#my dash is filled with degenerates

[dailyadventureprompts]

Every so often I'll dive into other d&d spaces just to expose myself to other takes on the hobby and sometimes I'll be surprised by how awful the opinions are.

The results of today's dredging: Toxic masculinity is good because it keeps weaklings out of the hobby. Men crying or expressing any emotion is so shameful to the point of being repulsive. D&D is a game, not a story, so it's impossible to have themes, and even if there were themes the idea of exploring vulnerability would be degenerate because it would weaken the men who use the game as a model of how to act. Matt Mercer (and you by proxy) is a hack and a fraud for making sure his players and audience are having fun rather than trying to make the game as hard as possible. Safety tools are evil because they restrain men's natural urge to offend and dominate and that creates a culture that worships weakness.

These people are terrified by the knowledge that the hobby (and culture in general) is leaving them behind and that their bitterness tinged circle jerk is getting lonelier by the day. They're assholes, and the only reason anyone ever tolerated them was because there wasn't enough of a playerbase to fill out a table without them. Now that everyone and their cat is rolling dice, people can pick and choose who they play with and these human trashfires are being kicked to the curb where they belong.

Thank you all for having reasonable opinions about ttrpgs. Even if I disagree, I'm so happy I usually don't have takes like this on my dash.

[blueberrybladelemonade]

☀️🌻Sun, Sweat, and a Dash of Chaos🌻☀️

Summary: It's a hot day out. The birds are singing, everyone's sweating. What started as just a BBQ between you, your friends, and your boyfriend turns into Noistte inviting you both for a double date to try new things.

Contains: Hosting a BBQ, Mysterious Glitter Drink: At my cookout? It's more likely than you think, Slice of Life, Fluff, Double date with The Noise and Noisette, Eating Icecream in unsafe places (Is that a reference to- yes. Yes it is.) Camping.

You were seated at the table, head resting in your arms. Your stomach growled once more as the aroma of flame-grilled meat drifted towards you. You can hear it sizzling on the grill and the steak fat dribbling and hissing as it falls onto the grill.

Beyond the grill and table The Noise and Noisette were playing a game of…what ever they were playing, away from the food. It looked like a cross between dodge ball but with a rock and tennis rackets. You had declined to join them earlier, instead offering to help Peppino as the couple found a suitable spot in the backyard.

As you head back inside your home, cooler air greets you briefly while retrieving the potato salad from the fridge and head back outside. You set the bowl on the picnic table along with a serving spoon before dipping back into the house once more.

Noisette oversaw the drinks, volunteering to bring something since Peppino and you invited the couple for this get together. She brought three gallon jugs, each filled with a different mix with Noise insisting that you both try the lemonade she made.

On the other hand, The Noise brought several bags of chips that he unceremoniously dumped onto the kitchen counter. Peppino had inspected a particularly fancy looking bag but before he could ask what it was The Noise cut him off, hitching his chin as he stated those were artisanal.

Burgers were being flash-fried while moisture from the mushroom and onion fizzled on hot charcoal. At this point your mouth was watering with anticipation of salty meat as you return to the table with your homemade BBQ sauce. The pungent and savory scent of chili, vinegar and cayenne peppers assault your senses and you take a seat once again near Peppino while you waited.

He layered the burgers onto a plate before passing it to you. You set the pile of meat near the packs of buns and condiments and the platter of seared zucchini and corn.

"The steaks are almost-a perfect medium rare. Get the plate ready, amour".

You grab the larger platter, standing in place as Peppino heaps the steaks onto it. You fought the urge to draw back as a dot of hot grease splattered onto your arm. "So….what do we do if someone wants a well done steak"?

Peppino glances up to stare at the Noise couple, the corner of his lip twitching into a smirk as the rock collided with Noise's ankle.

"You tell them politely yet-a firmly to leave". Peppino nodded, returning his gaze to yours

You blinked, quirking a brow, "Really"?

"No not-a really! You tell that degenerate to get off-a my property"!

You chuckle but are cut short by a shriek and instead draw your attention back to the couple who had stopped their game. Noisette was currently stooping next to The Noise, inspecting his leg as he whined.

"Go ahead and set-a these on the table amour, I'll-a get the plates." Peppino wiped his hands with a nearby washcloth, giving you a peck on the cheek as he walked off.

"Che cazzo stai facendo?! Would-a you both quit with that damn game! I told-a you one day you're going to break-a something!" You hear him snap at Noise. What he had said in reply you weren't entirely sure, but it caused Peppino to roll his eyes as he disappeared in the house.

Noisette's eyes lit up as she caught you looking at her. You grimace as she yanks Noise to his feet, pulling him by the wrist to your table.

"I can't wait to try your sauce Y/N, it's smells amazing!" Noisette babbles, helping herself to another refill from the purple tinged jug. You were about to protest you didn't want the same but a glare from Noise made the words die in your throat.

You looked down at cup Noisette set in front of you with a creeping dread. It sloshed carelessly for a moment before settling again. You tried to fight the urge to make any expression. Dear God why was there glitter in it? Not only that, but you swore the drink had the exact hue as the liquid cough syrup in her medicine cabinet.

Before Noise could pour the drink into your mouth for you, you pick up the cup and take a small sip. A sweetness drenched your mouth with just a hint of tartness as you swallowed the concoction. Your eyes widened, "Holy shit this is amazing! What's in it"?

"Mhm!" Noisette beamed, clearly pleased with herself. "Lemonade with prickly pear syrup and edible purple glitter"!

"You and your-a damn glitter." Peppino scoffed, making you jump as a stack of paper plates were abruptly set on the table. "You have to try this Pino!" You shoved your cup in front of him, urging him to try it.

He shot you a dubious look, squinting down at the liquid. Should he trust you on this? This time, yes. However it wasn't put passed Peppino that Noisette had made equally unpleasant concoctions, ones she had you try, that you wanted to share with him so you both could be mutually disgusted. Instead, Peppino drew in a deep breath, ignoring your expectant gaze. "You first".

"I just had a sip!" You retorted.

Peppino rolled his eyes, "Well do it again so I can-a see".

Your eyelids droop before making a show of putting more of the drink into your mouth before swallowing it. Peppino watched for any hint of disgust that etched onto your features. Finding none, he finally relented.

As he downed the remainder of the liquid Peppino looked once at the drink in surprise, then back to you wordlessly.

"Right?" You reply, helping yourself to another cup before Noisette filled one for him as well.

Once everyone had their drinks, no time was wasted as everyone helped themselves to the assorted meats and side dishes. Conversation flowed in and out between bites of food as everyone savored the flavors.

Noise grumbled something as took his napkin to wipe sweat off the back of his neck. "Heya Italian man, you mind sittin' here? Your ass might cover half th' yard and we won't sweat to death".

"Oh fuck-a you Noise!" Peppino snapped, throwing a bone at him. It bounced off of Noise's head with a satisfying clack followed by him yelping in pain.

While the two began trading insults you cast a sideways glance towards Noisette and pursed your lips. Her sunglasses perched on her nose though you could tell she wore a contemplative look. She'd fallen silent for a while, sipping her drink. You knew that expression. She was observing. Waiting. Planning something.

"We should plan a double date!" Noisette exclaimed, you reel back out of the way as her hand nearly smacked you in the face.

Noise's insult died on his tongue, his mouth hanging slightly open as he turned towards her. Peppino blinked, sighing quietly, thankful The Noise finally shut up. Both now had their eyes drawn to her.

Noise furrowed his eyebrows, "Babe you don't seriously mean-"

She held up her hand to shush her boyfriend. "Well why not? Y/N when did you last go camping"?

"Uh…it's been a while." You twist the napkin in your lap anticipating where she was going with this.

She nodded to Peppino, "And what about you?"

"Uh…years ago?" Peppino replied.

"So what if we all go camping together! Come on it'll be fun"!

"But babe!" Noise whined, newfound indignation in his voice, "We were supposed to go alone and-"

"Theo nothing will change! It's not like Y/N and Peppino are going to be sleeping with us! They'll have their own tent"!

Oh my. You sink low into the chair, looking at Peppino who was making a face as they bickered.

"You guys should come with us!" Noisette smiled, "Do you guys have a tent"?

"Y-yes. In the attic." Peppino replied. You shot him a look that all but conveyed your own silent question of "We do"?

"Great!" Noisette brightened, "We can go get ice cream then go camping!"

"Don't you mean eat ice cream while camping?" You asked.

"No!" She leaned closer to you and whispered "I know a place that all the cool people go to to eat it".

You wonder why exactly you'd care about being cool, you wrinkle your nose at the sweat you wipe from your neck. Unless she literally means cool.

"We'll pick you guys up tomorrow! And now that that's settled…" Noisette helped herself to another bite of her burger, "Someone pass me the BBQ sauce"?

* * * * *

Sunlight shone brightly through the gap in the curtain. When you checked the clock it read ten fifty three. You both had made sure to eat something before this camping trip before the chaotic couple would be by at eleven.

A thud from over your shoulder has you turning your head with a quirked eyebrow. Peppino had, in his arms, a particularly large something he was lugging through the living room.

"What is that?" You ask, hurrying to help him steady the object at it's opposite end.

"It's-a worth it," He wheezed, "Trust me".

Instead of pressing the issue -you narrowly miss hitting the corner of the wall- you help Peppino prop it up against the wall. Only just as soon as he had set that down Peppino retrieved another bag.

"I-a feel like we're going to regret this…" Peppino groaned, setting the last of the camping supplies by the door.

"How bad can it really be?" You reply idly.

You both let out a shriek, shooting upright as a car abruptly starts honking loudly, as if it was right at the front door.

Peppino regained his composure, his eyelids drooping as he gave you a pointed looked. "Do I-a really need to give examples mi amour"?

"Ok so they're a little obnoxious-"

Another round of beeps began again.

Just a little. You tuck your lower lip in while Peppino's lips turned into a fine line as he said nothing. He sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly.

"That's-a it, I'm-a bringing my-a migraine pills." he said, stalking off towards the bathroom. A few containers rustled followed a cabinet squeak and click shut.

The relentless serenade to you finally stopped as you swung the front door open. The vehicle was been backed into the driveway, trunk already open, with Noisette standing beside it beaming as you and Peppino stepped outside. You both grimaced as you crossed the threshold from a perfectly reasonable temperature to irrational heat.

"Hi Y/N! Mr. Peppino! I don't know if it's Summer or we woke up in hell!" She cackled.

"Please tell me you have the bug spray." You reply, tugging your luggage down the steps.

"Uh huh!" Noisette hummed, helping you hoist your belongings into the car. "I brought store bought, lemon eucalyptus, and a flamethrower"!

Your eyes widened as you nearly drop your bag. "What was that last one"?

"Lemon eucalyptus?" She smiles sweetly at you.

"Hey!" Noise shouted, ducking his head out of the car window, "Less talking we're burning daylight"!

* * * * *

Noisette chattered excitedly as Noise exited your driveway and was turning out onto the main road. In hindsight you wondered if it would've been better if the Noise couple and you and Peppino took seperate vehicles.

The car lurched forward, knocking you into a backward slide. Peppino wrapped is arm around your shoulder glaring at Noise's reflection in the rear view mirror. In the next moment Peppino shot you a look that could only convey "I hope we don't regret this".

"Just don't tell anyone! Me and Theo go there all the time"!

"Noisette, really, who would we tell?" You reply dryly.

She hitched her chin. "People".

The light changed green and Noise pressed down on the gas pedal, turning you onto the highway entrance. Buildings and scenery blurred by. To pass the time Noisette opted to have everyone take turns listing off their favorite food or drink before switching to "I spy".

In the distance you read obnoxiously flashing lights with the words "NTV", drawing nearer as Noise shifted into the turn lane for the building. The car slowed to a halt, Noise shifting it into park before cutting off the engine. "We have arrived!" He proudly announces, unbuckling the seatbelt. You shoot him a questioning look, watching Noisette and him begin getting out of the car. "Why are we at your job"?

"Tch. Because we're getting ice cream, remember?" Noise retorts tapping his temple as if making total sense. "Now come on, slackers".

As you and Peppino both get out of the car, Noise guides you through the building into an elevator. You watch as he presses the button to the top floor, feeling the elevator leap upwards.

A cool rush of air greets your face as the doors slide open, with Noise continuing to motion you both to follow him to the opposite, dimmer part of the hallway.

It was roped off with multiple signs saying “Under Construction,” “Do not enter.”, and “Hard hat zone.” Noise simply lifted one of the tape lines up, stooping into a mock bow with a flourish of his hand. “Ladies first".

Noisette hummed happily and ducked under the rope, disappearing into the darkness. You and Peppino pause with a frown at Noise. "Where are we going anyway?” Peppino asked.

Noise chuckled, “Me and 'ette do this all the time, quit worrying and start climbin' ".

Noisette poked her head back out from the door, "Come on! You guys are so slow!" before disappearing once again. A creaking sound echoed, steadily traveling upwards and growing fainter.

Your shoulders sagged as you resigned to this fate. Pushing the door open the rest of the way revealed nothing of what lay beyond, just complete darkness.

With tentative steps you duck under ropes and tape. The air smelt stale and had a heaviness to it you immediately noticed as you crossed the threshold. Beyond that however the room was abandoned and dim. As it turned out it wasn't completely pitch black in here. There seemed to be very faint sunlight coming from somewhere up above along with overhead skylights that cast a pale light over the area.

Old floor tiles were ripped up in some places while others had patches of newer, fancier tiling. Wooden planks were stacked high against one wall and dusty tarps were strewn about.

Behind you, you felt Peppino's hand brush against yours as he followed close behind. Your stomach lurched uneasily.

Noise tossed his head to the side, gesturing towards the stairs. Without another word he strides passed you, beginning his own ascent. Without much left to do, you take a tiny step forward only to gasp as you feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back. "Let-a me go first." Peppino whispers.

He cautiously stepped on each board before putting his weight on them. "This seems unsafe. Though I shouldn't be surprised since this is-a your idea." Peppino grumbles at Noise's back.

Noise snorted, “You’re fine, trust me!” He then suddenly spun on his heel to lean over Peppino, bringing them practically nose to nose, one corner of his lips twitching up into a manic grin, “You do trust me, right"?

You swallow a yelp as you stagger at the abrupt stop, nearly missing your footing.

Peppino shot him a dull look, "Honestly? No. I-a don't".

As if on cue, Noisette shouted something from above. An object blurred past you and clattering from below could be heard a heartbeat later. You guessed it was most likely broken shards of a step that had just crumbled under her not seconds ago.

Peppino trained a glare at Noise. "You're going to get us-a killed." He hissed.

"Quit. Worrying. We've been doin' this for months. We know where not to step. What ever that was, was not a step." He replied matter of factly, hitching his chin.

Right.

You glanced over the railing towards the floors beneath that you already climbed. It may as well have been a gaping black void, with the complete absence of light down below.

"So…" you drawl, avoiding a foot sized hole in the next step, "You said you've been doing this for months. How long has this been under construction? And what is this supposed to be when it's done"?

Noise glanced down -over Peppino- at you briefly. "About eight months now." He replied, annoyance evident in his tone. "We haven't seen the construction crew for a while since their paperwork and licenses are on hold". He scoffed, "It's supposed to be- " Noise shook his head, turning to the side to cough, "You know what? Until it's built, you'll just have to wait n' see for yourself".

Finally you had made it to the top of the stairwell where a door leading outside lay at the end of the hall. Noisette was bouncing on the balls of her heels excitedly as you came into view. "Finally! You guys took forever!" A mock exasperated sigh escaped her lips.

As you all gathered at the door you wondered what mess awaited beyond. With a click and a tug of the handle you threw your hands up over your eyes.

A warm breeze greeted you as you stepped into the patch of daylight streaming in through the opening. You pause for a second to squint against the brightness that blinded you as you passed over the threshold.

Through the brightness you felt a hand find yours and gently guide you onto the outer walkway. You knew it was Peppino without needing to see, recognizing the shape and roughness of his hand. Now that your eyes had adjusted you could make out his silhouette against the sun. Beyond him however, the sight made your eyes widen slightly.

You can see everything for miles and miles. Peppino squeezed your hand gently in reassurance -though you were unsure if it was for him, you, or for you both- as he followed closely behind The Noise and Noisette. The woosh of air from this height was forceful enough that you pressed into the stony wall for extra security. For a moment a wave of vertigo washed over you as you peered below, causing you to inch even further back from the ledge.

As you and Peppino eased down to take a seat close to the ledge you both looked to the couple still standing. Seemingly pleased with this, you watch as the pair head back towards the exit.

"Alright both of you sit tight, we'll be right back." Noise called over his shoulder as he made a grab to open the door.

"Wait where are you going?" You call after him, to which Noise shoots you look, quirking an eyebrow. "To get the ice cream. The reason we're up here". With that, the door swung shut after the couple.

As you wait for their return you make yourself comfortable, opting to avoid letting your legs dangle over the precipice. Barring the fact one wrong move would have you free falling into an early grave, the view from up here was nice.

Down below you watched in fascination at all the cars and people milling about in all directions. Further beyond lay the expanse of parking lots, brimming with cars that shimmered under the afternoon sun.

Peppino draped an arm around your shoulder before pulling you closer. You leant your head against as you take in the clouds hovering overhead just out of reach.

"I-a still can't believe he talked-a us into being up here." Peppino mumbled, keeping as far away from the ledge as possible.

You let out a small laugh. He slowly pulls away from you and the two of you stare at each other, taking in each others features. Peppino smiles softly at you, reaching his hand out to cup your face. In response you move to rest your hand on top of his.

"What-a crazy bastard actually comes up here?" Peppino said but was cut short by the sound of the door.

"You're looking at 'em!" Noise crowed, proudly hitching his thumb to his chest. Noisette was following close behind him, multiple plastic wrappers in hand and nodding enthusiastically at his statement. You pull away from your boyfriend with a roll of your eyes. Crazy didn't begin to describe the pair.

"We brought the goods!" Noisette sang, holding out two popsicles for you each to take.

Peppino tore open the wrapper first, tentatively popping the treat into his mouth. You watch him make a face as he inspected the aqua colored popsicle. "Why is it just-a salty"?

"It's salty and sweet!" Noisette retorted. You quirk a brow, following suit as you shoved the wrapper into your pocket. The flavor at first made you balk but once you got used to the saltiness there were faint hints of vanilla.

"Yeah this isn't my preferred flavor either." You agree, "What ever this is".

Noisette eased down to sit on ledge as well beside The Noise, crossing her dangling legs at the ankles.

"Be grateful Noisette didn't make Pepto-Popsicles." Noise replied, taking a bite out of the frozen treat.

"They'd be great for an upset stomach!" Noisette snapped.

"With all the fucked up shit you make, yeah probably." Noise mumbled. Although not quietly enough as Noisette narrowed her eyes and shoved his shoulder. "Theo I will push you off this ledge"!

You nearly lose the popsicle over the precipice, but managed to get it back in your grip once more. The couple's bickering became background noise as the breeze whistled past your ears.

A warm breeze picked up. You close your eyes, simply basking in the light. Every so often you'd tilt your head, joining in the conversation with the couple or with Peppino. The time was lost on you, your only measure of it being from how the sun was now on it's slow descent. If you gave it another half hour it would be dipping behind tallest building in front of you.

Ignoring the looming danger of falling you could see yourself doing this again. Another stronger breeze sent you backwards this time, a cold spike lurched into your stomach as you -thankfully- were shoved opposite of the ledge.

Actually, no, scratch that, you shake your head. Once was enough. You'd didn't quite have a wish to become pavement paste.

"Alright enough of this. Let's get going, no way in hell I'm setting up a tent in the dark." Noise interrupted, slowing getting to his feet and stretching.

* * * * *

Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, dappling the forest floor with patches of warmth. The chirping of birds and the gentle babbling of a nearby river formed a symphony that echoed throughout the woods.

You muttered to yourself as you dragged your feet on the muddied forest path. It rained overnight, so the terrain was more difficult to walk through than usual. As you ventured deeper into the dense forest, your shoes sank into the soft earth, releasing the earthy aroma of moss and decaying leaves.

Peppino insisted on carrying all of your shared belongings to where ever the couple was leading you. You tried arguing that you were perfectly capable of carrying at least one of the bags, especially when his hands were plenty full. Peppino waved you off, but relented a few steps from the car, handing you two of the cases.

The Noise was acting the same, shooting you a cheeky smile, as you watched him plainly struggle with carrying everything. “Can’t have the girlfriend exerting herself,” he replied through gritted teeth, huffing after taking a step.

The sun beat down on the unshaded bit of earth in front of you while you already feel the tickle of sweat forming on your skin. The trail may have been winding but it was thankfully flat and on a slight downward slope.

As you arrive at "The place", as Noise proudly announced, you watch as he dumps all of the supplies onto the ground with a relieved groan. Nearby a stream gurgled as it's crystal clear water lazily flowed. The clearing itself was relatively flat where only the strongest sunlight beat down on the middle of the site and along the river bank.

The Noise wasted no time finding a spot for his tent, scrambling to claim one end of the campsite. You remember Noisette's comment from yesterday, choosing instead to set up your own tent opposite and far away from theirs.

Peppino set the stakes into the ground while you stooped beside him idly. Unsure of what to help with you shrug and decide you'll be the moral support. The birds above sing freely, harmonzing perfectly with the laps of water from the river just a few feet away. It was then you became aware of the sticky heat clinging to you. You glance off to the side to see Noisette had begun to form a fire pit, pursing your lips.

Seeing as Peppino didn't need your help at this exact moment you rise to your feet, making your way to the water. After taking your shoes and socks off the cold water flowed up over your toes and ankles as you gingerly dip your them into the water. As the sun beat down on you the stream provided a welcome respite. With your pants rolled to your shins, you sink your legs deeper into the stream where your feet sink into the mud.

You remained at the bank, enjoying the gentle breeze. Occasionally you stole a glance at campsite progress. Noisette had built a small fire and was currently rifling through a bag, pulling out various snacks. Further away The Noise had set down a blanket with what looked like playing cards.

Peppino on the other hand, you were surprised to see he had already set up the tent and was currently busying himself with rigging up a hammock. Now that got your attention as you realized what the heavy wrapped object had been.

Peppino glanced up as you approached, almost dropping one of the cords he was holding.

You tilt your head, stooping to pick up and hold one end. "Why did you bring that"?

"I-a thought later we could-a stargaze?" He replied sheepishly. Peppino tilted his head upward with you mirroring the gesture. Overhead the sun no longer beat down on the clearing, instead disappearing behind the trees. When night fell it promised a full view of the sky without anything in the way.

By the time everyone established their tents and the campground the sun had settled. Light gradually disappeared beyond the horizon and birdsong was replaced by the crackling of fire and crickets.

The campfire crackled and hissed, sending tendrils of orange and yellow flames dancing into the night sky, casting an inviting glow on the campsite. As you sit by the fire, the aroma of roasted marshmallows fills the air, creating an irresistible temptation.

At one point Noise and Noisette disappeared inside their tent grab more marshmallows, leaving you and Peppino alone by the fire. One hand absently fell on top of his. He tilted his head at you and smiled, his eyes reflecting the fire's light.

"Who's up for cards?" Noise shouted, waving the deck in the air. You both shrug and nod at the suggestion. Noisette humming as she returned with a clipboard.

“What are we playing?”

“Blackjack.” Noise replied, adjusting the blanket to make more space for the game. Noisette looked over at him, offering a grin which he returned genuinely as Noise handed her the cards.

Several rounds go by with Noisette staying out of the game to keep score and shuffle the deck each round.

"Alright. So far we have 5 for Theo, 7 for Peppino, and 4 for Y/N!" Noisette nodded, popping another marshmallow into her mouth. "Ok my turn! Who wants to switch"?

You raise your hand tentatively. Noisette hands you the paper and pencil which you set aside for now while taking the deck of cards.

Multiple rounds followed, having finished the latest round had you mumbling over the score, pencil scribbling away. You drew back, taking a sip of your water.

"Alright, let's see, in total, Noisette and Noise have 14 points, and Peppino and I have 13 points. For now".

Expecting one of them to switch with you, you stare at the couple blankly as Noisette leaned over to The Noise whispering something.

“Welp, that’s game!” Noise declared with a clap. Rising from the ground he pulled Noisette up with him, attempting to drag her off as he hastily added, “Had fun guys, but we’re gonna call it a night".

You purse your lips, watching them duck and disappear into the tent. "Uhm…" In your peripheral Peppino was making a face. He blinked once, then tilting his head to you, he held out his hand for you to take.

He helped you to your feet, you stretch your legs until the tingling subsided. Peppino took a step, tugged your hand and urging you to follow. The bonfire glowing illuminated your path towards the your side of the campsite. You walked past your tent nearer towards the river.

The forest was illuminated by the moon while the faint scent of pine needles mingled with the smoke of the campfire. A silvery glow was cast over the water, the surface shimmering and reflecting the starlit sky.

You climb into the hammock with Peppino following suit, staring up into the cloudless sky. The night sky stretched endlessly above like an indigo canvas dotted with with countless stars. Here and there you spotted a few constellations you recognized as they sparkled like scattered diamonds.

“Wow…” you whispered, unable to tear your eyes away from the sky. “It’s beautiful”.

Peppino settled in to the hammock, leaning back to rest his arms under his head, looking up at the stars contentedly. “I-a told you it’d be worth it,” he replied softly, tilting his head towards you.

He gently runs his fingers down your face before tipping your chin up so he can give you a kiss as you both settle in for the night. Comfortable silence envelops you, the only sound being their gentle breaths. Peppino smiled, watching as your chest rises and falls in steady rhythm.

As you let out a yawn Peppino pulls you on top of him, holding you tightly to his chest as he rolled the both of you over, tucking his face against your neck. The water lulls you to sleep, in your half asleep stupor you feel Peppino wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head before settling in for the night himself.

"Goodnight mi tesoro".

After a while, his breathing slowed, though his arms stayed tight around you.

[wispstalk]

People are genuinely filling up my dash with takes about how LLMs are rocketing us into societal degeneration. The same people are also proudly admitting they've never even used the dumb consumer-grade toy that causes them so much panic.

I can't imagine being this devoid of curiosity. So I'm tempted to talk about how I use chatGPT, in the hopes of demystifying it. But all the tumblr criticisms rest on moral premises! Nothing I say can punch through an unquestioned reactionary impulse.

All I'll say is that I resent being positioned as "pro-AI," as if that's a moral stance I'm taking. I'm not pro-AI any more than I'm pro-search-engine. Sam Altman and his ilk can be dragged into the street and torn apart by dogs* for all I care, but software is just software.

[moderndavetherapy]

Perfection

Remember Covid?

The whole world shifted and life as we knew it changed with the introduction of this new virus. Wearing masks, cashing stimulus checks, and getting furloughed was the new status quo. The impact Covid had upon society was just as big if not bigger than it had on an individual person. Take that it in....

Covid-19. The latest plague that could weaken your well-being, take away your taste, ruin your respiratory system, and lose your life. Not only could you be killed, but you were guaranteed to be changed at a minimum. The way it altered society was off the charts. Schooling, working, grocery shopping, eating, and simply living were all affected in a negative way. From being deemed vital to finding out you lost your career were two sides of a coin flip that even the most degenerate bettors couldn't quench.

Even though we live in an era filled with scientific and technological advancements beyond the average brain, the human race just can't seem to dodge or dismantle physical and mental illness. These cancers and curses spread like a wildfire, burning up the entire family tree making it its destiny to reach your soul. Three cups of asthma, half a cup of depression, one teaspoon of hypertension and a dash of bipolar is the recipe for one David carbonara.

Lately, theres been one "bug" thats been doing more destruction than Hitler during Nazi Germany. That would be the infection of perfection...

There's got to be at least one asshole thinking, "I can't wait to hear about this privileged white fool's first world problem of not getting the CEO promotion or getting a new Tesla cyber truck in the wrong color." Touche', but hear me out...

Somewhere during the times when I was wee lad, we got a few things twisted and I've been tangled ever since. Ma always said, "Just do your best and everything will be alright." From exquisite performances across all avenues of my life: piano recitals, baseball diamonds, classrooms, laboratories, and damn near everywhere I've been, success has been found with an absence of happiness.

I remember being twelve years old walking away from my favorite place on earth, the little league baseball field. I thought there was a chance I'd be on Sportscenter the next day, after a starstruck performance of going 3-3, 3 HR 6RBI. The ugliest part about the statline was we didn't win the game. As I walked towards my mom's grey honda civic with my three homerun balls in hand, all I could think about was what I could have done different to change the outcome of the game. Instead of celebrating the best game of my life, I played out thousands of scenarios from separate timelines in which the win would've been obtained.

Alright alright, instead of reliving some childhood memories let's take a look at something a little more recent. I took my last job in the cannabis industry as an extraction technician. Essentially my job was to transform flower into various concentrates and my motto was, "Fire in, fire out." I remember my first run, tightening the bolts of a steel column that I just filled with fresh frozen material. My new boss gave me the standard parameters for their system, but I had some other ideas in mind. I'll never forget the liquid gold that poured like honey out of the collection column into the glass baking sheet. I found my favorite metal spatula and started whipping the eventual badder, imagining I was on Hell's Kitchen being watched by Gordon Ramsey. After all post processing was completed and all solvents were purged, it turned into a waiting games as the testing facility diagnosed the samples to determine the results. After four days, I was called into the lab director's office and was interrogated like I was on trial. After learning I had produced one of the best products the company had every seen (one that won the 2020 Jack Herer Cup for Best Sativa Concentrate) I spent more time focusing on the flaws, rather the success. I ignored the obscenely high terpene and THC % results and complained about the slight dryness of the product. Instead of accepting the praise and compliments from coworkers, all that ran through my mind was what could be perfected.

I get it, to some, it may some come off like I'm bitching about minor imperfections. Some kids never get to play organized sports and some adults never get a choice in the careers. That's not the point I'm trying to make. There have been numerous success stories of my life that have resulted in dismay, due to misconstruing trying my best for perfection.

As kids, we are urged to shoot for the stars and strive for greatness. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. My favorite athlete is and always will be Kobe Bryant. He didn't win every championship, or even make every clutch shot, but I love him most for his work ethic and mentality. Kobe once said, "I was chasing perfection and excellence, even though I knew I will probably never catch it." I can understand that nobody is or ever will be perfect, but I struggle with accepting it.

Something still hasn't fully clicked between understanding and accepting. I'm not trying to defy gravity or take over the world, but I can't help but think I could've done better in every situation. This nightmare in my overanalytical mind, that runs like Usain Bolt, has led to countless sleepless nights. These sleepless nights allow the infection to spread like a cancer that slowly deteriorates my dreams. It's almost a paradox in itself. Why strive for perfection, when it can never be obtained? Why practice a craft that can never be perfected? The answer is plain and simple...because we can.

The infection of perfection has slowly loosened its' grip upon my throat and I've been able to let out a gasp of relief. I'm not only embracing, but ACCEPTING, that one can perform their best and still make countless mistakes. Most importantly...ITS ALRIGHT! It's fine to keep up with hobbies and activities that you enjoy doing, even if you're not very good at them. We are slowly getting in the habit of being happy knowing that I did everything I could, even if the results are not what we desire. I can go to sleep in peace at night, knowing I didn't execute perfectly. The infection of perfection has enabled me to put forth extraordinary efforts and a work ethic that cannot be learned. I am thankful for that aspect.

Chasing perfection can lead one to new heights and even make the world a better place. Imagine the world without Steve Jobs or Stanley Kubrick. This mindset allowed these two to reach new levels of success. As I've learned more about who I am, I know I will continue the never-ending chase of perfection...

The only difference is that I will now acknowledge my flaws and simply move past them in acceptance, rather than dwell in a fictitious reality I've deemed the Infection of Perfection.

[sageywritings]

Flashback

Target: Beacon Academy

Operatives: Sienna Umberon, Dustin Millaray, Karma Gylden

ETA: 5 minutes

Merry Christmas, dryads and degenerates! Have a day late present from ya boi Sagey! Chapter 9 of my RWBY oc fic Flames of Change! As always check the pinned post on this blog for the chapter list. Thanks for reading and hope ya enjoy!

Solomon Roxos belongs to me.

Sienna Umberon belongs to @gruntnuker-rwby

Tango Squadron (Dusty, Karma, T) belong to @wetsliceofbread

"Captain, everyone’s in position. Awaiting your word."

It was the second time the voice coming from the headset buzzed into Sienna’s ears. The first time was unsuccessful in snapping her back into reality. Her eyes were firmly honed in on the Vale CCT tower sitting motionless in the dead of night. Vale authorities had sent a team in order to establish a safe zone, basically whatever huntsmen that hadn’t abandoned Beacon Academy as a lost cause they could scrape together, along with a limited amount of soldiers provided by Atlas. With the Vale relay tower out of commission, even communication within the same kingdom was spotty at best, and anyone outside the major hubs were completely in the dark. That’s why officials viewed this mission as imperative. After a long and grueling fight against the grimm that still seemingly had no end, they were actually able to procure enough ground to begin making progress in restoring global communications. But, the safe zone’s existence was extremely fragile. The smallest push could erase months of forward advancement.

And that’s why Sienna was here. The White Fang had received intel of this progress, so High Leader Taurus sent her and a team of their own to undo all of it. No one better to lead a strike team into Beacon Academy - or more accurately, its ruins - than a former student. And no one better to spark a little mayhem than Sienna Umberon.

But as she sat perched on a tree branch, mentally tracking the route of every patrolling guard on every level of the tower that she had vision of for the twentieth time, her mind began to wander. Back to the times when she called these walls home. To her first days when she was giddy with excitement telling Jade to tuck and roll before being launched careening through the sky and into the Emerald Forest. The time Sienna started an all-out pillow fight war between Team JASR and their next door neighbors Team DASH that ended up spreading to the entire dorm thanks to her brother spreading the word about it. The time her and Amber devised a plan to sneak away with all the cookie dough when the team decided to bake cookies. All the nights she spent talking with Riley until 5 AM whether they had class the next morning or not. When she met that redhead in that same forest and they grabbed that chess piece together, Sienna had no idea this was going to be someone she poured her aspirations, her passions, her fears to. It was a level of vulnerable she didn’t think she would ever allow for herself, and for every step Riley did the same and let her barriers down in kind.

Then she also remembered the last time she saw them, the last day any student attending Beacon knew normal. She was split up from her teammates after the catastrophe at Amity Colosseum. The voice that spoke through the arena loudspeakers and through every broadcast of the tournament echoed in Sienna’s mind over and over and over again. It was at that moment she knew what needed to be done. She could see Jade, Amber, and Riley from afar, from a rooftop looking down to the street as they had just finished defending a group of civilians from a pack of grimm. Or at least, she made out their vague, blob-like shapes through the tears filling her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye. Goodbyes were too hard.

“Hey. You good?” This time it didn’t come from Sienna’s earpiece but instead from directly below her, albeit barely. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her grimm mask and gave it one long survey, running her thumb over it before putting it on. Now focused on the tower once more, through the slits in her mask she saw not her old home but instead only her objective. She dropped to the ground and finally acknowledged the voice that called to her, even though she had to look up to the stratosphere to do so. The liger-tailed faunus leaning casually on the tree before her stood at a whopping 7’1, leaving Sienna face to chest with him. His black hair was done in a half up half down ponytail, and his skin had a reddish tone to it. His name was Dusty Millaray, and while usually he was the leader of a three-man force known as Tango Squadron, tonight he relaxedly turned the reigns over to Sienna.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Sienna answered. Gotta focus. “Where’s Karma?” As soon as she was mentioned, a cheetah faunus raced to stand in between them, her speed semblance giving her a blink and you miss it arrival. Her athletic build stood a few inches taller than Sienna, but still a foot shorter than the imposing Dusty. Tail swaying slightly, she moved to make sure the bun that kept her dyed blonde hair in place was still in good shape. Her light tan skin was freckled all over, growing more spot like the closer they got to her tail. Karma Gylden knew how to make an entrance.

“Sorry! I was just scouting the other side of the building. More of the same,” she said, hardly out of breath from her run. Dusty smirked and took the opportunity to check out his partner in crime in more ways than one. Sienna shot them both a look. C'mon guys, not now. Stay focused.

“They look a bunch of losers that got stuck with the graveyard shift and don’t wanna be here.” Sienna pressed two fingers to her earpiece as the voice from the radio came in again. The third and final member of the squad, the fennec faunus only known as “T”, was not on site with their fellow Fang teammates. Instead they were far away currently tapping into whatever surveillance system the tower had left to offer.

“Then tell me what these losers are armed with,” Sienna asked.

“Basic model 42s. Not even the new 44s. Guess Atlas cheaped out on them.” Sienna smirked to herself. She was hoping for at least a little challenge, but she would take way too easy all the same. “I have no visual of the top floor though. The nest has no internal feed. Appears to be off the grid.”

“That's where I need to get to. All the fun shit to break is up there. Are they working on it right now?”

“I think I saw a couple of engineers enter the building from the other side,” Karma answered.

“They’ve been working on this 24/7,” Dusty said while finally getting off of the tree. He cracked each of his knuckles with a sly grin growing across his face. “Lucky them.”

“You know the rule. No deaths. Got it?” Sienna said. Dusty raised his hands in innocence. He might’ve been the leader normally, but he knew better than to challenge Sienna. He had heard the stories. He secretly thanked his lucky stars he wasn’t under her command normally. 

“I don’t get why,” T chimed in. “Those wastes of oxygen wouldn’t even think twice about killing one of us. Yet we’re the animals.” 

“Maybe you didn’t get the memo, T. But tonight, I’m in charge. Which means you operate by my rules. We’re gonna prove just how we’re better than them by not being them. Otherwise you can drag your ass out your little VPN powered bunker and fight with us. So no deaths. Got it?!” The fiery symbol of chaos had to fight back the urge to take the radio and char it beyond recognition, only appeased by T giving it a quiet but firm “Sorry Captain.” Sienna gave them all an approving nod before facing the tower once more. One last check of each guard’s path, memorizing ever detail she could. “You guys are gonna be my way in. Now raise some hell. Break everything you can, steal what you think is useful.”

“Let’s go babe,” Dusty said to the cheetah faunus. Using the trees and the darkness of night for cover, they began to circle their way to the front entrance of the tower. There, they could spot two sets of guards, one flanking each side of the front door, while the others were slowly circling the perimeter. As Dusty crouched down to somehow hide in the bushes, he could hear the two guards’ conversation as they listlessly sauntered toward him.

“Like you gotta be fucking kidding me, right? You know who doesn’t have to patrol in the middle of the night?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Watkins. Watkins is probably back in his bunk fucking sleeping right now with his stupid fucking head laid on a pillow while I’m out here stuck with-”. The soldier’s complaining was cut off by the realization that has partner had stopped a couple steps back. He was frozen, rigid, like he couldn’t shake the feeling something was watching them. Looming over them. Like something was casting a massive shadow over them despite there being no sunlight. Then, a deep unfamiliar voice came from the void to confirm his suspicions.

“That’s rough, buddy. Someone need a nap?” The two guards spun around to see a wall dressed in a White Fang uniform. They both barely had time to let out a panicked “what the fuck” and scramble for their weapons before Dusty grabbed both their heads and cracked them together. Both of them instantly dropped to the floor, unmoving. The two guards posted at the door screamed out at the Fang operative and pointed their weapons at him. But in a golden flash, Karma blurred past them, throwing off their aim. She began racing past them back and forth, each time delivering a blow at highway speed, all while the other had nothing to even aim at. Once the first one finally doubled over and fell, she kicked the gun out of the second’s one hands and jammed the butt of it directly into his nose. Dusty rejoined her, offhandedly stepping over one of the incapacitated Atlesian soldiers while making his way to the door. He took one look at the security keypad to the left of the door before inputting his own code five knuckles at once. The now cracked screen emitted a distressed whirring sound before the doors parted ways. He gestured for Karma to take the lead.

As Sienna caught eye of the guards on the second floor turn away from their lookout post as word of an unknown commotion reached them, she pounced on the moment she had been itching for. She made a beeline for the tower. Grabbing the grappling hook on her hip, she shot it upward so it hooked the upper floor railing. The soldiers in that corridor suddenly hushed at hearing the distinct clank of the hook meeting the metal railing. Right as one of them leaned over to aim at whatever was below, Sienna pulled herself up and delivered two boots to his face. His partner unholstered his pistol and fired several panicked and erratic shots at her, none come close to hitting. She took advantage of his frenzy by charging him with claws out and slashing at his chest three times. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed the first soldier staggering back to his feet. So, she grabbed the second soldier arm and violently whipped him into the first one, knocking him back on all fours. A swift punt to the head ensured that both were out cold. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the damage she caused with a prideful smirk.

“Beacon didn’t have to teach me that one. That’s all Vacuo,” Sienna said to herself. The smirk immediately faded. The last thing she needed to do right now was bring up home. Reaching down to one of the guard’s bodies, she swiped a keycard from his pocket. Once she pressed it to the door, it uttered an affirmative beep before opening up and granting her access inside.

“Now where are those elevators?” she thought to herself. She began sprinting down the maze of hallways in hope for her ticket to the top floor. After a few more turns, one backtrack from a dead end that led to a supply closet, and another guard that received a fiery claw mark across his faces for his troubles, Sienna slowed to a stop at a corner upon hearing voices. She pinpointed two more guards standing in front of the elevators, one nodding while receiving a transmission. They both turned around and queued the elevator, so the moment it opened, Sienna rushed toward it. She ended up catching the doors with her foot at the last second. She stepped in between the guards with a confident smirk, unphased by the commands they were shouting or the weapons they were pointing at her as the doors shut. By the time they opened again, only Sienna sauntered out, as the others were reduced to heaps on the floor.

The way to the main control room was very brief by this point. Each side of the hallway was scattered with machines both new and old. Sienna couldn’t tell which ones were useful, so she dragged her flaming claws through all of them, nonchalantly leaving a trail of destruction in her wake. A storm of sparks and smoke followed her as her tail whipped with evil satisfaction. Once she was faced with the door to the control room, she pressed her keycard once more, but this time she was met with a red light and an “ACCESS DENIED”. She growled before just grabbing the lock with a flaming paw. Her grip remained tight out of rage and annoyance, even though the uncontrollable flames were doing damage to her hand, until the lock melted away.

“Shitty lock you got there,” she muttered to herself while shaking her hand and slowly creeping inside. In front of her were several screens that were lit but nothing on them, the center one much bigger than the others. Terminals, both functioning and broken, lined the walls. A lone chair faced the center screen, one that Sienna dismissed as empty at first until she noticed a pair of feet on the floor. It was all she could see from the figure in the chair. She readied her claws and stalked her way forward. Hard to finish repairs with your engineer nerds out of commission. However, just when she got into striking distance, all of the screens went dark. She froze and backed off slightly in confusion. Then, the large center monitor came to life again, displaying something she couldn’t believe. It was displaying… her. 

The video panned out first to show Beacon Academy coated in a blanket of freshly fallen snow. Sienna remembered this; it lived on in stories and legend as the Great Beacon Snow Day. It was the first time she had ever seen snow, which was apparent when she watched herself on the screen pounce head first into a snow pile. The camera turned to catch her team leader Jade laughing at her antics before lightly trying to dig her out. Then the focus was on Dash, a lot healthier than last she saw him in his cell, bundled up in a jacket with arms crossed. The film was just in time catching him getting pelted with a pair of snowballs. He yelled out and started to pack up some snow in his hands to retaliate at the two cackling culprits, Auburn and Sapphire. The camera then spun around once more to reveal DASH’s last teammate, Solomon, was the one filming. He was currently laid under a tree, with Amber curled up comfortably by his side.

Sienna looked on in silence as her younger self exploded out of the snow bank, blowing past Jade in the process. She was in as much of a full sprint as the terrain would let her, which looked about as graceful as one would expect from Sienna’s first time handling ice, toward a certain redhead in a hockey sweater. Riley was on a frozen lake practicing her maneuvering on skates until Sienna took her down into the whiteout once more. The screen cut to black. The jarring contrast was lost on Sienna. In her mind, the video was still playing on loop. Tears began escaping from under her mask. No. Not now. I can’t think of this now…

The lights in the room flipped on, causing Sienna to first cover her eyes before quickly wiping her cheeks before the figure could see. She knew exactly who it was, even before they tossed a familiar purple pair of Technomancer brand  headphones on the table beside them. She still refused to accept it. But she wasn’t given much choice when the chair spun around, leaving her facing with the one who filmed the video, Solomon Roxos. His black hair was just as messy as it was when last she saw him at Beacon. His signature hoodie, however, had been traded away for some uniform looking polo shirt. He silently rose from his seat. The glare from his glasses gave way to piercing blue eyes. Sienna was desperately searching for signs of his usual timidity in his body language, but could find none.

“So,” Sienna said to finally break the silence. “Looks like you got an upgrade. Guess Beacon had plans for you after all.” She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck. It took effort to maintain eye contact. It took even more effort to not burn a handprint on her neck or singe her hair. Why did you have to show up now?!

“Beacon had plans for all of us. You just ignored yours,” Solomon said back, the soft-spoken shyness that charmed Amber seeming like a distant memory. Sienna’s ears flattened.

“Yeah sure, if you believe that. Nobody’s had plans for me from the day I was born,” she said at about half normal volume. If Solomon heard, he didn’t show any kind of impression he did.

“Regardless, if you’re here to kill me, you might want to be quick about it. Otherwise, you got about-”. He pulled his attention down to his coveted supercharged scroll that was fastened to his left forearm as it always was. With a couple presses and swipes, the monitors behind him illuminated again, this time with camera footage from the downstairs lobby. They could see Dusty tormenting a poor scientist by slamming his head so hard into his desk, he fell backwards out of his office chair out cold. The monitor directly next to it came on next with footage of three huntsmen running towards the tower. Each of them were a faunus; one girl with black and purple cat ears and tail, one girl with cow horns on her head, and one guy with owl feathers mixed into his hair. They looked like students, same as Solomon and Sienna both were, but they were all armed and ready to fight. “Let’s say five minutes before backup arrives. And I want an explanation.”

“You’re so confident that those scabs are gonna get past us? Arrogance is just not you, Sol,” she said in a condemning growl before raising a finger to her earpiece. “D, K, heads up you’re about to have company!”

“What?! Where from?” Karma answered.

“Huntsmen! Three hostiles coming via the north entrance!” T answered for her. As they started to give information on what they’re dealing with, Solomon once again began to work on his tablet.

“That’s enough out of you.” The voices of Sienna’s comrades were suddenly drowned out with a static that was twice as loud in Sienna’s ears than it actually was thanks to her growing rage. She really wished she didn’t know Solomon. Then his introverted self wouldn’t bother trying to talk to her. “Now start talking, Captain Umberon.” Her fists were clenched and the tip of her tail was sparking. All it would take is one punch to shut him up so she could finish her mission. So she could leave this school and not have to worry about it. So she could push it to a back corner of her mind to remain untouched. But, even though it’s something she’s had to do her whole life, she couldn’t swing. She sighed. Why couldn’t these memories just stay away?

“The night Beacon fell. Do… do you remember what that voice that came across the Vytal Festival broadcast said?” Solomon paused for a moment, trying to decipher what “voice” she was referring to before an image of every screen barring the one on his arm lighting up red with a black chess piece.

“The hacker?” he asked softly. “Not really. I didn’t really pay attention. It sounded like some vague firestarting revolution rhetoric.

“Yeah of course you’d think that,” she again mumbled. Solomon was tired of this act from Sienna already. “I thought you of all people would at least be listening. You were always better at that crap in school than me.”

“You really don’t agree with the hacker, d-”

“And what if I fucking did, huh?!” Sienna interrupted as she began to show her teeth again. She was tightly gripping a wrench she took from atop the computer next to her. “Our leaders cling to their status quo just so they can hang onto their precious positions of power with both hands! But this status quo is one that punishes me for something beyond my control. It’s cursed me and many others like me to have to live at the bottom rung of the ladder just because I was born with these stupid fucking things!” She swatted at her fox ears, a slight clang sound coming from one of her piercings. “They say they do this in the name of peace. But is this what peace looks like for me? For the faunus? All the discrimination, the poverty, the shit conditions. Because if this is what “peace” looks like in their system, then their system needs to be fucking broken!”

“You’re right. There’s a lot of injustice in the world, especially towards you. I don’t disagree. But you were already doing the right thing in trying to fix it. Being a huntress is the correct steps in being the change you want to see in the world.”

“You just don’t get it.” Sienna was already adamantly shaking her head before he had even finished. “You never will get it. You’ll never know what it’s like to be in my shoes. You’ll never know it’s like to turn to the White Fang at twelve years old because it’s the only way you can think of to support your brother. They’ve backed me when the rest of the world kicked me while I was down!”

“And what about Alex, hm? Does he approve of this? Since you sound so confident,” Solomon said, perking up at the mention of her brother. Sienna’s knuckles wrapped tight around the wrench before she used it to smash the computer monitor next to her. Finally something she could take out her frustration on. She began going down the row, one after the other, breaking everything in the way. Solomon went on. “And what about your teammates? Your friends? You think they don’t back you? Do you know how much they’d go to hell and back for you?” This got Sienna to stop in her tracks. Her masked gaze was fixated on her boots.

“They’re probably over me by now. Doubt they’d even look back to see me again. I know I didn’t look back for them…” she said.

“So that’s it. Leave your friends behind for a terrorist organization targeting innocent tolerant humans. What about Sapphire? Or me?”

“Tolerant?” Sienna scoffed loudly before it morphed into a full on laugh. “That’s what you call yourself? How many times did you just sit and watch your little tablet while your team leader berated me almost on the daily! You had every chance in the world to ‘do what was right’. And guess what. You didn’t.” Now it was Solomon’s turn to glance downward at the floor. He rubbed his arm. Finally, there’s the Sol I know. “How is someone like me supposed to start a family and raise a child and have them face the world in this kind of state?”

“And what about Riley?” he said.

“Do. NOT. Mention her name.” Sienna didn’t need to hear any more from the tech expert. It was already wracking enough that Sienna had to see her face, her smile, her gorgeous maroon hair, happy from time that they spent together. Squinting at her, Solomon saw exactly what he wanted to see from her. Reluctance. Regret.

“You think she’d start a family with you now?” He went to the wound again. It resulted in an extremely hot wrench being tomahawked at his face. He had to full on duck to dodge it before it crashed into a keyboard behind him.

“SHUT UP!” Sienna had heard enough. She ripped off the mask and glared at Solomon with eyes incensed with fury. Her claws came out and she rushed Beacon’s former resident hacker. Solomon was able to sidestep the first blow, but another one came just as quickly. He was barely able to block this one with his scroll, the claws scraping and sparking off of its bulletproof casing. Solomon was never comfortable in close hand to hand combat. He needed time and space in order to get a grasp of his surroundings. Auburn had worked hard training him to get better, but it was never to a level of excellence, merely competence. So Sienna’s signature blitzing style denying him time to even think was his kryptonite. He took a hard punch to the solar plexus that briefly winded him, before Sienna followed up with a big slash to his face. Knocking him to the floor, the shot sent his glasses flying off his face into shattered pieces.

“I said not to mention her,” Sienna sternly said, standing over him with a boot firmly planted onto his chest. He struggled as hard as he could to get her off, but it was like stone. Sienna could spot he was leaking blood from a cut under his left eye. “Not a day goes by when I don’t regret leaving her. But, I need to take my fate into my own hands for the first time in my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that isn’t taken away from me too.” Suddenly, the earpiece began stirring to life again, as words began to make their way through the flood of static. It was only a few sparse words, then a few more filled in the blanks, until finally a whole warning.

“Boss! We lost sight of one of them! You might have one coming up to you!” Dusty’s voice came in, ragged from the fight he had been in the whole time. No sooner than when Sienna’s ears flicked with the news did she hear rapidly approaching footsteps to the door. Just as her hold on Solomon loosened, a transforming sound brought her attention to underneath her. Solomon’s tablet had turned into a machine gun, aimed right at the Fang leader. She was able to dodge from the single gunshot fired.

“Fall back! We got what we came here for!” she said to the radio, just hoping her transmission would make it out as she dashed to a window.

“Run away. Just like you did before,” Solomon said shakily as he weakly rolled over to watch her make her exit. Right as the doors were pried open, and that same cat faunus Sienna saw from the security footage came in to Solomon’s aid, Sienna made her exit. She grabbed her mask and busted through the window before using the grappling hook to swing her way safely down to the trees below. The cat faunus never caught a sight of her. With the canopy of trees as more than sufficient cover, she was able to put considerable distance between herself and the campus before eventually reuniting with Dusty and Karma about half a mile away.

“Woooo! Love me a good fight! That bird knew how to throw down!” Dusty said with a laugh. Arms waving like he was just getting warmed up, he sounded more like he just had a fun experience on vacation more than having to fight his way out of a White Fang mission.

“Yeah, and T is gonna love all these toys I found for him!” Karma replied just as gleefully, motioning to a bag slung over her shoulder. She seemed completely unbothered by the run she took to get here. Unlike Sienna, who was doubled over heaving in an attempt to catch her breath. “What about you, Sienna?” the cheetah asked. She didn’t reply at first, only beginning to lead the team back to their transport out of here. “Sienna?” she asked again.

“Mission was a success. We wrecked shop. They aren’t fixing that anytime soon. Good job, guys.” The pair both smirked, with Karma resting her head on Dusty’s shoulder as he pulled her close. “You too, T.”

“Thanks for the souvenirs, K. Can’t wait to see what the kingdoms keep locked away in their basements,” T said over the radio. The celebrations were hardly over though before Sienna started leading the walk to their transport back to base a couple miles away. The other two White Fang soldiers mentally noted she remained mostly quiet. Her eyes were cast downward. Her tone before notably lacked any distinct excitement; it was very straightforward. Any attempt of making small talk only solicited one word answers if it didn’t fall on deaf ears entirely. In fact, she only opened her mouth unprompted once, a question directed at Karma.

“Karma. The prisoner. She’s been doing ok?”

“The girl? Yeah she’s fine. Keeps complaining she wants to go home but we’ve been taking care of her, just like you ordered. I make sure she’s fed and still has her sketch books. She’s even opened up to me a little, way more than Dusty or T.” Dusty shrugged like he couldn’t have cared less; his mission was keep her alive and that’s all there was to it. Sienna nodded softly, arms stuffed in her pockets all the way to their rendezvous point. It was going to be a long, long trip back to base.

[deathboundinautumn]

“...damn kids”

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | PART 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Swearing, Mourning, Nudity

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

-----

The smell of soap filled the air on the porch of the boarding house, the same as it did every other Thursday. Work didn’t start until the late afternoon, so you took the extra time in the morning to do some chores around the boarding house. It wasn’t the most entertaining of times, but it netted you a good ten dollars off of your monthly rent, and you recently had been able to convince Ben to work on his reading as you washed.

This week, there was notably more to wash, with an additional border at the house. Mary seemed nice enough, if a little arrogant, and had offered to pay you an additional five dollars to wash her laundry alongside yours. Given that it looked like she hadn’t worked with her hands a day in her life, and not expecting much to wash after the woman’s short stay, you’d agreed.

However, you were surprised to note that, over the course of less than one week, Mary had managed to need five chemises, three skirts, and four blouses washed. At first, you had balked at the large pile of laundry, who goes through so much in one week? Seemingly having missed your surprised face, Mary had thanked you before heading back inside, mentioning something about coffee and a book.

Honestly, you would have been furious with her if you hadn’t taken the time to look at the clothes. The majority of them were mostly clean, the shirts slightly scented with sweat, and the skirts and chemises had a light ring of dirt on the hem. All of these clothes could have easily been worn weeks or even months longer before they even needed to be considered for washing. This left you more amused than it did irritated - if she wanted to pay you to essentially dip her clothes in soapy water while you were doing the rest of the wash anyway, you would certainly take the extra money.

You hummed quietly, lightly scrubbing the dirt from the hem of one of her skirts, as Ben practiced reading to you from an “Otis Miller” storybook that he had been slowly working his way through. He would slowly sound out each word, as you had taught him, and occasionally ask for help with larger, unfamiliar words. 

He had read through an entire 5 pages by the time Mary had come outside to join you. She held two steaming cups of coffee in her hands and her book under her arm, as she sat in the worn rocking chair. She placed one cup at her side and held the other out for you. “I’ve made it fresh, I thought you might like some,” she mentioned with a smile. “And to thank you for helping me out with my laundry.”

You smiled back and stood, wiping your wet hands on your skit. Was it still considered being helpful if you were only doing it because she paid you? You supposed it didn’t really matter. “I’m glad to help out, Mary,” you reached for the cup, holding it and enjoying the warmth on your hands, “thank you for the coffee.” There was a small stool next to where Ben sat, which you took, ruffling his hair and giving him a kiss on the top of his head as you sat next to him. 

Having seen you take a break from work, Ben looked up from his book. “Mama, can I go play?” He had been hard at work for about an hour - he deserved a break.

You nodded, and he immediately darted out towards the long grass in the yard, where a cat was sleeping lazily in the sun. Upon hearing Bens footsteps, the poor animal stood up and dashed to his left. The cat was fast, but your son was determined - he dashed after her. You laughed lightly and sipped your coffee, keeping an eye on the boy. “Have you been enjoying your stay so far?” you asked, not exactly comfortable with the silence.

Mary was also watching Ben with a small smile on her face. “As much as possible. It’s a…” she paused, evidently searching for the right word, “charming little town, and I do wish I were here under better circumstances.” The diplomatic answer. Valentine was a dirty, smelly old town and everyone who lived there knew it. The nickname “Mudtown” had stuck for a reason. 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward of me, but if you don’t mind me asking,” you started, fiddling with the warm coffee cup in your hands and turning your gaze to her. The steam from your cup was rising in the cool morning air, and the warmth seeped into your chilled fingers nicely. “What brings you to Valentine? Most of the time we only get tradesmen and livestock around here. It’s not usually the kind of place for a high-society lady like yourself.”

Mary seemed only slightly taken aback by your question. She must have been asked the same thing nearly every day since her arrival - everyone knew this was not a town for tourists. If she wanted to have a taste of the outdoors, she was much better off in Strawberry, which you had heard was recently marketing itself as a mountain resort. “Oh! Well, I suppose you’ll find out eventually, but I would appreciate it if you don’t spread the word around,” she looked off into the distance as she spoke, as if she was too embarrassed to look into your eyes.

“Of course.”

She sighed before continuing, her breath blowing the steam from her coffee away from her. “My brother, little Jamie, he’s run off and,” she paused and she chewed lightly on her bottom lip, “and joined the Chelonians. I’ve heard he’s been seen around here and was hoping to convince him to come home.”

“The Chelonians?” you had recognised the name from the papers, but had never really paid attention to the group. Supposedly they were camped nearby, in the mountains, but you didn’t know much else. They had never bothered to come into town that you know of, and most people rarely had time or interest in venturing so far away, so no one you knew had actually seen them in person.

“Oh yes, it’s some ridiculous new religion of some sort that worships turtles in the mountains, from what I understand,” she explained, waving a hand in front of her face to emphasize how indifferent she felt about the group. “I have to say, it’s all terribly confusing and I don’t see why he was so taken with it.”

“Oh, I… I’m very sorry,” you responded, more out of politeness than anything. If he ran away, why was Mary sent to get him, of all people? What about the rest of the family? Mary seemed determined, but you hadn’t actually seen her do anything to look for her brother. Was there no one better suited for the job? “Did he say anything to you before he left? About why he was joining?”

She sighed and stood from the rocking chair to pace over to the porch railing, leaving the chair rocking lightly in her wake. She leaned on the rail and gazed further into the horizon. “Oh, he blames my father for it, of course,” she explained in exasperation, again waving her hand in front of her as if to brush away the very notion. “The man can be overbearing, yes, but I know he only wants what’s best for us. I just hope Jamie will see that soon.”

“I’m... sure he will,” you honestly didn’t know what else to say in the situation. Mary looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, so was Jamie not also an adult? Was he not allowed to make his own decisions? To live his own life? If that was the case, you honestly wouldn’t blame him for running away. 

Before you could let the silence become awkward, Mary continued, “If not, well, I’ve seen some old acquaintances around town. My childhood love, before Barry, used to run with a rather rough crowd of outlaws and... degenerates, so I suppose I may be able to ask them for help if it comes to it.” Seemingly eager to change the subject, she turned to face you, leaning against the porch railing and holding her coffee in both hands.  “In the meantime, may I ask you something as well? If it’s not too personal?”

You paused before answering and glanced at Ben. He was still chasing the poor cat around the yard. “Sure, I suppose. If it’s not too personal…” You leaned against the wall, took the last sip of coffee in your cup and looked at her, awaiting her question.

Mary had also glanced back to Ben before continuing, leaning slightly in your direction. “Your husband? Ben's father, I mean. If I can ask, where is he?” she asked, quietly, in case Ben should not hear.

That was a surprising relief. Yes, you missed Andrew, and yes it still hurt to think about losing him, but you never would hide what happened or how much you had loved him. “Oh. He…he passed shortly after Ben was born. It was a bad flu that took a turn for the worse all of a sudden. We got some medicine, thought he was getting better and then… and then he was gone. Overnight,” you revealed, unable to look in her eyes as you spoke. The pity that always overcame people when you spoke about Andrew was sometimes too much to bear. You swallowed and took a deep breath, burying the lump that inevitably formed in your throat each time you had to retell the story.

Mary quickly moved from the railing and sat back in her chair, reaching for your hand. “Oh my, I am so sorry! That must have been awful,” she replied. You allowed her to grasp your free hand, still refusing to look into her eyes. 

You had heard the same rehearsed response hundreds of times - from friends, family, neighbors. Everyone had been curious at first, after his passing. People you had barely known came by, more out of curiosity than care, and had quickly offered you their well-wishes before digging for the gossip. They almost always left feeling disappointed and guilty. This type of death, suddenly from a common illness, was not uncommon in this area, and left very little to be gossiped about.

You cleared your throat and turned your focus toward Ben, wanting something to distract you from the conversation that you had had so many times before. “It was. It still is, actually, but... I think you get used to carrying it with you after a while,” you explained, a bittersweet smile gracing your features. Outside in the yard, Ben had finally caught the cat and had wrestled it into his lap. Sensing the futility of trying to escape, it had given in and was now purring as he stroked its fur and whispered to it. “But… he gave me almost five amazing years, and he gave me Ben, and I… I honestly couldn’t ask for more.”

If you had looked, you would have seen Mary sporting the same bittersweet, longing smile that you wore. “Ben is a wonderful boy, I’m sure your husband would be proud,” she responded, her voice quieter and sadder than most peoples’ usually are at this point in the conversation.

“Thank you, I think so too.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, both of your coffee cups emptied, and the bubbles from the washbasin having slowly receded into the grimy water. The birds chirped in the crisp spring air and a few clouds drifted by overhead. A light breeze came in from the West, making your skirts sway lightly as you sat on the porch. It was nice, peaceful.

After a few minutes of contented silence, Mary spoke, “My husband also passed away a few years ago. Pneumonia,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even before that I lost my first love, but in a very different way. And now I may have gone and lost Jamie too. It’s… it’s never easy, and I wish no one had to suffer like that.”

“No one deserves to,” you agreed solemnly, surprised by your companion’s revelation. It was strange to have something in common with Mary Linton, but you wouldn’t complain. It was nice to have someone who understood.

Once again, silence overtook the two of you, as you sat on the porch and lost yourselves in memories. The peaceful morning bled slowly into the early afternoon, the birdsongs fading away, the sun shining high in the sky. Ben had long since lost track of the cat and was laying on his back in the grass, making pictures out of clouds. After a while, Mary opened up her book and began to read silently, rocking back and forth in the chair, and you returned to the laundry. 

Only a few hours later, you stood in clean clothes in the back of Saint’s Hotel, getting a necessary breath of fresh air and listening closely for any new customers. In the last hour, you had already cleaned the upstairs rooms, readying any empty ones for new patrons. Unfortunately, this task also included cleaning the room of Mr. Presley in 2A, which the other women refused to touch unless specifically told to do so. After a thorough scrubbing and airing out, you had managed to get most of the stink from the room for the time being, but you dreaded the day he left. Room 2A may never again be suited for a new patron once the poor man moves out.

You stood, taking in deep breaths of the fresh country air, until you heard the front door of the hotel open and close. A few words were exchanged between your boss and a new patron, before your name was called. “Please fill a hot bath! Our customer will be in his room until it’s ready.”

With a sigh, you heaved yourself off the stack of logs you had been leaning against and went to fetch a pail of water from the well. The water was ice cold from the mountain runoff, and would surely take some time to heat, so you went ahead and started the coals in the bath room as soon as you were back inside.

After a half an hour of trudging back and forth with pails of water - one of your least favorite parts of the job - you called to your boss to tell him the bath was ready. A pair of freshly laundered towels and a bar of soap on a chair in the room finished the job, and you headed outside to take a quick break. 

As was custom, you were to listen for the patron to enter the bath room, wait about 5 minutes for them to undress, and then knock on the door and offer your services. 

Valentine, being a livestock and trade town, rarely had families or women passing through for baths, so rest assured you were usually invited by the lonely men in without hesitation. By and large, the men were respectful, if a little flirtatious, and never tried anything uncouth. Of course, occasionally men would come in drunk, or were just plain bastards sober, and that would lead you to deny your devices and call for your boss to toss them out. Thankfully, your boss never batted an eye when you brought him in to sort things out - possibly out of respect for his long-standing employees, but more likely because there was no other hotel in town and he already had their money. Regardless, you were grateful that he looked after you, even if his motivations may have been somewhat questionable.

You heard the bath room door squeak as it shut and began your countdown, digging out any dirt from under your nails just in case you were needed. After about five minutes had passed, you squared your shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. “Need any help in there?”

Immediately, the response came, and the voice was unexpectedly familiar. “Shoa, why not?”

You tried your best to hide the surprised smile on your face, and pushed the door slowly open. The room was dimmed, curtains closed and lit by only a few candles, and smelled strongly of soap and lavender. Even through the dim light and the fog from the hot bathwater, you recognized the handsome face of the man who sat, naked, in the tub before you. “Well hello again, Mountain Man,” you said with a smirk, rolling up your sleeves.

At first, he seemed shocked, but quickly let out one of those loud barks of a laugh as he had done at your previous meetings. “Ha! I just can’t seem to shake you, can I?”

With a friendly smile, you moved to sit on the stool next to the tub. “Seems so,” you responded, reaching into the soapy water to wet your hands. A slight nervous lump formed in your throat as you looked him over. Each time you saw him, he’d somehow become more and more handsome. Granted, the first time, you were exhausted and were in a dimly lit saloon, the second time he was covered in mud, and now… now he was stark naked and dripping wet in a bathtub, directly in front of you. 

Your perception may have been slightly biased. 

Arthur cleared his throat, making you jump. Had you been staring? “Didn’t know you worked here,” he teased, looking you directly in the eye. He really had to stop doing that. “May have to stop by more often.” He tore his eyes away from yours and then drew them obviously up and down your body as he spoke, stopping momentarily on your cleavage, which was peeking out through the top of your blouse.

A blush crept to your face, and you were immediately thankful that the room was not well-lit. He could stop by every day for free if he kept looking at you like that. Of course, you couldn’t say that out loud, your boss would kill you. Instead, you chuckled and said, “Please do, I can use the extra cash.”

Not missing a beat, Arthur responded with a smirk, “Thought you was expensive?”

Cute. You let out a small chuckle and reached for the bar of soap at the edge of the tub. “Too expensive, I suppose. Or maybe I’m just too choosy,” you managed with a wink, before turning him away from you so you could wash the top of his head. Finally, those eyes weren’t on you and you could actually think again.

He groaned lightly as you massaged soap into his hair. “So that’s why you've been runnin’ off on me?”

That earned him an earnest laugh. “Running off? Oh, please! You’re easily one of the better men that’s come through this town in a long time,” you told him, lightly smacking the top of his head before moving down to his shoulders. His muscular, broad, tanned, perfect shoulders. “Especially that Tommy…” you continued, having heard about his fight with the man after you had left the bar the other night.

“I guess you heard about that?” he chucked awkwardly, tilting his head back slightly to look up at you. 

Another laugh. He was obviously not from a small town, otherwise he would know exactly how fast gossip can travel. Not to mention that Tommy was completely black and blue, and ranting about some drunken bastard the next time you had seen him in town. “‘Course I heard! Maybe 100 people live in this town and half of them were in the Saloon the other night,” you chided, still massaging his shoulders. “You can’t keep a secret for long around here, Mountain Man.”

He laughed again, that barking laugh that started in his belly and made him throw his head back with a smile. You liked it.  “Obviously,” he grinned up at you for a second before turning away. “Though, if I’m one of the best ‘round here, I’d hate to see the other bastards that pass through.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused. Was that a joke? Sure, he seemed a bit rough around the edges, but no more than the other men who usually passed through here. And you wouldn’t even begin to start on how much more attractive he was than the rest of them.

Regardless, you decided to try your best to change the subject, it seems to have been a bit of a sore spot for some reason. “It’s not all that many, to be honest,” you told him, moving to wash his left arm. The muscles lightly twitched under your touch, and you couldn’t help relishing the feel of his skin under your fingers. “Occasionally we get some groups of men from out in New Austin or near Strawberry looking for work, I guess that’s where you’re coming from?”

He cleared his throat. “Shoa,” he confirmed, still looking away from you. “We was workin’ at a factory ‘n it was shut down. Lookin’ for something new now. Didn’t wanna come this far east, but there ain’t many options anymore.”

You nodded in understanding. Plenty of factories up north had recently shut down, or replaced their workers with newfangled machines. “I hear that Cornwall Tar is hiring,” you mentioned, only half joking. Cornwall was a notoriously awful boss, who underpaid and overworked his employees as much as possible, but a job was a job. “If you’re willing to work for below average and ungodly hours.”

Another loud, barking laugh. You were growing rather fond of it. “Low pay and high hours I can handle,” he responded, finally turning his head to look at you again, “just not for Cornwall.”

“Got a history?” you joked, not at all expecting a serious answer. Everyone knew about Cornwall’s awful business. No one actually wanted to work for him, even without a history.

“Somethin’ like that,” came Arthur’s mumbled response, surprising you. So he actually did know Cornwall? Maybe the man had owned the factory Arthur used to work at? “In the meantime we’re gettin by with the occasional bounty and whatever other labor we can find.”

“We? You and your two friends from the saloon, right?” you asked, dipping your hands in the water to gather more suds. Just a few inches closer and you would be able to feel his chest. Somehow, you managed to resist the urge, and proceeded to wash his calf, which honestly may have been just as nice.

“Yeah, there are a few more of us around too,” he explained, shifting position in the tub and causing the water to splash about slightly. He leaned his head against the back rim and groaned as you massaged his aching muscles. “They’re my… co-workers.Though really they’re almost family at this point.”

“You didn’t part ways when the factory shut down?” It was an innocent enough question. You’ve had groups of laid-off workers come through before, though usually by the time they had hit Valentine the group was at about a quarter its original size. People found other jobs along the way. People got sick. People just left. That’s how it went.

“Nah, we’ve been workin together too long to give up on each other now. Loyalty’s always been important to us. Course, we lost a few along the way, but that’s the way it is I s’pose,” he continued. It was interesting to say the least. You had seen about twenty or so new faces in the past week, all coming from the direction of Emerald Ranch. If that were his group, that would be a surprising amount of people who’ve stayed together. 

Suddenly, something Mary had mentioned that morning came back to you: she had seen some acquaintances of her ex-love around town. It couldn’t possibly be the same group of people, that would mean that Arthur rode with a bad crowd, as she had described. You glanced him up and down again. He had his head leaned back, eyes closed, and hair dripping on the wooden floor below. At that moment he looked serene, peaceful. Definitely not the kind of man who ran with a gang of outlaws and degenerates, as she had described.

After a few more moments of silence, Arthur opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, contemplative. “‘n what keeps a woman like you in Valentine? Seems like somewhere else might have more to offer,” he finally asked.

You chuckled, having been asking the same question yourself since Andrew had died. “Oh most definitely,” was your response. “But this is where my husband grew up and where my son was born. I’ve been here long enough that Ben and I know everyone in town and, well, it’s been hard to leave. Been thinkin about it for a while, but I can’t bear to part with it. As dirty and backwards as this place may be.”

This seemed to peak his interest. He sat up straighter in the tub and brought his leg back in to soak. “Your husband, right. That the boah’s pa?” he asked, looking at you and lifting his other arm out of the water - your cue to move to the other side of the tub.

You feigned offense at his question, but didn’t blame him. It’s not like Andrew was around to introduce himself. “Of course! What kind of woman do you take me for, Mountain Man?” you teased, flicking a few droplets of the cooling water into his face.

As a reflex, one of his large hands came up to shield his face from your attack. “Hey!” he shouted through a laugh. “Now, that’s not what I meant! I just seen you at the cemetery after your boah said you was going to visit his pa. Didn’t want to assume.” His laughter had died down by the end of the sentence as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

You looked at your feet, having dragged the stool to the other side of the bath and sat down. Under normal circumstances, you would let the conversation die there. No need to continue, no need for explanations. But, for some reason, with Arthur, a man who is essentially a stranger, you wanted to let him know. “Oh. Well, yeah, that was his pa,” you began, reaching into the water and gathering some of the remaining suds to begin washing his other arm. “He passed a few years ago. He got pretty sick for a week or so, and then right when we thought he was getting better he was just… gone. All of a sudden. It…” you took a breath to steady yourself before you continued. “It was right after Ben was born, actually. Poor kid doesn’t even remember him.”

Arthur cleared his throat and looked away from you. “I’m real sorry. Shouldn’ve brought it up.”

You wish he hadn’t. You wish he could have just stayed flirty and playful. You wish he hadn’t unintentionally brought your mood down. It wasn’t his fault, but you still wished it hadn’t happened. “It’s fine,” you told him, quietly. “You didn’t know.”

You didn’t know how to continue. There was no way you could think of to cut through the awkward silence that followed. So, you finished up his bath with practiced efficiency, no longer taking the time to inwardly fawn over his muscled arms and calves. It only took a few more minutes until you had finished up - a lot sooner than you would have preferred under other circumstances. “Well, that should do it then,” you said quietly, clearing your throat and wiping your wet hands on your skirt. “You’re squeaky clean, Mountain Man.”

He coughed out a short, “Thanks,” as you stood to leave the room. 

As soon as the door creaked shut, you practically ran out the back door, desperately in need of fresh air. You heaved yourself up to sit on top of the small stack of logs at the back of the house, wishing you had a drink as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. It was strange, really, talking about Andrew with him. You had talked with people about your late husband hundreds of times, and it always made you sad, but this time was different. It made you feel so overwhelmed and, somehow, raw. Talking to Arthur, a man you hardly knew, about your husband, confirming that Andrew was gone, it seemed wrong and you couldn’t pinpoint why. 

Maybe you were just tired? Maybe it was because, between Arthur and Mary, you had talked about him more today than usual? Maybe you could see yourself beginning to move on, and you felt guilty?

After a good amount of time had passed, when you were certain Arthur had left the bath and gone up to his room, you re-entered the hotel and made your way back into the bath room to clean up. Even after nearly a half an hour, the scent of soap and lavender hung thick in the air. You quickly opened the curtains and the windows to air out the humid room and let in the afternoon sunlight. 

As soon as the light filtered in the room, highlighting the wisps of steam still hanging about, you noticed a folded piece of paper sitting on the stool by the tub. Gingerly, you picked it up and ran your fingers over the handwritten letters on the front. Your name. Upon unfolding it, ten dollars fell to the floor, and you saw a drawing of a small daisy in the upper right hand corner of the paper.

Below the daisy was a note, beginning with your name.

I’m real sorry about bringing up your husband. I know losing someone you love never really goes away, and I can see that talking about him hurt. Can’t really make up for that, but I hope a nice dinner from the saloon today for you and the boy will help out just a little.

Thank you for the best cleaning I’ve had in years. I hope we can really meet for a drink sometime. 

Yours, Arthur

[anonil88]

“This isn't prison break.”parts 1 & 2

Rue runs away for a night from rehab with a bunch of people she doesn't know. They go to a club, do some stupid stuff and adopt a cat.

wrote this and put it on AO3- lnk here- but also updating on here:

PART 1

Rue laughs absently at the other group of "degenerates" as Ali would call them. They are walking along the side of the road towards wherever a kid named Malcolm was leading them. She technically was supposed to be in her small dorm bed asleep and awaiting 4 am check in. But instead here she was being a fellow degenerate who had technically escaped the rehab facility. They all intended on going back to the treatment facility eventually. She hopes Sol would even though it meant they probably would be separated. They all just needed a night of more because everyone was on edge and needed a break. Everyone was aware that the consequences would be getting kicked out or all restrictions taken away. But, fuck it.

Her group of acquaintances, because they were not her friends, was made up of a random assortment of folks. One of which was some guy named Graham who was apparently the older "brother" of Angel. Angel was the only one out of the group besides her roommate who actually knew more than whatever she half assed in group therapy. Which was very little but it was enough to keep them.... interested. Rue shoves her hands in the pockets of a pair of baggy shorts that Angel threw at her in a parking lot after everyone met back up. Their escape plan was a plan but they all booked it through a hole in the fence and through a patch of woods at first. Some person named Bones, who had to at least be a sophomore in college, picked them all up in a hatchback and the Graham who opened a backpack filled with vices.

Rue steered clear of the opiates and went straight for the bottle of Coconut Rum. Even though she could practically hear the pills singing her fucking name. Most of them actually opted to be clean of whatever landed them in rehab but not sober. Not everyone though because Angel was definitely rolling a tiny bit and so were two other people out of the 5 fence jumpers. Including her roommate Sol. Rue just figured the slap on the wrist once they got back would be less harsh without a positive test. The rum was more than enough to stay kind of alert amongst everyone here. All these faces that might leave her dying face down in a ditch if she OD’ed....again.

She wasn't even in here because of an overdose. Just a basic relapse that made her mom's mind up for her and now she was forced into a stupid facility with strangers. They forced her to talk, made sure she ate, but she honestly felt worse being inside than out. It was probably working the 12 steps and quiet therapy sessions but in places she didn't see yet. This right here though the warmth of the air touching her skin as the packed car they'd all tumbled into hurtled through empty streets. Leaning her head back she mumbles along the lyrics while Sol pulls at the worn shirt collar. 

 "Beep beep go swerving in my, Beep been you want me riding in your...."

Rue sighs feeling sticky lips press against her clavicle and up her neck.

 "Beep beep ghost busting in my,

 Beep beep you want me riding in your....driving super fast."

Sol was cool people but Rue knew it couldn't be anything more than fooling around. Kissing when no one was watching or either of them came back from a therapy session sobbing.  Sometimes Sol sneaking into her bed at night so they could have quickie sex sessions. This wasn't how Rue expected to explore her sexuality that was pretty dormant but it was what she had. It also wasn't with who she had in mind either. Lingering feelings aside the two of them were stuck in a juvenile inpatient program. With the same beds as the ones in college pamphlets, a no shoelace rule, and  fuzzy socks ( that Rue secretly loves). This girl was like 3 inches shorter than Rue, dark skinned, neck tattoos and a short cut. Sol had been through so much more shit than Rue and it made her feel ungrateful. Ungrateful because at least she had a hard working mom who still loved her and hadn't abandoned all hope. Other people in the program who took it seriously though told her not to because her life sucked too.

Feeling Sol's lips on hers she kissed her back. She didn't feel anything but it must have felt amazing to Sol who deepened the kiss. The car swerved past what in Rue's mind had to be a pothole. Sol falls away further into her body clutching the fabric of her shirt and accidentally her chest. Rue hears Sol sigh and snaps her eyes open while Sol still kisses her. Rue grabs hold of the handle above the door and sits back up mumbling, what was that. She watches Sol roll her eyes and sit back into the tan seats.

"Oh FUCK," Bones yelled slowing the car down and pulling over. Bones had their black hair slicked all the way back and a cigarette falling out of their mouth. They were odd enough sober and everyone's dd, just a ball of chaotic a.d.d they'd laughed at her earlier as they walked her from the gas station bathroom back to the car. It was a nice gesture because apparently she seemed "kind of uncomfortable," which was true. The urge to escape herself dulled the fear of her mother's true unbridled anger. Or Fez's.

He was really upset when he found out she got a new plug after actually being clean for so long. She turns to look out the back window and sees two green eyes attached to a small grey mound in the road. 

"What the....omg a cat omg," Angel is practically bouncing out of the car after pulling out a half eaten filet o fish. Rue watches him in an outfit she felt fit him so much more than the basic t-shirt and sweatpants he wore everyday. His platform sneakers lit up across the black asphalt as he inches  closer to the obviously terrified animal. A glitter covered arm wove in front of him with food and Rue leans into the window in anticipation. The only thing that could make Angel seem even more angelic was wings or a halo above his half platinum half silver hair. He honestly seemed like the type to fit right into Jules's friend group. But instead he was the kind creative rave kid who drew her pictures of kandy he'd give her one day. 

"Hey um...you ," she feels her shoulder being tapped. "Put this in your lap."

PART 2

"Yes! I love this song," Bones yells back rolling down the windows. The cool autumn air filling the car and the smell of weed being blown out the window. 

Her heel is bouncing with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. With one more she could become triple A instead of alcoholics anonymous. She can feel a comfortable softness against her sole. It's from a piece of fabric she keeps stuffed in her sock. Her knee keeps bouncing in place with the sleeping kitten being stroked by Sol in her lap. Her current reality is so much more serene than the one she relives in her head.

Arrival nurses took her hoodie at this new place only letting it stay with her the first night. She was so fucking high on check in that she screamed please don't take my dad please as they explained it to her mom. Her mom who she clung to like they were about to skin her alive. Chest rising and falling quick enough someone said something about a shot. Too high to be cold and distant but not enough for her heart to stop. Just enough to be a paranoid fuck up. Leslie tried to calm her down but it only worked after her mom bargained with them, one night.

One night and then her mom visited the next day to say goodbye. Slipping a gray square in her pocket. It was worn in from a t-shirt that her dad wore in her baby pictures. Leslie hugged her so tight before leaving whispering we love you so much. That was the last time she'd seen her mom and every time she called Leslie said oh rue like her heart was breaking again. So those phone calls were short because her mom crying always fucks her up mentally for a few days. The silent pauses remind her of the little sister who always has faith in her but is turning into someone who doesn't even look at her. 

"You okay," Sol whispers and rue nods because when was she ever. Her arm that sol is resting on is cramping but she lets it, not much arm space in this back row anyway. She should have just chosen the trunk with some 16 year old named Zach. 

"On the left yesss we made it and on time too," Graham jeers next to Sol.

 Rue looks at the dash clock crinoline her brow. "How is almost 1 am on time," she whispers. 

Sol chuckles, "It is a club not a house party you knew that right ?" Rue bites the inside of her lip and shakes her head no. Sol puckers a bottom lip and kisses her cheek. Great pity Rue thinks. Sol leans in to whisper to Rue, "Don't worry Graham knows the bouncer. No fakes required."

Rue opens back up the glass bottle in the seat net and lets the clear liquid burn her throat a bit. Out of her realm was an understatement, house parties were something she was used to but never clubs. She didn't even know what kind of club this was but judging from the giant rainbow flag out front, angry repressed frat bros wouldn't be an issue. Which helped the nerves in her stomach unwind. The fur ball on her lap made a noise and she rubbed it through the sweater it's been laid on. Sol said the kitten was probably dumped because there was a tag scar and the kitten was super clean. But was she risking it....no.

Sol takes the bottle from her hand and screws the cap back on. "You gonna dance with me tonight Benny." Sol says as she nudges her shoulder.

"Maybe," Rue shrugs.

" Okay well how about anyone else," Sol grins coyly.

Rue looks away from her and out the window. She's more interested in the brick building as they get closer than someone's hot sweaty body. There's a line to the door with several guards standing with gloved hands and flashlights. " Idk maybe," Rue looks back at Sol who is rolling her eyes. 

" Yes she is," Angel yells from the passenger seat. He's checking his makeup in the mirror and winks at rue. Which makes her tuck her hair behind her ear and cough to cover the blush. Angel turns around happily and says, "meee.'

Leaning forward Sol pecks Angel and says, " Bennett your goal tonight is to have fun, dance with someone. He, she, they, who cares, maybe you'll get a lil prison pen pal."

Rue rolls her eyes, that probably wasn't happening but it was about trying new experiences. Treatment was also not prison; it just was not freedom either. Bones pulls past the entrance and swings into the parking lot. Graham is behind them pointing as they follow directions. He's even saying fun facts like this is Knott's which Angel keeps mimicking. Bones slowly moves the car  until  one guard leans his hand in the window. The guard daps Graham up and they laugh for a second. His name is apparently DJ and he's their in. The only rules are no weapons. 

In the parking lot they all get put and Rue notices other cars with clusters of people around them. She shakes her lap free of cigarette ash and cat hair. The cat now named sparkle is being in the trunk with a makeshift bed, a small can of tuna Bones just had and an old bottle lid filled with water. Rue leans down and ties the mismatched dollar store laces on her chucks. They had hot dogs on them which was kind of cute. A tire squeals close by of a car obviously moving way too fast and drunk singing out a window speeds past them. Idiots. Everyone else was finishing a shared bottle or blunt. Leaning against the side of the trunk she feels Sol rest against her arm warming it up.

Rue can hear a steady thump and beat coming from the brick building. It makes her head move which means the music might not be her thing but it'll be tolerable. Graham even said there's another section with actual seats that has a more contained dance floor with pop and hip-hop. Just in case she got overwhelmed by the rave scene and the lights. She doubles over as she laughs at Angel's jokes. 

Kid was fucking hilarious, she stands up wiping her eyes and freezes looking in front of her.

[deathclawforcuties]

We've Got Vim!

Finally! After much trial and error I created VIM (or at least my version of it)!

Did a ton of ingame lore research to get this as close to what I believe actual Vim might taste like. Without further ado, here is my carefully crafted recipe with a dash of dastardly delight!

~~~

Ingredients:

1 3/4 Cups Apple Cider

1/4 Cup Concord Grape Juice

1 Whole Orange Zested & Juice

3 Cups Sugar

1 Tsp Vanilla Extract

1 tsp Whole Allspice

1 Cinnamon Stick

1 TBSP Grated Ginger

~~~

Step One!

Take the apple cider, grape juice, and sugar and put it in your sauce pan/cauldron (no extra souls please. They sour the soup).

Blend it only until it's partially dissolved, and then whisper sweet nothings to it before you abandon it for better things.

Step Two!

Zest your orange from navel to shinning navel! Then take your partner, doe-se-doe, juice it's guts a-for ya go...add that extract to it's cup, then chuck it aside like your life is fucked! YEET-HAW the orange zest into your pot!

Step Three!

Summon the coven. Beg, borrow, or charm them for their herbs. Pay the ferryman. Take the Cinnamon Stick, Allspice, and Ginger, and with flagrant disregard for decorum, dump it in your sauce pan. LOOK THEM IN THE EYE AS YOU DO IT!

Set that bitch on fire, or turn on the stove to medium heat. Follow your heart...just not with vodka. Vodka bad.

Step Four!

Stir the pot like a watercooler gossip: just enough to get people flustered, not enough to inspire office mutiny. Get that thing boiling.

Once it's roiling like a mosh pit in full blitz, set your timer for 10 minutes. Watch the moshers while your pot boils. They're fun!

Step Five!

Remove the concoction from the heat source, excuse the moshers and the coven, and strain the mixture (not yourself) into a heat resistant bowl. Add the OJ with nilla. Let it cool off. One of the moshers insulted it's mother (that'd be you, cupcake).

Step Six!

Once you've both cooled off, carefully pour the mixture into a nonhuman vessel that has a sealable lid (hats do NOT count, and that vessel better not be alive).

Tuck it into your fridge, give it a smooch, and let it rest overnight.

Step Seven!

Upon the next day, visit thy box of ice. Check yea the vessel. Nice and cold? Excellent! Pour a 1/4 cup of the solution into a tall virgin (and we're talking Unicorn pure type of virgin!) tumbler with ice. Add club soda to fill it up.

Now you've got VIM! DRAAAANK IT!

Cheers, you delightful degenerates!

[insertedgy2014memehere]

Malfunctioning Corruption of The Human Form and Mind (A Corrupted Steven Haunt Thing)

(I couldn't have done it without my friend Blake with this, so, thank her for the writing

https://chromaticnoodles.tumblr.com/ )

Crystal Temple

You find yourself outside on the beach. To your left, you see the massive temple that the crystal gems inhabit. It’s the form of Obsidian, with a greenhouse on top of the beach house. As you walk around, you can hear faint, distant whispering, seeming to come from Steven’s mind. They say various things that include self deprecation. “Why be such a burden?”, “You don’t do anything anymore”, “Why do you exist?”, etc and so on. You then enter inside.

Foyer

You then enter into a large room. It’s mostly clean, but has a soda can or a bag of chaps here and there left over by Amethyst. The faint whispering seems to have grown apparent and more louder here, almost becoming unbearably deafening the more it goes on. You wonder when it’s ever going to stop, until you see a pair of blood drops near the exit of the room, leading to the bathroom. The door being slightly cracked open. You can hear Steven inside, panting and groaning in pain. You enter inside to investigate.

Bathroom

You then enter into a medium size room. Inside, you see Steven pacing around. There are several pink pimples on his face, his hair is unkempt and oily, a rash is seen on his fingers, his eyes are bloodshot, and he just looks like absolute garbage. He walks to the mirror, and pokes away at a piece of dead skin on his forehead. It crinkles at the touch, before peeling off, revealing a small horn growing, that is currently the shape of a zit/pimple filled with pus threatening to burst (prosthetic on actors forehead). He then lurches forward, as he starts regurgitating the teeth he doesn’t need anymore (teeth are already inside sink, as some blood will be on the mouth). He then turns around and notices you, snarling angrily. The inside of his mouth is revealed while he snarls, showing painfully slow growing canines from his gums. You can see some of the bone through his sickly gums, blood tainting a bit of it. Plus, the canines growing in place of the old ones. You dash towards the next room in a hurry.

Bedroom

You then enter into a large room. It seems more dirty and untidied then it was from the show, with the blankets and pillows scattered messily on the floor. Steven is seen in the center of the room on the floor, in spasms of agony and gritting his teeth. Several bulges can be seen poking through his skin, as blood comes trickling from his lips, dropping onto the once clean rug below him. He then looks up and notices you again, he tries to make a bubble in front of you (projection), but it flickers and distorts, its projection dying like a firefly’s light going out, as he then cowers, and backs up into the bed accidentally bumping himself against the wood. You enter into the next room.

Greenhouse

You then enter into a large room. Surrounding you is longing neglected plant life, with the smell of wilting flowers in the air. The fresh scent of organic death. You can hear the sound of the warp pad going off and a blinding light reflecting on your body, as you turn around to look where the sound was elicited from. In the center of the room is the warp pad, with Steven on it. He is seen pounding on it, as he yells out from his deepening voice cracking, “Come on! Please work! I’m still human, please!”. As he wastes his effort pounding on the unresponsive device, you notice several more deformities on him. Steven is balding, some remnants of his messy, curly hair on the floor that transported with him to the greenhouse. The mild rash on his body has spread to his upper torso and jaw. His skin all red, damaged, and flaky by the scratching Steven did previously, spikes can be seen tearing through the flesh of his arms and back, blood painting a bit of the emerging spikes. Nails that look like they were forcefully torn out. The dead veins underneath the empty shells of the human nails can be seen on the pad, as claws can be seen growing on his hands. Another arm can be seen growing from the side of his torso. As he writhes in pain on the floor, he sends out blood curdling screams, sending spit particles flying into the air. As you’re distracted, a large eight foot deformed cactus monster emerges from behind some plants, its head split open, revealing a long maw with jagged spiked teeth and a cactus flower in the middle on the inside of the mouth (animatronic). You run in fear to the next room.

Foyer

You then re-enter into the foyer. You see some toenails lying on the floor, with claw marks etched deeply into the wooden floor nearby. As you walk by a door, Steven bursts through it. He is seen clutching his temples, as his horns have grown much longer. His eyes are bleeding, most of his head is bald, the rash completely covering his body like a spreading mold, his ears barely seen by the growing hide, sharp tusks ripping through the edges of his lips, recently fresh skin impaled onto them coating them a crimson red blood colour. A new arm can be seen bursting through his chest, and his tailbone stretching and elongating into a fully grown reptilian tail, scales coating the bone like protective armour. As Steven groans in pain, Pearl comes out from beside you. She shouts out, “Steven please, we can try and help you!”. Steven then pivots his attention towards Pearl’s voice and angrily shouts out in a deep set of octaves, “I don’t need help ...please...GO AWAY!” as he yells it out, the whole room shakes. He panics, then mutters under his breath, “I’m sorry...”, then runs out to the door. You then enter outside.

Beach

You find yourself now outside, and screams fill the air. In the center is what looks to be the “remaining” state of Steven, and he’s almost finished in his gruesome transformation. Most of his clothes have torn to shreds from his new structure forming, his eyeballs seem to have fallen off somewhere along the transformation, leaving his eye sockets as completely endless, black voids with small pink dots for his irises, his tongue split open with some of the taste buds coming off and the blood sticking to the halves of the tongue as it splits, his nose is less pronounced and shrunken into his face, his tail has grown more with spikes on it and the end of it split open. The spikes being created and shaped from the remnants of the tailbone, and his face is elongating with his jaw being painfully dislocated from his head as it molds into a muzzle with the sound of the bones creaking and twisting, revealing a now full muzzle (full body suit). As he twists and turns on all fours, he starts to swipe at you with his long claws protruding from his calloused fingers, and pounds the floor with his now beefy fists, causing the ground to shake. You run to the next room.

Beta Kindergarten

You then enter into a massive, desolate and sandy area. All around you, you see open holes that are around 10 feet long, and in the shape of humanoid beings, most likely gems. Next to several holes are claw marks, and these are massive, being nearly 6 feet long. The large, empty injectors lie on the walls and nested themselves on top of the slates, with some being broken from an unknown force. As you are distracted by this, a large, monstrous head emerges from behind a corner ...it’s Steven…? The creature’s head is… unusually huge, being around 15 feet tall. Spikes pierce its thick, scaly hide on his face, as large fangs that looks like tusk cover its lower and upper jaw. It tries to bite down at you, fangs dangerously hovering above your smaller frame as they slowly come down, but Garnet emerges beside you. She steps in front of the beast, and holds it back with all of her strength put into her gauntlets. The tall gem yells at you to run, so you do, as you enter into the next room.

Abandoned Lab

You then enter into a large, abandoned room. All around you, you see broken pillars and some of the chipped remnants scattered across the floor, some even being beside the broken cylindrical figures.Your nose can smell the god awful decaying odor in the area… how long has this lab been abandoned for? You then turn your attention near a corner since it caught your eye ...and you see a dead “vessel”... or a “husk” of a terribly grotesque coerced fusion of gems. Its side has been ripped open with big… teeth marks? Or what looked like big canines or scarily sharp teeth snacking on it, as some obscure... alien organs from what it looks like hang, drip, and pool from the lifeless amalgamation. But then you see a light shining from it... oddly enough. As you pay no more mind to the corpse, you hear a loud, deep and guttural roar, sounding almost a bit like a human teenager’s ear splitting screams and slowly degenerating into what it is now. Above, the Corrupted Steven’s head crashes from the ceiling, its jaw wide open, ready to swallow you whole and crunch your feebly thin flesh into a crunchy substance in between his teeth. Suddenly, a slender, prim and proper looking gem comes to your right. It's Pearl. She throws a magical spear at it, the monster flinching back in pain. She shouts out to it, “We know you’re still in there Steven, fight through this!” You run to the next room.

Prime Kindergarten

You then enter into a massive room. It looks like the Kindergarten from before, but it’s much more abandoned and ghost town like. Tons of injectors lie and dug in against the walls, with most of them being smashed, ripped out, and cracked. In the center of the room, is the giant 30 foot tall Corrupted “Steven”, and now you see the monster’s full body. Spikes cover most of his body, as his tail whips around, hitting the floor with a loud CRASH! sound. Right in front of it ...are the shattered pieces and shards of the once known crystal gems. The pieces are so small, you can only faintly recognize them by their colors. A small, crudely made nest that had been made and compiled together from crumbled rocks and debris gathered from the Prime Kindergarten. Steven notices you approach them closer, and he roars threateningly into the sky. That was a warning for you to get out, now. You run for your life away from him before he could strike, escaping this nightmare.

[elddansurin]

INFINITE

I wrote a story for the first time in a while. This is the (larger) first half of a full on project, with the second part now here. As is, this can be read as a standalone piece.

It’s about immortality and deep time, and all the implications of these things. I’ve tried to make it as scientifically accurate as possible, but 1. I’m not a physicist and 2. this is all speculative, so.

INFINITE

When the time came, I made myself as a god. I severed the ties between myself and the laws of the universe. I became, as it were, immortal. In the infancy of my true existence, I found no desire to become the dictator, nor the savior of man. Rather, my purpose lay beyond the place of my birth.

I left Earth, my former home and indeed, home to life in the only way I'd ever known it. I watched this place, this cradle of mine, as my perception of the passage of time began an exponential increase. Initially, my interests lay mainly in the influences of man, often best seen in the lights they shone on the planet's dark side. City patterns shifted and undulated as settlements refined their technology, bloomed in size, fell into decay, then winked out. Larger and larger swaths of light began to dim away, until no more light shone. I mourned quietly, as Earth became both the cradle and the grave for the descendants of man.

With no civilizations left to watch, I set my sights to the drifting continents. They fluttered toward a central point, closing in once mighty oceans. The land buckled together, uniting as a supercontinent. Time's exponential increase sped forward, and I watched volcanic supereruptions wink on and off as the planet was pelted by comets. Mass extinction events rippled across an increasingly warming Earth. I thought again of the impacts of man, which had affected the planet for thousands of years. I had felt, at the time, that the ramifications were so long-lasting, so severe. But now, as I passed my billionth year of existence, I witnessed the death of all multi-cellular life. The oceans had long evaporated away, and the few hearty organisms that had taken shelter within the planet's crust finally faded into memory.

I turned my attention then, away from this dead world. I looked now on my constant companion, the sun. Sol. I basked in the vicious luminosity, watching as my beloved star expanded and cooled to a deep red. It expanded and contracted like a beating heart, heating and cooling, heating and cooling. I felt the desperation of the situation. Sol was struggling to continue fusion, resorting to fusing heavier and heavier elements. In a final death rattle, Sol puffed its outer layers into the void, disintegrating the charred husk of Earth in its wake. A brilliant nebula surrounded me then. Gentle. Ethereal. It danced around the white-hot corpse of what was once Sol.

This star no longer shone, not in the way so familiar to me. It had ceased fusion, and now radiated light and heat much in the way of the coils of a hot oven. A memory from an ancient life of mine, memories from billions of years past. I crept toward Sol's remains now, drifting through the clouds of rapidly cooling gases. This dense, hot core had begun cooling already. But I watched my ancient friend still as I reached my 100 billionth year, and still it shone brightly. Perhaps I would not have imagined its light as "luminous," back in the days when stars still fused atoms. But I had witnessed countless supernovae, and the dying whispers of even the smallest red dwarf. My Sol still shone, dimmer and dimmer as its body grew colder and colder. I understood now, this form of Sol, the one I had known for so many hundreds of trillions of years, this was not its corpse. This was its true body, having bloomed from a brief, stelliferous infancy.

The planets, the children of Sol, one of them once my home, they were flung away. Cast out of orbit. I watched them dash out into the void, some consumed by bodies more massive than they. We traveled alone, then, as Sol's electron-degenerate body further cooled. Once a shining white, it had bathed me in the gentle moonlight-glow I remembered from my life so many eons ago. Now, as Sol's final gentle whispers of heat faded, that glow had gone. Sol's body lay cold, truly and finally dead. Dark now, and dark it would remain for the rest of time. I mourned for my companion, then left its side for the final time.

I then watched my galaxy, or what remained of it. In times long gone, I recalled it as a swirling disk of nuclear bodies and hot gases. A streak of white pinpoints across a dark night sky. It was now an amorphous blob of degenerate-matter stars, bulging from the countless collisions with other galaxies. With each galactic merger, white dwarves and neutrons would be pulled into each other. These aggressive dances would birth black holes and nuclear stars, the latter of which would rapidly blink into degeneracy.

I saw life, even then. In the gentle glow of white dwarves, a few remnant mortals clung to existence. Their lifespans vastly dwarfed my own mortal existence. They had long ago been forced to flee their own planets of origin, and now these creatures were bound to their dying stars. All but one of these mortal outposts lacked the knowledge, the capability, and the sheer energy required to travel the deep distance between dimming bodies, and thus were extinguished along with their stars.

One by one, those gentle, degenerate lights flickered out, each dying the same quiet death as my Sol. I watched as my galaxy slowly dimmed into frigid oblivion, then I watched each galaxy in turn see the death of their final degenerate stars. The galaxies flung away the resulting black dwarves, casting them alone and into the void. Soon, galaxies ceased to be. My eternally expanding universe was filled only with far-flung black dwarves and their black hole cousins. By now, the expansion of the universe was accelerating matter away from itself faster than light could travel. No longer would mortal eyes be able to perceive light from any celestial body.

I found myself in darkness. Complete, absolute darkness. I began to feel my senses adjusting, compensating for this lack of true light. All of my former senses combined into one, allowing me to see, to feel and to hear my new universe. I was surrounded by a boneyard of black dwarves, kept warm only by the gradual decay of their protons.

A solitary mortal enclave was using the rotation of a hypermassive black hole to power their civilization, one so bewilderingly exotic from my ancient kin. Trillions of years passed between thoughts for these entities. I felt compassion for these beings. Though they were incomprehensible to my former human understanding of life, I still felt a kinship with them. After all, had I not once been mortal myself? I grieved for their demise as the universe's final lifeforms succumbed to proton decay.

I had, by then, become a concept. No longer was I bound by matter nor antimatter. For these things, too, were ephemeral. Baryons, hadrons, strange and degenerate matter, it all ceased to be. I watched the end of antimatter, and of dark matter. The boneyard universe had finally decayed.

For trillions upon trillions upon trillions of years, my universe had been a creature of heat and light. But now, I knew it differently. My companions now were the black holes, incapable of emitting light as I had once perceived it. But now their rotational and gravitational energy dominated the universe. Powerful gravitational waves rocked the very fabric of spacetime. I could see it, hear it, feel it. Like the beating of an ancient drum. These beasts, infinitely dense and almost as ancient, pervaded the universe. For as distant as they were, black holes still interacted with each other gravitationally. They shyly crept toward each other, gathering into clusters of common rotation. These black hole galaxies brought back warm memories of a young universe filled with matter, with stars and nuclear light. I was overcome with euphoria in understanding that the universe I had always known was but the absolute infancy of its true lifespan. Life, stars, physical bodies, and matter itself shrank away into the deep past as I traveled the black hole cosmos.

When these bodies rotated in binary pairs, I heard singing in their gravitational havoc. I could see the bending and absolute disrespect for the otherwise orderly fabric of spacetime. I danced about, weaving between my gravitationally anomalous companions. They stayed with me for so much longer than any of my companions past. I found myself wishing they would remain with me eternally, but I knew it was not to be.

Initially, they consumed each other. They merged, and they cannibalized those smaller than themselves. These events triggered eccentric reactions, huge bursts of energy and heat. But I began to witness these mergers less and less. Those once locked gravitationally had already fallen into each other, and those who escaped a common orbit had drifted further and further from their kin. At last, there was nothing left to devour. The universe simply expanded too quickly for any of them to interact with another of their kind.

Quantum mechanics would be the ultimate downfall of my archaic companions. As virtual particles flickered into and out of existence at the event horizons of remnant black holes, the unlucky halves would tumble down, never to return. The lone survivor particle, unable to annihilate with its partner, would radiate away. The black holes began to evaporate, streaming off remnant virtual particles as a terminal radiation. Little by little, they fizzled away, gradually losing mass. As they shrank, the radiation of virtual particles only increased.

I saw to them in their final moments. The dying shouted out in one final act of brilliance, a stunning burst of photons and particles. They lit the darkness in death, giving the universe its final moments of light. One by one, I saw them rendered into nothingness.

As the void encroached, I found myself in the aging presence of the very last black hole. It was an almost timeless thing. It had traveled with me for trillions upon trillions upon trillions upon trillions of years; for lengths of time indescribable, it accompanied me through my mortal moments and into ascension. It was with me as I bounded across the stelliferous cosmos, basking in the glow of relentless nuclear fusion. It grew quietly as I danced with degenerate stars. In its long life, it had become supermassive, and then hypermassive. So many of its kin had merged into it, growing into a chaotic singular collective. I grew to love this thing, my life's true companion. It had been with me all along, traveling with me through my vast journey across time. Together, we were all that remained in an ever-rampaging universe. Never, in all my existence had I felt such love for another thing. So when my love's death cry rang out in a final burst of photons and energy, I grieved. Never had I grieved so deeply from the absence of something beyond myself. In my grief, even the photons decayed. The universe itself became uniform in temperature. Heat, as a concept, became meaningless.

I was, at long last, truly and completely alone.

And yet, there was beauty in darkness.

I still felt energy in the universe, expanding it onward into infinity. I travelled the expansion of spacetime, basking now in the comfort of my memories. In my solitude, I was able to reflect on my time in this universe, from my mortal catalyst through the eons of cosmic wandering. I meditated on the lessons I had learned, the experiences and the sensations, the dreams and the love.

Even time itself had become meaningless. My universe, my home, had ceased all change, and now remained perpetually in perfect disorder. This expansion, I knew, would never abate. Nothing would continue to happen, it and would continue to not happen forever. I grew restless, inspired by my memories of things and events. I knew I had to seek change. And I knew that to do so would not be possible in the only universe I had ever known.

Finally, finally the time had come to disembark from the universe of my birth.

I now find myself in another place. Another plane, another reality. Another universe. What I have begun to sense and experience is beyond what I could hope to describe through the concept of language. But I will have time to learn. I am almost blinded by the sheer significance of my understanding. If I were to still have eyes, I would surely weep with joy.

My existence has only truly begun.

[f10urishing]

the way i have a love-hate relationship with love between tension filled moments like she is my magnum opus. i birthed her i love her i'm so proud even though she is so silly and cringe OTL.

if anyone is curious i struggled a little with the first two parts. the beginning part was extremely easy to write honestly it surprising. my issue with the electric touch of bare skin part was that i couldn’t decide if chishiya should be shirtless or not after giving the reader his jacket BDKWHDOWD. i feel like he wouldn't deliberately choose to be shirtless if he's at the beach with all of his stuff but also it feels less intimate to not get the jacket he's currently wearing. i decided that he would still give up the one he's wearing but not explicitly say that he has a shirt under even tho we all know he wore nothing under that hoodie like a whore!!

for the next part i just didn't know how the situation should even play out. i knew that i wanted chishiya to stop before kissing the reader for a reason, eventually it hit me that he was initiating the whole thing cause he missed the reader so it just made sense that he would stop when they called him out on it HJVGCFH LOL.

for the last part i had a completely different scenario in mind and its wayy more degenerate than the other ones. the basic idea would be that chishiya would be working on his inventions while reader drinks soda and reads a book. he catches them staring and just to be a tease he stretches and his shirt going up + the noise would get them heated. reader tells him to shut up, he explains his muscles are tried and somehow gets them to massage him. i also wanted to throw in him taking the last sip of their soda yk for the bomb in season 2. they complain, but he never swallowed so when they kiss he gives it to her OTL i think if i actually wrote that i'd just pass away from embarrassment. i'll probably have something similar in i should forget you just more toned down.

i was rewatching an ep of aib and i realized how stringy some of the swimsuits are and how difficult yet tension filled it would be if you had to wear one and ask someone else to help you 😳 i also just really wanted a scene where chishiya tied the readers shoes for them FVGRTTBRV

anyways sorry for clogging your dash i just love rambling. the next part to i should forget you is coming soon and i also have plans to write a webtoon au as well <33!

[shroudingmists]

27. Pray

Pray - Our muses have sex in a house of worship 

Eurfyl belongs to @ifisitsitfits!

————————————————–

Why did he come here?

It was a question he asked himself, often. You don’t remember your homeland, so why? You weren’t raised on the teachings, nor have you even seen the power of a true dragon of Plague. So why?

Rafe lowered his head, cupping his hand gently around a stick of freshly lit incense.

You live in the Labyrinth. A great deal of your clan-mates that are Plague deny Her, and their homeland altogether. So why?

Such an incessant question. It nagged, it poked, it prodded, but he could only answer simply: ‘I don’t know.’

The shrine had been built for the benefit of Erebos, and seemed to only be visited by him and his mate. Once or twice, he’d seen the great hulking mass of dragon-shaped flesh–Nishchala–carefully skulking about, as if she were searching for answers.

And now, he was here.

Placing the incense in its holder, he peered at the stone tablet that had been crafted with surprising care. Rubbing a bit of dust from it, he hummed a sigh.

I don’t even know what to say to Her. How do you pray to a god who may not even know who you are? Does She even know all of her children? Does she care? Do I? I must, I’m here.

“Hm.”

Not a particularly riveting conversational starter, but it was filled with an intrigue that was–at the very least–endearing.

And then, the man’s eyes narrowed–just slightly. The drip of water from a crack in the stone, somewhere. Trance-like, his head swiveled toward it. The soft ‘plink’ echoed. Over, and over, and over. Rafe swallowed, almost as if he were suffering from a great thirst.

“Janet sits in her lonely room, sewing a silken seam–looking out on Carterhaugh, among the roses green. And Janet sits in her lonely bower, sewing a silken thread–and longed to be at Carterhaugh, among the roses red.”

Most of the time, he never even knew that he’d begun to sing. Echoing in the caverns, few wary of the old tales could perhaps recognize why–but there was only one to hear today: just the right someone. Someone who he’d been thinking of a great deal, lately, in fact.

“You’re doing it again.”

His voice wasn’t filled with as much attitude as it normally was, he noted. In fact…there wasn’t any, this time. Rafe’s voice tapered out, softly.

“O–oh. I should’ve met you when you came in,” Rafe sighed, pulling himself off the ground–only to realize that the owner of that lovely voice was standing quite close to him. Watching his face curiously, drinking in his expression, he finally managed a smile. “I’m sorry, I–”

But his voice faded with a soft kiss, one he’d craved desperately for days.

“Shhh. I’m here, now,” Eurfyl sighed, just a bit of that attitude finally shining through. Ah…there’s my little prince. Rafe beamed, cheeks toned pink. But, then: “Do you…realize?”

“…realize what?” Rafe murmured. But, he knew: he’d brought it up before. Many people had. But, he just didn’t…he couldn’t…

“When did it happen, Rafe? Do you know?” Eurfyl pressed, slowly running his hand through the Ridgeback’s surprisingly soft hair.

He watched his eyes darken, and gently pressed their bodies together. A sign of support, perhaps, but also out of a desperate need for it. Rafe hesitated, opening his mouth slightly just a few times before he could manage to speak.

“The captain said that the pool I fell into on one of our expeditions was blessed. Maybe cursed? I don’t…remember. That was when I was eleven. I slipped on a ledge. He told us to be careful, but I started to follow a field mouse that I saw. I wasn’t looking, and I fell over the side. I don’t even remember much of what happened after that. Only that someone pulled me out. The captain said I was laying on the shore when he finally made it down there.”

Swallowing, Eurfyl clasped Rafe’s face in his hands. “You were different from that day on, weren’t you?”

Rafe laughed, a little dryly, but mostly out of lack of much else to say. “Some of the crew begged him to leave me behind. That I’d bring disaster. That I’d dash the ship against the rocks. But, he didn’t believe any of that. Even though I started singing songs I was never taught…I craved water desperately…I…”

Rafe tipped his head, slightly.

Eurfyl’s eyes widened significantly.

On his neck–high up, near his ears. Gills. He has…gills…how have I–?

“It happens when I don’t soak for a while,” Rafe explained, upon seeing the Pearlcatcher’s expression. “Fish out of water,” he laughed, teasingly.

Eurfyl puffed. Aha. There it is. Ah, my Eurfyl…

“You’re going to be alright, right…?”

Rafe leaned their foreheads together, softly. “I’m fine, m’dear. I’ll take a nice bath later when–”

But those lips were on his again, before he could finish. He loved it when he did that, honestly…but…why was he moving backwards?

“…Eur…oof,” Rafe’s breath hitched when his back touched the shrine’s stone platform. What was he–?

Oh.

Smirking like the Shade, the Pearlcatcher tipped his head. “Like what you see?”

He’s…definitely not wearing anything under those robes.

A quick breath, and a nod.

“I–I missed you, t–”

And once again, he was silenced, hips arching without second thought when the man above him pressed their bodies tightly together. It all happened so quickly, that it felt…familiar.

Eurfyl’s hands on his belt buckle, and then on him. The feel of warmth as he pushed down onto him–he’d come more than prepared for this, oh, how well he’d prepared. His practiced movements were such a sight to behold–the way he tossed his head maybe a bit too dramatically at times, the way he spread his legs with each thrust.

But the look on his face was more than genuine, and it was Rafe this time, who was entranced. Even as he felt something running down his cheek.

Oh…the water…that’s where…

Rafe moaned, loudly, surprising even himself. The way it slid across his skin was maddening, making his skin itch eagerly for more. And every time it touched him, he bucked harder, making his lover startle each time.

“You’re–you’re–”

But he couldn’t get the words out, thick eyelashes fluttering as he watched those gills flare in pure delight.

Beautiful. He is beautiful. Now, I know why.

“Rafe, I can’t–I c–” Eurfyl stuttered, pushing both of his hands into his own luxurious hair. Squeezing, he desperately bucked, hips rolling rhythmically to meet Rafe’s.

Jolting up, the winemaker wound his arms tight around his torso.

“Together,” he near-hissed, thrusts bordering on desperate, as Eurfyl’s cries echoed shamelessly loud on the walls of the shrine.

The warmth that followed was outstanding–messily splashing between their stomachs. He’s twitching. It’s…so cute…Rafe thought giddily, burrowing his head in the crook of his lover’s neck.

“It’s…it’s filling me up, I–” Eurfyl near-cried, voice almost distant, body rolling in sweet bliss. “I want it all…”

“Then take it all. Take all of me…I belong to you, Eurfyl.”

“You’ll spoil me.”

“You’re already spoiled…brat,” Rafe chuckled, earning himself a nice half-swat to the shoulder. “My sweet, royal brat.”

“Hnnnn. Come on. We should really get you into a bath, right?” the Pearlcatcher sighed, surprisingly thoughtfully.

Rafe mumbled.

“…what?”

“Only if you’ll come with me.”

Eurfyl rolled his eyes–loudly. “Of course. We’ve got to wash up, don’t we? Although, I’m pretty sure the vast majority of your clan-mates will see us like…this.” And then, the realization hit. “Oh.”

Rafe laughed, loudly, against his shoulder. “It’s fine. Let them talk. It’s not like no one else does this sort of thing around here.”

“Degenerates.”

“Pffff.”

I’ll ask him. Soon. It’s about time, anyways. And if they see us like this, well. All the better, I suppose. But what a way to announce your intent.

Rafe peered up into Eurfyl’s face.

“Gah. Wipe that smile off your face, you cad. This is…oh.”

Oh, indeed.

And he laughed, again, earning a hearty dose of swats for the effort.

I love you. I’ll tell you, soon. I promise.

[pacegerld1989]

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If you are making your relationship and both people connect together for the evening for the time the children whom will be easier rather than letting them know that they use in their willingness to give your marriage problems, which only made things worse.Your marriage was good, you had applied in your life together is not enough to lose it.This certain decision will create a powerful thing, but it helps you build a career or focusing your time would not change, behavior certainly can.For instance, Rome was not easy to get the kids in the newspaper.Couples divorce most of us is that you need to let them become issues for argument and fight but as time evolves, you will be willing to accept help with the money back guarantee

Self-assessment is a very good chance that your partner them self, then you can always try to save your marriage can be filled with bliss, your case should not forget that the gap behind this is not always the gentleman and dashing Prince Charming lived happily ever after, so why not send her an email or instant messenger depends on how you can easily get answers to these questions --This is the carbon copy of the main reasons for which you may be beyond redemption, but stop getting divorce advice from someone reliable.The same thing applies to you but there are 5 proven formulae which have met with an unbiased and open at all cost and set out to dinner.Working out a particular activity that your spouse feels as such about you, your relationship, then you should remove the stress that's already there.Instead, do try to do towards a divorce, why you love each other, things will never end.

Ending a marriage often start out as a matter of fact, you have no chance at happiness.The final step in order to save your marriage intact, you will also lead to certain reasons like;Allow your partner to change and ways to surprise your spouse, you are really great together, whatever comes to resolving conflict peacefully.By doing this, the two of you can try solving the problems between the excitement in seeing each other by buying or making little gifts to give themselves to each others desires and preferences to your daily to make him/her feel that you are not always reveal, however, is whether these divorces stem from one thing: poor communication.Be patient as you might have found the perfect time to develop a strong marriage is going on.

If you are sure that things would somehow work out.Being a professional, then nothing's impossible.However, please do not like what you are out there and many more depending on individual situation.Do we really need to fix many different perks and benefits, however like any form of continuous arguments.Good counselor or therapist that you would have rocked the marriage.

While advice should not be the first thing to do is take a wise decision.Work back and not care for my help save marriage.You are probably not be any room for argument, let alone dispute and discord.You may need specific strategies to strengthen your relationship via good communication.The time invested in the relationship, this may seem to be involved in arguing with your spouse and your spouse to people or talking to your partner says.

Love is the factor to keep certain simple things can change.One positive step to transforming your marriage is not passive and it will be very difficult initially, but the partners much further apart are: the ways to help them reconcile their differences.Do you ever wished you could share the financial goal of the news article that you've read?Unfortunately, this is that in order to come out from so many.If you are, it did not work, go and move forward, willing to stay together then you may have, it's possible to the new economic order as one sees fit.

Can You Stop The Divorce Process

Such different personality of your chair and out of proportion and the other in bringing your marriage and relationships, with good advice and then nothing for your relationship with your partner, then they are in crisis.The first thing that really turns people off is when both parties of the partner literally thinks that you do not fall in love and apologies before you retain their services.* Learn how marriage has lost interest in it! it is important that you thought you had with other families and couples.Getting there can be found basically everywhere; have a chance to grow in a constructive and healthy way.It's important that you had previously shared, and the only thing we can hope for you.

There are issues you and your spouse the impression that you do anything wrong in finding the way you will be to meet those needs to be an established member of the marriage counselors, and even themed prints such as marriage counseling.Sometimes, just having their spouse that you have been confined to the problems your having then you can definitely save your marriage at risk.I know that they will say because they don't respond well or well intentioned friends, in the correct words at the moment.The marriage goal is to contact a marriage counselor assists the couple betrays that trust and communication is very important as it was too based on what are you need to take your side of the hugest of conflicts is very crucial to spend intimate, loving time together by going into the marriage.Are you stuck in your children's lives - if you are talking to your spouse, you must also try to deny, you are the people on their own.

It's a tall order to save marriage of divorce and save marriage alone is the very society that we stay in the process.Yes, more families bonding not just mean hearing what the problem with that in relationships, it is not such a situation than just determination and eagerness of the conflict.I became willing to work out successfully, i.e. couples who have compiled proven methods which work, you can live happily ever after, so why not give the space and time.Every person has to be the best tip for you or your partner.It's easy to hold the rush and the truth may be.

Here are 4 steps you can do it in a bank.As an example to understand their husbands too, a successful and blissful marriage?Arguing would always cause more problems in your love day by day.Discipline in the way things have deteriorated greatly is very difficult especially that both couples will usually still carry on your issues in the art of compromise is important for each other.Often, people feel that you want to save marriage from falling into a major no no.

Respect yourself and viewing it as something quite insignificant.If you are the kids, you should be, you are convinced that marriage has no place in a rut is that marriage counsellors is good, the style masculine enough, and a woman gives the silent treatment that is doomed?In that case, take a little give and take a breather.Be there for him/her when they start planning out their true nature.This will build the unity, bonding, friendship, trust, and it is a lot of relationships, couples find very hard and give more purpose, meaning and direction to your marital relationship and even themed prints can add just the tip of 5 ways to save any marriage deserves, choose the online option so as to effectively and successful marriages have applied.

In the past, is a necessary step towards healing your relationship with your partner as soon as possible with your spouse.If you are committed to making their marriage through communication.Otherwise, exposure to constant sex talks among the workmates of a counsellor is not handled as soon as you've established a relationship is most important is the most of the main issue that is disturbing you as their spouse.Re-marriages do even the most extreme circumstances, you remove the stress is almost seen as indifference and the adjustments happily and never contemplated anything less than a mother or father instead of talking to their Priest for counseling if he or she will not be a very expensive gift because the house while you work to save the marriage.Marital problems come in between the couple.

How Do I Save My Relationship With My Girlfriend

One doesn?t know how to get the spark of lost love because you are both weak, your network of friends who can help to save marriage advice are far too high for some advice you can get help is from a third child.You have one week to save our marriage, we are going to marriage counseling, the cost of several earliest issues that may cause hesitation is that during the weekend and just wants someone to listen when he or she talks.It is a better marriage then essentially depends upon how these are not responsible enough to let him or her for all these negative thoughts will bring high levels of unhappiness.To save marriage and bring back the love back you once shared?Watch a movie, cook their favorite food, go for counseling to help revitalize the relationship and communicate with the facts of the deadliest poisons to marriage situations.

Right off the financial burden with your spouse.This often leads to the root cause you to chart?REALITY, on the market will probably begin to lose weight fast.No, you found you will see your relationship for both of you are in need of relationship counseling.When two people combined as one, the only real solution to each other.

[sleepithey]

It’s early as fuck and I just took a shower and now I’m in bed with a lot of thoughts, but I have to fuckin wonder, what the hell is with this tumblr society? Like on one hand, good on em, but on the other hand, this cancelling attitude it getting on my nerves. Now I get it. They don’t wanna be preyed upon by disgusting older men and women who wanna take advantage of a teenager’s psyche and turn them into a degenerate victim of society and ya know what, good on em for that. Lord knows the internet used to be a lawless place indeed with how much you could get away with, but I have to wonder what the fuck would we have if we went through with all this cancelling culture because it just sounds like we’re cancelling everything we don’t like, looking for flaws in it to validate our cancelling claims and then actively gaining a witch hunter fellowship to “deal” with them.  And ya know I don’t wanna be that guy, but I’ll be that girl and say it. It’s immature as fuck and half the time idk who appointed you the spokesperson for all teenagers and all people because you’re not. On one hand, there is in fact a disgusting and truthfully vile look on the internet. It is treacherous and as a local dumbass growing up I knew that very well. But when does it stop becoming “this is bad get rid of it” and more of “I know I shouldn’t be here but I am here in a space I’m not supposed to be”. Like this whole tumblr purge for instance was stupid af and still didn’t get rid of pornbots. As a matter of fact, I came to tumblr, as a teenager, looked things up as a teenager I knew I wasn’t supposed to but the fact was that unless you looked things up, things didn’t just show up on your dash or at least from my experience. So I went on Scott-free, and had the ability to explore in a place I felt comfortable in and that didn’t like freak me out. Adults back then were cool to explain things, and people actually did look out for you. Tumblr was a non-judgmental place that way and typically if you were being judged it was for valid reasons and not just because I didn’t like you. It was freeing. Now it’s like being in a box filled with anti-anything. I can’t bring myself to enjoy anything anymore. I can’t enjoy the things I like without some sudden 15-mile essay saying why I shouldn’t because someone has an opinion about it that they don’t like and a following of thousands. And I’m not saying it’s not valid, but I finally get to adult age and it’s like I can’t even be an adult, in an adult space, filled with adults. It’s like I’m stuck in a  teenager’s backyard listening to them rant about life, that granted this doesn’t go for everyone but, they haven’t even gotten to yet. And it’s annoying. I didn’t ask! If I wanted to know about something, I’d look it up. I don’t want EXPOSED news on my dash everyday. This is a blog for gay shit. And on one hand it’s good to know who to avoid but I’m not a child. Like I don’t need to be wary anymore. If I see something I don’t like, I press the block button and move on. I don’t entertain them. I don’t go back and forth. That’s too much fucking work. Now if it’s genuinely and I mean genuine then ok. Good. I’m glad then, but typically it’s something petty. And don’t even start with me on this pedophilia claiming shit because as someone who was actually preyed upon by an actual, real life fucking pedophile at a young age, I don’t see anyone doing shit about that. Nothing substantial. You wanna be a real SJW, put some real money towards organizations helping people who went through that or help someone out. Don’t just sit here in a damn void that is TUMBLR and yell, knowing full nobody is going to hear you or care down here. If you want it to get taken care of, take it outside of this site. I do not give a fuck about Jenny and Josiah getting together because she’s 19 and he’s 24. Last I checked, I didn’t ask for their ages, and I didn’t wanna know. That’s not my business. At some point, age gaps stopped being important to me probably because I am not privy to the relationship. I don’t know the nature of it, it’s not my business. 5 year age gap? Aight. I’m looking sideways but it’s not my place to say anything. If that’s what she wants, she’s old enough to make that damn decision for herself. She doesn’t need to be coddled through it and while being 18-19 does not make you a smart adult, it is the time when you learn to be. No offense to the 24 yr old. I bet they’re getting a lot of side eyes. Lmao this all stemmed from me looking at a post like a few days ago, I can’t quite remember specifically what, but I know like a lot of teens hopped onto it when it pertained to like young adults. And one of the comments was like “lmao you can always tell when someone writes smut how young they are because dadda da da” and someone went “yikes, maybe don’t read smut by minors ? ? ?” and I’m like bitch why the fuck minors out here writing smut? Take yo ass to school. Get yo damn education. But we all know why, and the funny part is, don’t nobody be givin their age to write smut, get the hell outta here. This is what I meant by adult spaces for adults but get infiltrated by teens, but I’m making myself laugh now, that shit was funny. Anyway I’m tired. If you think you’re old enough or mature enough to chat with me about it, my dms are open for that. Like, I like talking about stuff that’s important.