he does have a point. Namjoon may be from a different moment in time, but he’s still a grown adult. 

Taehyung seems to sense your uncertainty and places a calming hand on your knee, “Art isn’t meant to be viewed from afar. It’s made to make us feel emotion.” He explains, “Even the most unlikely of patrons can find something that makes them appreciate art.” 

Even after your talk is finished and you’ve left Namjoon’s exhibit unlocked for him to let himself out, you’re still debating your next course of action. There’s a big risk in letting him roam through the exhibits, but you can’t in good conscience let him sit around doing nothing forever.

You find Namjoon on level 4, his face pressed against the bars of the Apparel Through the Ages exhibit. You sneak up behind him and clear your throat, “Good evening, your highness.”

Namjoon stumbles back, not expecting you to be there. It’s amusing to watch him scramble into a more respectable position with his hands behind his back. He glances your way, “Have you come around already?”

“No, I haven’t,” You say. You pull at the keys on your belt and jingle them, “I’ve come to open an exhibit for you.”

“What?” He’s surprised, “Will you really?” 

“Someone told me that those who appreciate art want to take in all the details they can.” It didn’t take a genius to see that Namjoon wants to see more than he can see at the exhibit’s gates. An old soul like his could probably use some new perspective, “You choose the exhibit and I’ll unlock it.”

“Any of them?” He asks.

You nod, “Just lead the way.”

The light in his eyes that you saw the night before comes back and it relaxes you for some reason. Even as he takes your wrist to lead you down the hall to the exhibit he wants to see, it’s as if he’s two different people. It’s almost confusing how quickly his demeanor changes with you. When he doesn’t get what he wants, he becomes a child. Yet the moment you offer something new - something for him to learn about - it’s as if he’s just a child at heart. 

When you open the Animal Kingdom exhibit on level 2 for him you’re thrown for another loop. He only gives you a simple thanks and walks away, leaving you to question if he’s just inherently an asshole or if he’s just petty. Even as you come back around from your rounds to close up for the night, he still seems to flip back and forth with his own personality and his thanks.

You go home that morning confused and on a mission. You throw the notion of sleep out the window and settle onto your couch with a cup of coffee and your laptop, determined to know more about this so-called King that intends to ruin your life little by little. 

A simple Google search brings you many results, ranging in portraits and newspaper articles to biographies written by renowned historians. You click on the first link available, taking you to a page drowning in photos and art. It would seem that even in life, Namjoon enjoyed surrounding himself with art. 

His portraits were absolutely breathtaking - you could understand his disappointment now that you’ve seen more than just the one - and the pictures they showcase of his palace are surrounded in flowers and gorgeous statement pieces littered across the grounds. It’s surprising to read that they’ve remained there for so long without any disturbances. You would have thought they’d taken one or two lawn pieces like they had taken Namjoon, yet they remain in their home without any signs of distress to them. 

You take another long sip of coffee and move onto another page, checking out a more informative website. This one goes into detail about his life as a prince and as a king. You discover that he became king at the young age of 17 when his parents sadly passed away during an ambush to the throne. Apparently, he changed over half of the Kingdom’s laws the very next day and saw to every change in policy himself. It only took him 3 months to get the people of his kingdom to trust in him and his guidance, which - according to the article - was a big feat for his time.

You’re surprised to read about his contributions to his people. He strongly encouraged his people to progress forward and bring him their concerns, he housed over 30 children in his home at one time because they had no homes to go to and he even had a sort of sanctuary for animals to be cared for under his watch. He oversaw their historians writing, ensuring that they put every detail on paper. Even his failures were written down under his careful eye, despite his power to erase them from future generations

This Namjoon was so kind and caring. He was so well educated and well-spoken, and he was loved by all of his people for his generosity and understanding nature. How is it that a man who was known for being so kind, could be the same man who bossed you around and demanded that you spend the rest of your life with him?

How is it that a guy who sounds so sweet on paper can be a total dick in real life?

* * *

After hours of research with no sleep and a cold shower to wake you up, you find yourself standing in front of Namjoon with a copy of The Little Prince tucked on top of the food you’ve brought him for the night.

Namjoon accepts the food, taking the boxed lunch with one hand so he can pick up the book with the other. He inspects it carefully, flipping it over a few times to look it over, “What’s this?”

“I did a little research on you, your highness. According to historians and the internet, you were quite the avid reader.” You’d read a lot about Namjoon, and every website you visited gave you list upon list of books read by him when he was still alive and well. They all spoke of his fascination for fantasy novels and those with deeper meanings behind them. The Little Prince seemed like a no brainer to you when it came to more relevant novels to fit his tastes. “I figured you might get bored sooner or later, so I brought you something to pass the time until you fall asleep again.”

“You know that’s not how the enchantment works, yes?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment before you reply, “No, I don’t know that. Do you?”

“I-” Namjoon is at a loss for your teasing words. Instead he frowns and turns his nose,“It doesn’t matter if I’ve seen it happen! I trust the moon goddess!”

“Mhmm, whatever you say~” You laugh, much to his annoyance. Namjoon sits down to eat his food and you take that as a sign for you to continue doing your job, “Enjoy your book and your food.”

You go to leave, but the king calls after you, “Can’t you stay here? Keep me company?”

You pause. His company wasn’t terrible, but you don’t want to stay and risk giving him a sense of false hope. He was still over 1,000 years old, and you were still a broke college student trying to pay her way through life. You’ve never been the type to play with someone’s emotions, and you weren’t going to start now. 

“That’s not in my job description.” You say. You almost regret your choice when you see his sad expression, but you steel yourself, “Have a good night.”

You leave him, not coming back until you’re making a lap on your rounds. And there - sitting against one of the large display cases - sits Namjoon with the book held loosely in his hands, his face holding a look of pure concentration and a ghost of a smile. He looks so peaceful and content sitting cross-legged on the hard wood of his exhibit, you almost feel bad for asking him to return to his sarcophagus. But that night he goes willingly.

And you can’t help but notice the glow of the necklace on your way out.

---

“Hey-!” You turn your head away from the water fountain, hearing Jimin’s voice call down the already noisy hall. You spy him at the entrance of the gift shop, but his attention is on a girl passing by who’s turned to look at him as well. He holds a box in his hand, but you can’t see what’s inside from where you stand. “Have you seen our new merchandise that just came in?”

“Uh...no, I haven’t.” The girl seems slightly uncomfortable. Either from his approach from the gift shop for her to buy something, or just from a guy who looks like Jimin approaching her - you don’t know which. 

You walk closer to the gift shop, curious yourself about the mystery box in Jimin’s hands.

“This - my lovely lady - is our newest piece of jewelry.” He opens the box and you catch a glimmer of silver and fuschia, “The necklace of King Kim Namjoon’s lost lover.”

Her face lights up initially when she sees it, but then her face drops and she shakes her head, “Oh, no, thank you.”

“You don’t want to buy it?” He asks. Jimin pouts and you can feel the immediate distress coming off the poor girl he’s talking to. 

“It’s pretty, but it’s a little expensive…” She tries to explain her situation - whether it’s true or not - but Jimin is relentless.

He looks around the hall to make sure no one is too close to listen - all but you anyways - and gets closer to her, “But don’t you know the legend behind the necklace?”

“Of course I do! King Kim Namjoon’s soulmate is supposed to wear this necklace.” She says.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Jimin makes a point of string into her eyes, unwilling to break their eye contact, “Legend says he prayed to the moon goddess herself to find his true love and she gifted him with her own special moonstone to guide his other half to him!”

He moves closer, so that the two are almost shoulder to shoulder just so he can give her a closer view of the product, “These pink stones are pieces of the King’s soulmate's heart, and they’ll glow brightest when his lover wears his necklace by his side!” 

“Wow...that’s so romantic.” You can see her resolve breaking, and you almost feel bad for her that Jimin is the clerk on duty today.

“Do you want to know the best part?” He asks, his smile reaching his cheeks and his eyes full of mischief that resemble love almost too closely. She nods enthusiastically and Jimin brings the box closer so she can see, “This gold string that holds it altogether represents their connection to each other. It’s a bond that can’t be broken by anything in the universe.” 

He carelessly throws an arm over her shoulder, just light enough to be seen as friendly. Though, it would seem the small trick is already working it’s magic on the poor thing. He squeezes her shoulder, “A lot of people believe that wearing this necklace will bring you closer to finding your own true love, so they package them with their own prayers to the moon goddess in hopes she’ll grant them eternal love as well.”

“Really?!” She asks. She looks to him as if he holds the whole universe in his hands, having been swayed by the blonde’s charm.

“Yeah!”

Just like that, you watch him lead her back to the counter and then wave her and her new treasure goodbye, holding a sticky note close to his heart. 

“Should you really be lying like that?”You ask from the store’s entrance. You’re more than disappointed to see yet another girl fall for the man’s charms

Jimin shrugs, “I didn’t lie. I just stretched the truth.” 

You walk up to the counter and snatch the note out of his hand, “Stretching the truth sounds a lot like lying.” 

“Don’t you have a monitor to watch somewhere?” He teases. You hand him the paper back and he sticks it in his pocket, bending below the counter to grab another.

You can’t help but think about what he said, and the legend behind the real necklace. You’ve heard a lot about the real thing, but all of it usually went in one ear and out the other as myth for you. Now that you know it’s real and far from a hoax, you have so much more that you need to know.  

Jimin pops back up with a stack of necklaces in his arms and sets them on the counter in front of you, pulling out a sheet of tags that go with them. You take the sheet from his hand and peel one off, handing it to him, “Can I ask you a question? About the necklace?”

“Sure, but Taehyung is the expert around here.” He says, accepting your sticker to place on the box in front of him.

“You think I don’t know that?” You laugh. You look down and peel off another one, “Is all of what you said about the necklace itself true? About the real necklace?”

“According to Taehyung it is!” He nods, not even sparing you a glance, “The moon goddess gave the King a necklace so powerful that only he and his lover could tear the bond if they chose to, but they never got the chance to meet.”

You hand him another sticker, but you stare into space as you do, “That’s...really sad.” You can’t help but think of the pain Namjoon had to go through knowing his soulmate would be by his side, but not knowing it wouldn’t be in his first lifetime. Not only that, but to wake up and then be met with someone who doesn’t even want to be his soulmate? You can’t help but think about how you’d act towards him if the roles were reversed and he were in your shoes.

You’d be devastated.

“It is.” He takes the sticker from you with one hand and flicks your forehead with the other. You flinch and pull back with your hand rubbing the spot he hit while he just smirks at you, “You would know if you ever listened to Taehyung.”

“Yeah.” You don’t even register your response before handing the sticker sheet back to Jimin and pushing off the counter, “Thanks Jimin! Have a good night, okay? Don’t call me at 2am like last week.”

“No promises~” He sings, going back to his work in front of him.

Later that night when you’re handing Namjoon his dinner, you sit with him to eat yours as well. The look Namjoon gives you as you calmly open your dinner across from him is almost too good to ignore.

“What are you doing?” He asks, slowly unboxing his own lunch.

You pay him no mind as you break apart your chopsticks to start eating, “You wanted me to keep you company, remember? Or is my presence no longer appreciated?” You pick up a clump of rice and turn your attention to him, eyebrow raised.

Namjoon is quick to shake his head and get started on his own food, “Of course it is!” 

You both eat in awkward silence, neither of you quite sure how to start a normal conversation. You’ve only ever made polite talk with him, and he only ever seemed to anger you no matter what he said. The only time you were ever civil was when you would show him something new.

Namjoon swallows his food and clears his throat, “Where would you like me to escort you tonight, my lady?”

You shake your head, “First of all, don’t call me ‘your lady’ or anything else other than my name.” You warn him, pointing at the tag on your jacket. He nods and you continue with your rant, “Second, I have some rounds to do, so you can join me tonight as long as you don’t bother me too much. Understood?”

“Yes, my la-” You narrow your eyes at him and he corrects himself, “(Y/n).”

The two of you finish your food quickly with some small talk made here and there. When you’ve cleaned up, you allow Namjoon to lead you to another exhibit he’s yet to see. All the way on level 1, he wants to see art he’s more familiar with.

“So, you said you asked the moon goddess for a chance to meet your soulmate?” You ask one you’re inside the museum.

“Indeed,” Namjoon nods, listening to you as he takes in the art around him, “I prayed to her one night on a full moon and I begged her to send me a lover. Someone I could confide in and care for, and would do the same for me.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “And instead she gave you the necklace?”

“No, she gave you a way to find me.” He says, a genuine look of happiness on his face. 

“Still-“ You feel a heat rising in your face and you can’t help but turn away from him out of embarrassment. Your eyes land on a painting of a couple and you feel the knife dig just a little deeper, “-you asked her for someone to rule by your side as your equal and she let fate tear you apart.”

He shrugs, “Maybe we weren’t meant to meet before now.”

His calm exterior bothers you. If you had asked for what he had, you’d be livid! He made a promise and that promise was misguided! 

“How can you be so calm?” You ask, allowing your thoughts to be heard.

Namjoon stops to look at a picture of a cherry blossom in the winter, it’s petals covered in frost. He smiles, “You said you read about me from one of your current books. The internet? What do they tell you of me?”

You chuckle at his misunderstanding of what the internet truly is, “Well, the internet told me that you were a very generous and beloved king. They said you were intelligent and caring.”

He chuckles, “I’m flattered.” He looks to you with an amused smile and you elbow his side carefully, causing him to laugh, “I’m only joking!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, sure.”

Moving on to the next painting, he follows after you, “What else did your book tell you?”

“Well, it told me about your love for the arts.” You remember the extensive biography you’d found during your research. You didn’t read it in its entirety, but you did skim through it, “I read that you would host a festival every year?”

“Yes! Just something special during the summer seasons to enlighten everyone.” He has a far away look in his eye as he recalls the fond memories of his past life, and you can only begin to wonder what a day in his life would have been like, “I’d import goods from everywhere just to have the best for my people.”

“It would seem you’re truly generous, your majesty~” You tease.

“Namjoon.” He corrects you. You give him a quizzical stare and he only smiles in return, “If I’m to call you by your more common title, then you should feel free to use mine. I am attempting to woo you after all.”

“Right.” You smile awkwardly, remembering that you were actually trying to give him a chance. You’d actually been comfortable for once, that you hadn’t even noticed just how easy it had become to talk to him.

“And to really answer your question of why I am as calm as I am,” He pauses in front of a portrait of a town under the night sky, his attention trained on the light orb in the background of the painting. “The moon goddess is lonely herself by nature, so separated from our world. Just like this portrait, we see her, but we pay her no mind.” 

You stand beside him and take your own, clear look at the picture. If you would have looked at it on your own, your main focus would have been on the town and the people in the foreground. You would have glanced at the moon, but the orb and her stars were painted so faint compared to the rest of the picture.

“She came to me - and perhaps it was out of boredom for her own happiness - but she made me a promise. Promises are something I don’t take lightly.” He says. His words are spoken like a true king, but you can’t help but wonder if he himself truly means what he says. 

Namjoon turns to you with a peaceful smile, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and sometimes it’s best for us to wait and see what it brings.”

He’s ready to move on and you both bask in a new found silence as you continue to walk through the exhibit, stopping occasionally at a portrait here and there. Though at every painting you stop, you can’t help but look at the man next to you.

This was the man described in everything you read. This was King Kim Namjoon at his finest, and you were privileged enough to be there.

“Did you really house orphaned children?” You ask out of the blue.

He blinks at first, registering your sudden outburst. Though, when he does realize what you’ve asked, he smiles fondly, “I did. Of all the people we should take care of, our children and our elderly are most important!” 

His words are filled with passion, and you can tell he really cares about the people he’s talking about, “Our elders have shaped our generation, and we shape the generations after us. It’s only fair that we see they’re well taken care of.”

There’s a part of you that truly wishes to see what he was like as a ruler for yourself. You smile, “Well, I guess the internet doesn’t lie.”

“I suppose it doesn’t, though I’m probably not the correct person to ask.” He sheepishly admits, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

You nod in understanding. He really didn’t know much about this era or it’s advancements besides the kiosks in his exhibit. It takes you a moment, but you think of the perfect exhibit to introduce him to the 21st century. 

You take his hand in yours - effectively catching him off guard - and you pull him in the direction of the exit, “Well, allow me to educate you about the world I live in.”

Namjoon doesn’t even attempt to hide his blush this time around. He only nods and allows himself to follow you, “Please.”

You lead him out of the more classic featured art section and into the Modern Art Exhibit. This exhibit starts very tame, sticking to photography and modern painting styles before it morphs into free form art sculptures in the connecting rooms.

One sculpture is made of metal and it’s shape reminds you of a round mushroom. It's definitely interesting, but you don’t necessarily understand it’s appeal. It would seem Namjoon is confused as well.

“This is art?” He asks, his head tilted to the side as he follows his distorted reflection.

“It is.” You assure him. You had a feeling he wouldn’t get it either, you just wanted to show him what he was missing. You sigh, “I don’t really understand it either so don’t fe-”

“It’s so intriguing.” Namjoon says, cutting you off. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask, slightly confused.

“The structure and the colors, they’re so complimentary to the other! I don’t want to look away.” His entire being is completely enraptured with the piece in front of him. It’s so simple, yet his eye contact doesn’t break from his reflection. “I feel as though I am in a trance.”

You squeeze his hand - not even caring that your hands are still connected, “Well, there’s much more of this to see.”

A look of pure joy and elation blossoms on Namjoon’s face and you feel a faint flutter in your heart. You’d never noticed how bright his eyes shine until now, nor did you notice just how cute his dimples really were.

Are you really falling for him?

~ Read: Part 2 ~

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (13)

By the time you returned home your apartment was organized inventoried and packed. All that remained was the furniture which came with the place. You went back to leave the key and check for anything that may have been missed. Loki went with you. You found some wine and a couple of cups so you poured him some.

“It’s not a goblet so I hope you don’t feel too unrefined.” You handed him the cup and your finger tips touched.

“I’ll make an exception for today as we are not at a banquet.”

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to spend time with you. You are getting more involved with Captain imbecile and I assumed I wouldn’t see you as much.”

You rolled your eyes, “Be nice. He is good to me.”

“Darling, I am being kind. There are worse things to be called. I was wondering if you wanted to continue your training with Stephen Strange. They all seem to trust him. He seems capable.”

You stared into space absorbing what he was saying and understanding what he was tiptoeing around. “You’re leaving me.” He was quiet for several minutes. He held your hand and let you feel what he was feeling. It was too difficult to articulate. Slow tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them away before you could see.

You felt how much he loved you which you already knew. There was more. There was sadness. A deep sadness knowing you didn’t want him. You wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. You wanted to tell him how scared you were. You didn’t have to. He knew you were scared but not why. Perhaps it was time he knew about Andrew.

“I’m sorry. I can’t sit by and watch you fall in love with someone else. Your happiness means everything to me, Pet. If you are happy with him who am I to stand in your way?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and he nuzzled your hair. “I have a gift for you.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a familiar red box. “Open it.”

The hinge was tight and creaked when you lifted the lid. Inside was a gold bracelet adorned with tiny emeralds. Next to it was a tiny gold screwdriver attached to a leather cord. You passed your finger tips over the bracelet touching every jewel. “It’s beautiful.”

“May I?” You nodded yes and he took the bracelet out discarding the box. He produced the little screwdriver and opened the bracelet enough to slip over your wrist. He fastened it and held his hand over it. The emeralds glowed for a second. “Now you can wear it in the shower or wherever and it won’t be damaged. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Just one question. How do I take it off?” He hung the leather cord around his neck and gave you devilish smile.

“You don’t. Only I can. Or you can probably remove it with a regular screwdriver. But now, if you ever need me no matter where I am, I’ll always know.”

“Lok, can I tell you something? I feel like I need to tell you about my ex boyfriend Andrew. He’s the one who killed my family. But I loved him so completely. I was so consumed by him that I couldn’t see what was happening before my eyes.” You couldn’t look at him. You told him every detail of your relationship. By the end you were sobbing.

Loki tried to piece together what you were trying to say. “So you think I’ll betray you like Andrew did?” He couldn’t help but feel hurt by your assumption. “Pet, I give you my word I will never betray you.”

“No! No, Loki, I know you wouldn’t. I’m afraid because what I felt for Andrew is nothing compared to what I feel for you and that terrifies me. I can’t face a life of self isolation. It feels like you are all I will ever need. At this moment when we are together, no one else in this world exists. Do you understand how dangerous that can be?”

He did understand. He held you and knew that leaving was the right thing. You deserved to be surrounded by friends and family. It was never his intention to keep you from your friends but he certainly understood how you felt. If you were the only person he saw for the next thousand years he would be content. “I know that if I stay, you’ll continue to feel this way. I can’t let that happen.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll figure out a way to stop aging and we can live forever in a cottage on my family’s land. I still own it. I have every intention of building a house there.”

In your mind you saw a cottage built in the glen where the sun would shine through every morning like a spotlight. You would replant Lana’s garden filled with all of the herbs and flowers she loved so much. Inside you would have a fire place and deep tufted sofas. Bookshelves would line the walls behind you. You could work from home if Tony allowed.

You envisioned a place bustling with family just like it was when your mother was alive. A place filled with life. You longed for this. Loki saw it too and couldn’t help but smile. You shared a vision that you were having tea in your garden. He could see the sun shining on your face and your hair a mess. You were wrapped in an oversized cardigan and a blanket worrying over a book. This is a sight he’d like to see for all eternity. He pulled your face towards his and kissed you. You pulled back, “What?”

“Nothing. It just felt right. I’m sorry I know we shouldn’t.” He ran his fingers over your knuckles awakening a deep need in your lower belly.

“Well you’re leaving so I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing if we did it one more time.”

“Only if you’re sure.” You climbed onto his lap and kissed him with a force that completely disarmed him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He followed your lead letting you undress him. You were less desperate now. You had no need to rush. You fell to your knees and slid your hands under his ass tilting up his hips so that you could swallow his manhood. You swirled your tongue around tasting the saltiness of his skin. He arched his back moaning and thrusting in time with your movements. You wanted to absorb him. You felt powerful. Holding him in your hand was as raw as holding his still beating heart. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth. He was getting close to his tipping point. “Pet, stop. I want to feel you.” You released him with a pop and smiled up at him.

You stood up and undressed excruciatingly slow. He scooted to the very edge of the cushion and draped one leg over his shoulder. Two long fingers dipped into you and stretched you open. He licked you slow then fast always keeping you guessing. Then he developed a rhythm that turned you to goo. Your orgasm came hard and fast. Your leg nearly gave out from under you. He held your hips and you let your hands fall on his shoulders for stability. He kept going until he felt your body stiffen again then he stopped.

He pulled you back to his lap and lowered you down. You both sighed as your bodies settled into each other. If you were his puzzle box he was your key that took you apart and got you together. The whole apartment seemed to rock. A wave built inside of you and when it reached its peak you held onto him for dear life as it crashed down. When he came he pulled you back to look at his face. His eyes were fixed on yours and you rode each other to safety. You rolled off of his lap and pulled him down to lay his head on you. When he finally spoke his voice was rough and ragged. You felt his tears flowing over your bare belly but you didn’t say anything. You just ran your fingers through his hair trying to calm him.

“I love you, Y/N. And if I live another thousand years I will love you each and every day that my body draws breath.” He sat up and took your hand and placed it over his heart, “Each beat is yours and it will never beat for another living soul. Please, my beauty, tell me you love me too so that I can survive until you are ready for me to come home.”

“I love you, Loki.” You whispered letting tears stream down your cheeks. He wiped them away and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Then that is all I need.” You kissed again to seal your union. You were bound to each other now. Even in death he would follow you.

Both of you were reluctant to leave your little bubble. You could no longer ignore Steve’s calls and texts. Loki got dressed before Steve threatened to come over. You embraced one more time both of you now audibly sobbing. He kissed your forehead and let you go. When the door closed you crumbled to the floor.

Where he was going you dared not ask nor how he would get there. He never explicitly told you that he had the tasseract but you kind of suspected. If you really knew you would be honor bound to tell someone and he refused to let you be a part of that. He had to get around somehow. Horses were not exactly de rigueur as a mode of transport on Midgard. Before he left he sent a message to Thor letting him know his time on Earth was up and he was searching for greener pastures. With a twist of the cube he was gone.

You collected yourself and grabbed your keys so you could go to the compound. Steve was out with Sam grabbing a drink. You were glad for the space. You found your room and crawled into bed. After a moment you heard a tap on your door. It was Wanda.

“Do you want some company?” You lifted your head and lost it when you looked at her. She crawled into bed with you and let you fall apart. She knew he was gone. She stayed with you all night.

U P S T A T E N E W Y O R K

“Spare no expense. I want this place to withstand anything.” Loki said to the architect. “When can I expect it to be ready?”

“No time at all, Mr. Laufeyson. Is this a vacation home?”

“No. This is where we plan to retire.”

The architect chuckled, “You look a little young to talk about retirement.”

Loki pushed up his sunglasses, “I look good for my age. Call me at this number when it’s completed.”

“Yes, sir.”

He set out on a mission to find a way to make you and all of your future children immortal. He wouldn’t return to Midgard until he found a way.

S I X M O N T H S L A T E R

An envelope arrived for you at the front desk of Stark industries. You were in the lab working on some new tech and chatting with Thor and Nat when Tony came in. “This came for you. Since when do you get mail here?” You swiped from his hand.

There was no return address just a stamp. Your name was hand written on the front in beautiful penmanship. Thor peered over your shoulder frowning, “That’s my brother’s sigil.” You pressed the envelope to your chest searching for a more private place to open it. Thor followed you. “What did he send you?”

“Shhhh. I don’t know.” You opened it and an ornate gold key fell out clanging onto the floor. The top of the key was fabricated to also look like Loki’s sigil. You picked it up and fished out the papers inside. The first was a deed in your name and his. You handed it to Thor who looked very confused.

“He bought you a house?!”

“What the fuck, Thor? Did you know about this?” The next thing was a small postcard with a picture of the most stunning cottage on the front. It was situated in a glen where the sun would shine through each morning like a spotlight. Exactly like the one in your vision. On the back it simply said, “Come home when you miss me.”

[michaelbfanfic]

2.

Michael

“So we’re defiantly doing the French Alps next week”

“Just for a week?”

I questioned Lori as we went for our morning run. I’ve really been taking a break from everything. Movies, Directing, and Boxing just to focus on the business aspect of life. I stopping to smell the flowers rather than work myself to death.

“I mean, I say a week because of work. But I mean we can do longer”

I shrugged. Like I said, I had no commitments at the time. My Billion dollar.  Where do I start. My name is Michael B Jordan. I’m 30 years old and I am worth $85.112 Billion. How? Easy I decided at a young age I wasn’t going to be hungry forever. I made sure to work smart with my funds and it took me a long way. I realized early I was more than just TV and so I decided to be more than just movies and TV.

I am the CEO Of  Whitley J Incorporation. We invests in and holds dozens of major public and private companies. As part of our portfolio, my company also owns and operates several self-titled companies, including Toussaint Home Services of America and WJ Direct Insurance Company. But apart from our branded companies, WJ does a bit more than provide insurance. In 2017, WJ companies and holdings contribute a variety of commodities and services to the market - including producing computers and electronic products, providing insurance, producing clothing, serving food products, automotive products and services and much more. 

Although I originally started out primarily in the textile industry, I’ve grown to become a conglomerate that invests in a diverse group of major companies and provides the prime example of my famous value investing strategy. 

 I have 100% ownership in multimillion and billion dollar companies. And not all of them are the same. I’ll name a few. For starters, Billups Brick Company, it’s construction, I own it 100%. AlterLinks, Electric Transmission, I own it 100%, and it’s also a  subsidiary of WJ Energy. I mean the list is long, jewelry, auto sales, utilities, Insurance, Bond Insurance, Media,  Logistics, Food and Beverage, Pipeline, Clothing, Luxury, Jets, Furniture, Sports Equipment,  Pharmaceuticals, Materials and Construction, as I said before the list exceeds my age of life. Plus more. 

“Well if you leave baby, I might not come back with you right away”

She shrugged and nodded her head.

“Okay. That’s fine”

Pecking my lips she jogged ahead leaving me behind to catch up. My relationship with Lori was.... nice. I mean she’s younger than me, our view on a few things aren’t the same at all. And where as I wanna chill, she wants to go out and shit. I mean I like going out but, sometimes quality time at him is a better move. 

Feeling my phone vibrate in my phone, I stopped, turning around to see the security car behind me stop as well. Raising the phone to my ear I cleared my throat and began to speak.

Michael: Wassup Johnathan.

Johnathan: Hey man, you got a second

I looked at my watch. This was my don’t disturb hours, but obviously homie had something important to say.

Michael: Yeah wassup

Johnathan: Do you know a Kianna De La Oz?

I didn’t even need time to remember the name. First of all, she’s a well know hairstylist. From LA, to ATL, to NY, to Miami, country wide, she’s a big deal. Oh, and we use to mess around before me and Lori became a item. After I told her I was in a relationship, she dipped out. I still regret that day. I had feelings for her, and no doubt cared about her. 

She didn’t want a relationship on public display though, and that bothered me. I should have went about shit differently. I haven’t heard from her in like 3 years I think.

Michael: Yeah, I know her

Johnathan: Yeah well, she reached out to me through my friend which is also her sister, saying she has a 3 year old daughter by you.

I stopped. Laughing to myself, I rubbed the top of my head. A lot of shit started running through my head. Lori, this child, and seeing Kianna again after years. Damn.

Michael: Uh... damn... uhm

Johnathan: We don’t need  to react at all until there’s a DNA test in place and we confirm it.

I nodded. Not that I needed a DNA test. Kianna was never that type of female. She was too involved in her work to fuck around on me like i did on her. Lori still doesn’t know that while we were in the talking phase I was fucking someone else.

Michael: Just um.... text me her number.

Johnathan: Okay

Hanging up, I exhaled and continued jogging. 

Kianna

So I did it, I allowed Kendall to reach out to her friend, then I spoke with him. It was time to receive help, her father’s help. And besides that I know how much I adore my father, so no matter how me and Mike ended, I’d hate for her to miss out on that type of love. 

Sadly though, that was this morning, and I still haven’t heard back from either Johnathan or Mike, so I’m not really even worrying about it. I am however happy it’s Friday. This weekend is my weekend off. Ima find something for me and my girl to do.

“Did you have a better day today?”

I questioned AnnDrew, looking at her in my rear view. She nodded with a bright smile as we pulled up to Starbucks. One thing another is she’ll tell on her self. When she was spitting and shit she started crying as soon as I walked into her classroom door.

She be knowing when she’s wrong which is why she get’s her ass beat. She knows thoroughly right from wrong. I don’t spare her.

“Good baby. And you need to keep it that way, understand me?”

“Yes mommy?”

Pulling up to the window, I rolled down my window and prepared to place my order.

“Welcome to Starbucks! What can we get for you today?”

Looking at the menu, I took my time as if I ain’t been to this shit before.

“Hey, can I get a Birthday cake pop as well as 2 Vanilla Bean Frap’s. One mini and the other venti. Also can you add caramel to both”

“Yes ma’am absolutely. You’re total is $9.35″

“Thank you”

Pulling up for the next person to order, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, thinking it could be family or something, I answered.

Kianna: Hello

Michael: KiKi. It’s Michael

My stomach dropped and my heart began to race. Calming my breathing and the thoughts that were beginning to overwhelm me, I took a deep breath and responded.

Kianna: Uh hey.. hey

Getting to the window, I stumbled getting out my card to pay for my stuff. 

Michael: Wassup. Are you able to meet up. Or can I come by.

This was not the reaction I was expecting. But then again, he knew just the fuck better. One thing I’m not is a hoe, he can look at AnnDrew and dead see that she’s all him. She has my hair, that’s about it.

“Here you go. Have a good day”

“You too”

I spoke grabbing the drinks and cake-pop. Handing Kenya her snack, I exhaled and pulled off.

Kianna: I... umm.... You can...we

Michael: I’ll just come by. Send me your address

Kianna: Okay

Quickly hanging up, I calmed down a bit then looking back at AnnDrew who could give not a shit about anything as she tore her cake-pop up.

7:04 pm

"Whose that on TV?”

I questioned Kenya. This was usually my time to not only watch her favorite shows but test her knowledge, pick her brain and brush up on her conversation skills.

“Dat’s poppy?”

I gave her a surprised face watching as she continued eating from her bag of chips.

“Poppy. Okay, and what color is her hair”

“Ummm... pink”

I smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Returning back to the TV, I then heard the doorbell. It was him. My heart began to race and my stomach dropped once again. Getting myself together, I got up and walked to the front door. Opening it, there he stood with his security in the driveway.

I didn’t say anything, I just stepped to the side. Walking in, he looked around closing the door behind him then following me into the kitchen. Kenya could give a damn, she was in her own world. Didn’t even budge.

Leading him to the kitchen, I handed him a water bottle and we sat at the island. There was a silence, and I watched as he looked over at Kenya he in between her falling asleep ate a few chips.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Come on now. You was in a whole relationship. Let’s not forget that part”

He shrugged, allowing his eyes to land on me.

“Still, I would have dropped everything for ya’ll, for her”

I scoffed.

“Listen, my reason was valid. To protect you, me and her. I didn’t want her twisted up in shit, I didn’t want people in my business, and I didn’t want to smear your name”

It’s crazy how even when we’re hurt, we still seem to try and protect black men. I could have aired him out, went to court and all. But one day my daughter would see the hostility, so I opted to not take it that far. 

“So what we gonna do?”

I shrugged. I’ve never shared her before, this was new to me.

“I don’t know. I’m all she knows”

“Well I wanna get to know her as well. I have a part in that. I’m her father”

I nodded. 

“How about this. Talk to your girlfriend about it, this is more than us. Talk to her, come and visit her every day. Stop by her school. let her get use to you. Then we can talk about her spending time with you”

[waywardaardvark79]

Check Yes or No Part 13: My Turn to be Brave

Summary: You've been best friends with Dean Winchester since childhood. When you finally realize what's been in front of you this entire time will secrets threaten to destroy what you have before it really even begins.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: None

                                               3 months later

          You had been away from your home, your business, and your friends for three months, and if you were completely honest with yourself the time had done nothing to heal your wounds. You kept in regular contact with Charlie and Benny. Charlie constantly reassuring you that everything with the shop was fine, and Benny keeping you updated on the one thing you really cared about, Dean. Benny told you that he really only saw Dean at work. He said he would come in, do the job, and go home. Benny said Dean didn't talk about anything, but the job. He never mentioned you, and if your name was brought up in conversation he would quickly excuse himself. You weren't surprised, but hoped that when the baby came , which should be any day now, he would put all of his focus on her, and forget about you. 

       Your days were monotonous at best. You got a shit job at a little 24/7 diner working the night shift. You went to work, and then slept the day away, never really venturing from the spare room Ashley and Stephen so graciously let you use. They tried to get you to go out and do things with them when you were free, but you always had an excuse ready. You kept telling yourself to take it one day at a time and that it would eventually get better, but no matter how many days passed it never got better. The hurt was still just as fresh as the day you left Lawrence.

 You couldn't count the amount of times that your finger hovered over his contact information in your phone, wanting so badly to just press it and talk to him, but you knew your words would have no effect on him. You had hurt him too badly. You thought about deleting his contact information, and all of the old text messages between the two of you all together, not that it would do any good. His phone number was embedded into your memory, and the texts were the one little piece of him that you had left. So, the end result was the same every time. You would stare at his number and messages, willing yourself to just get rid of it this time, but would quickly fold and tuck your phone safely away, promising yourself that you would do it the next time. 

That was your life. Three months without your constant, your other half, and you were starting to fall apart. The only person that could put the pieces back together wanting nothing to do with you. You were lost, the beacon of light that usually guided you gone, and you didn't know if you would be able to find your way back this time. 

                    Back in Lawerence

          It had been three months since you had left. Three months that Dean cursed himself for the things that he said in anger, and not convincing you to stay. Three months of the never ending shit show that had become his life, and he was tired. He was lost. The bridge between the two of you in ruin, seemingly irreparable, and he didn't know if he had it in him to even attempt to  fix it.

          He often found himself staring at his phone. Your smiling face looking up at him, wanting so badly to call you and tell you everything that had happened. He wanted to tell you how Sam had came a couple of weeks ago, and showed Lisa the paperwork for the civil lawsuit he planned to file in order to get a court ordered paternity test. He wanted to tell you how she quickly caved since Sam had backed her into a corner, and confessed that the baby wasn't his. He wanted to tell you that he almost told her to stay just so he wouldn't be alone, but Sam managed to talk some sense into him, so he sat by without a word and watched as she packed her things and left. 

He just wanted to talk to you, but no matter how many times Sam told him to reach out he could never finish dialing your number. He always erased everything when he was one number away, knowing deep down the damage had already been done, and no matter how badly he wanted to fix it, he couldn't.

       So, he did what he always did when his mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of you. He snatched up his keys and drove. No where in particular, he just drove, trying his best to out run your memory, but he never seemed to be able to go fast or far enough. You were still there, embedded into the very soul of him, coursing through his veins, and wedging yourself into his heart. You were a part of him, and without you he didn't seem to be able to function completely. Tired of trying to outrun you, he let his heart guide him and steer the wheel, knowing before his mind could register exactly where he was going.

         Dean pulled up in front of the scrap yard, and cut his engine. Muscle memory guiding him exactly where he wanted to go. He came to a stop a few feet away from the old truck and smiled, hundreds of memories washing over him at once.

 He walked over to the driver's side door and pulled it open, a loud creak echoing out through the empty yard. He slid into the seat and immediately noticed the box sitting in the passenger side. He knew you had put it there. No one else would have. He started to reach for it but quickly recoiled, afraid of what was inside. So, he sat there, hands on the wheel staring straight ahead, allowing himself to glance at the box out of the corner of his eye every few minutes. Temptation finally got the better of him, and he pulled the box towards him. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and opened it. 

It was crammed full, a white envelope with his name in your familiar script laying on top. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands before sitting it on the dash, deciding to look at everything else first, not sure if he was ready for your words. He took his time and looked at every single item in the box. The pictures that chronicled your lives together, starting in early childhood and ending with the one his Mom had taken at her anniversary party, the last picture of the two of you together. 

He read through every note and letter, most containing silly, mundane things, but some contained things that made his heart ache for you even more. He looked at every random object that would have no meaning to anyone else, but meant the world to you. A rock he had given you when you were kids because it was kind of shaped like a heart, a little stuffed purple elephant, now ragged with age, that he had won you at a carnival, an old broken keychain that he had given you the day you got your driver's license, a mixed cd that he made you, and the memories of the entire summer you refused to listen to  anything else ,but it whenever you were in your car, just to name a few. 

He came to the bottom of the box and there it was. Now yellowed and wrinkled with age, but he would recognize it anywhere. The very first note you had ever written. The one that started it all. He carefully picked it up, the green and purple messy writing, and the way you misspelled friend staring him in the face, and flooding him with an overwhelming amount of emotion. He smiled to himself, and carefully laid it to the side.

 He placed everything back in the box until he was faced with two things, your first and last words to him. He picked up the envelope and slowly opened it, trying to prepare himself for what was inside. He gently unfolded the paper and started to read.

            Dean,

     I don't know if you will ever read this. I'm pretty sure you won't. I'm sure you aren't interested in anything I have to say, but on the off chance that you do I just need to say a few things. I'm so sorry, for everything. I don't know if you will ever understand just how hard it is for me to leave you behind. As cheesy and chick flicky  (I know, no chick flick moments) as it sounds, you are a part of me and I don't know how I am going to function without you. We are sort of creepily codependent, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I just need you to know that I am trying to do what I think is best, no matter how much it hurts. I know you think that I don't want you, and that I don't love you, but that is the furthest thing from the truth. I want you and love you more than anything, and it kills me to do this. I just hope that one day you can see that I was only trying to do the right thing even if I went about it in a really fucked up way. I hope that one day you can forgive me. I know that you said I lied when I said we were forever, but De, I NEED  you to know that it will always be forever for me. No matter what you decide, no matter if I ever hear from you again, you are it for me. You'll always be my forever. I love you.

                                               Y/N

        Dean re-read the letter a few times, wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen, then it hit him. He knew exactly what he had to do. He quickly called Benny even though he was pretty sure he knew exactly where you were, he wanted to sure. Benny confirmed your whereabouts. The wheels were spinning in his head, everything he needed to do coming together. He grabbed the first note you had written him, carefully folded it, and placed it in his pocket before exiting the old truck and heading to his car. You were brave enough to ask the question that started it all, and he was going to brave enough to ask the question that would hopefully end this and get everything back on track. 

            Ashley and Stephen's house

         Your shift at the diner was finally over, and you drove back to Ashley and Stephen's.  You got out of your car and walked inside as quietly as you could, knowing they liked to sleep in on Saturday. 

You walked into your room and gently closed the door, collapsing face first onto your bed, not even caring to change out of the stupid pale yellow waitressing uniform that you had to wear. You managed to kick off your shoes and pull the cover haphazardly over your body before slipping into unconsciousness. 

A knock on your door pulled you from sleep. You rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock, 10:17 AM. Ashley's voice drifted over to you, "Y/N, get up. Someone's here to see you." she  said. 

You pulled the cover up over your head and grumbled, "Sleepin'. Tell em' to go away." 

"I think you really want to see them." she  said. 

You didn't reply, just silently willed her to go away. You suddenly felt the covers being ripped from your body. "What the fuck, Ashley?" you asked. 

"Get up, and go downstairs." she  ordered. 

You sighed, "Fine." 

You stumbled out of bed, your uniform wrinkled, the strings of the apron still around your waist, coming untied. You didn't bother trying to make yourself look decent, figuring it was just someone from the diner wanting you to pick up an extra shift, although why they couldn't call you didn't understand.

 You shuffled down stairs, Ashley on your heels, and looked around the empty living room. You quickly turned to face her, "If this was some bullshit stunt to get me out of bed to do something I'm gonna kill you. After which, I will be returning to bed. You started to head back up the stairs, but her hand on your shoulder stopped you.

 "On the porch." was all she said as she walked by you and into the kitchen. 

The front door was open, leaving just the screen door between you and this mysterious guest. You inched over to the door to peak out and your heart stopped when you saw him. He had walked down the front steps and was currently pacing back and forth on the little walkway leading up to the porch. You pinched yourself, afraid that this was all a dream, but he was still there. You weren't prepared for this. You needed time to figure out what to say. You started to turn around and head for the stairs when Ashley cleared her throat. She was leaning against the kitchen doorway, pointing to the porch with a stern look on her face. You knew she wasn't going to let you run and hide. It was time to face him. 

          You pushed open the screen door, hoping to go unnoticed for a moment, but the creaking of the door gave away your presence. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard it.

 You slowly walked down the few steps, coming to a stop a couple of feet away from him, still unable to meet his gaze. You felt his eyes on you, but neither one of you made a move to speak. You finally forced yourself to look up, and take him in. The dark blue jeans and gray t-shirt he was wearing hung a little loosely on his frame. He looked worn and tired, a few days stubble gracing his cheeks, the green eyes you loved no longer shining, but dull. You finally noticed the red string that he held in his hand. It was wrapped so tightly around his fingers that they were starting to turn white. You followed the string up above his head, and that's when you saw it. A giant teddy bear balloon, just like the one he let go when you were kids, floating above his head. You felt your mouth open a little in shock, but before you could say anything he cleared his throat. "Y/N, I have a few things I need to say, and I need you to just let me get everything out before you say anything. Is that ok?" he asked. You nodded your head and tried to prepare yourself. 

      He cleared his throat one more time, shook off his nerves, and looked you directly in the eye, "These last three months have been hell. Every minute that you have been gone has been unbearable. You were right, you know. Sammy backed Lisa into a corner and she finally admitted that the kid wasn't mine. You know I almost asked her to stay just so I wouldn't be alone because I knew that I ran you off. Don't worry Sammy took up your job and talked some sense into me. He also tried to get me to call you I don't know how many times, but I was too scared. I was too scared to face you. I was scared that you wouldn't talk to me, but I found your letter and the box and decided I needed to be the brave one this time. I know that you were only trying to do what you thought was right. I still don't completely agree with how you went about it, but I understand. I also know I told you to go, but I need you. I've always needed you." 

You watched as he started to nervously bounce a little, "Like the time when we were eight and Ralph Bennett stole my new baseball glove. You came over to play and I told you what happened. You marched over to his house with your little bat cocked on your shoulder and whacked him right in the shin with it and got my glove back. When Michael made fun of me for being afraid of the dark you socked him in the nose and made him cry, then told him if he didn't leave me alone you would tell everyone a girl made him cry. You took the blame when me and Sammy broke the basement window because you didn't want me to get in trouble and would rather you did. In high school when I finally got up the nerve to ask Cassie Robinson to prom and she turned me down, you went with me instead, and I had the best time. I also know you didn't accidentally spill that punch on her dress." 

The corner of your mouth turned up at the memory. He was right. It definitely wasn't an accident. "Anytime I have ever felt not good enough or not smart enough for not going to college like Sammy you have been there to pick me up, and tell me that I was perfect just the way I was. You have only ever supported and loved me unconditionally, even though the love was tough at times. So, I came here today to tell you that I am so hopelessly in love with you. My life is incomplete without you. You said in your letter that I was a part of you. Well, the same goes for me sweetheart, and I'm finding it hard to function without you. I need you, Y/N. I need you more than I've ever needed anything, and I came here today to tell you that I don't want to just be friends. I don't want a trial period. I want forever, and I just need you to tell me yes or no." 

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, waiting on your reply. You stood there for a moment completely speechless and unable to move. You looked at him one last time before quickly turning on your heel and heading back inside the house. 

        Dean stood, frozen in place, and watched as you ran inside the house. You didn't say a word to him, just turned and ran inside like you couldn't get away from him fast enough. He hung his head, you had obviously given him his answer. 

He started to turn and head back to his car when the slamming of the screen door stopped him. He turned to see you rushing down the front steps, coming to an abrupt stop in front of him. 

You were out of breath as you held out of folded piece of paper in front of you. He slowly raised his hand and grabbed it, keeping his eyes on your face , trying to read you. He looked down at the paper in his hand and soon realized that it was an envelope. It was Ashley and Stephen's cable bill. "Open it." you  whispered. He looked at you for a moment, relishing the sound of your voice. He opened it, what he thought was coffee staining the back of it, but quickly focused in on the word you had written. Yes. He focused on those three letters, over flowing with joy at the simple word. He never knew he could love one word so much. 

        You watched as he folded the envelope and placed it in his back pocket. He finally looked up at you, tears welling up in his eyes, and pulled you to him. His hands quickly framed  your face and he kissed you with wild abandon. He poured everything he had had into the kiss, and you eagerly returned it. 

He finally pulled away, his need for air winning out. He ran his thumb across your cheekbone and started to speak when he noticed you weren't looking at him. You were looking up over his shoulder. He quickly spun around and focused on the diminishing teddy bear floating across the horizon. He had been so wrapped up in you that he didn't even noticed he let go, just like he did when you were kids. "God damn it. It took me forever to find that thing. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I'll get you.." 

You quickly cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. "I don't care about the balloon as long as I got you." you  said. 

"Well, you got me forever sweetheart." You smiled brightly up at him and kissed him again. "I love you so much." he  whispered against your lips.

 You pulled back to  look at him, "I love you too, De."

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 2

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or 'lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/22/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,175 words

A/N: The second part! We’re getting into it now!

You carefully studied the box, noting the way to open it, but wanting to hold off on opening it, especially in front of the curators. It needed power, your power. You nodded slowly. "I recognize the work. It's not a work of Jacqueline Torrent de Cavalier, but rather a student of hers that studied her technique. It's more crude, and the value of it would be low to anyone that wasn't a collector. However, I am. As a collector, I would say it's worth somewhere around ten." The curator's face fell. "I see." The museum director chuckled nervously. "Was that an offer?" You smiled. "I'll give you eight and consider the last part of my payment." "That's more than generous, Miss." The director gestured for the curator to pack the box away for you. "You can take it directly after this if you're able to pay now." "I am. My assistant will take it to my vehicle, if that's agreeable?" "Of course, Miss." You nodded to Taehyung and followed the museum director towards his office. "What was the artist's name?" "Bernard Beaufort, he spent most of his life living a nondescript lifestyle near Salon-de-Provence, in the Languedoc-Roussilion region of France. He spent little time learning to craft as Jaqueline did, and his works were not as refined or artistic as hers. There is little more worth to them than age and novelty. However, I have a personal interest in his works." "Oh?" "He is one of my ancestors. It is the only reason I know it is his." You signed a check and handed it over to the director. "As for the contents, he put in small wooden carvings, sometimes little dolls. Nothing particularly fantastic, but fascinating to me." "We're grateful you came, Miss Y/n. Our other experts were stumped. If we find more we'll let you know." "Thank you," You replied, smiling and dipping your head slightly as you took the receipt and left the office. Taehyung was waiting beside the door, still blank-faced. Once you were both in the vehicle he glanced at you. "How much is that really worth?" "You can't put a price on artifacts. Especially ones that require super powers to be opened. The contents could be priceless and dangerous. I gave them a generous price for the actual box though, and for my services, which they were well-aware of." You buckled your seatbelt. "I knew the last part. The last museum paid you way more just for you to tell them that their painting was a forgery." "Because I've saved them much more money by discovering the forgery. Have you heard from the other boys today? Normally I have twenty texts waiting for me." You frowned at your phone. He handed you his phone to check, driving the two of you back toward the hotel. You checked his messages and call history but there was nothing new or missed. "Strange." "Try calling one of them?” You nodded and called Jimin since he pretty much always picked up. When he didn’t answer, you called Jin since you knew he wasn’t working today. Taehyung glanced at you, worry evident in his eyes. “No answer?” You shook your head and started checking the news stations. “No reports of a fight anywhere either. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.” “Or maybe it’s not.” You bit your lip. “Try calling the lair,” Tae suggested. You dialed the number, a bad feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. If this number wasn’t answered, then something was really wrong. Someone picked up, but didn’t say anything. You clicked your tongue five times, then waited for a response. A soft hiss came over the phone. You hummed and hung up. “Someone’s in the lair. Pull over and go rescue Jimin so we can get full details. Meet back at the hotel. Be careful.” He put the car in park and disappeared. You climbed over and adjusted the seat and mirrors before driving to the hotel and carrying the artifact up to the room. Tae and Jimin were already in there, Tae treating his wounds. “What happened?” You asked, setting the case down and hurrying to help Tae. “They took Jin-hyung,” Jimin whispered, looking distressed. “The others went after and Yoongi and I were making sure no one was left behind in the lair. We thought it was clear so I told Yoongi-hyung to help the others. We missed one.” “Okay, we’ll figure it out. Relax and let us treat your wounds.” You put a little melody to your words to help him. You were worried, really worried, but there wasn’t much you could do at the moment. You just had to trust that the other boys had it handled and take care of Jimin. Jimin was still fighting, but as you continued humming he started relaxing. “No fair.” “I never claimed to be,” You replied, kissing his forehead after brushing his hair from it. “Think they’ll be okay?” Taehyung asked after Jimin fell asleep. “It had to be pretty bad if they all had to help. And if they got hold of Jin-hyung—” “I know. They may have just caught Jin by surprise. I told you guys to change lair locations.” “We were packing, but we weren’t done with the new lair yet.” Tae handed you more bandaging. “Which you already know. I’ll head back and check for the others.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Be careful,” You whispered. “I’ll leave at the first sign of trouble. I’ll check in every fifteen minutes. Love you.” “Love you too.” You watched him disappear, dreading his absence and wishing him back where he was safe. You watched the time, getting more anxious as fifteen minutes approached. Your heart was pounding when fifteen minutes hit and you thought you might pass out—especially when you were startled by your phone ringing. “They’re back. We’re getting out. We need to know where to meet.” “Jin?” “No. Where?” “Next town over. I have a job there. I already have a hotel room. I’ll send details.” You started packing up the hotel room, making a plan to transport Jimin. “Should I—?” “I’ve got it handled. Help the others.” “Yes, love.” “See you soon, love.” You hung up, humming to wake Jimin. “Chubs?” He murmured, blinking blearily. “I have to move you. Can you shift?” He nodded, shifting into a small cat. You would have to rebandage him, but it seemed lik ethe bleeding had stopped at least. You shoved most of yours and Taehyung’s luggage into a store-room, but carefully situated Jimin into your backpack. “Okay?” He blinked up at you, ears flicking to confirm he was okay. You headed down to the check out, enduring some mind-numbing conversation from the receptionist, and then out to the car. You carefully set him in the passenger seat, making sure he was situated so he would get hurt by the movement of the vehicle. The drive was quiet, only the occasional forced purr from Jimin to let you know he was already and the sound of the vehicle. They were gathered in your room when you arrived. You handed Jimin off to Tae and checked over the other boys. “You’re okay?” “We’re fine,” Hoseok replied softly. “But we didn’t get Jin—” “One problem at a time, Hobi. Are any of you injured?” “Joon’s knee, but otherwise just a few scrapes. Jungkook protected us well.” Yoongi knelt on the bed beside Jimin, looking guilty. “Ah, Jiminie.” Jimin had shifted back and Taehyung was bandaging his wounds again, the shift having aggravated them slightly. He gave Yoongi a sleepy smile. “I’m okay, hyung. A little sore.” “I didn’t see anyone there. I’m so sorry, Jiminie.” You guided Namjoon to a chair, gently checking his knee. “How bad does it hurt?” “I think my pride is hurt more. They jumped us. Jin and I were talking, devising a plan for Jimin’s birthday. Well, we had been. We were also enjoying each other’s company,” He admitted in a quieter voice. “We’d both been stressed and needed to relax.” You nodded. It was normal. Joon shared his struggles with Yoongi, but sought Jimin for comfort. Especially when you were gone. “They came out of nowhere. Jin’s head was bleeding. He had pushed me out of the way even though I…usually I can sense danger. Maybe it was because I was distracted.” “It’s not your fault, Joonie,” You assured him, then put his knee back in place as you hummed a sound-proofing song. The other boys’ heads snapped towards you two as Joon yelled in pain. “Ice and elevation,” You instructed, holding his hand while Jungkook went to get ice. “You’re sidelined until I’m satisfied that you’re better.” He gave you a pained smile. “Missed you. I think.” You smiled and kissed him. “I missed you.” He winced as Jungkook propped up his leg and arranged the ice around it. “We wanted to welcome you home nicely, not like this.” You just kissed him again. There wasn’t anything you could say to comfort him, or stop him from blaming himself. He sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly under your touch. You met Jungkook’s eyes, then left Namjoon in his care as you checked on Jimin, then pulled Hoseok aside. His gaze was troubled and serious. “We dragged our feet because of sentiment and now Jin has been kidnapped, and Jiminie and Joon are both injured. Stupid. We were so stupid.” You listened to him ramble for another three or four more minutes. You watched his expressions: different combinations of worry, anger, fear, and sorrow. When he finally seemed to run out of words, you squeezed his hands. His eyes met yours. “I know,” You murmured. He took a shaky breath in. “I know.” He dropped his head to your shoulder. “What if they kill him?” You carefully stroked his hair. “I don’t think they will.” “Why?” Jungkook asked, letting you know that they were all listening. “I have a few reasons. One being that they could have done it right then and there instead of kidnapping him. But also because I like to think I’m a pretty good distraction to Namjoon, right?” Namjoon nodded emphatically. “And even distracted by me he can sense danger. So, maybe he didn’t sense danger because these people weren’t initially a threat, but they timed things wrong and panicked. Laguz and Sowilo were the only active heroes the past couple of days, it’s not hard to assume that they’re holding down the fort while the others are away, even if that’s not true.” You guided Hobi to the bed to sit. “He was disguised, right?” “Yeah, we were all disguised,” Namjoon confirmed. “Then he’s safe for now. All we can do is take care of each other and pray. Once you all are rested, I’ll see if I can find a way to locate them or see if I can sense his health” “Can’t you do it now?” Jimin asked softly. You sighed. “I need time to figure out songs. That’s why I said later.” “Don’t you have a book with songs indexed for things like this?” Yoongi asked. “No I don’t and even if I did—” Jimin frowned slightly as he cut you off, asking, “Why don’t you? I mean, you know all these songs, you even make them up but you can’t—” “I need time to calm down and rest, too! I wasn’t exactly on vacation,” You snapped. Tae winced. The silence was deafening, and none of them would look at you. You pressed back the need to shriek in frustration. “I know you’re worried, and so am I,” You forced yourself to speak gently, “We can’t do anything without rest and a plan. My priority is taking care of what I presently am able to, which is all of you. I know he’s alive, I have melodies on all of you that alert me to major injuries. It’s what I know, and it’s all I can do since you all get chronically injured and I can’t handle the constant worry. I mean, how many times have you all hurt yourselves outside of missions?” “A lot,” Jungkook answered, his voice hesitant in the quiet room. “Exactly. Now, I could be terrified for Jin, who I love as dearly as I love the rest of you, or I could make sure that I’m at my best when I kick the ass of the idiot who dared take my Jin from me. It may seem callous, but it’s the only way I am going to be able to calm myself down. He’s my love too,” You told them, tearing up in frustration. “I’d rather we were all safe and together, but we’re not. And—dear God, I feel sick…” Hoseok stood up quickly to steady you as you swayed. “Tinny?” “Toilet.” Jungkook scooped you and carried you in, making you dizzy. You weren’t sure if you made it to the toilet before heaving.

~~~~~

Part 1.   Part 3.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

[fineillsignup]

In the most recent chapter of the Instructress, Sima Zhao is worried about choosing a style name for Wen Yan. So in my understanding you were given a style name once you reached adulthood, and since, in story Wen Yang is only 19 and Zhao needs to think of a name for him before he turns 20. So was 20 the age when you legally became an adult in the three kingdoms period? If so could people who weren’t adults join/be drafted into the military? Sorry for asking another question again so soon.

Somebody: can I ask you a question about the Three Kingdoms—

Me, already on day four of my marathon lecture:

Yeah NEVER worry about bothering me with a question about Chinese history. I jump those straight to the head of the queue. I have questions in my askbox for Naruto meta from 2018.

Okay so you need clarification on a background issue first that is not widely known outside East Asian.

Traditional East Asian Age Reckoning

In the Old Days, in East Asia (at least China, Korea, and Japan, I can’t speak beyond that, but I’m guessing anywhere that uses a variation on the Chinese lunisolar calendar), birthdays based on the individual day of birth were not considered important in terms of age, even though they were very important for calculating one’s horoscope (right down to the hour of birth). So it’s not like people didn’t know what day and hour someone was born, they just… didn’t consider it relevant to how old they were? I know this is kind of hard to get your head around, but stick with me.

When a child is born, he or she is considered one year old. This is because time in the womb is counted and then essentially rounded up.

Then on the seventh day of the (Chinese) New Year, it is Renri 人日 “human day”, aka “humanity’s birthday”. Everyone gets one year older on Renri. T

Let’s look at the two extremes, with the understand that most people fall in between them.

A woman gives birth to a baby on the sixth day of the New Year. This newborn is one year old. The next day is Renri. The two-day old baby is considered two years old. On the next Renri they will turn three, then four, and so on, you understand how positive integers work.

The other extreme is a baby born on the eighth day of the New Year. Again, the day it is born, it is one year old. The next Renri rolls around roughly twelve (Western calendar) months later. This roughly one year old toddler is also two years old.

All of the ancient Chinese histories are written using this age system. So you need to subtract one year, minimum, from everyone’s age as written in the San Guo Zhi to get what their Western/modern age would be, and it could be that they are as much as two years younger than that.

So. Twenty is for men the age of adulthood, but “twenty” actually means “between 18 and 19″. So it wasn’t all that much different from our modern definition of legal adulthood. At this age, men would be “capped”, which was a coming-of-age ceremony where they would symbolically wear adult headwear for the first time and receive their “style name” 字. A style name is how peers address each other, because one’s given name is generally considered something that only people who have authority over you should use.

(How about women, you ask? More complicated, partly because ancient Chinese were constantly like “Women? Why would we want to write about women???” Confucian texts stated that the ideal marriage age for women was eighteen [16-17]; fourteen [12-13] was generally considered the minimum. A woman seemed to basically be considered an adult when she married, whenever that was for her. I can’t recall any women whose ages are recorded [most aren’t] who weren’t teenagers at first marriage, mostly 15-17 by Western reckoning.)

In my fiction, I stick to using Western numbers to describe people’s ages for simplicity of understanding, and I also mostly use given names to an inaccurate extent for similar reasons. Non-Chinese struggle to remember Chinese names to begin with, not simply “they’re not trying hard enough” (See note one below). 

So I’m going for a kind of blend of modern West and traditional East here, inspired by how modern Japan handles it (see note 2). Wen Yang is 19, so he’ll be turning twenty next year, so the Renri of that year he will come of age. However, obviously, he’s been fighting as a soldier for years already. We’re told that Ling Tong received his dead father’s troops when he was fifteen, ie 13-14, and it certainly appears like he actually started leading them, if not immediately, then certainly well before age eighteen.

Common people were even less written about then noble women, but I’d bet any sum you like that a substantial number of the troops in the Three Kingdoms era on every side were teenagers, many of whom doubtless died before they ever came of age. Why, ancient China? Why are you making girls get married and boys die in war, they’re far too young for these things???

1. A typical Westerner will much more easily remember someone named Tom or Shaniqua or Jesus or Tatyana than someone named Mengde; the issue is that all of these names fit into “name boxes” that our brains, linguistically, are familiar with and understand. Pinyin representation of Chinese also strips out a lot of linguistic information that helps make Chinese names distinct from each other to Chinese speakers. A Chinese speaker looks at 曹孟德 and every character is associated not only with the sounds cao / meng / de but also tones cao2 / meng4 / de2 and meanings and cultural context: Cao, a very common surname; Meng, a common component in style names; De, virtue, which has a meaning connection to Cao 操, conduct. So for a Chinese speaker to remember that 曹孟德 Cao Mengde and 曹操 Cao Cao are the same person is objectively much easier than for a non-Chinese speaker to remember that. Non-Chinese would have as difficult a time keeping track of characters in a story where they were all named random syllables. You will eventually figure it out and remember, of course! But it will take longer and that’s okay!!! That’s just BRAINS, people!

2. Now in modern Japan, for example, when they adopted the Western calendar, they didn’t bother changing the age of adulthood; instead, in Japan, the Western age twenty is now the age of adulthood, including for the coming-of-age ceremony. Modern Japanese hold their Coming of Age Ceremony 成人式 for people who are turning twenty by Western calendar.)

[serenamantra]

Day 4: Describe your Best Friends

I got tons of best friends. From High School and College but not from elementary which is sad because I don't communicate with them anymore. Some of them might just think we were acquaintance or far from that. It was like years ago and we haven't communicate that much. Guess we've met other people that's why we didn't had the chance to prolong the friendship. But we still follow each other on social media and I'm so proud with their life choices.

Meet, Jessa Mae Abraham.

I met her when I was in 2nd year high school and she was a freshman and a transferee. Everyone were discussing that we both looked alike and has the same nickname, which is Sam. Since everyone's saying we are like twins, we immediately clicked. She was always in our home and we bonded so much it feels like no one can break us apart.

It was kind of saddening since when I got to 4th year high school, I dedicated my time to my studies since I was a graduating student. And when I graduated and started my year as a freshman in College, she was a graduating student too. So, it was so hard for us to communicate and to spend with each other more often. When she graduated, she studied in Ateneo de Naga so it made it more complicated. So now, since I got more time to communicate with her, we are both trying to strengthen our friendship. Hopefully, we'll get comfortable with each other again. Hoping.

Next is, Jenica Celine Lustre.

I remember blogging about her, Nicolle and Jhoice but reminiscing memories feels so good. So, let's blog about it again. Hoping I can make the story clearer this time.

We were in grade school when I met her. Everyone was talking about her when she transferred at our school. Everyone's crushing on her because of her physique, her fair skin and her intelligence. We were in Grade 5 and she had her own group of friends. One of her friends was Joriza. There were something I had to discuss with her when they were at the school's flag pole. After our discussion, they invited me to spend the afternoon with them. After that, I spent most of the days of my 5th grade with them. And with that, my friend Johannah spent them with us too. High school came and we were still studying in the same school. Celine was in the section where she met Maeca and still friends with Johannah. Me on the other hand, spent the school year with my classmates. The friends who matured early from others, they had boyfriends, drinks, stays outside late at night. It was a nightmare for peer pressure. When we set foot for 2nd year high school, I was classmates with Maeca and so Celine and I went friends again. And spent half of the school year with them. Then I began to be part of their group which was called Toperks. I forgot already what that meant. When 3rd year came, I was classmates with Celine. Then we started the group SGRS with Nicolle and Jhoice. Years went by and we are still best friends and I am thankful for that.

Next is, Nicolle Gomez.

The start of our friendship was so funny. I was this bully from high school which everyone hated. This strong personality of mine led me to meet Nicolle.

She was classmates with my cousin, Kaye when were at the 1st year of high school. Kaye was this lowkey probinsyana who adores people who has fair skin, modest and lives in the city. I caught her carrying Nicolle's bag one afternoon and I got mad because why the hell she's making my cousin her maid. Her sister knew about this which was like me. A strong girl who can fight independently. Nicolle already said she was sorry and said sorry also to her and to her sister. That was one of a hell ride. Hahahaha

She was part of Toperks too when we were in 2nd year. We were awkward when we started in 3rd year but went closer to each other. We had many ups and downs in this friendship because we both liked the same guy which happened twice. HAHAHA. The first guy was Dominic, the guy that I had a relationship with for 2 years. You can find blog posts about him. Hehe. The second guy was Joward. I got closer to him because in a weird sense I can understand how he expresses himself. They dated for about a year in the last years of college but that should not be talked about coz ya know, its not my story. We grew closer together when we had the same course in College. Thankful for this friendship too.

Meet, Mary Joyce Andrea Sacayan.

She was a transferee when we step in 2nd year high school. She was Ate Kia's new friend since they were classmates. They spent so much together and I spent with my new friends too. Ate Kia was a classmate in freshmen year. She's really fond of treating people with her money. Not in the negative nor positive way. I guess somewhere in between. Then she let us meet Jhoice. She was this bubbly, funny, cute and jejemon girl. She was fond of using numbers as letters in texting. Thinking of it makes it funnier because she stayed the same, jejemon in texting aside. We called each other, Tugs. See? Jejemon HAHA

We are the ones who were closer when SGRS started because we have the same strong personality. Also with group we had before Toperks, we spent night outs and drinking alcoholic beverages together. Up until now we still do but she got bored with already. I really hope for her to find a man who's really worth it.

Next is Archel Canlas.

He's a high school schoolmate. I didn't get to be classmates with him in high school but we went closer together when Dominic was my boyfriend. They were classmates and I became fond of him with his quirky stuff and how he quickly became friends with girls.

When Dominic and I broke up. Archel and I were still close. He usually made every guy problem that I have through the years easier. He's the guy I got so comfortable to share with my intimate experiences in life. Also, a one call away friend for every night out I do. We grew so close together and went best friends with Nicolle and Celine too. He's so comfortable to be with and gives respect to us girls.

Next is, Princess Carla Parra.

The first college buddy I had when I shifted to Psychology. She's this timid but funny person. I don't really remember how we got so close. Just woke up one morning and we got close already. She knows every kagagahan through my college life. All the flings and night out that I had. She was supportive nonetheless the chaos that I was having because of this. I grew closer too with every boys in our block because of her. She's a lesbian and I accept every bit of her. Not that she needed my approval or anyone else with her sexuality but I just love how she knew what she really liked in her very young age.

Many were shocked how our friendship grew since we have a totally different traits and personality. But that didn't stop our bond. We graduated college with this friendship I will always treasure. Also, very proud of her because she's slowly opening her little box. Hihi

Next is Nathalie France Ruin.

People call her Bem. She's this out-going, intelligent, has a weird sanse of humor and the weirdest laugh. One day, I came late in one of our class. She saw my sweat near my eyebrow and decided to wipe it. I scolded her since she's going to wipe my eyebrows. HAHAHA Thesis came and my group of friends decided that we shouldn't spend and be groupmates. It happened in Experimental Psychology and seen what happened. That's why it's our best decision to split since it's only a maximum of 3 persons per group. I was groupmates with her and Ate Abee. 1st day of discussing with our title, Ate Abee wasn't around so Bem and I spent talking about what I have been going through with my boyfriend. That was Kris btw. Hahaha that's when we started our friendship. And then I got to be part of their group, dreamteam. It's with Christine, Ate Pearl, Linzi, Ate Abee, Bem and me. Finally get to have a girl group in College.

After thesis, we grew closer together. She spends her day in our house and she's close with my family. I taught her so many things and vice versa. I made a good girl drink so much and spent too much time outside with my boy friends.HAHAHAHA. But I didn't make her a bitch or something. I simply made her experience these things to strengthen her immune system when it comes to this circumstances. When she drinks with her other friends, atleast she's not going to be a burden to anyone since she practiced on not getting drunk so easily. She on the other hand helped me in focusing on my acads and it really helped me graduate on time.

These are my best friends. For better or for worst, through thick and thin I will never give up in all of this friendship. I love them too much and they are my source of strength and my constant source of support in this battle field.

[alitaimagines]

Can you do a scenario where all might meets his girlfriend in high school, possibly like a POC girl like you did last time?? and they start dating but fast forward years later and their married. She sees all might fighting a villain and she they caught off the TV when she sees him getting extremely injured and when he comes home, he finds her sobbing while listening to the radio and watching videos of them when they were younger. I live for angst and then fluff.

Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Summary: “We’ve been together for years. I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever.” ( Listen to this song when you read the party scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uUGFhVWPOFs )

You had been dating Toshinori since high school. Toshinori had been a bit of a wild card and everyone thought he was going to be a bachelor his entire life. The two of you had met at a party and while neither of you expected to still be together, you had been happily married for over a decade.

You were invited to a final send off party for all the 3rd years. You were all set to graduate within the next two days and you felt like for once in your life, you needed to let loose. 

The party was being hosted in the house of the a boy who you didn’t know. You were all encouraged to bring liquor as it was a high school party and no one was the age to buy it. You had brought a twelve pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. It was a starter drink for anyone who was a light weight. 

You sat around with the same cup of tequila as you mingled around. Students were already acting like they were drunk off their ass as they ushered themselves to different rooms in the house. To do what? You didn’t want to know.

“American girl! You should totally pick the next song!” A boy slurred into your ear as he gave you a napkin. “We need to shit to dance to since everyone in this party is acting lame!”

You laughed, “Sure. Just type this song in and you should be good to go!” 

You had written down “We be burning” by Sean Paul. It was a good song for everyone to dance to. Although it was totally out of the music element for Japan, you knew everyone would dance to it anyway. 

Just as you went for your second drink, you felt the first cup start to kick in. You had participated in a couple of rounds of beer pong as you continued to ask for you cup to be refilled. You friend had cautioned you to watch your drinking but did you really care? No, not really. 

“Hey, you’re really good at beer pong!” You heard a voice say from behind you. “You should really be my partner next time.”

You turned around to see Yagi Toshinori. He was in your class and although the two of you were classmates, you never spoke to each other. He was extremely popular amongst the girls and you had never been the type of flock the popular school crush. You were a bit more reserved and understood other people’s boundaries. 

“Thanks! Well, if they decide to have another round, I’ll call you over!” You said smiling as you slapped your hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think they are though.”

“Well, how about you dance the next song with me?” Toshinori asked as he held his hand out for you. It was the song you had suggested and all of the people flocked the living room floor. 

You grabbed his hand and put your arms around his neck. You started to grind on him slowly as you started to sing the words into his ears. (I really suggest you listen to the song or else it’s not going to make sense. It’s really just the beat of the song that you should listen too.)

“Everyday we be burnin’ not concernin’ what nobody wanna say. We be earnin’ dollars turning ‘cause we mind de pon we pay. More than gold and oils and diamonds– girls, we need dem everyday. Recognize it, we be pimpin as we ridin. ”

“I didn’t know you were this much of a great dancer,” Toshinori slurred as you continued to dance on him. “I would have asked you out to dance with me a long time ago. 

“I know your infatuation with American things so I should have mentioned that I am half American, the other half Mexican,” You giggled as you turned around to grind on him with your arse in his crotch area. 

Toshinori didn’t speak as he enjoyed the dance that was being given to him. He knew that if you weren’t as drunk as you were, he wouldn’t be getting the dance in the first place. If he wasn’t as drunk as he was, he wouldn’t have accepted it either. In the back of both your minds, the last bit of sober thoughts went away as you both accepted the last two shots of vodka. 

“How about we head back to my place? I need to lay down before I pass out,” Toshinori managed out as he grabbed your hand and led you outside of the house. 

“Maybe I can give you the dance I just gave you again. This time with less clothes on and you on a chair,” You whispered as he carried you bridal style. You slowly started to kiss him down to his collarbone and he just knew he had to get home. 

The next morning, you woke up in Toshinori’s bed. The birds chirping extremely loud and you felt like your head was about to explode. You felt a hand tighten against you as you finally started to regain your memory from last night. 

“Toshinori! Toshinori, get up!” You whispered as you shook him awake. 

He groaned and opened his eyes. Toshinori looking extremely rough as his hair was all over the place. You could say the same thing about you. Your hair standing up in different places and you breath reeked of alcohol. 

“Don’t tell me we did something last night,” Toshinori groaned as he finally got a good look at the two of you. “Please tell me we both consented to this.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you covered yourself with the blanket, “With the way we were last night, I don’t think either of us were sober enough to do anything.” 

You ran your hands through you hair as you tried to start gathering your things together. Before you could even step foot on the floor, Toshinori grabbed you and pulled you back on the bed. 

“What’s up?” You asked as he started to close his eyes. 

Toshinori shrugged, “You should stay a little longer. I know you live on campus so you have no one to come home too.” 

You thought for a second before giving in. You laid back down and Toshinori immediately cuddling you. His hand rubbing your sides as you laid your head on his chest. 

“I should really treat you to dinner soon. Have any plans later?” Toshinori asked. “You know, with you being my girlfriend and all.” 

You felt yourself blushing different shades of red. You knew he was bold but not that bold. 

“Sure,” You giggled as you ran your hand through his golden locks. 

You had been watching the TV intensely. There was a major attack in the downtown area. While everyone assumed that All Might was going to take care of it in a flash, the villain managed to strike him hard enough for him to go down in pain. 

“Toshinori, you need to come back home,” You whispered as you clutched your hand that held the beautiful promise ring. 

The two of you had already found out the consequences of his quirk recently. His body was about to start giving out if he didn’t stop fighting and while he was already training his next successor, you knew he would continue his pro hero work until he felt finished training Izuku. 

The camera of the news station panned into All Might as he was holding his left side. If his body gave out, the whole world would know his secret. His body showing the major consequences of his quirk and you begged him to start distancing himself from major city attacks but he never listened. 

“Fuck,” You whispered as you clutched your phone to your heart. “He’s going to be alright. He has to be alright.”

Suddenly, the TV cut out and the last thing you had seen was Toshinori being carried out on a stretcher. He wasn’t moving. Almost like he was dead. 

Your sobs continued as you felt your phone vibrate. It was a video message from your best friend. She had known the secret Toshinori and was probably texting you to check up on you. You looked at the video and you felt the sobs come even harder. 

It was the video of you and Toshinori at the stupid party that got the two of you together. It was blurry as hell as it had been recorded on one of those RCA Camcorders. You could see the two of you being completely wasted as you were dancing like an idiot on him. 

“Thought you would need to see this. I hope he’s alright.”

It soon turned into you watching videos of the two of you that you had on your phone. They were all different occasions but the genuine happiness made you cry even harder. 

You felt your sobs soon turn into you having an anxiety attack. You were gasping for air more than you actually cried. You heart was racing and you felt your mind being fogged. You had crashed up against the pillows as your anxiety attack put you to sleep. 

Toshinori walked into the house the next morning looking like he usually did. Small cuts on his face but after Recovery Girl worked around the clock to fix him, he walked out of the hospital with a sprained ankle as his major injury. He could see the videos of the two of you playing on the TV as he seen your tear stained face. The guilt immediately bubbling up. 

“Get up,” Toshinori whispered as he shook your leg. 

You jumped up and seen your husband looking down at you with a small smile. You tackled him into a hug as you sobbed into his shoulder. He knew you were worried out of your mind, as every wife had the right to be. 

“Don’t you do that ever again. What did I tell you? You need to slow down. I was worried sick but since you specifically told me never to call you while you were on duty, I didn’t try. Fuck Toshinori, remember what the doctors told you? Your body isn’t meant to handle those injuries anymore. You aren’t 25. You’re in your 40s! Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even listen to me anymore,” You lectured as your tears kept coming down. 

Toshinori slowly bent down on his knee as he took out a black box. Your back towards him as you didn’t feel like showing him your tears. 

“I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. Just please, turn around,” He whispered as you turned around with an attitude. “I know I can’t fight like that anymore. After last night, Recovery Girl nearly killed me herself when she found out the status of my health. While I was covering from surgery, I had a dream of you. You were laying flowers on my grave next to Izuku. The two most important people in my life seeing me dead is not the life I want. This time I promise you, I will start to push myself to not fight every villain that attacks the city. I also want to ask you this question, will you marry me?” 

“It took your near death experience to finally realize that you can’t fight anymore? I swear I’m marrying an idiot. Yes, yes of course I’ll marry you!” You screamed as you hugged him. “It took you nearly two decades to ask!” 

Toshinori laughed quietly as he held you close. Having you in his life was all he needed now. Maybe nearly dying was his wake up call but seeing you in such a state of distress is something he never wanted to witness again.

-ALITA (requests open!!!)

[raywritesthings]

Baby, Won’t You Please Come Home 10/11

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, John Diggle, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Roy Harper, Moira Queen, Joanna de la Vega, Dinah Lance, Eddie Thawne Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Thea Queen/Roy Harper Summary: Oliver returns to Starling City after the Undertaking only to discover that he’s not the only one who has absented it; Laurel Lance has seemingly vanished with barely a trace for the last four months. As he struggles to piece together the mystery of what caused her to flee the city they both call home, Oliver must also ask himself if he can make things right after leaving the woman he loves a second time. If he can find her at all. AO3 link

Eddie really could have picked a better week to start at his new precinct.

Rain continued to lash against his windshield, making it near impossible to see where he was driving with half the city’s lights still out. His siren did the job of getting everybody else out of the way as best as they could.

Their manpower was stretched to the limit as calls continued to flood in of accidents and emergencies resulting from the explosion. They’d been hit themselves, and Eddie had seen Allen loaded into an ambulance before heading out in his cruiser. Nobody had told West yet, as far as he knew, but there was backup on the way to his and Chyre’s location.

“Any units in the vicinity of 6th and Crossway?” Dispatch came over on the scanner which they’d only just got back up running when he’d left.

Eddie looked around for a street sign. It was a good thing he’d taken the initiative to tour through the city and look over some maps in his preparation for the move. “I might be close,” he announced.

“Caller says a woman’s collapsed on the sidewalk. Witnesses don’t want to move her. They think she’s pregnant.”

“Ambulance on the way?” He took the next turn sharp and had to swerve this and that way around cars either abandoned or stuck on the road.

“Closest one could be half an hour.”

“Okay, I found Crossway. I’m on it.”

Eddie pulled the cruiser up as close as he could to where several people were stood around on the sidewalk. Some of them turned as his door slammed.

“She’s waking up, officer,” a woman said.

Eddie hurried past them all. “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

She was on the ground, blonde hair falling over her face and her arms still wrapped protectively around her middle. If Eddie had to guess, she looked to be around his age. Her eyes squeezed shut as a hiss of pain left her.

Eddie helped her to sit up slowly. “Try not to make any sudden movements. You had a fall.” He began checking her over, first for a concussion, but fortunately she didn’t look to have hit her head. “I’m Detective Thawne. Can you tell me your name?”

“What happened?” She asked instead. “There was this- this wave—”

“I know, but it’s alright now. I’m gonna want to take you to a hospital so they can check for any internal damage, but you seem—”

The woman gasped. “The baby.” She looked down “Oh my God, I think my water broke.”

“Oh my God,” said Eddie without thinking. She turned panicked eyes up at him. “I mean, uh, are you- are you feeling contractions?”

“I can’t be. This- this can’t be happening.”

Eddie felt perhaps the most out of his depth he’d ever been on the job. “Okay. Let’s just get you to the hospital, and they can confirm.” He slowly got her onto her feet and ushered her past the staring crowd back to his cruiser. Eddie grabbed a blanket out of the trunk and passed it to her before climbing into the driver’s seat and switching the siren back on.

They had marginally better luck with the traffic, and he kept pushing through any gap he could safely find. Every few seconds, his eyes jumped to the rearview mirror to check on her.

“This can’t be happening,” she kept repeating. Eddie started to worry she was going into some kind of shock.

“Everything’s going to be alright, ma’am—”

“Miss.”

“What?”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, I’m a single mom, and I am going into labor two months early,” his passenger listed off through clenched teeth. “It’s. Miss.”

Eddie gulped. “Yes, ma’am — er, miss. Sorry.”

He pulled straight up to the emergency room, siren blaring, and left his cruiser parked there as he helped her inside.

“I need an obstetrician or somebody! She’s having a baby!”

Even with all the chaos, his dramatics got them into a room soon enough. He learned from a nurse’s questioning that the woman’s name was Laurel Lance and that she was only about seven months along.

“I can’t have the baby yet, can I?”

“At this stage, there’s a high chance of the baby being healthy. And since your water has broken, delaying labor has a risk of infection. The doctor will be here soon, and we can get started.”

“Oh my God,” Laurel Lance repeated. Her eyes screwed up in pain for a moment. He wavered on the balls of his feet, unsure what he should be doing.

The nurse turned to him. “Are you the father?”

“What?” Eddie rapidly shook his head, eyes wide. “No, no I am not. We just met. I’m a detective with the CCPD.”

“Well, Detective, if I can ask you to remain while I step out for a minute. Encourage her to breathe.”

“Uh, right.” Eddie watched helplessly as the nurse strode from the room, hopefully organizing equipment and personnel necessary to deliver a baby. He didn’t even know what all was necessary for delivering a baby.

He turned back to the expecting mother. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Could you call my mom?” She gestured to the pile of her clothes on a chair, which she’d had to trade for a hospital gown.

“Of course.” He fished out her phone and stepped out into the hallway.

There were only two contacts in her phone, both labeled as parents. Eddie couldn’t help frowning in a little worry, but hit the button for the mother nonetheless.

“Laurel? Is everything alright? All the streetlights went out, it’s an absolute zoo downtown.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lance. This is Detective Eddie Thawne. I had to take your daughter to the hospital. She’s gone into an early labor.”

“Oh, God. Is it Central City General?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are she and the baby—?”

“The doctors are optimistic. I can stay with her until you get here.”

“Yes, thank you. Thank you so much, detective.” Mrs. Lance hung up and Eddie checked in briefly via radio to let the precinct know his status. Then he marched back into the room.

“How’s the breathing going?”

“It’s good,” Laurel grunted. She looked up at him then, and a breathy laugh left her.

Eddie was feeling very confused now on top of the nerves. “Is there something funny?”

“No. Not really. You just do sort of look like him. The father.”

“Oh.”

“He should be here.” Laurel’s head fell back onto the pillow, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye and down the side of her face. “I’m so stupid.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to say to that. There was a lot about her situation that concerned him as a cop. Why the lack of contacts in her phone? Why had she been alone when the accelerator went off? And just where was the father of this baby?

He winced in sympathy as she gave another hiss of pain.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I’m here. I can, I don’t know, hold your hand if that helps. Till your mom arrives?”

She blinked up at him for a moment. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Eddie.”

She smiled, though it wavered slightly. “Thanks, Eddie. I could use some help right now.”

Just as he took her hand, the nurse returned with a doctor.

“Miss Lance, we’re hoping to get started as soon as possible, but there may be a slight complication. The hospital is running low on pain relievers.”

“Oh great,” said Laurel. She may or may not have huffed out a laugh.

“We’ll do everything we can, but the volume of patients that have come in tonight is unprecedented.”

Laurel looked up at him. “I hope you don’t like your hand.”

“Your mother can tap in if you’re in danger of crushing it.”

He ended up getting very lucky, because Mrs. Lance showed up just before they were getting Laurel ready to start pushing. Eddie was ushered out into the hall with a hurried thanks, but that didn’t do much to block out the pained yells coming from the room.

She really did have a voice on her.

—-

“Quentin?”

He slowly blinked his eyes open to spot one of the nurses in his doorway. When had he dozed off?

“Your landlady stopped by to drop off a package that came for you,” she continued despite his lack of greeting. “Looks like someone thought you could do with a little holiday spirit.”

“No one’s sending me presents this year,” he stated. Because of him Hilt was gone, Sara was still on the run from that crazy cult that wanted her back, and Laurel…he fixed his gaze determinedly on the ceiling and waited out the familiar stinging at his eyes. Maybe there was a bright side to his being hospitalized over the holidays; without his daughter there was no one else to help him home from the bar. “Probably got the address wrong.”

“Well, I’ll leave it with you. You can open it whenever you feel up to it,” the nurse struggled cheerfully on. At the least she did just that and mercifully left him alone again. Quentin sighed, then with a bit of effort pushed himself up with one hand while grabbing for the small package with another. Settling back against the pillows he looked it over. Plain brown box, no return address. Could be considered suspicious.

Quentin couldn’t find it in himself to care. He tore the box open. Inside was another, smaller box gift wrapped in Christmas colors. With growing impatience he ripped open the paper and set the lid aside.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he grumbled upon seeing the phone sitting inside. What, had the Arrow decided he needed an upgrade for the New Year?

He powered it up, not surprised at all to find a contact pre-programmed in. It was even displaying a text already. But then he read the words.

Merry Christmas, Daddy.

The phone slipped from his fingers to land in his lap.

It couldn’t be. After all these months, all this time, and nothing. Here, now, was the proof that his daughter was alive, was still out there?

That she wanted to speak to him?

Quentin picked up the phone again and made the call. The phone rang and rang and rang. He started to wonder if there had been a mistake, or this was some kind of joke someone was pulling on him. But then the line was picked up.

“Hello?”

His mouth fell open, and it was a struggle for him to respond. “Dinah?”

“Oh, Quentin,” she said. He thought he could hear her voice shaking. “Quentin, I’m so sorry.”

“Dinah, what is this? What’s going on?”

“I’ve wanted to tell you for some time. But you have to understand, I needed her to trust me, or she would’ve gone off on her own again and we would’ve lost her.”

“Dinah—”

“Laurel’s been staying with me.”

The air left his lungs in a great rush.

“About two months after she disappeared she showed up at my door. Quentin, I couldn’t turn her away, and I couldn’t make her come forward, not after everything I’d already done. And then things started getting so dangerous in Starling it didn’t seem a good idea at all to encourage her to go back. You have every right to be angry with me,” she added when he remained silent.

But did he? Did he have that right? If he wasn’t so exhausted he probably would have let loose with a thousand recriminations — how could Dinah think she had a right to hide Laurel from him when he was the parent that had been there with her all her life?

And yet he was hiding Sara just the same.

“Why didn’t she want to come home?” He heard himself ask instead. “Was she in trouble?  Was it something I did?”

“No, Quentin. She just didn’t want to disappoint you.” Dinah paused a moment longer, then said, “She was pregnant.”

He clutched the phone even tighter. “Was?” He asked, voice hoarse.

“She went into labor just a few hours ago.”

“She- she did?”

“It was early, Quentin. Laurel meant for you to get the phone in time to be here. If you wanted, that was.”

An early labor. Laurel herself had been just under a week early. He’d used to say that she hadn’t been able to wait to take on the world. He hadn’t said much of anything like that to her in a long while.

Then the rest of Dinah’s words caught up to him. “Of course I’d wanna be there. I’m her father.” He knew it was his own fault that hadn’t been enough to allow Laurel to feel safe telling him this. He’d told the Arrow as much. “I’m- I’m gonna be a grandfather.”

His breath had nearly failed him there. For a single moment, the pain both physical and emotional seemed to lift, and he could remember the good things about life again. Sara was alive. Laurel was safe. She was having a baby.

“Yes, Quentin.” He could hear the smile in Dinah’s voice. “Laurel’s still in labor. It’s not too late. She would want you to be here.”

“I can’t.” It was a struggle to force the words out through a throat that was determined to close up. Frustrated tears leaked from his eyes. “I’m in the hospital. There was a raid, went bad.”

“I hadn’t heard. Are you alright?”

“I’m not so bad,” he dismissed. “But they won’t let me discharge myself, even for this. Damnit.”

“Do you want me to tell her?”

“No, I don’t want her to worry. Just say I’ll be there as soon as I can. I promise. You should get back in there, she shouldn’t be alone.”

“I only stepped out to take your call. There’s a detective from the Central City Police Department in there right now.”

He wanted to ask what a detective had needed to be there for in the first place, but the longer he delayed her the longer Laurel was without any family. “Get his badge number. I’ll have to let his Captain know he’s a good cop.”

“Of course. Take care, Quentin.”

“You too.”

He hung up, and all the quiet sounds of the hospital slowly filtered back in. Stuck in a hospital while Laurel was in another hospital 600 miles away. That just figured, didn’t it?

There was no telling when they’d release him. And all the while he’d be worrying; Laurel would tell Dinah not to give any bad news over the phone. If he could just send somebody to make sure she was okay...

There was only one person he knew he could call in on this.

Quentin fished around for his actual phone on the little bedside table. From there it took a bit of scrolling to find the number he wanted.

Hopefully the Queens wouldn’t mind a surprise for Christmas.

—-

Oliver barely spared his mother and Thea a hello once he returned to the manor. He instead continued straight onto his room and took out a bag which he started packing with clothes and other supplies. The first possible lead he’d had in weeks, and he was hoping it was wrong. But he couldn’t discount the idea that Laurel might be in Central, even if they’d just suffered a disaster the likes of which no one had ever seen before.

Thea pushed open his door without even knocking. “What’s going on? Thought we were doing Christmas.”

“Change of plans. I’ve maybe got a lead on Laurel, and I have to go out of town. Can you make something up to tell mom?”

Thea’s eyes had lit up, and she nodded several times. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

He’d only just finished zipping the bag closed when his sister came running back in.

“Ollie, mom says there’s a phone call for you. From Officer Lance.”

For a moment, he stood frozen. If Lance was calling, he had to have news. Whether it was good or bad…

The next thing he knew, he was taking the steps two at a time and grabbing the phone right out of his startled mother’s hands. “Officer Lance?”

“Queen. Listen, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I heard from Laurel. Well, her mother, actually.”

Her mother. His instinct had been right. Oliver had to fight down the panic that threatened to rise up.

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah, for the most part. Thing is, she...she’s having a baby.”

Oliver felt his heart stop for a single beat. His mouth had fallen open but he made no sound.

“I guess she thought I’d be ashamed of her. Maybe I would’ve, I don’t know. With Merlyn dead, the whole thing’s a mess.”

Tommy. Oliver did the math in his head and squeezed his eyes shut. No wonder Laurel had felt she had no one to turn to. Her cryptic emails suddenly made a perfect amount of sense. I’m running out of time. Running out of time to decide what to do about the baby.

His eyes squeezed shut, and he reached out for the banister, trying to ground himself. “But they’re okay?”

“As far as I know. I talked to Dinah, but I’m stuck in this hospital till they discharge me.”

Oliver winced. Lance was only hurt because of him, and now it was keeping him from his family. From his new grandchild.

“I wanted to ask if you could go down for me.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, well, you’ve changed a lot this last year or so. Told Laurel that, actually, one of the last things we talked about before the whole Undertaking business. And I know you care about her.”

“Of course.”

“Just let me know how she’s doing.”

“I will.” Oliver hung up. There wasn’t anything else that needed saying, not until he knew how Laurel was.

Laurel and the baby. A baby. Of all the reasons, he’d somehow never even guessed.

“Did they find Laurel?” It was his mother who asked.

“Yeah. But Lance needs me to go in his place. He’s in the hospital.” He turned an apologetic look on his family. “I have to go.”

His mom didn’t even look surprised. “Of course. Call us as soon as you can.”

“Thank you.” He hefted his bag back onto one shoulder and walked to the door.

“Wait, Ollie!” Thea rushed down the remaining steps. “What’s going on with Laurel?”

He didn’t stop. Oliver went straight to the garage and to his bike. Within minutes, he was speeding down the drive. It would be a long night and morning, but he was determined to get there as soon as possible.

The hospital was one of many places in Central that resembled a zoo in the immediate aftermath of the city’s particle accelerator explosion. As such, Oliver did his best to navigate the building via the signs posted every few feet while dodging around harried staff members and other visitors alike. Eventually he found his way to the maternity ward. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he began to walk down the ward scanning each room for a familiar face, the same face he’d been searching for the last two months.

But halfway down the ward was the nursery, and standing in front of the glass partition was a Lance indeed.

She looked away from the rows of infants at the sound of his approach, her eyes bright and warm. “Oliver,” she greeted, stepping forward to wrap him in a hug.

“Mrs.—”

“It’s Dinah, please. Thank you so much for coming. It’s such a shame Quentin couldn’t make it yet. How is he?”

“He’s supposed to make a full recovery,” he reported. “Is the- the baby…?”

“Second row, three from the left,” she told him quickly. Oliver dutifully followed her directions, getting his first look at the child of Dinah Laurel Lance. She was sleeping, her tiny balled up fists just poking out from her blanket, and a single tuft of hair, blonde in the light, was escaping from under the pink cap.

“Wow.”

“She’s just under two months premature,” Dinah was telling him, and Oliver worked to tear his eyes away from the tiny bundle in her cradle. “The doctors think the shock from whatever happened with that explosion induced an early labor, but they’ve reassured us she should be fine.”

“That’s good. That’s- that’s really…I’m glad to hear that. She looks healthy. She looks beautiful,” he said with earnest feeling. Any child of Laurel’s would be beautiful, he’d never doubted that, but to be seeing her here, now…

He hadn’t anticipated this. The closest comparison he could draw upon was a memory nearly two decades old; his father’s hand had been laid on his shoulder as they’d walked up to his mother’s hospital bedside, and Oliver had taken a first peek at the infant nestled in her arms, the little sister he’d spent hours upon hours complaining to Tommy about prior to that very moment. Then Thea Dearden Queen had blinked her baby blue eyes up at him, and he’d fallen in love.

And somehow he was feeling that again. He didn’t understand it, it was simply happening, a warm tide of feeling threatening to bubble up and overtake him at just the sight of that little baby. It didn’t seem to matter that he was here as an envoy for Quentin Lance, a stand-in for family. Maybe it was just that through all the years and ups and downs, the Lances were family. And now this newborn life, she was part of it.

He exhaled a shaky breath and blinked to hold the moisture gathering in his eyes at bay. Dinah didn’t seem to mind the overly emotional response; perhaps she was glad to have someone here to share in her joy of becoming a grandmother. Oliver was finally able to dredge up a grin to match the kind smile playing at her lips.

“So, another Dinah, right?”

The older woman chuckled. “Yes. But her middle name this time.” She turned back towards the glass separating them from the infants. “Laurel was very sure. She named her Olivia.”

Oliver froze. The world narrowed down to this maternity ward in this hospital, him and Dinah Lance standing in front of the nursery with Laurel resting in a room down the hall, and absolutely nothing else. None of the rest of it mattered. His mind had gone completely blank save for the words she named her Olivia over and over again.

“Olivia.” His voice didn’t sound his own, hoarse and light with something like hope woven into it. The baby—Olivia—lay there in her crib, and he could not possibly take his eyes off of her—Olivia.

His math had been off by two months. Laurel’s daughter was named Olivia. She had been very sure. Sure enough to name her daughter after him.

“Why don’t I give you a moment alone? I need to check on Laurel. She’ll want to know that you’re here.” He hadn’t even registered when the older woman had placed a gentle hand on his arm, but he felt the brief squeeze before she let go and only faintly heard her shoes against the tile signaling her retreat.

It was for the best; trying to split his attention right now between Laurel’s mother and her daughter required more effort than he was willing to spare. One of his hands had come up to the glass while the other he pressed to his mouth. He needed to feel grounded. This couldn’t be real.

Laurel’s daughter…his…?

Dinah had been happy to see him, had told him everything he could possibly need to know about the baby, had told him the name Laurel had chosen for her. And Laurel would want to know he was here, would be…happy?

“Olivia,” he breathed again, just to hear it. The infant slept on with no change, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of looking at her. He couldn’t imagine not standing here watching over this small, helpless child. His child.

How could he not have realized the instant he laid eyes on her? How could he have ever thought otherwise? These last two months of searching, of worrying, of very nearly giving up hope, only to culminate in this. A daughter. A miracle.

Oliver took a large gulp of breath before pressing his lips tight together, trying in vain to hold in the swell of emotion threatening to overtake him. All those years on the island and as a vigilante, teaching himself control, suppression, stoicism, none of it had prepared him for this.

And he was so glad. All the things he’d done, all the damage he’d endured, it hadn’t tainted this. Nothing could take this moment from him.

Oliver Queen stood in front of the nursery with shoulders shaking, eyes misting over and, for the first time he could remember, let go completely uncaring of who might be watching. He’d never known he could cry for feeling so full.

[allthecommas]

made to thrive

guysss so this is a meant-to-be pilot of the fic I started in March and never meant to publish!!!! might be a biiiit too long for tumblr but since i am still waiting for ao3 to let me in, here it goes

(pls be subtle, I really don’t write this much)

Bellamy x Raven

(multichapter fic since there’s way too few of them)

european setting au, modern setting au, bookstore au

word count: 2,665

Chapter one: van Goghs and cockroaches

Bellamy Blake couldn't really recall the last time he was so confused. And he has spent the last two months living in a bus with his at least slightly unstable little sister who clearly felt obliged to have him uncertain of his own bloodline at least four times per day.

It's been five years since he's moved to Galway. It's been four years since his odd father freed a studio apartment for him so he has somewhere nice to stay at and doesn't need to occupy a dorm room. It's been three years since he's been coming back on this exact day, October 11th, to the closest of home he has ever had.

And it's been solid 6 minutes of him staring at completely strange bags and a suitcase (a. goddamn. strange. suitcase.) for some reason placed chaotically on his bed.

His bed of 4 years.

He sat next to the suitcase exhaling loudly and put his phone out of his bag meaning to call Marcus and make him explain this unexpected occupation of his bedroom, when he heard the noise of the front door's locks. He rushed out to see and almost bumped into some blond chick, which made her drop the paper bag she must have been holding.

"What the fuck?!" she screeched, with pure horror in her baby blue eyes watching the liquids dripping on the floor through the paper.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" he echoed, taking a step back and crossing his arms on his chest.

"We need a wiper" she stated to herself rather than to him, ignoring his question and the Annoyed Face he put on, then turned around and made her way to the kitchen while he was focusing all his energy on standing there still and badass, not showing any sings of awkwardness nor inside imbalance.

"Make it quick, it's Macacauba!" He shouted to make himself look intimidating, just as if his knowledge of what Macacauba is could intimidate her and then consequently stared down at her while she was wiping the vegan yogurts off his floor, holding back the temptation of dropping 'you missed a spot' kind of comment.

"It's all your fault" she announced casually when she was done with cleaning and comfortably placed herself on a kitchen stool.

"Who the hell are you?" He cut, making it sound more like an accusation than an actual question.

She eyed him up and down, frowning.

"Certain Marcus did tell you."

"It's not the answer to my question" he said, realising that he hasn't moved for a little bit too long for someone who's not feeling caught off guard. "He didn't."

"But he must have" she argued "He discussed the content of the e-mail with me. Long ago. Back in May I suppose."

He tilted his head slightly in a ???? meme manner.

"He must have" the blonde repeated but her face softened. She stood up and walked up to him, with her right in the very front. "Anyhow. Clarke Griffin."

He looked at her hand suspiciously like it was about to bite him and didn't really let it show, but he recalled. He remembered. Early June, after the last time he has seen Kane, he in fact received an e-mail from him. Telling him about some Art student from Boston, some Clark, that will be staying in Galway for a year. He couldn't say he payed much attention to it though, his mind was already occupied with the road trip he and Octavia were planning and all the formalities he needed to have closed beforehand so he just slipped through the text and crafted a brief reply. But he could bet his left arm, there was nothing about this dude living in his house. Or about this dude being a chick.

All of this flashed in his head in a second before he forced his brows up and shook given hand.

"Since when is Clark a female name?" saying this seemed more appropriate that his name. "Clark Gable wasn't a chick."

"It's Clarke with an "e"."

•••

"Could you please pack it up for me? It's a gift."

Raven shot a glance at the queue seemingly growing each second, continuously expanding the place it occupied in the store and then locked her eyes back on the customer. The familiar face of the elderly lady asking her for such favour was kind and hopeful, with visible sense of pride for her choice and by all means, Raven would have helped her with utmost pleasure. If it wasn't for the six, oh, seven, people waiting impatiently. It was October 11th, new academic year has only just begun and people were getting desperate for all sorts of books that might or might not turn out to be helpful. She personally didn't find the assortment of her work place any close to satisfying and would never choose this exact place to trust her degree on but she knew it was a spot the closest to the campus area and the nice setting has successfully made up for the lacks on the shelves. At least the crowd she was now seeing implied so.

So, yeah, on any other day she would gladly paint the box in which the lady planned to place the copy of Levin's "Stepford Wives" with her own hands. But not today.

"A bag is the best I can do for now" she said with the sincerest smile she could produce.

"A bag is barely impressing' the old lady frowned 'I would prefer something more... Oh, you know... Sophisticated..."

Oh, and she wold prefer to leave this exact minute. And she would prefer for her co-worker to show up like he was supposed to do twenty minutes ago. And she would prefer to have a couple of loving, wealthy Irish parents. But most importantly, she would prefer for Galway not to be so expensive or at least for Mexican peso not to be so cheap so she wouldn't have to come here four times a week to make for a living but this world is a cruel place and barely ever asks what we would prefer.

"Then I can give you a shiny box and a golden ribbon" she said sweetly instead, noticing the hustle at the end of the line.

"I would not really want to settle for some massively produced decors. This gift, you see, is for a son of mine whom I haven't seen since-"

"- I understand but we are a bookstore and not a-"

"I swear to God, this line hasn't moved in ages!" came to her ears from a fourth person standing.

"- But it is rude to interrupt an old woman speaking. So, this dear son of mine whom I haven't seen since Saint Patrick-"

"It will be €8.71" she gasped, meeting a compassionate glare of a boy following the Old Lady in the queue.

"Without the packing or with the packing?"

"We haven't agreed on any-"

"Exactly. Therefore, you cannot cash me just yet since-"

"I WILL NOT PACK IT FOR YOU."

The humming of the store stopped immediately and Raven could cross her heart that she felt the eyes of every person within a radius of two hundred feet turning into her.

"Beeeecaaause the lovely florist from the salon just vis a vis will do it much better than any of us would ever" a guy with slight homeless vibe slipped behind the counter gracefully, flashing a half-mouth smile in the space in front of him like he was expecting the cameras to document his reality tv worthy entrance "And" he continued, as he reached for the store's business card and wrote something with a wide gesture "if you mention the name John Murphy from Arcadia, you will get your packing half-price." He blinked while passing her the piece of paper and the customer exclaimed few more long words before she left all content. Raven used the opportunity to swap to the second cash register and turn it on with her co-worker ID.

"You’re late" she hissed through her teeth once Murphy was done with posing (or at least relatively done since she couldn't imagine him totally not-posing).

"Observant" he commented briefly, not taking his sight from the customer's face. "It's €1.01 charge and a free bookmarker for you. Have an eventful night."

"26 minutes late you cockroach" she detailed, noticing 19.56 displayed on the cash register's screen while putting the sum €2.19 for five pensils.

"See?" he lifted his brow not even giving her a slight stare "Just 26 minutes and you already managed to fuck up."

"I wouldn't if you were here so I'd be on my way home just as I was supposed to be."

"So what is the reason behind you staying here and hurting my mother's native grammar instead of getting your angry ass out?"

She tried. She really did. She tried to be friendly with him the first couple of days, she tried to be indifferent towards him for the next few and she even tried to help him today. (Tonight, actually, since it was pitch dark outside already.) But that was the moment where she just tossed her ID on the counter and stormed out of the building, leaving him with another six people waiting in line.

And then there was the next moment when she came back and slicked into the stuff rooms because she couldn't really leave in her uniform.

•••

With an "e" or without an "e", Clarke or Klak, his unexpected roommate was highly inconvenient. Bellamy didn't have any problems with girls around as long as they were around for one night. But every other night for the next ten months? Extremely inconvenient.

It's not like she was completely horrible or something. She actually seemed bearable. A bit too bossy and hella tense for an artist but she took her stuff out of his bedroom once she was asked to do so and they even had something like a conversation so he didn't hate her. At least for now.

But he sincerely enjoyed living alone. His flat was his cave. Casa de Blake has reached the status of an actual legend of Galway, house parties he hosted there were never big but always eventful, he had a reputation he has been building for months and he was determined to keep it.

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine' said Clarke with an "e". 'It's not like you're setting this place on fire every Friday, right?".

Oh, of course not.

He didn't mind a drama every now and again but mostly, he was coming in peace and wished some peace for himself. He didn't really like the idea of fighting with his roommate two up to five evenings a week.

He didn't like the idea of giving up his lifestyle either and that was exactly what he was not going to do.  

And when he eventually got acquainted with the thought of pissing this blond van Goth off on a weekly basic, she called Kane 'dad'.

"I mean, he's my stepdad' she corrected right away. 'But we're very close and he doesn't mind me calling him dad, so."

So. sO. S o.

Pissing off a blond van Goth? Acceptable. Fine. Fun, perhaps.

Pissing off a new daughter of his odd parent, his benefactor, the Prime Minister of Ireland, Marcus Henry Ian Kane, the one who pays for his eight-floor city-centre studio apartment, the one who pays his university tuition, the one who's paid for the vacation of his lifetime, the one who's been his and his sister's only family ever since they've got orphaned seven years ago, the one who has shown him nothing but good will and unconditional support? Unacceptable. Definitely not fine. Could still be fun but not worth it.

The longer he thought about her, the more he needed to escape. So he did.

And headed right to the bookstore.

"Okay, sorry but I need to leave you here. I have a date." He said.

"Okay, sorry but I need to leave you here. I feel an intense need to compulsively buy a seventy eighth book about Roman Empire or Greek mythology or Celtic tales so I can drown myself in it and forget about your existence for a while." He didn't say. Not because he was ashamed of it. He just wasn't quite ready to share such information.

Silly as it sounds, his books were always the most personal element of his personality. Taking about his ex-girlfriend was easier than mentioning his favourite titles. The books he chose were always specific, always reflected his inside wars in a way he partly couldn't, partly didn't want to explain.

Bookstores were his safe spots. He didn't really expect any of his party buddies to show up there. When Octavia was away, he only let his guard down among the shelves full of undiscovered stories. It was geeky, he knew, but there, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

He used to feel himself in his flat too, those rare moments when he was there alone, of course, but that was not going to happen a lot now and that made him tense. He was way too shaken to notice that his steps directed at the closest bookstore were faster, more rapid than usual.

He could almost physically feel his though persona falling behind him the further he was from the flat. He might have been a drama queen, he might have been spoiled or ungrateful or overreacting but the thought of sharing his sacred living space with some intruder, regardless of who she was and how was her name spelled, made him sick. He didn’t need this kind of entertainment in his live. What he needed now was stability. It was his last year. What he needed now was his routine, the first routine he has ever had in his fucked up life, the routine he has worked for.

He was way too shaken to notice the tiny girl with a high ponytail and huge dark eyes standing in his way before he bumped into her, her head buried in his chest.

Overwhelmed by the déjà vu, completely done with the shit the world was pulling today, he didn't apologize. And neither did she. He didn't pass her by and neither did she.

All she did was taking half a step back, lifting her head up to face him, to glare at him with vivid annoyance and ire. And since that was the second time during the last two hours when he bumped into an arrogant chicken-sized girl with unnormal, big eyes, he felt this ire transferring into him.

"Out of my way" she barked, waiting for him to move. He couldn't really comprehend what did he do to deserve such treatment but he didn't care. On any other day he would just rush further, dropping a "sorry" behind him. But he happened to have an awfully rough day and he discovered that he actually was furious too, ready to pick up a fight with this smol angry bean if that was what she asked for.

"I was just about to say that" he stared at her, straight into her face, ignoring how pleasant to look at she was, determined for her to turn back first, no matter how long it took.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, her mouth clenched, brows frowned, she raised her hand and in a quick move pressed a fag to the lapel of his coat and smashed it, making a small but visible hole in the material before she rushed past him into the dark.

Completely poleaxed, he turned around and stared at the silhouette fading away for something that felt like a ridiculous amount of time to stand still in the middle of the street.

He managed to notice her gimping slightly on one leg and catch her voice saying "Finn, you still there?" continuing the phone call she must have started before.

[aliverosencrantz]

Spooky Scary

Plastic skeletons hung on walls outside of houses, some clanking together in the wind, now in full daylight but soon they would be lit only by the dim light of Jack-o-lanterns. Middle-aged men and women got in their cars and drove to the supermarket to load up on sweets and chocolates, while little children bounced their way to school like they were on a pre-emptive sugar high.

Parker loved Halloween. He also kind of hated Halloween.

-

“Just say it one more time, I want to make sure I’ve got this right,” he asked to probably the only person he wasn’t terrified of inconveniencing.

“Okay,” Terra said with a smile. “So the party’s starting at five, but you can just come straight home with us if you want.”

He shook his head. “I need to go home for my costume.”

“Right, well, you know how to get to my house, right?”

He nodded. Well. He wasn’t really sure how to get to the Saffron household, because no matter how many times he’d done the route, he sucked at directions, but he’d figure something out. If all else failed, he could text Isabelle and get her to virtually walk him through getting there, or he could just get lost on the streets and bother no-one. One or the other.

“I’m really excited for this party. It’s going to be really fun, we’ve decorated the house all super spooky and everything, everyone’s going to love it!” When Terra spoke about things she liked, she always tilted her head a little closer and smiled with her eyes and maybe laughed a little, but not because it was funny, just because it made her happy. She was doing it right now. The smile was infectious, and he grinned, not his nervous grin but a genuine one.

Parker took a quick look at the time on his flip phone, then pulled his schoolbag up onto his lap. “Can everyone come?”

In a fraction of a second, all the light and smileyness in Terra’s face died. “Unfortunately,” she said. She sighed and stared in Parker’s direction, but she wasn’t staring at him. She was staring past him, and Parker turned around, trying his best to follow her line of sight.

Rose and Cedrick sat at the next table. It was impossible to tell what they were saying, but Rose had her laptop out (one of the shiny Apple ones, of course) and she kept tapping on his shoulder and he kept shaking his head until finally he gave in and turned his attention to her screen. He watched whatever it was with a confused frown for a few moments while Rose stared right at him, grinning.

Terra’s voice was hard to hear now over the general din of the cafeteria, but Parker could just about make out, “What is she…?”

Something must have happened on the screen, because Cedrick jolted. He immediately went very red in the face, folded his arms and said something vicious to Rose before collecting his things and walking away.

Parker looked at Terra for an explanation of what the heck just happened.

She didn’t seem to notice his pleading look, just kept staring at Rose and shook her head. “I swear, if she pulls anything fishy at the party, I’ll end her.”

Terra’s American accent was barely noticeable most of the time, maybe because he was so used to it, but it seemed to get only more intense when she got angry. Right now she was bordering on Disney Channel levels, which made Parker worry a little. Even if he knew Terra wouldn’t hurt him, and that her anger was elsewhere directed, it still made his stomach flip when he managed to notice that kind of tone in someone’s voice.

“Oh! Don’t worry,” she said, with a smile considerably more put-on than the last one. “It’ll be fine, I guess. I just wish no-one invited her?”

Parker was about to nod when the bell rang, “See you at break,” he said, and Terra nodded before they both scurried off to their separate classes.

Parker got pretty far before he realised he had no idea where he was going. He stopped in the middle of the corridor to get his timetable out, causing a lot of exasperated sighs and hands pushing him aside to get through. He really hoped he didn’t have Maths first thing…squinting at the colour-coded boxes for a moment, and tracing the lines of the columns and rows with his finger, he was able to say pretty confidently that he had tutor group first. Which he realised, after a moment, was in the exact opposite direction than he was walking.

He had to sprint against the one-way system to get to class on time. The teacher eyed him with some weird emotion he couldn’t identify. Parker, panting, went to his table in the back of the room.

The table was just him and his elbow partner, who wasn’t here yet. The gentle buzz of chatter in the room felt safe and normal, and Parker got out his notebook and pencil case. The pencil case was a ratty old thing now, but you could still just about make out that it was designed to look like a loaf of bread. Parker laughed every time he thought about that—who would put PENCILS inside BREAD? He unzipped it and took out his pencil, which was now pretty tiny from having been sharpened so many times. The led was always snapping, so he pressed extra-lightly as he started to doodle on the lined paper of his notebook. He drew a pretty general Halloween scene at first, just some pumpkins with funny faces and a few bedsheet ghosts. His lines were shaky but he drew one of the ghosts with a Jack-o-lantern on her head, which was completely hilarious and he had a small giggling fit in the back of the room. It was then that he felt a certain presence beside him, and he swivelled around to look. Sure enough, it was Sena, taking her seat beside him with a tired kind of smile.

“Sena-sensei!” Parker greeted her excitedly. “Uh…ohayou desu?”

Their Japanese lessons were going well enough, and his pronunciation tended to be fairly spot on, but the grammar was a struggle.

“Ohayou gozaimasu,” she corrected not unpleasantly. “Or just ohayou. That’s more casual.”

He nodded and scribbled down a note in his book that he would definitely not understand when he looked back at it later. “Ohayou,” he said, and felt kind of proud of himself. “Oh!”

Sena raised an eyebrow at his exclamation.

Parker was buzzing. “Sena, Sena! How do you say ‘Happy Halloween’ in Japanese?”

Her smile changed. It was still a smile, but one with some sort of different meaning Parker couldn’t quite decipher. “In Japanese, it’s usually just ‘Happi Harouiin’.”

Parker paused. “That’s…that’s just ‘Happy Halloween’ in a Japanese accent.”

“I mean, it’s a borrowed concept, so we just render it in katakana.”  

“Right, let’s get going, kids,” the teacher said. “So we’re going to talk today about the Christian influence on the modern celebration of Halloween.”

Sena said under her breath, “Oh, great.”

Parker frowned. “I didn’t think that would be your kind of thing.”

“It was sarcasm,” she said.

So Sena had been trying to joke with him. He decided to return the favour, but in a language he understood. He leant in as close to her ear as he could manage and whispered, “What room do ghosts not need?”

She grunted, and he guessed that basically meant “I don’t know, what room do ghosts not need?”

“The living room!”

Parker fell apart laughing, and half the class turned to look, and Sena might have smiled, if he squinted.

-

In French, the teacher said they could watch a movie instead. “You’re not going to listen anyway—it’s Halloween, for f…God’s sake.”

Rose stood up from her seat at the front of the class. “Ooh, sir!” she called. “I have a memory stick with movies on, I actually have the French dub of Princess and the Frog, which is like, totally scary and in the spirit and it has English subtitles and—”

“Yeah okay whatever.”

Parker thought it was probably a little strange to carry around a memory stick with movies on it that included French dubs of Disney masterpieces, but he guessed Rose was a lot smarter than him so maybe she could predict when really specific things would be useful. She grinned as she walked to the front of the class and stuck it into the USB port, and Parker felt uncomfortable, because every time Rose smiled it meant bad things. Still, he tried to swallow down the feeling and pulled out his phone to muck about until the movie was on. What to do…he decided to send a text. He may as well use all his texts for the month, seeing as they wouldn’t roll over to the next.

To: Citrus<3

“Je suis dans mon class de francais”

Cedrick wouldn’t answer until he was out of class, obviously, because even with explicit permission from a teacher he wouldn’t feel right going on his phone in class. Parker understood that, and knew he wouldn’t be getting a response until lunchtime. Texting Cedrick still made him feel somewhat better. He knew his French was probably awful, even though he couldn’t see the mistakes. He was kind of looking forward to a lecture on exactly what grammar he’d screwed up. Cedrick was one of the only people willing to discuss the intricacies of French grammar with him and it was probably the reason he wasn’t failing the class, so.

The movie flickered onto the SmartBoard and Rose took her seat again. “No need to thank me, guys,” she said to the class, which got some funny looks from pretty much everyone.

Parker liked this movie. It came out when he was nine or ten and his mum took him to see it as a special treat. He had loved the magical feeling of seeing a new Disney princess film in a movie theatre, and had cried three times in the course of Tiana’s adventure. It was different in French, probably, and he couldn’t really understand most of the words, but it was still nice. He remembered most of the dialogue anyway so it didn’t really matter.

It was in Dr Facilier’s song, Friends from the Other Side, when things started to get weird. Parker was enjoying it in that extremely on-edge way he enjoyed scary songs, and trying to recognise as many words as he could. So far he was able to comprehend “mes amis”, probably because he was specifically listening out for those words. He was gonna tell Cedrick about it at lunch or something, and maybe Cedrick would be proud and—

A shriek erupted from the SmartBoard, and the picture flashed to the picture of the Scary Maze Game girl. Parker didn’t have time to process what was going on. He screamed along with the noise and felt tears prick at his eyes as he hid under the desk. His body shook like a leaf and he hugged his knees close, trying to convince himself that maybe the monster wouldn’t find him. A few minutes passed, and whatever was happening around him was like a distant buzz of static. Nothing made sense. He just tried to breathe, closed his eyes, thought about his friends, Terra and Cedrick and Tessa and Isabelle and Sena and his mum. He told himself jokes inside his head. What do you get when you cross a sheep with a kangaroo? What do you call a fish with no eyes? Okay, he was calming down, he could see again and he could vaguely understand his surroundings, maybe, though it still felt like viewing them underwater and through smoke at the same time. He peeked his head above the desk.

“Happy Halloween, everyone!” That was Rose’s voice. It sounded…happy? Of course it did, it was Rose.

Mr Jackson has his brow furrowed, but he spoke all weird and disjointed, like he was trying not to laugh. “That’s detention, over lunch, Miss Tokas.”

Rose shrugged. “Fair!”

Parker kind of hated Halloween because the pranks weren’t funny.

“Look, Parker, are you alright?” Mr Jackson asked. Parker could only muster shaking his head and then darting out of the room to sick bay.

-

He didn’t go home. He stayed in sick bay until lunch, then he went back out to eat with Cedrick.

“So I got your text, like, five minutes ago,” Cedrick started, “I’m really impressed by the effort, and you’re surely improving, but there’s still a few mistakes.” He sat down, Parker sat down beside him. “First of all, your use of dans is a little unnatural to say the least and—are you okay?”

Parker followed Cedrick’s line of sight to Parker’s own hand, which was shaking a little. So he still wasn’t feeling all that great, or at least, his body still needed time to recover.

He shrugged. “Rose played this movie in French, and…”

“Oh Jesus, her dumb Princess and the Frog jumpscare thing?” Cedrick groaned and leant forward, resting his head in his hands. “I didn’t think she’d be brazen enough to use it in class! I mean, really, who does she think she is?” He opened his mouth as if to keep going then looked at Parker and gave a kind of conciliatory smile. “Sorry. I should have thought, and told a teacher, or at least warned you.”

Cedrick bought him lunch, one of the few vegetarian options the school offered, some shitty pasta thing, except today they were marketing the sauce as “blood sauce” so they had to ask to be sure it was suitable. Over a mouthful of his own serving of weird “vampire pie”, whatever that meant, Cedrick asked, “So what are you dressing up as today?”

“It’s a surprise!” Parker said, getting his smile back, hands probably no longer shaking.

Afternoon classes were fine, nothing particularly memorable. Just teachers trying to engage the kids with random spooky stuff. Parker felt kind of on edge, constantly having ghosts on his mind, but it wasn’t too bad. He pulled through until club time.

“Alright, motherfuckers, who’s ready for the party of their lives?” Xaidan called, sliding into a chair beside Cedrick.

Nadia was sitting on one of the counters around the side of the room, right beside the sink for chemicals and stuff. “Yeah, don’t worry guys, it’s definitely not gonna suck.”

Parker could feel his pun senses tingling.

Sena had her eyebrows raised, but what else was new.

Terra sat down beside him, on the side closest to Rose, like she was shielding him from Rose with her body. “It’s gonna be spooky!” she said, but then turned to Parker and said, “Not too spooky though, don’t worry!”

-

Parker told Cedrick he was going to walk to the Saffron’s house alone, to which Cedrick laughed. Parker blushed and frowned a little.

“Ah, sorry,” Cedrick said, clasping his hands together. “That was a little assholey, just…no, I mean…”

Parker sighed. “Fair. We all know I’m gonna get lost.”

“I’ll come with you!” Cedrick blurted out. “That’s okay, right? I know how to get to Xaidan’s, so we can get there proper on time.” He smiled a little nervously.

“Uh, sure!”

“Great. Okay, let’s go.”

The walk to Parker’s flat was largely spent holding hands and telling dumb jokes. Cedrick explained the difference between dans and en, and they discussed which was scarier, Facilier’s death or the whole other mother thing in Coraline.

When they got to the flat, Parker’s mother was home. She gave Cedrick the same weird look she always gave him, but let him sit down on the sofa and have a cracker anyway while Parker went to get changed.

Parker didn’t like looking in the mirror, but he did quickly look himself over to make sure he hadn’t put on the outfit backwards or something. He tried not to look himself in the eyes—or the eye, thanks to the eye-patch—instead just smoothing down his clothes, making sure they didn’t show too much of his body shape and then deciding he was good to go.

“How do I look?”

Cedrick and Mum looked up, Cedrick from his phone and Mum from her laptop. They both smiled, looked at each other, then looked back at him.

Parker was dressed as a pirate captain. He had some cheaply made but admittedly clunky boots on his feet, and shitty black trousers made out of something that felt kind of like cheap satin. He had a black waistcoat of the same material over a stripey white and green shirt, and a red sash tied around his waist. Over his right eye was a black plastic eye-patch from some kids’ party set out of Poundland. The real pinnacle of the outfit was the hat on his head: a black pirate captain’s hat with a skull and crossbones in the middle. In each hand he held a shiny plastic toy cutlass. He was a tiny pirate, and he looked great.

“Parker, honey, you’re adorable!” Mum said, closing her laptop, shoving it aside and coming up to get a closer look. “Aw, give us a twirl?”

He laughed a little and spun in a quick circle. “Hey Mum, do you know any good pirate jokes?”

She frowned. “Sorry, I don’t think so, but—”

“Neither do AAAAYE!” Parker squeaked a little on the last word but he doubled over laughing. His mother laughed too, helping him stand up straight again and making sure he didn’t straight up topple to the floor.

“You look great,” Cedrick said. Parker rubbed at his eyes to focus them and saw his boyfriend standing up too.

Parker smiled so hard his eyes screwed shut. “Thanks!”

As soon as they were out the flat and on their way to the Saffron house, Cedrick turned to Parker and chortled. “Okay, I didn’t say it because your mum was there, but the temptation to be like, Nice booty…”

They both stopped a moment to laugh and pressed their foreheads together.

“Are you going to dress up, Citrus?” Parker asked.

“Hm? Me? Oh, no, not really my thing.”

Parker took off his pirate hat and placed it on Cedrick’s head, then tangled his finger in a strand of Cedrick’s hair. “You’re my first mate now,” he declared proudly.

Cedrick grinned at the floor. “No, I can’t take your hat, that’s yours, it looks great on you—”

“We’re pirates together now,” Parker insisted. “Here, take one of my swords.” He pushed the handle of one of the swords into one of Cedrick’s hands.

So Cedrick paused, and then he nodded. “Arr!” he said all of a sudden, making Parker jump a little. “Oh shit, sorry!” He put his hands on Parker’s shoulders in what was probably supposed to be a calming gesture. “Well, Cap’n Parker,” he said more quietly this time, “as yer chief navigator, I reckon we should go…North! Follow the waves, arr!”

Parker followed Cedrick and grabbed his hand. “You sound Scottish, not Pirate.”

-

“AVAST YE!” called a voice that didn’t come from anyone in the living room. Nadia and Sena looked at each other.

Xaidan frowned. “That sounded like…?”

And into the room paraded Cedrick in his normal boring clothes, except now he was wearing a pirate hat and holding a fucking sword.

“What,” said Sena.

“Arrr!” Cedrick said, and everyone was probably too stunned to laugh. “Ye’d better give up all yet booty, because Cap’n Parker’s here to steal all yer doubloons!”

“Arr!” Parker appeared from behind him.

Terra clasped her hands together in delight. “Parker, you’re so scary!”

“Not as scary as Cedrick’s accent,” said Sena. Nobody heard her.

-

“It’s funny,” Nat said. “I always imagined Sena would be the vampire, but you’re pulling it off pretty well.”

Nadia grinned, showing fake giant canines. “Watch this.” She turned to Sena. “I vaant to suck your blaaaahd!”

Sena pulled her witch’s hat down over her eyes. “I will kill you in real life.”

“With a hex?”

“Shut. Up.”

-

Rose crashed through the door dressed as Satan, with a big cardboard box-container-thing of something in each hand. “What is UP, fucks?!”

Terra rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, I brought alcohol, so let’s all get wasted as fuuuuck!”

“This is not that kind of party!” Terra’s voice went so high it almost sounded like a whistle.

Rose shrugged, put her boxes on the floor and took out an alcopop. “Who wants the first drink?”

Blue shuffled up, took the drink out her hand in one smooth move and went to the corner with it.

“Blue, no!” Nat said, voice cracking a little.

Rose laughed.

-

“There is no way anyone here will pass as a kid, why are we even bothering with this?”

“I agree with Mordov,” Sena said with no tone in her voice.

Xaidan and Cedrick both pointed at Parker.

“…Point taken,” Mordov admitted. “He looks about twelve.”

“I’m thirteen!” Terra said.

Mordov pressed his lips together in a kind of ‘welp’. “I mean, he still looks younger…sucks, I guess, but what can you do?”

They set off for the nearest house with a Jack-o-lantern, and with his hat back and the little pumpkin-face sweets bag hanging on the tip of his cutlass, the people were more than happy to shower him in sugar.

By the time they went back to the house, there was just about enough for everyone.

-

The “party” wasn’t exactly wild. It was sixteen kids sitting in a living room listening to a Disney Halloween CD (almost everyone sang along to ‘Be Prepared’), occasionally with Nadia’s mum poking her head through the door to give them cake and stuff.

A couple of times, a little black shape flitted by the window and Sena tensed up. When that happened, Nadia squeezed her hand and smiled and after a moment everything was normal again.

Sena had considerably more than what would be her share of the sweets and was eating them methodically, one thing after the other, and smiling a little as she made a little pile out of the used wrappers.

“How do you have that many sweets?” Cedrick asked, exasperated. “Look, we had a plan, we has a rule that we would share the sweets evenly, and—”

“Shut up and stop being a communist, Ceddykins,” Rose said through a yawn. “It’s just sugar. No big deal.”

Xaidan reached out as casually as she could muster to try and steal a bar of chocolate from Sena’s pile. Sena slapped her hand away and gave her a warning glare.

“Aw, c’mon Sena, play nice,” Nat said.

Sena laughed joylessly. “I’m not sharing.”

“You know,” Blue said, putting their hands together and leaning forward, “I could really do with some more sugar. And also some more alcohol.”

Nat threw a pack of Skittles at them, and it hit them in the back of the head. “That’s all you’re getting.”

Blue pouted. “That’s no fun.”

Nat shook his head, slipping several more sweets into Blue’s pile.

“Since you’re American, we don’t have to do anything dumb, right?” Rose stretched and took off her devil horns, without which her makeup looked very dumb indeed. “Like, dooking for apples or whatever it’s called?”

Nadia blinked. “What…the fuck is that.”

“Biting apples in a tub of water,” Isabelle explained.

“Did someone say biting?” Nadia said. She leant in close to Sena’s neck. “You know vat I vant to suck?”

“I have nooo idea,” Sena said, with her voice devoid of energy, like the sugar had just been drained out of her.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Terra said. “Let’s watch a movie.”

They ended the night watching The Nightmare Before Christmas, and because he could just hide behind Terra or Cedrick when it got too much, it was just the right amount of spooky for Parker.

[divinelydivorced]

Goodbye, Grandma

My grandma passed away yesterday morning. Even though we knew it was coming, it is still hard.  Tuesday around 3:50 am, I awoke suddenly and couldn’t quite get back to sleep until 4:30. Come to find out, the end started around four and she was gone around 4:20.  It’s amazing how souls are so connected that we can feel the loss happening at the exact moment it occurs.  The older I get, I am made more aware of how similar my grandma and I are.  I’m proud to have inherited so many of her quirky traits and have come to embrace them.  In fact, I see them as a tribute to the impact she had on my life.  So, in honor of the life my grandma lived, here are the 25 things she has taught me:

1.     Bladder problems ARE a joking matter.  My grandma was a hot mess, God love her. Whether it was peeing her pants in an elevator in front of a bunch of strangers or never leaving a restaurant without a huge stain on her top, she always managed to leave a trail.  Most people would cry or die of embarrassment, but she’d just hee-haw, laughing so hard she’d likely pee again.  She passed on her small bladder and the ability to find humor in the embarrassment to me, which has provided my friends with endless counts of entertaining stories. College friends still text from time to time, “Remember when Adam Harris finally asked you to hang out and you had to say no because you’d just peed on your long sweater and had to shower and change?”  Yes, yes, I remember.  

2.     If you want it, get it.  She always knew what she wanted and wasted no time in purchasing it.  I remember, around age ten, her saying how much she wanted a bird feeder.  I went home and made one out of an old milk carton.  When I showed up to proudly give it to her, only two days later, there in her front yard was a brand new gorgeous wooden one.    

3.     Eat it and get it over with.  My grandma was notorious for eating an entire watermelon in the course of an afternoon.  This also contributed to her bladder problems.  Once, my sister went to take a nap at her house.  While drifting in and out, she caught a whiff of the sweet smell of a butter braid (a very large pastry you’d take to a party).  When she awoke excited for dessert, she went out to discover my grandma had de-thawed it, cooked it, and ate 99% of it in the course of two hours.  To this day, whenever I make any dessert-I eat 99% of it while it’s still hot.  We all know what’s going to happen so just get it over with already.

4.     If it annoys you, get rid of it-no matter its practicality. My grandma loved buying things almost as much as she loved getting rid of those same things three months later.  One time she showed up at mom’s house with a car full of lamps.  She decided she hated lamps and wanted them all gone.  My mom, always the practical one, kept them so when my grandma realized later they were necessary, she wouldn’t have to buy more.  Any of my friends know I’m the same.  I served wine in a juice glass the other day.  My friend asked, “Don’t you have wine glasses?” “I did,” I said, “but just got rid of them.”  “Why? You didn’t use them?” he asked.  “No, I used them all the time.  I just got tired of looking at them.”

5.     Never stop moving.  My grandma moved all the time.  She’d often announce it at the latest holiday dinner.  She would wake up, be suddenly sick of her place, and a month later would be somewhere new.  She once left a home, only to return to it a few years later.  A constant mover myself, I was looking forward to staying in my current place for more than a year (a new record) until I recently found out I had to vacate in 30 days due to construction.  Although annoying and inconvenient, I was not surprised when I found myself thinking the other day, “Actually-I’m kind of over this place, so that worked out.”

6.     Crazy is charming.  My grandma was nuts, as am I.  Yet we embrace the crazy and combine it with big hearts.  That’s why people keep coming back.  A little crazy never hurt anyone…and we are a lot of fun on road trips.

7.     The flu is for sissies.  We’d often stay at her house when we had the flu. Grandma gave us whatever we wanted, which included the time my brother insisted he wanted to eat a bunch of tacos.  You can imagine my mother’s frustration when she arrived to pick him up and found him vomiting ground beef and shredded cheese everywhere.

8.     Pools and convertibles aren’t luxuries, they’re necessities.  Life’s too short.  GET THEM BOTH.

9.     Dogs are our children.  She had an antique cradle for her dog to sleep in and was the first to introduce me to a dog stroller.  I get it and think it makes absolute sense.

10.  You don’t need a man.  Most of my life she’s been single.  Men have chased after her and she’ll let them buy her lunch or keep her company, yet it goes no further.  Because at the end of the day, she’s her own woman and has no need for a full-time man dragging her down.  This is a lesson I’m still learning.

11.  Soap operas are good television.  She lived near the high school, so at lunchtime, my girlfriends and I would take our lunches to eat at her place and watch Days of Our Lives.  Those were some of my favorite memories.  If the show got really intense and it was time for us to go, she’d try convincing us to drive her car back, at age 14, so she didn’t have to leave.  She even took me and my aunt to a Days of Our Lives festival one summer.  When it came to idolizing celebrities, her and I saw eye to eye.

12.  Dairy Queen can be dinner.  When she helped move me to Michigan, we spent a week eating Dairy Queen snicker blizzards for every meal.  She was doing Weight Watchers at the time and, although two of these, met her quota for the day-she was willing to make the sacrifice.  I remember thinking how brilliant this was.  When we got tired of Dairy Queen (rare), we’d hit up the Chinese Buffet.  No excuses and no shame-it’s how we rolled.

13.  Why choose when you can have both.  My grandma loved driving with the windows down.  She also would sweat profusely.  Once, we got in the car on a blazing summer day and I asked if we should turn on the AC or roll down the windows.  Her answer?  Both. We cranked the radio up, let the wind tousle our hair as the cold AC blasted our faces.

14.  Underwear is optional.  In fact, it’s often preferred you go without.

15.  Sing loud and proud.  My grandma had one of those loud operatic voices which she’d use to pelt Amazing Grace in church.  We grandkids would chuckle, but in reality, I always loved how she simply didn’t care. She was singing for Jesus.

16.  Spend your time how you want.  There were years where she’d choose hours of Farmville over leaving the house.  I’ve been known to spend an entire 48 hour weekend playing Sims-taking breaks only to run to the bathroom and grab a snack.  It’s our time-we will do what we want with it, and if that means interacting with computerized lives over human ones, so be it.

17.  There’s always something burning in the oven.  Every holiday she left something in the oven.  EVERY. HOLIDAY.  How no one caught on, I don’t know.  How I managed to inherit this trait, despite being annoyed by it, beats me. It seems the rolls always take the biggest hit…who needs carbs anyway-more DQ.

18.  There’s no time for sentimentality.  At a family event, she once walked out with crates of old photographs-including her wedding photos-and announced to the family she was throwing them away the next morning, so, “grab what you want.”  Everyone started arguing with her and refusing to take anything.  Meanwhile I did a clean sweep, loading boxes into my car.  Later, everyone was grateful because she kept to her word and burned everything I didn’t get my hands on.  Years later, I marched out to the living room with a box full of the photos I’d taken and said to my mom, “I’m throwing all of these away tomorrow, so take what you want.”  You better believe she took them-lesson learned.

19.  Sausage gravy is love.  As long as I knew her, she had a part-time job of sitting with an elderly person, a job I’ve now inherited.  As soon as I could work, she started taking me along and then giving me some of her shifts.  She taught me how to make sausage gravy-the first meal I ever learned to cook.  “Old people love sausage gravy,” she told me. She was right.

20.  Rules are meant to be broken.  My grandma didn’t give a f***.  In fact, she invented the phrase.  Sometimes she’d do stuff simply to get a reaction out of you.  There was no rhyme or reason-she went with her urge. I remember walking through the shoe store with my mom a couple years ago and asking my mom, “Do you ever get a strong desire to just start knocking things over?”  

21.  If it can go in a blender, it should.  Grandma introduced me to smoothies and I’ve never looked back.  “Everything can go in a blender!” she once enthusiastically told me as she threw in leftovers along with fruit and hit “blend.”  Now I buy pineapple in bulk and enough produce to feed a small village for a month.

22.  New fads are meant to be tried.  My grandma purchased every diet pill and vitamin that existed, as well as any exercise devise.  She had one of those machines that shook you, vibrating a strap around your bottom and promising to eliminate cellulite by simply standing there.  She had the utmost confidence they would work.  Each time she’d pull the latest tool or pill out of the box, I’d watch in awe as she demonstrated its powers, believing she’d discovered the secret to staying fit and healthy.  She instilled this hope in me.  I carried a crystal around for weeks once after reading it’d get my period to finally to start.  I paid an obscene amount of money for Cindy Crawford’s miracle elixir, returning it 30 days later, and then surprising myself by purchasing it a second time years later during a 5 am workout binge when the infomercial reappeared.  My recent purchase was a $100 fascia blaster which I use with fervor, while watching Friends episodes, and later have to justify when explaining the bruises on my legs to friends with a, “Yeah, it hurts but I can feel it working!”

23.  Walk everywhere.  It’s great exercise, sure.  But, more importantly, it gives you a chance to catch up on the town gossip.

24.  Careful-you can give a man your yeast infection.  This statement alone is self-explanatory.  Yet my grandma felt the need to retell an in-depth twenty-minute story of how her and my grandpa discovered this to be factual, leaving me scarred for life.

25.  When life pushes back, you push harder.  The beginning of my grandma’s life was not easy.  In fact, as I understand it, it was quite hard. My grandpa rescued her and she fell madly in love.  When he died so young, it would have been easy to give up.  But she didn’t.  She found job after job, she gave of herself whenever she could, and always left people laughing.  She was resilient.  She didn’t take the easy way out and, in fact, often took the road less traveled. She made no apologies and left some scars.  Although I will miss her greatly, I am grateful she’s in heaven, reunited with my grandpa-right where she’s always wanted to be.  

So, sing loud, grandma.  Eat your fill of watermelons and leave your underwear here on earth.  I won’t say rest in peace because that never was your style and, besides, I can hear the hee-hawing from heaven already.  In the end, she had it right.  We don’t need all this stuff we carry around because it’s only temporary. All that matters is how you make people feel, the laughter over tears, and never giving up.  And, of course, always knowing where the nearest restroom is.

[buddaimond]

Safdie brothers: Robert Pattinson in 'Good Time' like De Niro in 'Taxi Driver' 

Josh and Benny Safdie discuss their new Cannes competition film, the Netflix row and A24.

Benny and Josh Safdie are in Cannes Competition this year for the first time with Good Time, having previously featured in directors’ fortnight with The Pleasure Of Being Robbed and Daddy Longlegs.

Their latest stars Robert Pattinson in what the actor called a “mentally damaged psychopath, bank robbery movie”.  Screen spoke to the duo (pictured below).

How did you react to being selected for Official Competition?

Josh Safdie: In Robert Pattinson’s house in LA he has an incredible, expensive toilet. After sitting on it for 20 minutes I said to him ‘that’s the dream’. He says: ‘if we get into Cannes Competition, I will buy you that toilet’. Six hours before the [Cannes] announcement… Rob texts me a picture of the toilet. That’s how I found out!

How did the film come together?

JS: We were dead set on this other film which we’re now doing called Uncut Gems, and [our last film] Heaven Knows What was about to be released. Robert [Pattinson] saw a still for that and something spoke to him about that, the colours, the image itself, he became obsessed with getting in touch with us. Then he saw the trailer and said: ‘now I need to meet with you’. Then he saw the film and said explicitly ‘whatever you’re doing next, I want to be a part of it, even if it means doing the catering’.

He didn’t sit in the diamond district world very well [for Uncut Gems], I was honest with him about that, and there was another world we were mulling, and we said maybe can write something for you in Good Time.

What was it like to work with Robert Pattinson?

Benny Safdie: I have so much respect for how deep he went, the places he went, the people he met, just his level of commitment, 16 hours a day, he was willing to do whatever. It was cold, I was playing the brother in a wheelchair, and we said to him ‘we don’t need you for this shot’, but he would stay and push me around in the cold. He said: “I need that, to take it that far”. He went above and beyond.

JS: We bought Rob to a lot of active jails. He turned up in character in the hope that the inmates wouldn’t recognise him as a movie star. We pushed our start date on purpose in an effort to buy more prep time and I would say there was 3-4 months of character prep for him, which is a lot for a movie star in his career.

How would you describe his final performance?

JS: I wouldn’t even call it a performance, if you were to show the film to someone who has no idea who Robert Pattinson is, they would just assume that we found this guy. The only performances that I could liken what he did would be to an Al Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon or Tommy Lee Jones in The Executioner’s Song or Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver. I’m mentioning icons of my filmic mind. This is what people will liken this to, it’s a transformation.

Personally for him he wanted to disappear. When he was fully in character, in costume, in make-up and when he knew his voice, he would just take a walk around the neighbourhood, simply because normally he can’t do that. He would walk into a pharmacy and buy a Coca Cola and no-one would say anything to him or look at him, or take a picture of him, and that’s how he knew he had the character down.

Moonlight distributors A24 have US rights to Good Time, what were they like?

JS: They approach film as if they’re part of factory line of seamstresses who are trying to sow together a tapestry of the zeitgeist. They think of movies not as movies but as cultural events, they only care about distinction. In their office once I asked: ‘what does that guy do?’ - he was just looking at numbers. I was like ‘box office numbers?’ And they said ‘no, statistics of life’. I’m very impressed by them.

BS: They don’t have a specific model that they willingly attach to each film, they treat each film as object of preciousness and they tailor everything to that world. They become the films, they put a lot of love and care to trailers and everything that goes out there and that’s a very unique thing.

What do you think of the Cannes/Netflix row?

BS: We don’t have an opinion on that really. However people want to see movies they can see movies.

JS: I’m an extremely romantic person and I’m always going to prefer to see a movie in a theatre, but that said one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had in the last 10 years of my life was doing research for Heaven Knows What and I was on the street with a homeless kid and we watched an entire film on my cellphone.

Romance exists on every platform, but I personally find the dark room with a bunch of strangers so exhilarating and unique in this day and age because people genuinely unplug to engage with your work. When you’re at home and your streaming something theres a tendency to be a little bit more casual in your viewing. That’s fine if that’s how you want to watch.

BS: I’m not going to tell you how to watch a movie, militantly. As things becomes more open you have to see what happens and where the dust settles. A lot of people said theatrical would be dead 5 years ago and it’s still around.

JS: I think America is a spectacle society and spectacles revolves around events and events happen at a place and a place is a movie theatre.

Cannes is 70 years old this year, do you have a favourite Cannes memory?

BS: The only thing I can think of is the smell of the soap at the Palais Stefanie at the Directors’ Fortnight. I’ll be walking down the street and I’ll catch a whiff of it and it will take me back to sitting back on that beautiful cinema.

http://www.screendaily.com/features/safdie-brothers-robert-pattinson-in-good-time-like-de-niro-in-taxi-driver/5118327.article#.WSPHwsNdXak.twitter

[robstersheegahns]

Robster, the early years.

Our 2 year anniversary just passed and I thought it would be nice to reflect on how God brought us together, bc it truly was a gift of His timing and preparation of each of our hearts until we met that made us a good match. 

It's come to my attention that I know quite a few couples who are success stories from CMB- Coffee Meets Bagel. If you have yet to hear of it, It's a Facebook app that uses your network of friends to match you with people that are just out of your immediate pool of friends. Typically this avoids awkward dates with your current single friends that you have no desire to date.  I didn't know much about the app prior to using it, and my decision to get on it was somewhat of a dramatic one. I'm writing this without giving you much of a back story to the relationship between me and my parents. If this is the first story you are reading, then don't be misled by their panic and craziness here as it pertains to my dating life- or lack thereof.  They are caring, God-loving, I will take a bullet for you type of people who pray for a living- and bear much fruit. I wouldn't be who am I am without them. But.. that's not to say that we didn't butt heads- particularly about this part of my life. 

April, 2014... I turned 29. Which to my Korean parents meant the alarm went off on my expiration date for marriage- ability. I totally understood why they were concerned- I spent the majority of my time at work or at church- a pool that was not viable for me in terms of dating. LOL. though I did try. Well after many fiery phone conversations- my refusal to start courting a Korean doctor caused an ultimatum. If I wasn't willing to date this guy, who was long distance, whom I had already met and knew it wasn't a match, AND who they knew little to nothing about aside from his parents- then I HAD to agree to go on a dating website.

 Enter CMB!!!

 It was free and seemed the least scary out of all the other options. They agreed, but only if after one month of this seemingly cheap free site, I joined a paid site if I hadn't met anyone yet. 

Anyways, Rob and I were matched on CMB on June 12, 2014. I remember seeing Rob's profile- at first glance these were a few of my thoughts. 1. He's white. 2. His job title is in Korean. 3. That's weird. 4. Why does this white guy write in Korean? 5. He looks smart. 6. He plays guitar. 7. There is literally nothing about running on here. 8. Oh shoot, he's younger than me...

I think every girl out there may have a couple of things in mind when they are thinking about their future husband. We’ll call them preferences...

I just had a few things I thought would be nice: my age or older, likes to run, loves Jesus- in reverse order of importance. But other than that I wasn't too picky- after all as it had been pointed out to me several times- I was 29... Actually a week before that an older sister of mine had taken me aside to somewhat rebuke me about the way I was boxing in some of the younger brothers in my life. She basically said, cut out those notions of what you think is necessary in a husband and be open to what God has in store. For me that could only allude to- hey be open to younger, non-running, Jesus-lovers. And LO and BEHOLD, Rob appears mere days later- and I think that was God's way of opening my heart to a man that maybe I hadn't pictured but a man that He had planned just for me.

2 FROGS, 1 PRINCE (not in that order)

I met three guys on CMB- one black, one korean, one white. How diverse right? 

After joining in May-ish- I got my first match. He was lawyer, he was into Ballroom dancing; he seemed nice albeit a bit serious. There was another weird connection in that he was someone one of my patients had offered to set me up with previously and we didn't realize this until after the failed first date- but let's just say it was a good depiction of how on-line dating can go. We got ice cream- it was extremely hot outside. We ate outside where it was sweltering. There was a lack of chemistry, he had a sneeze attack... at one point he asked me my favorite color...  after 40 minutes, I said I had to meet up with some friends in Chinatown and sca-daddled out of there. We never spoke again.

I was matched with Rob next- and after our match- we became FB friends and had our first 2 hours chat-a-thon on messenger that night. We found out we both had done missions in Haiti, both on praise team. He served in a korean church- my dad is a Korean pastor. He's in seminary to become a pastor. We both spoke French (him much better than me). We both had a heart for missions in general... it was in his words- “trop bizarre....” The next day we progressed to a phone chat on his drive to Brooklyn from Philly. A longer phone chat the next day. Then a 2 hour video chat the next day. We seemed to be clicking from the get-go. Th real test would be meeting each other in person- we scheduled that for Tuesday June 17. We had started texting and it was fun to see his name pop up on my screen. Classic- beginning of a relationship jitters, excitement, and curiosity all wrapped up in one.

Literally the day that Rob and I were supposed to meet, I actually got another match. That's the thing about on-line dating that can be tough. You are encouraged to date and pursue multiple people which I guess is efficient and makes sense, right? This 3rd guy was basically all the things that I thought were “missing” in Rob... isn't God funny that way? He was Korean. He was in finance vs. ministry which is a lot more stable. Most of his pics were in races- running. He was my age. ... I was like God is this a joke? After talking to a few people about it, I decided ya know what? I have to meet this guy too. No matter how my date goes with Rob, this will just give me more info. So for 2 CRAZY days, I talked to both of them. I honestly think this third match was God's way of reminding me that His plan is better. Yes on paper this guy may make more sense.. but in every way... Rob was actually the better God-given match for me. 

So...finally- OUR FIRST DATE!

I asked to meet at Chapterhouse which was about 2 blocks away from my apartment at the time. It was a blazing 95 degrees that day and me in my smart- only if it's opposite day- thinking was like OH i'm gonna go on a run! silly me who did not time it right- my body was still thermo-regulating post shower and couldn't stop sweating. That 2 block walk washed off the make up I tried to apply- if you know me I don't wear the stuff so that was tough. I even stopped at the Starbucks 1/2 block away to look in the mirror and see if my mascara had run down my face and if my sweat was visible... After a few minutes of deep breathing in the air-conditioned bathroom, I walked up the street. There he was... standing in front of the house des Chapitres... 

My first thoughts: Crap- He's skinnier than me. His hair is so... fluffy... and his face is... nice :) . We got inside- and chose our drinks before sitting. He did NOT pay for me.. which to others may have been a turn off but because of our previous convos about his frugality I didn't take offense to. We started talking about.. everything. He told me things about his family that were not "first date" topics... and as he was talking I found myself asking... “If I let myself- could I fall for this guy?” and the answer? YES! 

I couldn't help but but think Yes- as I looked at his face telling me some animated story about ministry... that yes this could be a guy that I could fall for. FYI- guys out there- yes most of us girls ask this kind of big picture questions as early as the first date. It's just how our brains work. If we can't picture a future- then for us that's a big reg flag. Don't worry most of us have not problem imagining quite a bit even from the first date

We spent 2 hours talking non-stop, and walked out saying we were excited to see each other again. The rest is history. Which I will go into more stories later for those of you curious enough to read on.

Rob and my match, though facilitated by a dating app was in God’s absolutely perfect timing. All those years I waited- impatiently- for this guy to waltz into my life... it could not have come sooner because neither of us would have been ready for it. 

Hopefully this will remind some of you single ladies out there- I know how you feel. I waited 29 years for this part of God's plan for my life to unfold. It's not the end all- be all of my life. Nor should it be! But I sure felt like that when I was single. As I watched each of my friends pair up and get married, I felt seriously left behind. My appearance insecurities didn't help that at all... but my single season prepared me to meet this God-loving man that I know is the perfect match for me. I see it everyday in the way Rob loves me, cherishes me, and puts God first. Of course there are hard parts- any married person will tell you that. but rehashing this story reminds me more than ever that God's faithfulness in undeniable and we need to pray for Him to give us more and more faith everyday. Trusting in His plan requires it.

anyways, more stories to come!

[attract-mode-collective]

Finally, The ET Video Game That You’ve Been Waiting For

Since there was no proper game culture wrap-up last week (again, sorry about that), along with how I’m filing this at the end of the week instead of the beginning (there’s… stuff happening, so consider this one of the more minor examples), there’s a lot to cover this time around. Including a bunch of happenings from the word of art.

So kicking things off is the latest from Amanda Visel X Michelle Valigura. Much like their Star Wars, Beetlejuice, and Heathers cabinets, here we their ideas of what arcade games based upon ET and Aliens could and should look like. And yeah, playing as Gertie is an approach that could salvage its reputation in the video game sphere, plus I totally want an Alien/Aliens video game starring Newt.

Actually, hasn’t something similar already happened? Sorry, haven’t kept up with the video adaptations; last one I played was for the Jaguar. Anyhow, and unfortunately, both pieces are sold out online. Though… and I’m not 100% certain, but… they’re both at the Thailand Toy Expo, so maybe they brought a few extras with them?

Elsewhere in Asia, Japan to be exact, are not just one but two other notable shows, and both focused on electronic entertainment. First is something you’re probably familiar with, the My Famicase Exhibition, and not just because it’s been around for 13 years. As of this writing, the entire assortment has yet to be shared officially, so you’ll have to turn to Twitter to see the participants boasting their own handiwork.

[UPDATE: 5/7/17] Actually, all the pieces are finally viewable on the Famicase homepage proper. Here are my faves…

… I particularly love Saturdays’s flavor text: “The gateway opens once a week. Tomorrow I’m going in.”

… You kinda need to see the actual cart in the wild to understand; here’s a pic courtesy of @mandimappy…

And finally...

… It’s maybe pointing out that the artist responsible for the concept above also did a piece for last year’s event as well, which ended up becoming something that’s actually playable! Hope history repeats itself cuz I really want a game about an all cat band with gross lyrics.

Now, the other show is something you may know nothing about, cuz a. the 16 Bit Models Exhibition has only been around for two years and b, was only open for just one day, hence why it’s fallen under many radars.

Admittedly, I found last year’s assortment a bit more up my alley, most due to my affinity for the obscure. Yet I can still appreciate this very realistic take on the Super Mario Bros (btw, am also sorry that I don’t know who’s responsible for what)…

Along with this realistic take on Pauline and Donkey Kong…

Yet the exhibition was a reminder that not every Nintendo game out there has been paid tribute to death, specifically Urban Champion…

The dioramas are easily the best parts of the 16 Bit Models Exhibition. Here’s an equally impressive one, featuring Castlevania…

Though once again, the obscurer the better, so this tribute to Bio Miracle Bokutte Upa gets a thumbs up from me…

Which is the lesser known game: Bio Miracle Bokutte Upa or City Connection? The latter at least was released on the NES at the time. Then again…

Moving onto fashion, UNIQLO recently unveiled an upcoming line based upon Mario and company. As one might expect from UNIQLO, they look quite nice! Here’s the campaign movie from Japan…

The best part is that UNIQLO’s entire line is headed towards the US! Was not expecting that. Alas, certain designs are not available to everyone, and I know more than a few adults who wouldn’t mind that Kirby tee. So here comes YUMMY MART to the rescue…

Somewhat along the same lines is Namco enlisting the talents of PAYNUS, who represents some of the esoteric offerings in the Pac-Store…

The constant reference to pizza is something that’s present in both the PAYNUS designs and Namco’s own in-house efforts…

Meanwhile, back at METEOR, in addition to the latest Famicase exhibit, they’ve also been busy with a collab with THUNDERBOX (which I highlighted just a few weeks ago). And from the looks of miki800.com’s post, MOUNTAIN GRAPHICS is also involved? Talk about a holy trinity…

Whereas the previous combination makes sense, the following is… unexpected. Recently discovered that R23X has teamed up with the The Yetee of all folks to produce a line of shirts showcasing glitched VHS stills. Including one that’s game related (technically two; there’s also a crop top version as well)…

Looks neat and all, but I’m less of a Final Fantasy 7 fan and more of a Wave Race 64 aficionado, and would therefore love to see this on a tee…

I’d also love to get my hands on one of these 100 yen pins that @rgb_club posted a couple weeks back, though no word on when it might be available…

Here’s another thing that’s not for sale, mostly cuz there was only one, which is of this baseball player made to look like a Street Fighter…

Which had the better Spinning Bird Kick; Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li…

Or City Hunter (yup, that’s Jackie Chan; via tenshokyaku)…

Sticking with leggy video game stars, thanks to thevideogameartarchive, we finally have an answer as to whether Link is boxers or briefs…

And sticking with Link for just a bit more, I particularly dig nozovis’s summary of the fun times him and Zelda have in Breath of the Wild…

Along those same lines is a zine that @WPR_haru made that’s filled with all the photos he took, one that I’d love to have a copy of…

Which fan art featuring a character from behind do you prefer; this Breath of the Wild piece by James Kochalka…

Or this Overwatch piece by some unknown artist (if anyone knows, plz let me know)…

Here we have @RAStyle85’s Astro City with a lots of buttons, for playing whatever game that requires that many inputs…

And here we have former Taito graphic designer Atsushi Iwata’s custom-built device, for producing pixel graphics!

Such things were used in other places, like SNK. Here we have a quote from someone who worked there, courtesy of videogamesdensetsu…

“The sprite editor used by artists for a number of SNK fighting games (Art Box) was written for the Neo-Geo, and uses the Neo-Geo as the interface. As in, you would use the joystick and the buttons to draw the sprite. He didn’t believe this when he started there, until one of the higher ups showed him by firing up one of the machines and drawing a kickass sprite of Robert Garcia in like 10 minutes”.

Does the Art Box sound familiar? Well, it should be.

The latest from The Gaming Historian, on the creation of the d-pad, answers the one question I’ve had for ages: if Nintendo was able to patent the control input, how were Sega and others able to get away with something seemingly similar?

Remember the 8bit Harmonica from last week? Well here’s another project involving the Famicom by Ugoita that’s a bit more… random?

This post has gone on for far too long without any Sega. Time to fix that with some gifs of Sonic from Sega Saturn de Hakken!! Tamagotchi Park, which as you may have guessed is a Tamagotchi title in which you can raise Sonic (and sorry, chilli dogs was Sonic’s fave food in the US, though I believe Sonic Generations would later recon that; via pr0jectneedlemouse)…

Though you can also raise other Sega personalities, like Opa Opa and Alex Kidd, plus even a Mega Drive cart (via grooveonfight)?

Super obscure Sega humor doesn’t get more obscure than this folks (note to self: on the next car trip, bring along the soundtrack to Super Hang-On cuz repeated plays of OutRun and Daytona USA tunes can get old after a while; via dnopls)…

I know the following has been shared liked crazy (hell, even NPR posted the damn thing), and for good reason. All I can say is, Pikachu #14, get your sh*t together…

Speaking of Pikachu and his pals, The Pokemon Center released a line of Ditto Gachapon figures that are supa kawaii (via retrogamerblog)…

Though the one piece of plastic I want the most is the also recently unveiled Samus from Metroid Prime figure by Good Smile Company, which looks hella cooler than the previously released Other M Figma…

Am embarrassed to admit that I have no idea where this following screenshot is from, nor the tune that accompanies it, both courtesy of radicalhelmet. If anyone would be kind enough to clue me in, would be supremely appreciated…

I wonder what the cover girl of this issue of Spoon is playing (via sixteen-bit)…

And this week’s recommended reading comes courtesy of mah boi Don Miller, and is actually something that Oliver at Minus World also picked up on, which is a book produced by the creator of LSD: Dream Emulator, among other things, and someone I’ve mentioned quite a few times around these parts. It’s called The Art of Computer Designing: A Black and White Approach and is available via archive.org…

As someone who has always planned on transforming an old iMac into a fish tank, thanks to Phazed, I know have other ideas…

And finally, and I also know that I’ve been saying the same thing over and over again, but Super Attractive Club members will be receiving another round up game culture snapshots, hopefully very soon! Until then, please enjoy this still life courtesy of peazy86…

BTW, peazy86 also does music, plus music videos…

Don’t forget: Attract Mode is now on Medium! There you can subscribe to keep up to date, as well as enjoy some “best of” content you might have missed the first time around, plus be spared of the technical issues that’s starting to overtake Tumblr.